I had no clue what I was going to do next. I got a hotel at the W Buckhead once I arrived. The hotel would be home for awhile, not that I cared, I had a $100k in cash and almost that in my account. I was GOOD! I was exhausted from all the driving and ended up crashing for the next 3 days. I was sick af, crying and just miserable! I couldn't wrap my mind around the days prior events. I had never experienced such betrayal. Everything Mark put me through really woke my savage up and no nigga was gonna get over on me like that again.
Scrolling Instagram looking for a new hair stylist and nail tech, I needed to get my shit together! I pulled up to the Glam Bar and let Sierra's team get me right, slid over to Lenox and blew a check on a new wardrobe because Super Bowl weekend was coming up and I needed a new vibe. I really didn't know too many people up here but I had over 50K followers so it doesn't hurt to find new people. "What's the move tonight ATL?" I posted on my Insta Story. Instantly started getting replies. A few dudes, a few bitches and then a blue check. Hmmm let me see who this is. Ooooooouuuu baby handsome as fuck! A little on the short side and from his post seemed to be a pro boxer. I didn't recognize him from anywhere in particular but before I approved it I needed to see what he was working with. He asked how long I was in town and when could he see me. I didn't want to seem pressed so I didn't reply back. It was a Monday so I ended up in Magic City. Grabbed me a drink, a corner and some ones. A few of the girls came over and danced, they were all bad as fuck. One of the girls started asking why I was by myself and shit but I just wanted to drink and live.
After I ran out of ones, it seemed like all the eyes were on me and my corner. I ain't give no fucks either. The Dj started playing all the good shit so I had to reup. "Let me get another 2K in ones please!" I asked one of the dancers. The night rolled on and I was fucked up. The girls started going to get dressed because their shift was over, I made my way out the club and the pretty dancer was outside waiting on a ride. "You good boo?" She asked. Trying to keep it together I knew I wasn't gon make it back to my room. "Let me drive you home because you fucked up!" She said. We hopped in my truck and hit the road.
YOU ARE READING
Fashion Kills
Non-FictionA young black girl goes through the tough struggles of love and finding success, until she is betrayed and finds herself between the streets and business.
