wrong number.

twenty-nine;

arizoné.

"Khayla?"

"Hm?"

"You think that if I talk to one of the guys, that they'll put me on to my singing career?"

"Girl, your singing is mediocre."

"Yeah, true." At least Jakhayla kept it one hundred with me. I decided to just keep myself with modeling and occasional youtube videos. "Maybe he could put me on with some modeling?"

"For what? Album covers?"

"That, or since they both have merch, I'd love to promote it and model it. You should ask too."

"Yeah, maybe." We sat there quietly, passing Pump's blunt between us. I accidentally on purpose stole it. He's gonna beat my ass later.

"I better prepare for this ass whooping later."

"Why? From who?" Jakhayla looked genuinely comfused. She almost even jumped up, ready to fight.

"From Pump. The blunt we're smoking? I stole it from him."

Jakhayla slowly sat back down, laughing. She actually fell out of the bed. I looked over the edge, watching her roll on the floor. "Have fun getting your ass beat."

--

About an hour later, Pump bust into my room, smoking emptying into the hallway. Jakhayla and I were surrounded by food wrappers, half asleep. I picked my head up a tad to look at him, but then laid back down.

"Né!" He yelled.

"Shut up. I'm like two feet away from you," I mumbled and turned onto my side.

"Where's my blunt?"

"What'd it look like?"

Pump just stared at me as if I was stupid. "What type of fucking question...? It looked like a blunt. What the hell else would it look like?" I shrugged, turning over again.