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Enter the captivating world of Pretty Gurl Inc, where the Santana twins, Prissy and Pretty, seize the spotlight in this electrifying continuation of The Santana mania.   

 

As Pretty Santana maneuvers through the music industry with her groundbreaking all female record label, tensions escalate with rival powerhouse all female label, Blonde Bombshell Ent. 

What begins as a mere rivalry erupts into a full-blown conflict between the factions. Can Pretty Santana and her sister Prissy Santana overcome the urban warfare unleashed by their adversaries? 

Join this thrilling ride alongside the South's favorite gangster family, The Santanas, as you discover if the fruit truly doesn't fall far from the tree....

Preface

“It ain’t my call,” Alyssa told her. "The girl who stumped your friend in the face is running the show. I’m sure you’ve heard of her?” 

“Who is she?" she asked with irritation in her voice. 

“She’s the devil," Alyssa replied. "And I plan on bringing her up out of hell and giving her back to paradise.”

Chapter 1

At age 18, Prissy Santana was one of America's most recognizable teen models. Last year alone, she graced the covers of more than thirty major magazines. She’d done campaigns for Topshots, Balmain, Fendi, and Stuart Weizmann. She was the youngest model ever to land the Victoria’s Secret Show. She ripped the runway from New York City to Paris and to Milan with a fierceness that could not be described in words. She was, hands-down, the model of the moment.

Prissy was a disturbingly beautiful young woman. She had porcelain skin, platinum blonde hair that was almost white, high cheekbones, seductively cruel hazel eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jawline and lips. She had the top-secret weapon that all top supermodels were blessed with; bone structure. You could not buy that from a plastic surgeon. You either had it or you didn’t. 

She was doing pretty damn well for a girl who dropped out of school the summer before her 10th grade year. She had been discovered at the age of 15 in Montgomery, Alabama on a smoke-filled night at the club by a woman named Jenny Woo. Miss Woo worked as an agent for the world-renowned Nova Wang Modeling Agency in Los Angeles, California. From the moment she laid eyes on Prissy, she knew the young girl had that “it” factor. Prissy had the mentality and attitude of a rattlesnake. She inherited that trait from her father, who was the most notorious gangster to ever breathe air in the state of Alabama. Bruno Santana. She received her strikingly good looks from her mother, Savannah; the woman was stunning. She had skin the color of melted butter, sandy brown cornsilk hair, and dramatic hazel eyes. She was the definition of drop-dead gorgeous. A woman who caused even her supermodel daughter to envy her beauty. Bruno and Savannah were not only the parents of Prissy but also her fraternal twin sister, Pretty.

Pretty and Prissy were two of the most adorable babies ever delivered from a womb. However, there was one thing other than the apparent adorableness that made everyone who met the girls unable to forget them. Bruno was a black man. Savannah was biracial, a mixture of African American and Caucasian. Pretty was the spitting image of Savannah while Prissy was, by anyone who encountered her, a white woman. The doctor who delivered them said it was extremely rare, although not impossible. Bruno and Savannah literally had a black daughter and a white daughter who were fraternal twins. It was odd, to say the least. 

Anyway, Prissy had signed on with the Nova Wang Modeling Agency a couple of months after their father was murdered and her mother committed suicide in the cold, murky water of the Alabama River. The twins, due to inherit two million dollars each from their father’s estate when they reached twenty-one, moved in with their father’s younger sister Bella. Six months after the girls turned 18, they moved into their family home, left by their parents, in the beautiful Pike Road Community. However, because Prissy was living in Los Angeles on her own, Pretty moved into the large house by herself.

Prissy loved her twin sister more than anyone on the face of the Earth. However, she had not seen her face-to-face since she was sixteen years old. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss Pretty or her relatives in Montgomery; it was just that her career consumed her time and energy. At seventeen years old, Prissy made headlines because of her relationship with a famous thirty year old female rapper, Kinky Red. Ms. Red was the sexiest female in the rap game. Her fans were more in love with her looks than her rapping ability. The two women met at a party in Beverly Hills and were inseparable for six months. Things were going well for them until Kinky asked Prissy for her hand in marriage. Completely turned off by this offer, Prissy declined and immediately ended the relationship. Kinky Red was devastated. She apologized and begged Prissy for a second chance, sending her hundreds of text messages a day and showing up at places where she knew Prissy would be. Eventually, she gave up, realizing the young girl would never reciprocate her love. One night soon afterward, she went to a popular club, got pissy drunk, went home, put a gun in her mouth, and squeezed the trigger.

When the police discovered her body in her apartment, the entire back side of her head was gone. She left a suicide note to Prissy explaining that living without her was worse than death itself. When the details of the letter were exposed on the national news and social media, Prissy became a hot topic. People started to notice her, and her fan base grew tremendously. She was partying with supermodels such as Jasmine Tockes, Maria Borgesian, Jourdan Dunn, Selena Forrest, and Adria Belou. To her fans, Prissy became more than a model. She was more like an outlaw. A fairytale princess who came to life. 

