Notable agitation lingered in the air of the cafe. Spitz didn't give a fuck, and he knew Banksy didn't either. But Jaylene, despite the swing in her hips and the confidence in her smile, probably felt a twinge of self consciousness. Spitz never pegged her for the insecure type. If anything she was the exact opposite, even when she was a teenager back in Belleville. Her slip-ups were few and far between. Since reaching adulthood the only thing that changed was the height of the heels she wore, the amount of words she spoke freely and the termination of her drug use. From where she stood at the front of the room, all eyes on her, she seemed to speak softly. It wasn't like she wasn't used to public speaking, Spitz had seen her give spiels about everything from political campaigns to fabric tailoring. But she didn't really socialize with many of the residents and she was unrehearsed at best. Spitz heard Juliet shifting when Jaylene spoke, like the sound of her voice was making the bartender see red. One quick peep at Elliot confirmed the substance of Juliet's pique.
Part of Spitz wanted to laugh at the common resentful female psyche. Another part of him wanted to shake his head and mutter something along the lines of, 'Aye, if you wanna' trade off Monroe…' But that thought in itself made him want to be rolling on the floor.
Putting the thoughts of bedding Jaylene to rest, Spitz pushed off of his seat and turned around to face Elliot. The dude looked pleased to have his usual company. And what man wouldn't? Spitz guessed that he garnered more than just a little envy wherever he went with Jaylene. In spite of that, though, Monroe wore twenty six years like a champ. Especially in her presence. Otherwise arcane and malicious activity was more than likely a well kept secret where she was concerned. Best friend or girlfriend, there wasn't a shot in hell Jaylene knew what was really pooling in Monroe's dark eyes. What went on in that dude's top would blow Spitz's highest thoughts out of the water. But he still worked his ass off and kept a potent disposition. Spitz had a high opinion of that. That's why Spitz and his crew backed Monroe so hard.
"Aye man," Spitz began, "You need any help with anything let me know. We got all day."
"Can't cook for shit though." Banksy admitted.
"This bull will burn cereal." He pointed to the tall malefactor a short distance away.
"It's true but uh, if you need assistance with alcohol." He winked towards Juliet.
"Chill with that, thirsty."
Spitz's head dipped as he pulled his snapback on again. He gently moved past Jaylene who was returning to Monroe and approached the couch where Amil and Patrick sat, rubbing his hands together with a plotting smirk on his lips. The sunlight caught his eyes and lit up the mischief enclosed. He ran his hands down the length of his camo jacket and glanced back and forth between the two, "So maybe y'all can take some time off from work and come party tonight?" Before they could answer, Spitz pivoted to the side of the loveseat that Amil occupied, lowering himself and whispering in her ear, "I'd spoil you rotten, bae." His voice was resonant and toothsome. He could have scooped her up right there. But he didn't. And just like that, he opened the distance between them again, always respecting a woman's space. Not to be taken as contempt in any way, Spitz followed up his own comment and pointed towards Patrick's computer, "Man everybody need to take a break once in a while. You finna' get spoiled by some of these females if you show up tonight, boooooooy!" Quickly Spitz let his eyes dart back to Amil, curious about her reaction. He could still smell the eggnog coming off of her supple lips even with the breadth between them. And those dusky eyes just about had him grabbing her up.
But he relinquished the forethought. He had to commemorate himself on his amount of control. Even if Kaleb hit, it didn't really keep Spitz at bay. Certainly didn't when it came to Jaylene, either. In a way maybe it was some sick competition to see who was alpha. In that field, Kaleb was a fierce challenger. Moments of recollection confirmed that much. Kaleb was never gonna' let someone swoop in on any of his ladies, not without a fight at least. Spitz had a lot of it in the bag, though, most of the time. Jaylene wasn’t a match anymore, not for either of them. But Amil. Amil was shrewd. She might have needed a little work and courting than most girls. Good thing Spitz had no intention of treating her like most girls. He still wanted to make Kaleb sweat.
