The Resistance

Chapter 3

{Jahmir}

Valorie: baby you have a chance to make it big. let me manage you.

Valorie: I'll fly you out to Cali. Yeah you can get work in Atl but Cali's where it's at.

Valorie: Son please answer me. I want to make sure you're set for life. One way to make sure of that would be to fully get you out there into the field of modeling. You need to be signed and you need a manager. You're already handsome, so it won't be hard work at all.

When I got home, I checked my phone because I was hopping that Faye texted me. Instead, I have a bunch of bullshit texts from Valorie.

At some point I did find myself getting more into modeling. I would model clothes for my grandmother's website for Branded. Over the years I've probably done at least a hundred different shoots for her. Through that, other opportunities came along.

Now, I'm being told to get a manager and get signed to a modeling agency. I should be happy about that, but I can't say that I am.

Valorie Gates is a woman who chose fame over her own children. Let me rephrase that, her son. She took her daughter and newborn son with her to California, but she left her older son with his grandparents. She doesn't even deserve for me to call her mother... which is why I haven't for the longest.

A woman who left her son to be a model/actress is now trying to encourage her son to do be a model. Why would I want to follow in the footsteps of a woman that didn't even want me?

I'm fairly confident in my looks, but I feel more at ease behind the camera anyway. I've done a few shoots, and the pictures have came out nice. At least that's what Gramps told me.

I got out my car and made my way into the house, leaving everything I bought in the car. It wasn't like I needed it right then and there.

"I'm home Gramps!" I shut and locked the front door tossing my keys on the end table by the door.

I didn't hear a response from Gramps, so I went looking for him. It wasn't that hard to find him. When he wasn't in the kitchen, I thought to check the backyard. He was standing in front of my black Camaro.

"Pops." Sometimes I call him Gramps, sometimes I'll just call him Pops. He claims that Gramps makes him feel "borderline prehistoric." His words, not mine.

He turned around but his eyes remained glued to his phone. Just the other day he was ranting about how kids spend too much time on their phones. I'm willing to bet all the money that I have that he gets on his phone more than I do. I'm not the typical teen that has to have their phone glued to their hand all the time.

"Pops. I've been gone all day and you aren't happy to see me?"

He ignored me for about two minutes. When he looked up from his phone he seemed surprised to see me. He grabbed his shirt in the chest area and stepped back.

"Son! When did you get here? You ain't supposed to be sneaking up on people like that. Boy I could have turned into an MMA fighter just that quick on you."

I chuckled at his last statement before replying, "I just did. What were you doing out here?"

"I was about to take that black beauty on a joyride, but then my hotline kept blinging. And I was like, oh man!"

Oh boy, now he thinks he's Drake.

"Yeah okay Drizzy. Well what do you want for dinner? I was thinking I could make us a nice salad."