The Graffiti Effect

by Forrest, Perri

  “Yeah, man.”

  “Well, congratulations!” Misty said.

  “It’s not just congrats to me,” I replied. “It’s congrats to the whole team!” I looked across the room at the clock and it read noon, exactly. “So, that was all I had for today.” When everyone moved to vacate their seats, I signaled for them to stay put. “I ordered lunch for you guys that should be here any minute. So, just hang out.”

  “Wait . . .” I heard a voice call out over the Merlin. “What about us? Do we . . . ohh, never mind!”

  “I take it your catered lunch just showed up, huh?” I laughed.

  “It did, boss. Thank you so much we appreciate it!”

  “Yep!” other California staff members shouted.

  “You’re welcome, though I’m crushed that you thought I’d leave the Cali crew out. I’d never do that. But you guys enjoy. I’m going to cut the call. Talk to you soon.”

  Moments after I pressed the end button on that call, the catered lunch showed up.

  I grabbed an apple from the table and left while everybody was busy piling their plates with the likes of spaghetti, chicken, green salad, fruit salad and whatever else. I would’ve stayed to eat with them, but I’d already made lunch plans with a buddy of mine who said that he had some stuff to talk to me about.

  -11-

  MARCO

  I walked into the Onion Steaks & Sub at the top of Cheyenne about twelve minutes after I left Black Ice. “Hey Marco! What’s up, man?!” Eric, the owner shouted from the grill.

  “What’s up, bro?!” I returned his greeting.

  “Aye!” Sebastian followed, as I approached the table he had gotten for us.

  “Aye yourself,” I said, pulling out the chair and taking a seat across from him. “You order already?”

  “Nah, I was waiting for you. You know my ass. Shit woulda been gone already,” he laughed.

  Sebastian was cool people. He worked at Cyn’s too, and was one-fifth of the Wolf Pack. His stage name was Wolverine, and that’s what everybody called him, for the most part. Not me, though. I refused to call a dude, fuckin’ Wolverine in public. So, he was Bash to me.

  Bash was an even six-feet, and built like a damn bodybuilder. He was one of the dancers who stayed in the gym for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He had a mane of wild dark curly hair that hung past his shoulders. He really did have the look of a Wolf and the chicks loved his vain-ass.

  “Eric!” I yelled out, “I’m gonna get my regular.”

  “Me too, E!” Bash called out.

  “I’m already on it,” he notified us, as he set about making my green pepper chicken cheesesteak, and Bash’s BBQ chicken.

  “So, what you got goin’ on?” I asked Bash after things had settled.

  “Man. A lot.”

  “Like what? What’s goin’ on?” I prodded.

  He pondered to himself for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip of his water. I was going to push, but decided not to. I knew that Bash was a thinker and that sometimes he needed to gather his thoughts before speaking. I also knew that once his ass started speaking, he wasn’t going to stop. So, I took his brief moment of silence as an opportunity to get me some raspberry iced tea from the soda machine. When I got back to the table, he didn’t even wait for me to sit down good.

  “You ever get tired of this shit, man?” he asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

  “Tired of what?” I asked. I didn’t know what he was referring to, but hoped it wasn’t anything as serious as, say, life.

  “This dancin’ shit.” He sighed heavily. I’d never seen him so solemn. He was normally the dude that was laughing, joking, and having a good time. Just happy for no damn reason. “Because I’m gettin’ there. Creating fantasies for these freaky-ass women, and shit. Probably be a whole lot easier if they just told their lacking-ass dudes what the hell they wanted.”

  “Bash, come on, man. It’s not that bad. Pussy by the pound. Obsessed chicks everywhere you go. Celebrity life. What’s to be tired of? Or you just trippin’ off something today?”

  “Nah, it’s not just today. I’m like right there, dude. Like, thinking about not even doing tonight’s review.”

  I leaned back against my chair and folded my arms across my chest, then gave him a stern look.

