Amil Sheffield's Story

Dark velvet drapes covered the bay windows, the only illuminate in the entire apartment being the flickering television that had been on the same channel since the night before. Amil had begun a criminal minds marathon, only to fall asleep and wake up to a house marathon, which only the humorless could say no to. She had only gotten up from her couch to piss and to grab some snacks from the kitchen. Her hair, varying shades of a rich teal, was starting to become greasy and had been thrown into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head, face stripped of makeup and with an expression that read ‘I don’t give a fuck’.
She had been holed up in her house for a few days, enjoying the time to herself. Spending all last week at a shoot for some skate brand, Amil was burnt out on forcing smiles and having to maintain the image of an ‘inked doll’. She returned to the Bronx, went to the grocery store to stockpile goodies, then dressed in her comfiest clothes to begin her mini vacation in the comfort of her own home. Her lean frame still sported the same, shapeless sweats and tee, most likely trophies from some friend who left them behind. Half empty glasses and dirtied plates stacked on the leather coffee table, like children waiting after school for their mother who always took to long to pick them up.
Seth Greene and the boy from Home Alone lit the screen, dressed in ridiculous outfits and wearing obscene make up. Also set in New York, Party Monsters was about a group of kids who were famous for no reason, just for throwing great parties and being fabulous. It seemed like a ridiculous movie to some people, but the dark pieces that showed the plunge into drug addiction and being caught into the current of parties was intoxicating. Watching the self destruction of someone who would have been her age the time the movie was made. “We are who we make ourselves to be.” Her grandpa would say when talking about his son, never making excuses for his absence.
The Bronx had been kind to Amelia all these years, compared to others. She knew what blocks to cross and what blocks to avoid. Most loud pop noises were from a car backfiring, and in general the violence seemed to avoid her area. When she moved into Empire Heights several months ago she had just finished a lease with a roomate in a cramped space in Manhattan, a horrible decision. She could barely afford to save money and hated the atmosphere of the area, preferring the laid back edge of the Bronx.
Glancing at her watch, the slight femme sighed, figuring it was time to allow herself into the world again. Stripping as she made her way to the shower, she ran the hot water before stepping in. The bathroom started to smell like fresh citrus’ and shea butter, going through her beauty regimen meticulously. Emerging fresh and rejuvinated, Amil piled her hair into a turban on top of her head before going into her bedroom. “Fuuuck.” She cursed to herself as she open the doors to her closet and a couple of drawers, shuffling through to see what might catch her eye. When nothing did she took a seat on the edge of her bed, facing the closet. Often when she felt stuck about what to wear that was what she did, just stare blankly into the abyss of her clothing. Deciding she just wanted to run to the cafe, she threw on an oversized retro black sweater and leggings that neatly tucked into a pair of boots.
Normally she would have done her make up, but she just powdered her nose and brushed on a little mascara, grabbing her book on her way out. Since she lived on the first floor, the cafe would be only one flight up. She took slow measured breaths, asthma always reminding her that her breath capacity was laughable. When she made it to the cafe, the barista already rang up her order, calling out, “One big eggnog latte, coming up!” with a smile. Amil had a soft spot for eggnog anything. She smiled and paid, taking a seat in a comfy, plush couch, using the arm as support as she buried her nose in the book until she would receive her latte.

In the corner of the lounge another occupant of Empire Heights sat, Patrick Murphy clicking away into his lap top, then angrily deleting whatever he had written and starting over, a writers cycle. His hair strewn in all directions from him tugging at his shaggy dark locks while he worked. Dark bags under his eyes showed he was under stress, his vivid gray blue eyes mimicking the look of a corpse. He had been pressed for a dead line, and article about an undergoing political scandal that had yet to hit the light, he was the exclusive, or he would be if he could get the damn article right in time for the deadline. He wore the same thing he would to sleep, navy fleece sweat pants and a dark gray thermal shirt, hugging at his wrists snuggly. Even his feet wore the same red and black checkered house shoes he sported around his unit. Going to take a drink from his mug, he realized it was empty, finally making himself aware of his surroundings. He noticed he wasn’t alone anymore, and specifically that Amil had taken refuge on the couch with a book which read Haunted across the top.

