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Music of the Sun


Introduction

Bullshit,” I thought to myself, while I get up and out off my bed. “Cassie!!” Shit. That was my publicist, cousin and friend, probably wanting me to get a move on. “Cassie!!” she said again. I hear her footsteps climb up the spiral staircase. I run around my room, throwing summer dresses, wedges, 1960's shoulder bags, a floaty summer hat and ray bans. I never leave without them. “Cass, come on. You better be ready, before the 6AM video shoot begins.” I pick up a random dress, a random pair of wedges, a random shoulder bag, the summer hat and the ray bans. “Cassandra Lopez,” she says, rolling her 'r' like I always do, just to annoy her. Now, that is so stupid. I mean... That I can only do that. I hear the door flinging wide open. “Taadah! Hey, Margaritte. What's up, honey bee?” Pfft... Finally, got changed in time. “Wow... I can't believe you do this to me. Have you been practicing?” she interrogates. “Nope,” I shake my head. “I'm always, like, this super-uber fast.” “Dayum, girl. Puh-lease, what's your secret?” I walk over to her. “Are you... You know.” “Ew... I'm not, I'm just, like, an expert at changing so fast, like a rocket ship.” Margaritte laughs, following behind me when I walked out off my bedroom. “What's so funny, Marge,” I complaint. “Well, it's just you never say like in every single sentence, before,” she says, raising her hands and air quoting the word, 'like' as she says it. “Fuck.” “Hey, language.” “Sorry, Margaritte.” “Thank you.”


Chapter 1

I got into my car with Margaritte in the passenger seat. “Ready?” I ask, turning on the radio. “Yes,” she says, after buckling herself down. I pressed on the gas, Britney Spears' Baby One More Time was playing and I drove like hell. All the way to the video shoot. “Wait...” I look at Margaritte. “Damn, just say it... Just say it, Marge.” She looks at me and said, “We need to pick up. Jaime's brother from the airport.” Ergh! Really? Now, she wants me to turn around and drive to the airport. Fine, only if he's cute. “Is he cute?” I say. I can't help myself, but to say it. “Well, he's a lot worse.” Judge. Mental. Bitch. “How?” “Well, just judge him for yourself.” “Margaritte?” “Huh?!” “I don't judge people, like you.” I can't believe, I just said that. Damn. She's going to hate me, now.

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