  “That would be some fucked-up shit, Bash. You dance with a crew of four other dudes. It’s not just about you. If it’s something you’re thinking about then you need to cancel that fuckin’ cheesesteak and go meet with Majesty, Dome, Han and Cobra. It’s a loyalty thing. Fuck that.”

  “I don’t owe them that. Loyalty ain’t shit to those dudes. For real.”

  “But you’re not them, Bash. And what about ticket holders?”

  Sebastian paused briefly. “Man, you really do give a fuck, Marco. You’re good folks.”

  “Thanks. You too, bro.”

  “That fool, Majesty, not so much,” Bash announced. “You know he’s after your spot, right?”

  I laughed out loud and unfolded my arms. “Majesty could never be a threat to me. I wouldn’t worry about that shit if I was dancin’ with one fuckin’ leg. Fuck outta here with that shit.”

  Bash started to laugh. “I’m for real, though,” he said. “Dude really thinks he’s got a—”

  “Why is that even a topic of this discussion. I didn’t leave my employee luncheon to talk about no fuckin’ Jeffrey. I came because you said you had some shit to get off your chest. If that’s not what we’re doing, I’m out.”

  “Nah, you’re right,” Bash apologized.

  “Cool. So, now that we got that out of the way, are you cancelling your order before Eric is done? So, you can go have that conversation? Because even more important than them and your ticket holders . . . is Cyn.”

  “Marc . . . man. You puttin’ the shit on thick right now.”

  “It’s not fair to do that to her. Her reputation will be on the line. The fact that you’re not even considering her . . . man, is trippin’ me out. Never took you for being selfish as fuck. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not discounting the fact that you wanna do something else outside of the dancing. Just not agreeing with the way you’re going about it.”

  The young girl that worked for Eric walked up to the table right in the middle of the tense moment, and placed our food on the table. Truthfully, though, I didn’t even have an appetite due to the conversation I was engaged in.

  “I could see how you would view it that way. But I’m far from selfish,” Bash stated defensively. “You’re looking at it from the standpoint of y’all being friends. I get it. It’s not about Cyn, though. This is about me.”

  “Why don’t you let it be about you—with some notice, then. For her to prepare. For the rest of the Wolf Pack to prepare. Businesswise, you’re not handling this ri—”

  “See, businesswise. That right there. You can do that. You have a business. You got something other than this dancing shit. That’s what I mean. Shit is a hobby for you. Something that you can do with or without. I have to do it. And I’m tired of that shit. Feel like I’m being pimped by it. Like I’m the bitch or something.”

  “Like a bitch? You don’t think that’s taking it too far, Bash? Man, you got something that you’re good at. You got fans, and shit. You got people knowing you on the street. You got money, for damn sure!”

  “But, I want something else to fall back on, Marc. I’m thirty-three. I need something other than this. For real.”

  I pushed my food to the side and focused on my friend. “Listen, Bash. Do this. Since you know that you’re tired, that you want something more, start focusing on that. Don’t focus on being over the Wolf Pack. Use your off days to focus on the shit that you’re good at. The shit that you like doing. Use your extra energy for the positive and not the negative. That shit will do wonders for you. And if you want my help, I can help you. I ended up in the moving business because I started loving it at a young age and just decided to make a business out of it. At first, it was just easy
money that helped me bulk up, and meet older women.” I laughed. “But then, I started lovin’ it.”

  “Man, thanks for that offer to help. I gotta do something. I’m getting too old for this.”

  “Okay, look,” I said sternly. “Fuck the age part. Just take that out of the equation. Age doesn’t have anything to do with it. Let something else be your driving force. Like finding out what your real purpose is.” I leaned forward on the table. “Am I making sense?”

  “Yep. A whole lot of sense, man.”

  I stood from the table, and looked down at Bash. “It’s what friends are for. Now, I’m seeing you on stage tonight, right?”

  He hesitated for a brief second before saying, “Bet. I’ll for sure be there.”

  “Alright, well, I’ll see you later. I got a lot of shit to do before I land.”

  Bash laughed. “Before you land, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  He stood from his chair. “I got some shit to handle, myself.”

