Post Austin

2

"Who the fuck calls a person at 3 in the morning." I whisper yell into my phone.

"Sorry, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Austin Post, professionally known as Post Malone, how ya doin' shawty?" A silky voice fills my eardrums.

"This isn't happening," I say as my breathing increases.

I am now sitting upright in the bed, "what did you just say?" I ask. Now fully alert.

"I see under the category 'Personal Skills' you listed one of your attributes as 'rolls a mean joint'. I would like to schedule a follow up interview for the Beerbong Holder position so we could discuss formalities, if that's okay with you?" he smoothly ushers.

"I... You-... Am I dreaming right now? I felt like I fucked up so badly in that audition-... Shit sorry I didn't mean to curse-" I start to ramble.

"Would tomorrow night be cool? Say at around 10 pm?"

"That would be perfect."

Did I really just get a call from Austin Post?"

The next morning I'm convinced it was a dream, but my call log confirms I'm not crazy when I dial the first number on there and I instantly recognize the voice.

"Austin, hello?"

I'm freaking the fuck out.

"Oh god. I thought I was dreaming," I breath into my phone.

A low chuckle comes from the other side of the line.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Holy shi- yes! Uhhh... Where exactly am I going?" I ask realizing I don't know where I'm supposed to meet him.

"Just text me your adress, I'll send someone." he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Uhhh, that's a little creepy but... I guess?"

"Alright great, see you then shawty."

The line went dead.

I look at my phone in disbelief. It's now almost noon, I have about 10 hours to get ready for my interview with the Post Malone.

After I clean the apartment and did laundry it was almost 5. I took a bath and made sure to shave all over.

When I was done my body smelled floral and my hair was fresh.

I decided on my most formal dress, a flowy black lacy dress, revealing just enough skin. I put on black suede pumps and finish the touch-ups on my curly hair.

Outside the crisp afternoon air nips at my legs and face. A sleek black mercedes turns the corner and my heart races.

"Mrs Wilson?" the driver inquires.

I nod and a well dressed bald man with a red beard exits the vehicle, opening the passenger door so I can get in.

I thank him and we take off.

"Mr Malone said that you might be wary of us being kidnappers and asked me to apologize for the inconvenience-"

"Are you for real? Apologize? Inconvenience? I'm being escorted in a benz to an interview with Post Malone and he's scared I might be pissed?"

"Well it's not so much an interview as it is a... Dinner... Situation." he twists his words.

My stomach does a loop-de-loop, "Wait, so you're saying... That I'm having dinner with Austin?" I need to close my mouth.

"Yes?" he seems unsure of his answer.

I stare forward, my body filling with adrenaline. I'm actually meeting Post Malone? How did this happen? What di I say? What do I do? How do I remember to breathe?