The young woman's jade eyes glistened like fatigue smeared on glass. Her abundant mess of blond hair was tied wickedly to one side of her head, stray tresses here and there. After pulling together about two centimeters worth of motivation, she got out of bed. An unorthodox ache in her long fingers had them craned, pointed acrylics close to her palm. It was always the winter that had her so sore and exhausted, but she did a damn good job of waxing all of the above clear from view with cosmetics and a smile. Her slightly tanned skin glowed under the soft luminescence of her energy-efficient bulbs. The foot of her cotton pajama pants dragged on the linoleum as she drudged towards her coffee maker, turning over the itinerary for the day in her mind. In less than an hour she'd have a small complex assembly to attend on the second floor - something about new residents and potential upgrading, reconditioning and reiteration of 'house regulations'. The concept so often made her ironically amused but she did keep in mind that the building was absolutely filled to the brim with twenty-something's and addicts. They did need to be reminded how normal human beings worked and lived to coexist fittingly.
After a quick shower and a black coffee with a pinch of espresso, Jaylene seated herself comfortably in front of her vanity. But the look on her face was less than enthused as she pressed the pads of her index fingers to skin just below her eyes. To her, bags were setting in deep. To everyone else they weren't visible. And she knew it wasn't the makeup - it was more of a placebo effect sort of thing. She believed they were there, so it appeared that way. With hesitation she dabbed her finger into some tinted moisturizer, only slightly applying it to her naturally aglow face. She put in a quick set of rollers, only held for maybe twenty minutes before she worked in about five different hair products and pulled them out again.
The rest of her process went by in a blur. After the meeting she'd return to her apartment and throw herself together proper. For now, supple nude lips rolled leisurely to spread chapstick. Flowing waves of blond hair stopped at her waist which significantly narrowed before widening again just at her hips. Her unadorned eyes were wide, radiant and emerald with newfound energy. Lack of interest led her directly to faded floral leggings, knee-high leather boots and an oversized cream-colored cardigan. She knew Elliot would say some sideways remark about the absence of her false eyelashes when entering a room full of people, then follow it up with some 'you're beautiful without it' save line. His turnaround humor never failed to enliven otherwise boring events. Since their first encounter, dappled occasions brought them closer over time. He was easily her best friend in the city, if not her only best friend at all. The solidity that came enclosed was something Jaylene always needed. Especially while living in the same complex as Kaleb. One could say that Elliot was Mr. Right - just more in the context of unfaltering friendship. Walking arm-in-arm so often had a lot of questions popping into the air. Elliot and Jaylene always giggled about it quietly. They enjoyed the suffering curiosity they imposed on their audiences.
'How long have you two been together?'
'Such a sweet couple!'
A small smirk spread across her lips as she stepped into the hallway, locking her door and leaning against the aged frame. Just across the way, Elliot lived in 7D. He'd be out any minute. When he finally emerged, Jaylene padded across the foyer and immediately melted into him, her head pressed to his chest as she made some unearthly, grumbling noises, "Haven't we been living here long enough to be excused from these shitfest meetings?" With an exaggerated sigh, she softly beat on his chest like a tantrum driven child and added innocently, "Also, heh. Would you kill me if I told you I needed last minute party favors for an event at Manhattan Tower tonight?" She simpered sweetly up at him. After a drawn out silence, and him staring back down at her in a sort of scolding way, she countered, "Okay, listen. I'll throw in some Herrera goodie bags for little Marie, and a new Valentino suit for you. Please?"
In the back of her mind flickered the last chance meeting with Kaleb where they directly interacted. Mick's bar, editorial celebration and model recruits. His band played and he was way less than pleased to have run into a ghost from his past. Especially since she was the one paying out. Seeing him wasn't so painful anymore but, knowing that he was so close yet completely intangible caused a perpetual ache in her soul. And she was sure that the drugs he pumped himself with only escalated his hatred for her. So to be put plainly, she kept her distance. Who knows if he'd even show up to the little 'union' on the second floor.