"Spitz Rollins..."
Spitz whipped his head in the direction of an opposite couch, where Alex was getting up from her position with an apple in one hand, a blade in the other. The girl was dangerous. But she pulled his attention right from the goal at hand. Money was money; contacts were more important when there were events with potential for trafficking. Alex was just the right girl to talk to. She slung a slice of fruit towards his head, only allowing his slow and under-the-influence reaction in response. He watched it bounce off of the bill of his hat. His point of convergence caused black pupils to swell and eclipse what color was in his eyes before he haphazardly caught the apple in his hand, wearing a dumb grin as he padded towards her, “My homie.” The apple disappeared into his mouth while he snaked his arm around Alexandra’s shoulders and kissed her hair, “Where else would I be? Come on, you know me better than that.” For a moment he pulled her tight to his chest, then messed with her hair and countered, “Hol’ up, who said it’s all about you? What’s in it for me ma?”
He peered suspiciously into her cyan eyes. Alex was in the springtime of her life. The wage labors were just the icing on the cake for her. With her wild mind, her effectiveness in the legal and illegal, and the looks of a French mannequin, she was integral in nearly any situation. Not just dealings with Spitz. With that being said, she was the only female he dealt with in an ex cathedra way. She was real about her business and she wasn’t a fuckaround.
The sweet rescinded its high. Full color was less vibrant now. Unaffected and unfazed at the end of his altered state of mind, Spitz adjusted his sobering eyes to the light. “Let’s talk to the director,” he toyed and started towards Jaylene.
The first thing out of her mouth was partially expected. One thing Spitz learned from his mother was to never doubt a woman’s intuition. As the conversation carried on, he was pressed to interrogate about other company showing up at the party. But it was Jaylene’s gig, not his. He kept comments and unecessary questions to himself, looking to Alex from time to time and finishing off the account by letting Jaylene know he’d have her back and help out with some goodies. He started towards the door, wearing Alex like a pretty trinket from his arm and inquiring, “When you gonna’ come through about buying some sweet, huh?” He grinned an ivory smile.
There was slight friction amid Jaylene and Juliet with Mr. Monroe, though. Juliet was another friend of Elliot's, a pretty girl that worked at the bar and seemed to have a strong hand. If it weren't for the comfortable silence, maybe either one would have snapped at each other. Luckily Jaylene was mostly negligent to the same sex, but was known for cutthroat bitchcraft when fucked with to a certain degree. And if anyone heard about the little run-in that wound up in Jaylene shattering a cop's kneecap back in Canada she was sure most people would steer clear. As luck would have it, no one but Kaleb and Spitz seemed to know about that. Even if she didn't necessarily keep either of them close, anymore, she could count on some of the uglier parts of her maturation being kept hush-hush. Juliet seemed to have some poise as well. Besides, Jaylene was more than likely to dust off any animosity and just carry on because she figured on life being too short. She just wished she was stronger with that philosophy when it came to other people, ones who had dappled her past and changed who she was forever. He swam in the marrow of her bones.
From her peripherals she could see Spitz putting the mack, or trying to, on Amil. She was foreign and exotic looking, painted in beautiful body work that Jaylene would otherwise cringe at. But somehow, it worked for her. Jaylene could appreciate beauty in most shapes, variations, and colors. Amil was no exception. In fact, she could have been just the right candidate to change things up and diversify the agency. Jaylene zoned for a moment, contemplating a new method of comeup. Patrick who sat beside Amil also could have assisted Jaylene's stratagem for increase in vendings and rag trade. He had great eyes. If only she could peel him away from the computer and get him to agree. Somehow she knew it wasn't going to happen though. Kaleb and Amil weren’t a secret and it had all the promise in the world to go horribly wrong.
