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"carpe diem"
"So go out and find them. . . No, I asked for castings to be held for a reason. I want models of diversity— people of color, not . . . Oh, I'm discriminating? Tell that to all the black and brown people around the world. Find what I asked for or I'm ending the deal. Simple," I spoke, the tip of my finger pressing the end call button.
I've recently been working with Nike on their Equality campaign and have been asking for black— or really any people of color, as models, only for them to call me back and tell me that they 'couldn't find any.' If you're gonna work on a campaign about diversity and lack of opportunity for groups of color, I don't understand why you wouldn't want people in those groups to represent the idea.
My eyes flickered towards the door when I saw it shifting open in my peripheral, seeing Lonzo stick his head in, "What's good, Kuz?"
"Nothin' much. Where's your ugly ass been?"
Sensing my comfortability, Lonzo entered the room, sitting in the cushiony chair across from me, "You won't believe what happened, bruh," he began, "Denise is pregnant, right, and she's tryna' tell me I'm the daddy,"
"Well, are you? Dawg, you really forgot to wrap it up?" I questioned. My mouth fell open as I stared at him stupidly, "I thought y'all broke up,"
"We did. I'm clappin' other cheeks now, you know what I'm sayin'? And I did wrap it up. She gotta be fuckin' somebody else 'cause it ain't mine. She prolly trapped me 'cause she knows I'm set for life," Zo shook his head, "How's Ava?"
"The same," I answered shortly, checking my watch before rechecking my schedule, "You gotta get out though. I got an appointment,"
"Aight. Me, you, Jordan, and Brandon needa' go do some shit soon, though. I been bored as shit," he got up, heading towards the door, "And your cranky ass needs some pussy, so we're goin' to the club or something,"
"Get outta' here with that. I'll pop out though," I nodded.
"Good looks," he replied, shutting the door behind him. I stood, seeing I had a few minutes to kill before my appointment got here, so I wandered to the food level, grabbing some Chinese. It wasn't until I was on the elevator holding my lo mein that I realized I was late.
I hate being late.
"Mr. Kuzma, your one o'clock appointment is in your office," the receptionist alerted me, eyeing me up and down. I forced myself not to roll my eyes at her usual thirstiness, forcing a reply, "Thanks, Stephanie,"
She giggled in response, causing my nose to scrunch up as I shook my head. I opened the door to my office, squinting my eyes when that familiar, orange hair came into sight. Sitting my food on a table before walking behind my desk, giving my hand out. She stood, looking up at me with a smile as her small hand grasped mine, "Cydni Willhite," she stated.