  Just as I thought would happen, Bash and I both ended up getting our food to-go. Neither of us would probably end up eating it, either. I usually didn’t even eat heavy before a performance. And even though it was hours from now, I didn’t want the weight of it all. Especially, since I didn’t have time to work out! And especially since tonight, Cyn City, would have one of the most energetic groups that ever came through—a bachelorette party of women. I needed to be ready with a capital “R”.

  12-

  KASSIDI

  I sat on that bench for close to an hour. I was trying to fight a losing battle against thoughts that were determined to be taken into consideration. But why now?! is what I kept asking myself, knowing there was nobody there to give me an answer—but me. I almost thought about pulling up Google and asking Google to find me some articles on women getting cold feet before their wedding. Or something on runaway brides. Or something that would show me a glimpse of other women feeling the way that I was. I needed a sign that what I was dealing with, was normal.

  Shit!

  But what wasn’t normal, even if I did find the articles, were the arguments. And the frequency of those arguments. And the pettiness of those arguments. The goddamn arguments are what had me in my thoughts and feelings, tough. My head was starting to pound. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Luckily, I had packed some Aleve just in case, so I went straight to the bag that had fallen to the floor in the lobby, and grabbed one to soothe my woes.

  After tossing back my pill, I headed into the living room. I must’ve fallen asleep because a little while later, I awoke to find myself curled up like a baby. I didn’t bother moving right away because it felt too peaceful. My mind felt a little clearer and my headache had left the building. Gone, were the imposing thoughts from earlier.

  Thank God!

  It took a few minutes, but I finally rose slowly from the sofa. I did a light stretch of my limbs, and journeyed over to the enormous window. “Oh, the beauty of this city,” I said aloud.

  The sky was baby blue, with a single cloud pillow off in the distance. The scene down below was busy, busy, busy. Cars and people everywhere. Shimmering lights, even in the daytime. The place literally never slept! Vegas was definitely mesmerizing. It was busy as hell—but in a good way. Watching from that window made me feel like . . .

  “Stop it, Kassidi!” I scolded myself.

  I stepped away from the window and began to pace. What the hell was going on with me?! Not only was the shit stupid, it was really starting to piss me off. I was doing so good when I woke up!

  And then it hit me. It’s too goddamn quiet in here, that’s what it is.

  Having figured out the missing piece to the puzzle, I went to the glass table near the sofa and grabbed the remote control. When the television came on, I turned the station to E! and surprise, surprise, up popped the Kardashian clan. Just what I needed. Any other time they would’ve gotten on my last nerve, but today it was welcomed. I could be pissed at their annoying-ass voices and fake camaraderie, and not on my mind playing tricks on me.

  Five minutes of those sisters and thankfully, my mind began to detour. It was what I needed—desperately. A smile made its way to my lips when I found myself wondering what Jamie was doing. I was excited that he had finally crept into my musings, and that it had nothing to do with the stuff the bad. Both of our weekends were secret, and we’d agreed to not call each other. I embraced the idea. I wanted to miss him so much that any and every doubt I had, would dissipate. Not talking to him, seeing his face, would surely be good. For, when we came back together, nothing but being together, would matter. Not even opposition from his aunt or his sister.

  I was so deep in thought that I barely heard the persistent tapping on my suite door. When it registered, I snapped from my reverie and walked across the large space to look through the peephole. Not that I even had to, to know who it was.

  “Open the door, hooker. I know you see meee,” she said, continuing to tap away with the tip of her fingernail.

  “You have real problems, girl,” I said to my best friend when I opened the door to let her pretty-ass in. “Not the fake problems. The ones that have muthafuckas in strait jackets.”

  “Whatever,” Yolanda responded, sauntering past me. “This big-ass room, though!”

  I closed the door and joined her over at the sofa.

  “Suite,” I corrected.

  She threw her hand to her chest dramatically. “Ohhh . . . forgive the hell outta me. Suite,” she emphasized, smacking her lips. She looked around. “But why, though? Looks like a damn apartment in here. We’re here for a damn weekend—most of which will be spent outside. So why?”