But she wasn’t bitter anymore, not the way people probably thought. In fact, she thought so little of it. Unfortunately faculty of sight kept her a prisoner. Burnt sienna eyes. The unforgotten lines of a consummate body, fashioned by God himself, if he were really extant. Protracted redolence of ash and flame. He was a hybrid, an alloy of the things she feared most and loved dearly. But beautiful creations rarely had more virtues than vices. A weathered history landed him in her lap emblematically and with denial and unease, dumped him right off again. He could have been her soul mate, something tailored by fate. She shouldn’t have left the way she did. Remorseful or not, Jaylene’s position on the matter wouldn’t make him any less angry or tepid. They were two completely different souls now.
Acceptance of the karma slammed into Jaylene’s brain. She sighed unhappily, green eyes following Kaleb for a moment where he was speaking to the second floor resident until Spitz broke the foreground with Alex close in tow. And so the woman slid back into her cordial skin, beaming a certain warmth as they approached.
“Tonight the night?” Jaylene prodded with humor.
“Just might.” Spitz looked over his shoulder at Amil and gave Jaylene a shrug.
“If you get a chance to snag her, bring her my way, I have a proposition.”
“That’s some messy business.” Spitz subtly added with a shake of his head.
“So, Alex, are you coming?” She plainly dismissed Spitz’s caution. Life was about risks.
“Hell yeah she comin’,” the handsome devil stated further, “gonna’ turn up.”
“I can drink to that.”
“I’ll pull together some treats for you, Jay. I’ma catch up with you later.” He wrapped an arm around Alex and strolled toward the exit.
Jaylene stood in his wake, watching him go and waiting for Elliot. Sangfroid began to waver as she contemplated her next bold move. Inviting residents was a huge step - a huge risk, even. And as much as she was sure that she made herself clear about anyone being welcome, she wasn’t positive that Kaleb saw it that way. She glanced at Elliot, the cry for advice digging from behind her teeth. Pulling the fabric of her cardigan tight to fluid curves of her frame, she winced in anticipation of his reaction, “Do you think I should tell him it’s okay? To come?” Her tone was hushed, the look on her face muddled with concern and daze. Elliot knew enough, maybe not all of the story, but, enough. Enough, that he may encourage her to keep the silent treaty consistent and just move along with original plans.
The room drained slowly as though something were clogging the channel. That something in question was Jaylene, AKA 'Barbie', AKA 'Bitchface Syndrome'. The last nickname, Adam knew, was a complete contradiction due to her changeless smile. Behind her straight grin her knew there was a sensation of ongoing irritation. Call it whatever one will, but it was a gift of instinct that Adam always had about people. Which, was also always ironic considering the crowd he so commonly ran with. With the exception of the first two epithets, Adam would never call Jaylene anything else to her face. Or even anyone in the building. She was an adult, carried herself as such, and he wasn't gonna' fuck with her. Even if she did call him a grease monkey, insult his intelligence plainly, and roll her eyes when he spoke. She had every reason to feel the way she did. He didn't know her and the feeling was mutual with just a little more inhumanity on her end.
Abusive and thuggish were not short-handed ways when it came to the young man. One thing he wasn't was an abuser of women. Fuck that. Never in his life would he lay his hand on a female. He'd had hundreds of tempting moments but always at least acted in accordance with the bodily respect of a woman's well being. Punishment in the clink had no sympathy for a man who'd beat on the opposite sex. Because of the stipulated jailhouse scripture, Adam got himself into more than a few optional fights. Zero tolerance.
By the time he'd made it over to his colleague, Spitz was still in a momentary vegetative state. Until Alex chucked fruit at his face and it sprung back from the bill of his hat. Adam watched it all in half-time, used to the effect but, a little more sentient than Spitz. Even if the dude was a big time dealer, he hadn't seen or dealt with half the shit that Adam had. It showed in their contrast of resilience to narcotics and stimulants. Adam would shake it off sooner than Spitz would take his eyes off a black and white painting he'd been staring at for hours. Most of the time it was funny, other times it was grating when they had shit to get done. Faced with a few small discords, they were still pretty good friends and business partners. If a situation got sticky neither of them would go in on the matter single-handed. That's what they maintained above sphere.