Clutching his mug with dear life he first went to the counter, smirking as he offered the mug, as if wordlessly to say “Do your job, bitch.”
The woman smiled back and filled his mug, not even bothering to ask if he wanted sugar or cream, he liked his coffee like his views on life, bitter. The woman knew by now Patrick wasn’t much of a people person, so she was surprised when he stopped to sit in the chaise lounge chair across from Amil, grinning with amusement. “Why, Amelia Sheffield you are ever full of surprises. Who on earth knew that you knew how to read?” He said, a glint in his eye as he went to sip from his mug.

Yet to have received her latte, before even acknowledging Patrick’s presence, she lazily looked over her book to the woman, who’s mouth seemed to have fallen open, appalled by Patrick’s comment. Raising her eyebrows in question, the woman then seemed to have realized what Amil was only concerned about, and returned to making Amil’s drink. Smiling to herself, she dog eared a page in her book before looking at Patrick’s expectant expression. He was such a man, desperate to always be so crude and have to feel the need to be an alpha, the only reason she knew him really was through Kaleb. Although she had to say that he grew on her a little.

Clearing her throat, she sat up straight, setting down her book as the woman finally brought her latte. Gently thanking the lady, Amil turned to face Patrick as she went to take a sip of her drink, both of them staring each other down. Finally, Amil looked away to set her drink down gently, ladylike. Then brushing off herself, she then looked back at Patrick, “Dusting the hate off.” She said casually.

He rolled his eyes, flicking her off as he leaned back.
“Hehe, well fuck you too, Trick!” She said, adding hand gestures for emphasis, simulating an explosion of fireworks ..or whatever else.
Once again he rolled his eyes, smacking the air as if it was her, blowing a heave of disapproval over his shoulder. “That’s right motherfucker, know you’re place.” She added.

Patrick couldn’t help prodding Amelia, she was comical. She had a small, sweet voice, but spoke so many profanities he couldn’t keep up. Her persona was a blend of hip-hop, rocker and bubbly, an odd mixture - but she was a weird girl. Kaleb and her had hooked up once or twice, he wasn’t sure. He remembered Kaleb claiming he and his girl were on a break, but the timing didn’t make sense to Patrick. Unfortunately Patrick knew Kaleb wasn’t the most loyal boyfriend. Either way when he first met Amil, he thought for sure she would make him want to boil and serve his own brains for dinner. After about an hour of hearing so many swear words twisted into so many phrases, he felt a little better about being forced to hang out with her when Kaleb would try to get him out of his apartment. He quickly realized her best form of communication was arguing, and it became a constant thing between them, although a fraction of the animosity began as real, they really are good friends now.

“What are you doing out of your shell, Herbie?” Amil asked, calling him Herbie after a pet hermit crab she once had. She claims he died from neglect.

“Trying to get this article done, it’s due at midnight and I haven’t got anything but the title, which I’ve changed 7 times.”

She nodded, taking a sip from her latte again. “Sounds like you’re trying to procrastinate.” She winked playfully.

Wilting, Patrick rolled his head back, tugging at his hair once again. “Okay, just go Dr. Phil on me Amil.” He stood up, cradling his mug. “I’m going to retreat to my corner. You can stay here and sell tickets to the freak show, you’d be the perfect representative.”

This time it was Amil to flick him off, raising her book back up and curling up once again on the sofa. Chuckling to himself, Patrick took his place back behind his laptop and decided that before he wrote another line, it was time for a title change.


“For me, the Doors is always the best way to go. From what you’re telling me about that person, I feel like they have the same music taste as me and I would go crazy if someone bought me one of their vinyl records.” A brown skinned boy said, escorting a straight edge suburban middle aged white couple around the overstocked, crazy chaos of the record store. They were dressed to go to dinner at the club, he was dressed to go to a concert. However for once, Kaleb didn’t look like the one out of place, this was his ground, this time it was the well off, put together one that looked misplaced. They wearily looked at each other, looking Kaleb from his aged black vans, straight leg dark wash jeans and old Ramones black and white tee under his red and black flannel worn over as a jacket. As far as professionalism goes, Kaleb had none, but he seemed to know his shit about music. The couple bought the record, and a couple other ones he suggested. As he rang them up they said that he reminded them a lot of their son, and he laughed and thought to himself how pissed they must be about that. Instead he smiled and gave them their receipt, invited them back. She said they would be back, but he doubted it.