Prissy spoke her mind in a cool, relatable way to young girls across the country. She was courageous, uplifting, and defiant. She represented optimism against the odds and living recklessly without regrets. When she posed in front of a photographer doing a photo shoot, she laughed at the camera lens and at the world because she was young, beautiful and didn’t give a fuck. 

This was a role that Prissy didn’t have to embrace. She’d been that girl her entire life. As she sat inside the green room at the Sunni Morning Show, she checked herself again in the mirror before going out to be interviewed in front of a live studio audience. The topic for the morning was “Coffee with America’s Top Teenage Supermodels”. Prissy wasn’t nervous at all about being on the show. The other two young supermodels who were guests on the show were her best friends, River Lee and Rosemary Rosewood. They were also signed with Nova Wang Modeling Agency.

When Prissy first moved to California at sixteen, the three girls shared an apartment. Since they were all so young and new in the modeling industry, Jenny thought it would be good for them to bond and help each other develop as models. They were three of the industry's youngest, most uniquely beautiful girls.

River Lee was nineteen years old and a product of a Native American father and a Somalian mother. She had a fascinating face with large dark eyes set wide in a triangular-shaped skull with a beautiful bone structure. Her face was perfectly smooth and glowing with no wrinkles or blemishes. Her long, shiny black hair flowed down her back like wet oil. Her skin was the color of bronze, and her swag was pure seduction.

Rosemary Rosewood was eighteen years old. She was the daughter of an Irish sailor and a Syrian prostitute. She had a thin, oval face with caramel skin, full, pouty lips, and vivid blue eyes beneath naturally arched brows. Her lush shoulder-length hair was a dark red and naturally curly. And the skin on her face was as smooth as glass. She was perfect.  

The assistant producer on the show informed Prissy that it was time for her to join her friends on the stage. Prissy walked out in front of the large studio audience wearing an ASOS top, Alexander Wang pants and Christian Louboutin heels. The crowd stood up from their seat cheering and clapping their hands. She saw River Lee and Rosemary smiling at her. 

River Lee wore a Dior Tulle top, a knit bralette, denim jeans, and Philosophy Di Lorenzo Serafini leather boots. Rosemary wore a Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello top, jeans, and pumps.  

“Let’s welcome Prissy to our conversation,” said Sunni Weber, host of the Summi Morning Show. An attractive brunette in her early fifties. She currently had one of the most popular morning shows on the West Coast. Sunni wore a long-skirted black suit with low-heeled boots and a single strand of Mother of Pearls. Her handshake was firm and businesslike. Prissy took a seat between her two friends.    

“Hi, Prissy,” said Sunni. “I’m so glad you could join us.”    

“I’m happy to be here. I watch y’all every morning,” she lied. A brilliant smile suddenly lit Prissy’s face.

“Okay,” Sunni said. “Before you came out, we were talking about the definition of beauty in America and how it affects the millions of young women who read mainstream magazines and try to measure themselves against women like yourself, River Lee, and Rosemary, who are dominating the modeling industry at the moment.”

“Well,” Prissy began. “It’s ridiculous for a woman to measure herself against anybody. There is no inner circle of beauty. It’s the uniqueness of the individual woman that defines beauty. The new beauty norm is that there is no norm. As women, we all have our differences, but those differences are beautiful because they define each individual woman. In the modeling industry, there are no rules regarding ethnicity, age, size, or relationship to conventional femininity. The door is wide open as it should be. Every woman should be able to look into a fashion magazine and feel like there’s someone in there who represents them.”

The crowd stood on their feet applauding and cheering. They loved Prissy Santana. After the show, Prissy, River Lee, and Rosemary stopped by JoJo’s Beans, a coffee house.

“So, what’s up with you and Sean Jeremy?” Prissy asked Rosemary while smiling maliciously. “River Lee thinks you two are starting to get serious.”

“Starting to get serious?” Rosemary made a face. “The only thing I’m serious about is branding myself and making as much money as possible before my skin starts to wrinkle. Sean is fun to roll around in the sheets with, but I don't have time for serious.”

Prissy could relate to where Rosemary came from. She had no interest in being involved in a serious relationship either. Of course, she enjoyed the occasional fling. She was young, sexy, and vibrant. But if she was genuinely attracted to someone, she became spooked. A person who stirred her emotions was too much of a threat. In defense, she made herself unattainable. It was a means of defending her heart, which she knew was too fragile to deal with love.

“Well, when you get tired of him, send him my way,” River Lee joked. “I’ll put that boy to work.”

The women laughed as the waiter placed three cups of espresso on their table.

“Y’all will never guess who I got a meeting with in the morning.” Prissy grinned. 

“Who?” Rosemary asked curiously.

“You have to guess.” Prissy’s hazel eyes sparkled.

“Okay, let's see,” Rosemary said. She took a sip of her espresso and attempted to gather her thoughts. “Versace?”

“Nope,” Prissy replied.

“Alberta Ferretti?” River Lee grinned.

“Maybelline Makeup.” Prissy smiled slyly.

“Oh my God! I heard they were in the process of signing someone to a major contract,” Rosemary said. “You better bring your A game.”