"Ayo Banks!"
A thundering string of pounds on Adam's already rickety door sent his bloodshot eyes shooting open. Another connection with someone's fist would probably split the damn thing in half. A large palm slapped across his face, dragging downward and pulling his lower lip away from mostly straight teeth. He sat up, half expecting to see a random curled up next to him. But the only thing in sight was a roll of hundred dollar bills, rubber banded and tucked slightly under his pillow. That alone was enough incitement to spin a grin and get him to his feet to answer the door.
Another day, another dollar. Though his stage of life and sufferings circulated in cold azure eyes, his face was younger than his factual age itself. He still looked like he belonged in a juvenile correctional facility with the exception of his looming height and well spoken intellect. Unfortunately for most circumstances he involved himself in, not many got to see the intellect part of his personality. Sometimes he partially wanted to get to know some of the females from the complex just to lay his insight bare. So they knew he wasn't just a drug dealing, silent but violent type. But as it were, Adam never felt like he had to prove shit to anyone. Especially girls. Besides, he pulled enough into bed with him without having to so much as recite a hook line. The only thing that bothered him was that for whatever reason, he went to bed alone the night before.
Unlike other tenants, Adam pulled open his door without indecision or curiosity as to who was on the other side. The building had good enough security and well, he was always prepared to say the very least. As expected, the outside margin presented his good friend and technical 'business' partner. Still shirtless, Adam itched tiredly at his right shoulder and grunted, "Wassup man?" The two exchanged a quick handshake before Spitz strolled in casually, sinking into the couch like it was his own house. Adam crossed the distance of the compact living room. He kicked open the bathroom door, sweatpants half sagging off of him to show a pair of symmetry lines at the extremity of his toned abdomen. The sink needed to be cleaned, it was obvious that a woman's touch was never at hand. Drops of water rolled from the rusty faucet which was turned off. Lazily he jammed a toothbrush loaded with paste into his mouth and unintelligibly called to Spitz, "Is that deal at Manhattan tower still on tonight or what?" Next, he spit out a wad of bloody phlegm and toothpaste to repeat slightly, "That thing your girl on the seventh floor is doing… some fashion shit." Momentarily he peered into the mirror, met with a yawning face that couldn't be bothered to take orders from anyone or anything.
"Yeah she puttin' on some party for an editor or whatever she do." Spitz lit a blunt.
"Alright alright." Adam beamed and rubbed his hands together, "After party?"
"True. Get a new whip up in that old ass garage."
"I'm saying!" Adam acclaimed.
"Finna see if I can get shorty from my floor to come kick it, uuuuuuh uh."
"Got a mouth on her."
The two men laughed. Adam snagged the blunt from Spitz to take a hit, letting the stimulant dilate in his abused lungs. He held his breath, passing the joint back to his friend and finally letting out an abrading cough. Hopping up and down, Adam shook his shoulders and hawked, "Train wreck sweet? Damn, good shit. I'm gonna' need that for this fuckin' council shit they have going on on the second floor." For a moment the two got quiet, looking at each other and realizing it was a mandatory meeting. Spitz held the joint in his mouth, eyes wide as he rushed towards the door and called out, "I'll see you up there bruh!"
Adam was left to hastily wash himself, throw on a spray of Axe which, normally he wouldn't do but, he was too lazy for anything else. The landlord would watch him with her bird ass, beady eyes when he snuck in late. But it wasn't too big of a deal, Adam had lived at Empire Heights for more than six months. He knew how everything worked. He fought his way into a Supreme hood and a pair of khakis, almost forgetting his Airmax 90's on his way out the door. As he jogged down the stairs he near tripped as he blew past a blond from the third floor, someone he'd seen a few times but never caught her name. He knew she was kush friendly. At least, that's what he heard. She looked younger than himself but he never got the chance to really converse with her. Maybe her name was Alex? Ally? Something like that.
