“What do you mean, I’m fired?” An angry Louis Tomlinson asked to his boss one Sunday afternoon. “You can’t fire me; I’m the greatest model this company has ever seen.”
Louis’ boss wrinkled his nose. “Please, Louis.” He scoffed. “You’re done here. There is no more work left for you.”
Louis looked at his boss wide eyed. “No work left?” He spat, “I’m a model!”
Louis’ boss stood up and put his expensive suit jacket back on. “I’m sorry Louis.” He said completely uninterested, “But you’re fired. Now get out of my office.”
Louis stood and angrily knocked the chair over. His boss watched him as he left the room in tears, sobbing all the way until he reached the elevator. He was out of a job. He had given up college for this job and now it was over. After three years his career was terminated. What was he going to do? He had no education, no experience and no reference contacts. His life was over and he was only twenty one years old.
Louis marched out of the elevator and past the secretary wearing a Ralph Lauren sweater and carrying a channel purse. She gave Louis a sympathetic look and returned to her work. Bitch. How could she know he was going to be fired and not tell him? She had no idea what it was like for someone’s career just to fall to pieces in about two minutes.
Louis flagged down a cab and pondered to himself why he would have been fired. He was never late. He was always fierce and photo genic. Even though he occasionally smoked on set, which was not enough to get him fired, he concluded that he had never done anything to deserve that. It didn’t make sense.
The New York streets were busy, but Louis eventually arrived at his crummy apartment. It was small and sometimes there was no warm water, but it was home. He slumped down on his couch in fury. There was no way Louis could make an income now. How was he supposed to pay the bills? The thought depressed him.
He was desperate for cash and needed a job as soon as possible. He moved over to the window and saw a young woman standing outside. She was a sex trade worker. Suddenly, Louis had an idea. He wouldn’t for long, but he needed a way to support himself for a month or so before he got on his feet again and got a job. This was perfect. Illegal, but perfect.
Louis needed cash desperately. He had no food in his fridge and no hot water. He walked down to the hooker and looked her in the eyes.
"How much?" He asked politely.
"For two hours, two hundred." She replied fondly.
"Perfect." Louis stated. "Thanks."
The hooker had a confused look on her face. Louis went back upstairs and really thought this through. He had just been fired. Did he really need to start this right now? Could he survive on nothing? No. This needed to be done. Plus, he was only going to do it for a month anyways. What could go wrong?