Dead for the Scene
It's a Talent
“And….Laurel B. called about that much coveted photo shoot for Scored magazine.”
I licked my lower lip, filling my mouth with the taste of my newly applied, “Fuck Me, Red!” lipstick. Seriously, it’s name is “Fuck Me, Red!”, exclamation point and everything. It’s my favorite shade, it really brings out the bitch in me.
“And?” I asked, chomping down on my lip.
Meaghan smiled, flashing her little diamond encrusted tooth, “She’ll have her people call with available dates.”
I let out my breath in a near-silent hiss. “Laurel B….wants to work with me?”
Meaghan nodded and turned to her buzzing Sidekick. I recrossed my legs and flipped my hair over a shoulder to pick for split ends.
“So, there is proof that God loves me and wants me to look beautiful!” I said, mostly to myself, mostly to the waiting world outside my window.
Meaghan laughed and I saw the diamond flash it’s charm before her lips were moving, “Babe, I don’t know about God, but let me tell you one thing, Laurel B. don’t shoot the fuglies!”
*
So, it’s a mean world. You’ll get over it. And if you don’t, then you really don’t need to be here. There’s a crown in this business, and I plan on making it mine. It’s a rough life, if you think it’s all vodka shots and expensive shoes, well, fuck you, you’re wrong. I had to climb my way here. I had to pull a lot of neon hair, and I had to step on a lot of polished toes. It’s not easy, okay? I’m not just a model, I’m an icon. I’m an artist, goddamit, I don’t give a fuck what Panic! At the Disco says about us. They’ve got shit for music anyways.
I clawed my way to the front.
And I am not backing down.
I licked my lower lip, filling my mouth with the taste of my newly applied, “Fuck Me, Red!” lipstick. Seriously, it’s name is “Fuck Me, Red!”, exclamation point and everything. It’s my favorite shade, it really brings out the bitch in me.
“And?” I asked, chomping down on my lip.
Meaghan smiled, flashing her little diamond encrusted tooth, “She’ll have her people call with available dates.”
I let out my breath in a near-silent hiss. “Laurel B….wants to work with me?”
Meaghan nodded and turned to her buzzing Sidekick. I recrossed my legs and flipped my hair over a shoulder to pick for split ends.
“So, there is proof that God loves me and wants me to look beautiful!” I said, mostly to myself, mostly to the waiting world outside my window.
Meaghan laughed and I saw the diamond flash it’s charm before her lips were moving, “Babe, I don’t know about God, but let me tell you one thing, Laurel B. don’t shoot the fuglies!”
*
So, it’s a mean world. You’ll get over it. And if you don’t, then you really don’t need to be here. There’s a crown in this business, and I plan on making it mine. It’s a rough life, if you think it’s all vodka shots and expensive shoes, well, fuck you, you’re wrong. I had to climb my way here. I had to pull a lot of neon hair, and I had to step on a lot of polished toes. It’s not easy, okay? I’m not just a model, I’m an icon. I’m an artist, goddamit, I don’t give a fuck what Panic! At the Disco says about us. They’ve got shit for music anyways.
I clawed my way to the front.
And I am not backing down.