Memoirs of A Queen

Phase 4, Well, Hello August

Before you start reading, I'd like to say that every person I mention has a purpose in this book. For the last few chapters I only been introducing them. You'll see how they all tie together soon.

Daley Blessing

Under the large desk that occupied my office, my crystal-embellished Christian Louboutins tapped. These were my favorite pair of high heels, despite the fact that this was my first time wearing them.

Completely focused, I went over the fresh contract that was customized for my new artist, Dreem. Yes, you read it correctly, not Dream but Dreem. He was a creative soul indeed. I was signing him because he was truly passionate about his music that harbored a different sound. "My music doesn't have a genre" Dreem said to me the very first time I heard his noteworthy talent. I would certainly describe his music as idiosyncratic. Very peculiar and unique, you know? He had that fire that I was looking for. And he was a handsome young lad, so I'm pretty sure he has no problem with the ladies. That meant, his sales would skyrocket, simply because the female psyche is very intense. They would buy multiple copies of his album at once, and that meant plenty more big dollar signs for all of us. This was not a bad thing, there's no such thing as too much money, am I right?

Knocking me out of my thoughts, tiny knocks rattled off of my door. I sighed.

What did these bullshit ass workers need now?

I pressed the special button and the usual sound went off. I then buried my head back into the documents before me, not paying much attention to the footsteps that waltzed in.

Silence contaminated the air which made me confused. My workers knew that I didn't need to acknowledge them at any time, that they were to just state what they needed.

Scrunching my nose, I looked up and low and behold, the person that I wanted to see was standing there. No name.

She was finally dressed like the person she truly was. A ghetto stripper hoe. I was satisfied and appalled at the same time. This was a work place, this was no place to where a crop top that landed right under your nipple, exposing the other half of your boobs. She wasn't classy at all.

She reminded me of the rest of the poor people that lived in the projects.

I leaned back in my chair with a smirk on my face, ready to kill her with deleterious words. She sighed and cleared her throat.

"Eh 'em" she cleared it.

"Parched much" I retorted.

A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her face that was doused in makeup.

"Mrs. Blessing-"

"It's miss, bitch" I squinted my eyes. Tuh, she knew. Her skin flushed, I was breaking her wall of confidence down as if it wasn't already in crumbs.

"Ms. Blessing," she started, I raised my eyebrow ready for her to give me some pathetic excuse. "I didn't mean for you to see what I do for a living besides this, and believe me I know it is embarrassing. But, please believe that it's just a way for me to make ends meat. I have a very sick son to feed and take care of at home. One job isn't going to cut it. Stripping is just a way to make sure that he's good, you know? I go hard for him everyday, he's the reason I do the things that I do. You must understand that not everyone has money for a gourmet meal" she stressed.

Hm, I would feel a hint of pity for her but, it's not my fault that she was a poor low life.

"I am not obligated to understand anything that comes from your mouth. You're a stripper hoe, and that, my friend, is not what we condone here at itsablessing records. So therefore, your job is being terminated and-" I was cut off before I had the chance to finish.