Wednesday
10:39 AM
AVA's P.O.V
I'm lounging on my couch, scrolling through the pictures I took with Tasha at the clubs we visited recently. I ain't gonna lie, my bitch and I are always killing it at the clubs, looking all fly and bad.
I wonder what was going through Tyrone's mind when he kicked me out of his house. Where else is he going to find a baddie like me, huh? Boy must be on crack on something.
In fact, fuck him and his Birkin bags, he recovered a few bags but failed to keep me instead—his loss. His stupidity just make me realize that those Birkin bags are not so much of a big deal as it is, they ain't worth more than I am. I bet he probably needs them to impress the next bitch—someone who ain't even as pretty as I am.
As I continue to scroll through my social media pages, my phone suddenly buzzes with a ringtone.
The Talent Agency
Calling...
My heart skips a beat as excitement churns in my stomach. They don't usually call me directly, but when they do, it's always about a gig or something work-related. They usually handle my bookings, namsayin?
"Hello, your girl Ava speaking", I answer, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Hey, Ava, it's Lisa from the Agency. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time"
I sit up straight, suddenly more alert, "No, not at all girl. What's up?"
"Listen, we need to have a serious meeting with you, regarding important issues that involve you as a model in our agency. Can you come by the office this afternoon?"
Important issues involving me? This sounds personal, and it doesn't sit right with me.
"Uh, yeah, sure I'm down with that. What time?"
"Can you make it for 2 PM?"
"Yeah, I'll be there girl"
"Great. See you then", she says before hanging up.
Okay, wait...
Hold up...
What could this be about? Did I mess up somehow?
My mind starts racing through all the possibilities. I try to shake off the feeling of unease, but it lingers within me still.
That's why I hate a professional type of work. When you are in trouble or some shit like that, they don't tell you straight up. They'd rather prolong it with scheduled meetings and shit, and that leaves a bitch worried the entire time.
I know prostitution was the worst for me, but it was better when coming to situations like this. When you've fucked up, you're gonna know right away that you fucked up, because they're gonna let you know straight up that you fucked up, and you're gonna get fucked up for fucking up in the first place, namsayin?
I'm talking slaps across the face by your own pimp. Shit was real back then. The street rules were just too raw and mad crazy.
Now I have to worry until 2 pm for my agency to tell me what the hell I did wrong.