“She’ll be fine,” River Lee countered. “Prissy, I’m so happy for you. Maybelline will be lucky to sign you.”

Prissy smiled. She knew River Lee never allowed negative vibes in her personal space. It was counterproductive. She was the most optimistic woman she had ever met. But she also knew that Rosemary was right. The Maybelline contract was a big deal with huge implications. She had to be on point. 

Later that night, as she parked her Range Rover in the driveway of her condo, she was anxious to call her twin sister and tell her about the meeting. However, she figured talking to her after the meeting would be better, just in case Maybelline decided on someone else. 

After unlocking the front door to her condo, she turned on the lights and illuminated a cozy living room-kitchen combination. There were three bedrooms upstairs. The living room was filled with expensive modern furniture and valuable abstract paintings hung on the wall. It looked like the home of a young Hollywood starlet. Down the marble-floored hallway was a library filled with leather-bound books, a desktop computer, and an expensive antique oak desk. A large, framed oil painting of her mother and father was on the wall. The upstairs master bedroom was large and eloquently decorated. There was a gigantic flat-screen television on the wall, a couple of sofas, and a fireplace. The bedroom's centerpiece was an elevated king-sized bed with a canopy. There was a massive closet beside the bed. The closet held a wardrobe of negligees and designer clothes. There were labels from Miu Miu to Proenza Schouler. Shoe racks held at least three dozen pairs of shoes with Giuseppe Zanotti and Fratelli Rossetti labels. A bank of drawers held lacy underwear. There was a built-in safe on the floor where she locked away her expensive jewelry, a nine-millimeter Smith and Wesson handgun, and twenty thousand dollars in cash. 

Prissy was living the high life. She sat back in her leather chair inside the library and listened to her phone messages while sipping a glass of Truvee wine. One of the calls was from her sister, who asked her to come to stay with her for the summer. Pretty said she wanted to spend some time with her, but she'd understand if she was too busy. 

The seventh message was from her cousin Tiffany, who told her not to deny Pretty’s request under any circumstances. Prissy laughed out loud. The last message was from Jenny Woo, who told her to get a good night’s sleep and to be prepared for the meeting with Maybelline in the morning.

Prissy kicked off her shoes and massaged her feet. It seemed like everybody wanted something from her. Now, if she could figure out how to please everybody, she’d be smooth sailing. 

***

The next morning came like a satisfying lover. Prissy prayed to God that she would have conquered another milestone in her modeling career when it was all said and done. 

When she walked in with Jenny Woo, executives were already sitting around a large round table. Prissy wore a white Miu Miu minidress and Jimmy Choo heels. The clinging white dress molded itself to her body and stopped daringly short at her thighs. 

The first thing the executives noticed inside the conference room was that Prissy was painfully beautiful. She was tall and slim with fragile, blonde, ruler-straight hair falling down her back. She had sparkling hazel eyes, a face that both men and women fantasized about waking up to every morning for the rest of their lives, and a presence that demanded attention when she walked into a room. 

Prissy was introduced around the table. Among the executives was an agent and a lawyer from the Nova Wang Modeling Agency. There was Barbara Grogan and her assistant, who would be laying out the ad pages for the magazine, along with other titled men in expensive European suits. Prissy smiled at all the bigwigs who’d flown in all the way from New York City, anxious to get her signature on their contracts. 

After intense negotiations for a couple of hours, all parties agreed on a contract for the next twelve months that promised Prissy six million dollars in guaranteed money. She was officially the new face of Maybelline Cosmetics. Prissy forced herself to remain professional, but inside, she was shouting and crying tears of joy. She was committed to a forty-city American tour. She’d do a press conference, local TV, print interviews, and in-store promotions in each city. Once the tour kicked off, time is something she wouldn’t have much of. Things would get hectic, but they still had to get done. Some things would have to get done instead of others. It was the nature of the beast.

However, Prissy was given three months to take some time for herself before the tour started because she would be grinding the pedal to the metal for the next twelve months. Prissy had already decided how she would spend her three months of vacation. She was going back home.

A few weeks later, she was in LAX with a round-trip ticket to Montgomery, Alabama. She’d been running around in so many cities trying to tie up loose ends before her trip that she needed a vacation from simply preparing for the vacation she was about to embark on. 

Attempting to alleviate the migraine headache she felt coming on, she leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples. After about ten minutes, the pain started to subside. She opened her eyes and looked around the gate. The guy in the expensive, Italian tailor-made suit who had been staring at her since she walked into the airport was now sitting across from her. 

She could sense he wanted to start a conversation with her, but what else was new? Men would take one look at her and instantly, they were smitten. They would either try to overwhelm her with sweet words or attempt to impress her by bragging about how much money they were worth. Men were predictable and needy. She didn’t believe a word that came out of their mouth. They were all liars and cheaters. Men had behaved like that towards her for as long as she could remember. They were all toys that were meant to be played with and discarded. 

Although, at the moment, she didn’t feel like playing, so she ignored him. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and imagined what the look on her twin sister's face would be when Pretty realized she had popped back up in Montgomery without telling anyone. The thought of that made her smile.

SNEAK PEEK

*unedited*

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