Most of their income was from regulars anyways. Taking his seat behind the counter, Kaleb checked his phone. Only a couple hours until he could go home, or go get laid, or go see a movie. He felt like being anywhere but in the too-small shop that seemed to drain most of his days away. Kicking his feet up, he reached over for his bass guitar and began strumming it, practicing for his gig coming up. That was what Kaleb loved about this job, at least here he was encouraged to make music his life.

The distant violin, a component of one of Lana Del Rey's songs, hummed airlessly from an ajar window on the seventh floor. Jaylene, the occupant of 7C, laughed in spite of the wintry mix that danced among the maximum height of the complex in which she lived. Heat would always ardently rise regardless of the seasons, causing her to irritably jam her fingers under the small window helve and crack it wide open. Faint tottering resounded on the floor she shared with other tenants. An oversized, black polished clock above her kitchen sink read '10:37AM'. Still 'Born to Die' looped from the night before, whirling from the bedroom door where a sleepy, blond-haired woman growled into her pillow then turned and threw her wrist over face.

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.












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.

Spitz didn't have any complaints anymore. He was at a steady place in a secure home, mostly surrounded by friends and good business. Whatever came in never left without him getting a good look, which was the pleasure and mass of his income while living on the first floor. Wasn't a bad gig at all. He had a spacious place, two bedrooms and a large bathroom. The only drab thing about it was the white walls which were strictly forbidden from being painted, part of EH edict. A black and white scheme of contemporary portraits and photos were methodically hung from his walls. Reflection of brisk sunlight scattered across their surfaces from large windows. In the center of the living room was a large LED flatscreen, just adjacent to a black leather sofa that Spitz sat on to play some video games and make phone calls in the early morning.

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."

Kaleb Dean Sivaj
Most people were just waking up, but Kaleb had to be at the record shop at the crack of dawn to open the record shop until one of the associates made it in to hold down the fort. The owner of the store had grown to be a father figure of sorts to Kaleb, having been the man to take Kaleb under his wing a couple years back, giving him a job and a cot to crash on for $35 a month - it was a sweet deal compared to being homeless. Dan was probably the only person that Kaleb still associated with from his days as a vagabond. After so long of seeing Kaleb grow as a person, and offering guidance along the way, Dan had basically left his store in the hands of the young man. He had a wife, although they didn’t have any children, and they were currently in California visiting family. In the meantime Kaleb had to open and close every day, since he was the only one with keys to the store. It was cool because he only had to work 3 hours at a time, twice a day, but it sucked because every day he had to wake up at 5 AM. Admittedly he had already called the other workers a couple of times to say the shop would be closed for the day, but hangovers were a bitch to battle.

“Dueces.” He said on his way out to Mitchell, throwing up a peace sign on his way out.

Unlike most people his age, Kaleb still hadn’t owned a car. Even when he lived in Canada in the posh side of Belleville in a spacious 4 bedroom home with his father, the surgeon, he had never been allowed to drive. Mr. Sivaj was a man of very strict standards, but unfortunately he never had the time to implement his discipline, and Mrs. Sivaj had died during child birth. So instead Kaleb would be grounded, left alone in the house, with his friends living only minutes away - his best friend being his neighbor - and access to vast amounts of money. Needless to say Kaleb was a bit of a wild card, which was half of the reason why he ran away. Now, Kaleb only contacted his father and sister on holidays and birthdays, they always asked if he was doing well but never asked for details. His father definitely never offered any kind of financial support, so until he could save up, he would take the bus as usual. Luckily this time he didn’t have to wait long for the bus to arrive.

