Kharise is not a lover. The very thought of it is repulsive to her.
Mostly because she has had her heart broken in such a manner that seems irreparable.
Living in a world where her father shows her the littlest love known to mankind and her best fr...
Song for this chapter- Just Let Go by Joyner Lucas ft Chris Brown
***
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"Your week is up-" "Come on, Earl, please. I just need one more week. I can fix it. I think I've found an artiste that can get me to the top of the charts and you a shitload of money. Just give me a week, please. " "You think?"
I huff, placing my hands on my forehead. Talking to Earl in general is like talking to a brick wall, utterly pointless and unproductive, much less talking to him on the phone and much much less when he's unhappy. My deadline is past already, and Earl can't seem to get it through his thick skull that I need more damn time. I haven't even got my shit together yet. I am literally going through a emotional breakdown right now.
On the other hand, the only real conversation I've had with my mystery rapper/waitress was yesterday and I don't even know when next we're going to meet, much less how I'm going to tell her that I'm actually Danté Carson, much less how I'm even going to ask her to work with me.
I hear Earl sigh. Well, that's a first. "Look Carson, every second I focus the company profits on promoting you, the company is losing millions of dollars it would have gained if I focused on Michael and Kendra."
The backstabbing love of my life is taking everything from me. Fan-fucking-tastic.
And it's so unfair because I can't even hate her after what she did to me, because I still love her so damn much.
And then there's Michael. That stupid rat. I wouldn't even waste my brain energy thinking about what to do to the motherfucker. He's not worth it.
"So the company is refocusing its profits on Mike and Kendra. But since I know you so well, I know you can do better. So I won't fire you. I'm giving you one more week."
I collapse on the bed and heave a sigh of relief. I pump my fist in the air and start doing my victory dance that I'm glad no one can see. Damn, I'm so relieved.
"On one condition." Yup, he's going to want the impossible. I just can't win today. And that thought makes me to slide down to my former position on the floor.
"What?" I fucking hope he's not gonna say what I think he's gonna say.
"Get the artiste to sign with Range-" And he fucking said it.
"-and make sure she's actually worth my time. I trust your judgement." And with that he hangs up. Well fuck.
*** "What flavour?" The dark haired guy behind the counter asks while running around handing out orders.
"Vanilla." Plain and stupid, like how I'm feeling right now. "Sprinkles?" "Nope."
He puts a few scoops in a paper cup, sticks a spoon in and hands it to me. I'm just about to pay when a certain voice gets my attention.
