Juanita Monroe-Giancola was always a people pleaser. Doing stuff she didn't necessarily want to do just to make others happy and bring a smile on their face and brighten up their day.
Especially after the death of her twin sister, Maria.
Juanita fee...
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Looking back at it now, I should've known that what I had thought was Marshall sounding unsure of himself, was actually him feeling annoyed.
But anyways though...
That very same day, he actually arranges for a car to pick me up at my job, and I make it a point to change out of the pink nursing scrubs I have to wear at work into something more casual, as well as let my braids out of the bun I've had them on earlier and put them into a cute high pony instead.
Which isn't like me, because I'm not shallow at all, and yet, I still wanted to look cute for this boy.
Ugh, I'm truly starting to become straight up insufferable.
Now mind you, I have absolutely no idea what is it that Marshall even wants to talk to me about, and when the car he had sent for me pulls up in front of this tall building, I'm even more perplexed for some reason, because this literally looks like a place where people do business.
But being the foolish girl that I apparently am, I had kept on having all these romantic notions, like Marshall had maybe wanted to summon me for a secret rendezvous or something. Like maybe our last night together had meant to him exactly what it did to me, and then all of the girls currently laughing at me at work for being no more than some rapper's groupie, could eat their words. Because maybe, just maybe, he actually likes me...
Upon entering the building, it's pretty clear to me that it is actually a recording studio, one that I'm presuming Marshall is a regular at, and now I'm even more confused.
Nerves starting to eat me up inside, I continue to play with the ends of my braids while being first escorted to the reception desk, then to the elevator.
Then entering this small room where both Marshall and this really tall balding men are sat at a desk, and I briefly recognize this same man as somebody that was at the club with us last night, only the older guy had stayed mostly in the shadows.
"Yo," Marshall looks up at me, and his face is somewhat blank. Emotionless.
While the balding man rearranges some papers laid out in front of him at the dest, his expression smooth and his energy very cool and collected. He definitely looks like he means business.
"What's going on, Marshall?" I ask him with a small meek smile sort of plastered upon my face, but the nerves that I'm currently feeling must be showing clearly in my tone of voice. I stop at the doorway and continue to mess with my braids.
"So, this is my manager Paul Rosenberg. And both myself and him, we need you to sign some papers, girl," Marshall then immediately states to me, and I feel this strange sense of confusion.
It's like being thrown into icy-cold water in some lake and being immediately expected to know how to swim while you have absolutely no idea.
"I... I'm sorry... I beg you pardon, like..." I start to mumble completely scandalized then, and I can actually feel heat rise up in my cheeks, because like, what?! WHY?!
