〵🧪💲🎬.⠀▎⠀𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ BEWARE SHE'S SCHEMIN',
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀SHE'LL MAKE YOU THINK
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YOU'RE DREAMIN'
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YOU'LL FALL IN LOVE
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AND YOU'LL BE
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀SCREAMIN', DEMON,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HOO! ❜
In which 21-year-old Dyemond Leig...
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Baltimore, Maryland · Tuesday, April 24, 1990
DYEMOND ❛ DYME ❜ LEIGH
"From what my sister-in-law told me, that bitch dances like Mick Jagger back in the early 80's, maybe even worse."
"Well, since you're so fuckin' smart, how'd she even get accepted?"
"It was probably those dry ass hair extensions the hairdresser is tryna add mousse to now."
The aggravating cackles of two loudmouth video vixens filled the makeup trailer.
It was probably hypocritical of me to entitle them as hoes knowing my reasons for auditioning for this music video in the first place, but they've literally ridiculed every female that stepped foot inside this trailer this evening for hair and makeup (That's excluding themselves) and now they suddenly wanna be bold enough to indirectly mention my audition? The auditions they didn't even partake in; therefore, who are these section 8 housing skeezers to judge?
Yeah, I'll admit that I wasn't as light on my feet as the 4 girls choreographing this video alongside Ricky, Mike, and Ronnie, but dancing isn't a requirement for girls like us. All we're getting paid to do is stand there and look flattering towards a camera lens, and secondly that'd be dumb if they chose me because of the type of hair weave I have sewn into my scalp. If they were actually present at the last audition, they would know I was clearly wearing a wig that day, but people'll feed into anything, so it is what it is. I ain't sweating it. I have bigger fish to fry like worrying about how I'm gonna explain these inexcusable absences to my professors once this video shoot is done and I have to head back to Flatbush and just when was I gonna retrieve that delayed luggage with my expensive, yet important textbooks in it.
"Girl, you nervous or something?"
I glanced up at the vanity decorated with bright bulbs that I was seated in front of and through the reflection of the mirror, I could see the hairdresser gazing back at me. He looked to be no older than 30, about my complexion, with platinum blonde hair and a flamboyant personality to match it.
"Nervous? What makes you think I'm nervous?" I giggled.
"You're chewing on your thumb nail like you want it off."
