DUMPED. LaMelo Ball

LAFRANCE.

The line was silent for a few seconds. "Uhhhh.." Stasi stalled and let out an awkward laugh, but in the meantime LaMelo motioned for me to get in the car.

"Let me call you back." I spoke while walking over to him. "K, love you."

His grin subsided, once I approached the vehicle. "Get in." He said a bit sternly. I climbed in the front seat, buckling my seatbelt, and saying a short prayer. If I learned anything from the first night getting in the car with him, it was that this nigga sucks at driving.

"Why you look like you been crying?"

"I haven't." I sniffled, wiping any possible stains from tears that could've been on my face. He just nodded to himself, I guess deciding not to push the issue any further. Pulling off into the busy LA traffic.

"Where you coming from." "A job interview."

"It didn't go well?" He took his eyes off of the road for a second to glance at me. My lips twisted, getting upset about the whole situation again. "Stop making that face." He lightly pushed my face with his hand.

"What?"

"You make this ugly face when you get asked questions you don't like."

This nigga really was observant.

"So what happened?"

"Shit, are we playing 20 questions? Why you grilling me?"

"Stop tryna deflect bro. What happened?"

I let out a sigh knowing he wasn't going to give up until I gave him an answer, "I don't know Melo, I just didn't get it." My shoulders shrugged and I pulled off the heels that were killing my feet and pulled out the crocs I had in my medium Telfar shopper.

"What was it for?" "Some A&R position." I spoke scrolling aimlessly through instagram.

"A&R?"

"Artist and repertoire, it's basically like ... music management for lack of better terms." I mumbled, not really wanting to explain any further.

He nodded his head, "What you gotta do for the rest of the day?"

I looked over at the boy giving him a 'blank face', obviously I didn't have shit else to do. I had no job and my only friend was at work. "You wanna come work with me?" He asked, catching the hint.

I looked over at him crazy. "Where you work?" I never thought he had a actual job, I just assumed he be pushing weight like Vontae nem.

"I own a business, a clothing store actually. I think it's pretty popular locally. It's just me running it, so I could use some help if you up to it."

"I have a degree, and you want me to be a retail employee? Negative." What I look like pressing buttons behind a cash register?

"Everyone starts somewhere and at least it'll put a little money in your pocket. Stasi not letting yo ass live rent free forever."

I chuckled, that was facts. Plus, I wanted to pull my own weight and help out anyway.

His Range Rover came to a stop in a little gated alleyway. I followed him into the store amazed at the detail and decor. The exposed brick walls, concrete floors, and a graffiti background behind the cash register created a fye ass backdrop, and gave it a real underground feel. Clothes were neatly displayed on sleek, racks and shelves, and mannequins with full fits were highlighted by lights scattered around the store.

I looked out the front doors realizing we were on Melrose. "Little store, nigga you're on Melrose. That's a big fucking deal."

He shrugged, "When you from LA, everything down here just another place to you. So to me it's not a big deal. When I get into shit like The Grove then I'll start feeling special."