Adam's indigo gaze followed the path from which the apple came and landed right on the bewitching figure of Alexandra. She was a regular with Spitz, not so much Adam. He didn't play with the girls of any trade unless it were to buy a coffee or getting assistance at the Supreme shop on Lafayette Street. In her expression and delivery, it was unmissable that she didn't care to deal with too many people either. That's the way the transactions typically went in a more professional style of street exchange. Only stupid kids freely sold their merchandise to people they didn't really know, roaming alleyways with one hand in their pocket and the other with the index finger extended to strangers. There wasn't time for premature bullshit in Adam's world and it was refreshing to know that other people carried themselves in the same sense. In wake of the disinclination of breaking bread with strangers, Adam kept Spitz's company in silence, following him for further detail about Jaylene's carouse.
But it yielded nothing of much importance. At least not to Adam. Just the typical rambling of promise, inebriation, chasing tail and who else would be coming. Spitz yawned and wrapped his arm around the blond arms dealer, esoteric as always. Adam cracked his knuckles, lack of bias dancing on the tip of his tongue. He rubbed one hand against his chiseled jawline, noting to himself that a visit to the barber wouldn't be such a bad idea. Still unmoved in a sort of awkward lingering, he could hear the whispers of Jaylene a small distance away, slightly arched over Monroe.
“Do you think I should tell him it’s okay? To come?”
Spitz had disappeared through open double doors. Adam remained, a-flicker with curiosity and halfassed interest as he took visual catalog of the room before deciding to speak again. He glanced downward at his leggy shadow.d His concrete jowl softened as he tugged softly at the neck of his hoodie, electing his venerated soundlessness. It would have been fun to stir things up and loudly get a fix on who she was talking about, but for once, he decided against fanning the flames of stupidity. Even if he was comfortable making some sideways remark with Monroe around, it just wasn't appropriate and he'd keep the water under boiling until at least Barbie's party was over. The road less traveled could sometimes prove to be a little safer.
Juliet had gone to Amil, where a lot of ribbing was sounding from. Patrick sat somehow comfortably in the depths of it, joking with the tattooed goddess. It was a rare sight to Adam. He didn't fraternize a lot, but had picked up on the common behaviors of most of EH. Seeing the severely assignment brain-washed computer hugger enjoying a joke or two with some beautiful girls was unusual. Of course, stranger things had happened in Adam's dust devil of a life.
He snorted, suddenly bored by it all. Despite living moderately in his friend's shadow, he wasn't that kind of lost puppy dog. In fact he really preferred to do things on his own. If everyone was else was doing their own thing, strange or not, he figured he deserved some excitement too what with going to bed alone the night before and all. He slunk towards Hudson, the sable-haired virtuoso that Jaylene had sought out for party entertainment. The girl sat alone, preoccupied by her phone and nothing or anyone else in the room. The way he saw it, his pursuit could just help Jaylene out so that he could be on her good books. Also, it could help him out too. A smirk tugged at the crook of his mouth. He saw everything in his life as a fleeting moment filled with opportunities.
Shamelessly he pulled up a chair beside her, sinking into it and glancing over at her with the constitution of a harmless neighbor. He'd seen her around before, trademarked her as the bright smile of the building. As far as memorizing her, he mentally noted the nose ring and the development of her sleeve. He waited for her to pull her attention from her phone and notice him then began, "Hey I've seen you around at some bars, haven't I? You play guitar?" For once he sounded maybe genuinely interested in what someone else had to say, not a hint of sarcasm or detachment in his voice. He ran his hands down the length of his straightlegged khakis, mentioning, "Man if you decide to play for the party tonight your band will make big stacks. That girl can pay out. Plus she'll put your band up anywhere she can."