  I folded my arms across my chest and glared at Yolanda. Her big, brown eyes were bearing down on me in a menacing way, smizing. She slowly flipped a section of her dark blonde, Beyoncé-themed weave over her shoulder and continued her stance.

  “Did I tell you how much I like your hair, girl? And that color pops, honey. Goes good with that pretty brown skin of yours.” I nodded in approval. “Yep, real cute. I might dye mine for—”

  “Answer my question, Kass. Why you got this big-ass suite? Then I gotta cross a damn hallway to get to your elevators. Type of shit is that? We all came here together and you had to go and be fancy.”

  “Yolanda, girl, chill the hell out. Why is everything a damn big deal with you?” I got up off the couch and went over to the wet bar and pulled out the bottle of wine that came with the room. “I’m not one of those men you used to mess with, that feel pressured to give in to your interrogations. I ain’t them.” I popped the cork and walked into the kitchen to grab me a glass from the cabinet and walked back into the living area. “I don’t have to explain this shit to you, and nobody else!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hmph. Alright.”

  Now, she had an attitude, but I didn’t care. She stayed on some bullshit. Questioning everything I did. If I’d gotten a regular room, then she would’ve been like, “Girl, treat yourself!” Just couldn’t win with her ass. And honestly, I was way past the point where I was trying to . . .

  “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?” I asked her, determined to move onto something else. “And what time do Brianna, Niecy, and Pilar get in? I thought they’d be here already.”

  Brianna, Niecy, and Pilar were our other friends. Also, in my wedding. Each of them was married, with Pilar being the newest-wed of the bunch, having only been married six months. Brianna’s marriage was the longest at nine years, and Niecy right in the middle at five.

  We had all met through Yolanda, years ago, and had remained close ever since. The friendships were surprisingly healthy. I loved it. Especially, because I didn’t have childhood friends. They’d all fallen off along the way to adulthood. So, it really shocked me that we had all formed bonds as women, and that those bonds had remained intact. Not including the occasional attitude like the one that Yolanda was currently nursing.

  “They’re on the way from the airport
now. Niecy said she sent you a few text messages and you didn’t respond back.”

  “Oh shit,” I hissed, walking over to grab my phone from my bag. “Damn thing is still on airplane mode.” I quickly deactivated the feature, then turned up the ringer volume. Sure enough; as soon as I did that, all my voicemail notifications, email notifications, and texts came flooding through. “Dang. It was just a forty-five-minute flight,” I acknowledged looking at the phone.

  “Who is it all from, Jamie?” Yolanda asked me, smiling.

  I denied that they were, by shaking my head. Actually, one of the messages was from Jamie, but nothing worth relaying to her.

  “Nope. It was Niecy like you said.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  “I don’t have to lie to you,” I snapped at her.

  “Yes, you do. Because if you woulda admitted that it was Jamie, after you didn’t even crack so much as a smile, then you’d have to explain that.”

  Now, I was pissed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Yolanda? Huh?! Why do you dissect my every move? Every action?!”

  She licked her lips as she stood from her seat, then walked over to the dining area to sit in one of the chairs.

  “You told me that y’all weren’t gonna talk or anything while you were out here, and clearly he can’t keep up with his part of the deal. That means one thing—he’s missing you already. Any normal, ‘in love’ woman, would’ve been cheesin’ ear-to-ear. But you . . . you wanna lie and say that it’s not him just to keep from having to explain why you’re not even a little excited.”

  “What are you?! Damn relationship patrol?! I’m getting so sick and sooo fuckin’ tired of—”

  “Open the door, girrl!” I heard suddenly, on the other side of my door. The girls’ appearance had cut sharply into the brewing argument between me and Yolanda.

  I shot her a daggered look, while at the same time she rolled her eyes at me and turned her head. I didn’t know what she was trying to do, but it was really agitating every part of my soul. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it escalated. Yes, we were friends, but I wasn’t about to keep letting her poke at me. She was going to wake something up in me that she wasn’t ready to deal with, if she kept it up.