He chose to stand, the only seats available blocked by grocery bags or purses of unwelcoming neighbors. He took out his phone, seeing he had missed a call from Kaycee, sighing heavily as he deliberated wether he should call her back or not. Kaycee was undoubtedly the most important person in his life right now, but she was so terribly insecure and never gave him any trust, it seemed - although thinking back he hadn’t done much to deserve it either. Frowning, he punched the call back key, waiting three rings until she picked up.
”Hey hott stuff.” she answered.
“Hey, what’s up?”
”Just wanted to chat...” He could imagine her scrunching her short hair, as she would usually do when she was on the phone, maybe leaning across the counter of the trendy boutique she worked at as costumers browsed over priced jewelry. ”what are you up to?
In reality Kaleb knew she had waited until the exact moment she thought he would get off work to know exactly what her plans for the day was, she did the same thing every time, so predictable and not the least bit slick in her tactics. He shrugged her shoulders as if she could see him, glancing around at the strange faces as he thought up an answer. “Just on my way back to my place, there’s some weird meeting for all the tenants...then I’ll probably just kick it at Patrick’s until I have to swing back to the shop.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, it probably would end up being true, but he didn’t have any set plans really. So long as Kaycee thought she knew what was going on, she’d be happy. “How about you?” He added, for good boyfriend affect.
”Here until 7, wanted to see if you’d be up for thai..”
“Sorry babe, I go in at 7.”
”Yea I know, but I could bring it to you...”
He couldn’t help but to smirk, despite her annoying quirks, the girl was undeniably cute. The familiar store fronts and buildings passed by, signaling to Kaleb. “I’ll text you later, babe, I’m at my stop.”
She sighed with disappointment, ”Okay...love you.”
“Love you, too. I’ll text you, promise.”

The bus stop was only a block down from Empire Heights, a minute walk at most. Glancing at the face of his phone, he saw that he was late, picking up his pace to a slow jog as he neared his building. It seemed a bit ridiculous that their landlord would be having a mandatory meeting as if they were students at some weird boarding institute. However Ms. Furman was obviously a control freak, and wanted to keep her tenants in line. It was strange how most of the tenants were in their twenties, but considering that Empire Heights was one of the few places that didn’t run a background check and offered moderate security and luxuries that may have had something to do with it. He took the stairs to the cafe, seeing it was already pretty cramped. Amil and Patrick had taken refuge on one of the couches, but all the other plush seating was taken. A quick scan told him that Jaylene had managed to make it, hanging off that stocky little mother fucker from 7D.

One of the few spots left was next to Juliet, a girl Amil had brought around a couple times. “What did I miss?” He asked, smirking with mild curiousity.





Amil had a problem with being alone, she hated sitting on her own in her apartment unless she was burnt out after traveling or being drowned with back to back shoots. Although the past few days spent in solitude had been nice, sitting in the cafe with Patrick in the corner and the barista behind the counter was fulfilling. Her latte was warming and tasty, filled with all the festive cheer she needed in her life at the moment. Setting down her book momentarily, she cupped her drink with both hands as she finished the last of it, savoring the beverage. It was still some time before their mandatory meeting started, which she had forgotten about until the woman behind the counter mentioned it, yet Spitz rolled in much earlier than she would’ve suspected. He nodded to her in greeting, and she smiled warmly back, although he didn’t seem to let his eyes linger long enough to see if she would respond at all. A facetious smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she brought her book back up, watching him with mild amusement.

Amil was no dummy, she could tell when someone was physically attracted to her. In actuality, all egoism aside, most people were on some level attracted to her, it was her job to attract people to her. Despite her and Spitz never having spent much time together, they had crossed paths numerous times. He would usually run his eyes down her shape, pausing twice if her clothing was provocative enough. It was no secret he was a dealer, he and Bansky ran a fine operation together. Not much of a partier, however, Amil rarely dabbled in drugs. Occasionally if she was running low she’d take a bump off of some other model’s stash, or if she felt especially high strung she’d smoke a joint - but she never actually bought any drugs. She figured the only reason she hadn’t hung out with the residential drug dealers was because she never needed their services, and it seemed like that was all they really cared about. They were both appealing in her eyes, luckily neither of them had encountered her drunk - Kaleb was always around for that.

