Ava's P.O.V
I just need the money, nothing more. Ava doesn't do charity work, simple as that. Besides, I can't shake the feeling that my unemployment is being taken advantage of here. Now that I'm out of a good job, she wants me to help her move up while I'm barely keeping my head above water. Nah, that ain't right.
I guess that's why momma always warned me not to show weakness in front of anybody—someone is always ready to use it against you. But I can't complain if I agreed to it. I need this money after all.
I know a few people in the entertainment scene who could be interested in her art exhibition. It's about uplifting dark-skinned black girls, and that kind of message will probably have folks lining up to buy those art pieces. All I gotta do is put the word out on my socials and get people talking. My followers are always down for a good cause, and I'm pretty sure a lot of them will show up once they see the post.
Otherwise, next week on Friday, we'll be turned up in the art museums. Don't say I didn't put y'all on game.
But as soon as I agreed to help her out, I bounced. I couldn't stand another minute of her going on and on about her big plans—music festivals, fashion shows, this and that. Like, girl, shut up. I agreed to this one thing, and that's it. I'm not about to depend on anybody else to get back on my feet. If anything, I need help from someone who gets it—someone who knows the grind, who's been through the same struggles, and who understands the game.
The door swings open, and Tasha bursts with her usual energy, "Hey girl!", she beams, arms wide open.
"Sup bitch!", I match her vibe, leaning in for a hug, "You alright?", I ask, pulling away.
"Girl, I was hungover at work this morning. Last night was off the hook!", she laughs, closing the door behind her.
"I don't even remember what went down up in that joint after I blacked out, but damn, it was lit before the rounds of Tequilas came in hot in that VIP booth", I say, laughing along with her.
"Girl you gotta lay off the Tequila for a minute. It's no fun when you black out" " she calls back, making her way over to the kitchen.
I release a deep sigh as I plop down on her couch, "A girl has been caught up in some messy ass vibes lately, that's why I am on that sh*t"
"Should I pour you a drink or some?", she shouts from the kitchen.
"Wine", I reply without hesitation.
"Coming right up, baby", She says over the sound of clinking glasses.
This is why I like to hang out with Tasha. There's no, "Alcohol is sacred in my space" or "Sometimes you need to calm your mind with meditation, and find a deeper awareness of yourself"
A deeper awareness my ass, we calm ourselves with some alcohol and have some wild girl talk up in this b*tch. Is that too much to ask for? Sometimes you need to stick to certain priorities that align with who you are, and being told not to drink ain't on my list boo.
Tasha returns with two glasses, setting them down before popping open the wine, "Girl, you ain't doing this alone. Tell me what's up with you", she asks, pouring the wine.
"You know, ever since I broke up with Tyrone, things have been a mess. He took all those expensive bags I was counting on selling, and now I got fired after some rat bitch snitched on me.", I roll my eyes in frustration, letting my head fall back on the couch.
"Girl," she says, pouring the second glass, "Just go back to him. Things were good when y'all were together", she says as she hands me my glass.
She's not wrong.
