Kristina has never opened up about her true self. Not even her best friend, Harry, gets to see all sides of her. That is, until Billie enters her life. She's never felt anything like this before. Will she be able to open up her heart and mind to a s...
I've never known what I wanted to do. I've always had passions and interests but because the pay was bad meant I was steered away from making a career out of it. I've always written stories but never shown them to anyone not even my best friend, Harry. Don't get me wrong, he's always supported me but I have always felt self-conscious of myself from my appearance down to my passions. Maybe it's how I grew up or maybe it's just me. Oops, there I go again... It's hard to stop doubting myself when I'm on a roll.
Anyway, the point is, I can write. I've always written stories for as long as I can remember. I've always been a dreamer and making stories up was easy for me when I needed to zone out. Not that great in school or during an exam but it's turned into a good side hustle. In particular I write songs. They're somewhat personal and always about love but I love writing each song from a different perspective.
My dad taught me guitar when I was young so I started writing songs for myself until I discovered I can make money selling them to producers. I haven't sold that many and the ones I have sold have been mostly to local artists in Australia, but hey, money is money.
As for my day time job, I'm a stage hand for a bunch of different venues across Melbourne. Basically, I set up the stage and instruments for musicians so they don't have to. It's not as exciting as it sounds but I've met some celebrities along the way and I work with my best friend so the job does have its perks.
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I park my bright orange Hummer in the work car park and see the all too familiar white Mercedes pull up next to me. I smile to myself, happy that we're both rostered on together. I grab my bag and jump out of my car.
"Hey bitch!" I say as Harry steps out of his car. 'I still hate your car' he replies peering over his Gucci sunglasses and looking me up and down. Why is he always so obvious when it comes to him judging my outfit?
I look him square in the eye and say, "And what do you have to say about my outfit?" He looks at me and says "Surprisingly, nothing. I can see you've been taking styling tips from me. Is that a French tuck?" Surprised at his response, I survey myself... Skinny black faded jeans cuffed at the ankle, white and black checkered shirt tucked in on one side and unbuttoned maybe a little too much for work, black pointy ankle boots, black hat taming my wavy shoulder length brown hair, aviator sunglasses, chunky silver rings on my unpainted fingers and layers of silver necklaces. "Not bad for a bi girl" he remarks as he flips his shoulder length brown hair and stomps off towards the Rod Laver Arena staff entrance. And there it is, ladies and gentlemen, my best friend keeping me grounded.
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