When he finally spilled through the double doors into the lounge area, half of the complex was already seated. Eyes shifted towards him, some with disapproval and some with amusement. With a straight face, the young man shrugged and loudly yanked a chair to sit besides the light-skinned girl he had stolen more than a few glances at in the past. As surmised, the landlord looked ready to snap at the sight of Adam. Without shame he raised his hand high and called out, "Don't worry Ms. Furman, I'm here. You look stunning." He heard Spitz hoot in response, followed by a few chuckles.
What was left of Spitz' little treat from the deal he had the night before was almost gone already. At the crack of dawn he always had a wake and bake session, but cut back on this particular morning so he had some left. 'Train Wreck Sweet', one of the most intense mental highs he ever felt. He usually kept his hands out of the coke and various narcotics he dealt anymore. Only once in a blue moon would he dabble for fun. Besides, he was more than capable of attaining any type of weed he wanted at a great price if not for free. With the assistance of Banksy, another Empire Heights resident, Spitz never went without good kush. The connections the two had gave them the eligibility of king pins. And life was good.
After making more than enough business calls, Spitz tucked his iPhone into the pocket of black slim jeans. He kicked down at the heel of his Vans, securing them and deciding to get a coffee from the second floor before all the bullshit started on it during the meeting.
Snugly perched in plain view was Amil, another EH tenant he had the satisfaction of knowing and bumping heads with. Something about her outstanding wits and sailor's mouth always had him peeping her but never getting too close. He figured she was smart enough not to fuck around with his type, what with her nose in books and her priorities seemingly together. The only problem with the equation was that she was exactly his type. The length of her lean body was graced with perennial artwork, her skin taut and tawny. He was always fighting the urge to lick his lips like some animal in her presence. He simply nodded towards her, unsure if she acknowledged him or not as he made his way to order a coffee from the regular cafe counter attendant.
A short distance away was another local, Patrick or something was his name, as Spitz vaguely remembered. He was looking tired as usual, typing away on his computer like all he knew was work. Spitz looked down into his wallet at the counter, minding his own business and smirking slightly. After tipping the barista he peeled the lid off of his coffee and tossed it into the trashcan. He hated the taste of plastic. As he sat down he looked around the second floor lounge area. Not many people inhabited it despite the space being actually pretty affluent. There was a coffee area, couches, two TVs and a dart board. The other half of the room was bare, usually utilized for meetings. He knew mostly everyone from the building by heart and was sociable with all of them, so sometimes meetings weren't half bad. Some people just didn't want to be within so much as hearing distance of him. And he got it, he understood. He never took it as disrespect. It was all good with him no matter what.
The warmth from the coffee filled his body to the point that his camo jacket and hoodie almost had him sweating. "Ooowee," he mumbled, grasping the cup with one hand and straightening the bill of his hat with the other. He finished off the liquid and made his way to the fifth floor to wake Banksy's lazy ass up.
After beating on the door for five minutes straight the fool finally got up and answered the door without a shirt like some crack fiend. Spitz strolled in and plopped right onto the couch and lit up a joint to unwind for a little before he had sit and listen to Furman ramble on and on about keeping the halls clean and not filing complaints about construction noise. Banksy's living room was dark, the curtains were pulled shut haphazardly and the walls were bare. Things weren't utterly disorganized but the dude definitely could have used a morning maid or something. Everyone lived differently, but sometimes Spitz just didn't understand how.
After sharing his blunt with Banksy he suddenly remembered that it wasn't so early anymore. The two of them seemed to conclude it at the same time which had Spitz power hitting the train wreck sweet and running out of the door to make it to the meeting at a punctual time. Only a few minutes before it began he was snagging a seat in the center row of carelessly placed chairs, waiting for the rest of the crowd to arrive. And one by one they made their way in, some looking asleep still, others like Jaylene and Elliot looking like they were ready to go shopping or some shit. He saluted the two, walking in the way they always did, while Ms. Furman stood in front of all of them, beginning humorlessly, "I don't want to have to hold these meetings anymore, so I'll make it quick."