Rock Bottom

3: Let Em' Know

"Where you at on the map?"

I walked into the video shoot with my head held high. Today, I had a shoot for an upcoming local rapper in the Miami area. I protested at first because I only work with high end artists, but the pay is too good to turn down. At the end of the day, it's all about the money. 

There was long line of girls of skimpy bikinis with attitudes because I walked ahead of them.

"Hol' up, bitch. Why you get to go ahead of us? You ain't nun' special, shawty," one of them scoffed with an attitude.

"I'm Mia Parson, that's why. Google me hoe and check these credentials," I winked at the angry broad that stood before me before walking off.

"Damn, Regina George!" Ramone exclaimed making me laugh.

"Nah, it ain't even like that, Mone. I'm tired of these bummy bitches acting like they don't know who the fuck I am when they know damn well I'm the bitch all their niggas want," I shook my head, "These hoes ain't got shit on me and that's that. I'm on some international shit and they on some can't leave the city type shit. They not even on my level and probably never will be," I flipped my hair over my shoulder.

"Let these bum bitches know, Mia. You on the throne and ain't no knockin' you down," Ramone exclaimed as we slapped high fives.

If only I believed that. In fact, I had a feeling that my downfall would be coming real soon. 

Filming is about to start soon. I'm getting my make up done and my hair curled right now. The rapper hasn't came to see me yet which is weird. It's polite to greet the person who's going to be the star of your music video. That's common sense, but I guess he lacks it. I shrugged it off, but in reality I just want to get this over with. 

Twenty minutes later, the MUA finished my makeup and my hair was curled and looking great. I asked for some privacy so I can get dressed and gather my thoughts. I grabbed my purse and grabbed the small tube of blow. I scooped the blow under my nail and snorted making sure to get it all. 

"Damn, that's that good shit," I mumbled.

I grabbed my duffle bag that held my clothes. I pulled out a black, velvet textured, black catsuit. With my tall and slender figure, this would hug my body in all of the right places. It took me forever to decide on shoes though. I decided on a pair of deep red Jimmy Choo's. 

Moments later, Ramone came bursting into my trailer with his phone in hand and someone following behind me.

"Damn, Mone'. You could've knocked! Who's this?" I scoffed irritated.

He rolled his eyes, "Girl, calm that ass. This is Brendon, the rapper, and the star. Brendon, this is the Mia Parson!"

He smiled, flashing his gold grill. 

"How you doin', ma? You ready to do this shit?" he asked.

I flashed a small smile so I didn't come off as rude, "Yeah, I'm ready," I reply simply.

I followed him to the set where there were three other girls in skimpy bikinis. They all were curvy girls; what you would call slim thick. Yeah, they had a fat ass, but they weren't me.

They're not Mia Parson and never will be. You know they say; can't compete where you don't compare. That's how I think when it comes to these jealous wannabes.

"Wait," one girl frowned, "Why she get to wear dat?" 

"Yeah! I don't wanna wear this damn bikini anyway!" another girl protested.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. I didn't have time to argue. I'm here to work and these bitches act like they don't know how to stay professional. Video vixens are often deemed as "easy" or "hoes" and what people to realize is that it's all about how you carry yourself. 

Brendon came and led me to my position on the set while the rest of the crew helped the other girls. Since I was the star vixen, I had to be with the star of the video. It's an unwritten law in the video girl handbook.

Three hours later, I'm exhausted and ready to get the fuck up out here. The shoot is over and I'm just gathering my things so I can go. I slipped on a pair of black and white joggers over my catsuit with a pair of tennis shoes. I hated driving in heels. Ramone is catching a cab home so I'm driving home.

Brendon came in my trailer with a stack of cash in his hand. I eyed the money with a look of confusion.

"What's this? I thought my check will be mailed to me," I asked curiously.

"Nah, this just a lil' sumn extra, ma. Consider it my token of appreciation," he replied with a toothy smile.

Damn, he's fine as hell, but I never mix business with pleasure.

I smiled, "Thank you, but I can't accept. No offense, but I have enough money to take care of myself. To the point where if I wanted it right now, I could go get it," I replied kindly.

I wasn't trying to be rude at all. I'm just accepting more than I'm supposed to get from him. Call me crazy, but niggas hold that shit over your head. I ain't the one cause I can do for myself. Period.

"Nah, it ain't nun' like that, Mia. Can I call you Mia?"

I nodded as I folded my arms across my chest.

"So what is it like then?" I questioned with a sly smirk on my lips.

"Just something for you to know you're appreciated for pulling this video together. That's all? I ain't asking to take care of you," he responded, catching me off guard.

"Fine," I snatched the money, "Thank you."

He smiled, "It's no thang, baby girl."

"I ain't no baby so don't call me that shit!" 

He threw his arms up in surrender, "Aye, my bad, shawty. Why you so hostile towards a nigga?" 

"I'm not. I'm just saying."

He nodded, "If you say so. I'll catch up witchu' another time, shawty. Thanks again," he turned on his heels to walk away, but I stopped him.

"I expect my check in the mail no later than two weeks. I want my mula on time!" 

Just a lil something. Brendon is also an important new character. He reading Mia and Mia Parson does NOT like it one bit.

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