Yet instead of lingering, Spitz disappeared and Amil buried herself back into her book, lost in the pages until she felt someone sit on the left of her, leaving her in the middle. She looked up to Patrick, who had gotten comfy beside her, his mug in one hand and his other protectively shielding his laptop that sat, closed, on his lap. “People are starting to filter in, out of the lot I’d rather be next to you.” He said, the usual bitter edge to his tone.

Amil rolled her eyes, dog earing her place in her book and going to the cafe counter once again to this time order a tea and a delicious pastry, taking both back with her to her spot. “You can have some if you’d like.” She said, motioning to the pastry.

Patrick looked at her with a deadpan expression, “I’d really prefer not to get herpes.”

She punched his arm, tugged his ear and lightly smacked his face. “Don’t be a jack ass.” She said simply, pointing a finger in his face. Anyone else, Patrick might’ve began a verbal slaughtering of a lifetime, but his comment had been severely crude - and the fact that he felt oddly aroused was a bit off putting. So instead he smirked mischievously, taking a piece of her pastry and slowly putting it into his mouth. She nodded with approval, “Much better.”

By then a couple people had begun to stare at the two, although most were probably surprised that Patrick was being friendly with anyone at all. It seemed like a good percentage of the tenants had actually shown, although a couple were late. It was no surprise that Bansky was among them, adding a snide comment to counter Ms. Furmans surly attitude. She couldn’t help but to laugh a little, receiving a stare from Patrick of course who didn’t find it the least bit entertaining. Amil rolled her eyes, Patrick had listened too much to Kaleb, who outrightly slandered Spitz as well as Bansky, especially the pretty blonde from 7C. Amil preferred to make judgements on her own though instead of listening to others. Luckily Ms. Furman promised to be quick, carrying on with her point to the meeting. Kaleb drifted in belatedly, taking a spot next to Juliet, as Amil locked eyes with the girl across the room she smiled and waved excitedly, earning yet another stare from Patrick. Frowning she nudged Patrick with her elbow, huffing dramatically.

Ms. Furman cleared her throat, looking down to Amil and Patrick both with obvious disapproval. The two took humbled expressions, waiting until she looked away to glance at each other from the corner of their eyes, resisting the urge to laugh. Patrick opened his laptop, pulling up a text document and typing out the word HEATHENS, making it harder for Amil not to laugh. She could just imagine their landlord referring to them all in such a way. Before Amil could respond, Ms. Furman’s stern voice brought her attention back to the woman that stood before them all in a meeting that seemed to be so urgent.

The music that blasted from the surround system that was placed methodically around Noellen's room made his whole body and the desk he was seated at reverberated to the beats and strums of Atreyu's mix of heavy metal, rock and scremo, though not the type of person to chose the former or latter genre, the band blended the three well enough for him to enjoy the music. The black velvet drapes were pushed back, leaving only the shades to filter the early rays in an ethereal orange glow in his room, a bright change compared to the usual dark morning Noellen would be having if he didn't have the mandatory meeting the landlord sprung up from time to time, though he was used to it after god-knows how long he had been here. Now plague with the forgotten period of his arrival to the present moment, he sat back in his seat with narrowed eyes that gazed over his laptop screen, words and numbers blur into each other as he tried to hot-wire his brain into remembering. Unsuccessful after racking his brains for the answer, he gave up on the search but left it to fester in the back of his mind, unnecessary thoughts were of no importance as last night activities surfaced for the first time since he had woken, his rendezvous was only a mere three hours ago and he shook the thought away.

Shutting down his device that held information that could shame any government records on underground activities and subject records, he took his time to freshen up for the day, which wasn't much but occupy the bathroom for hygienic reasons seeing as he was already up and would most likely not get the chance to sleep till late afternoon. A short rinse, dental care and fingers raking through his hair, Noellen picked up one of the few shirts that found their place on the floor, a grey mid-sleeve v-neck, and a very worn and very faded pair of jeans, the mocking oil stains lied to anyone of its true nature. Thank god it didn't smell though, he didn't want to smell like cooper to anyone and giving them a chance to guess why.

It was still early, much too early to walk down to the meeting, considering having a short nap but knew if he did, he wouldn't wake up till later. Cursing to himself and the landlord for messing his sleep, he lowered the sound system enough that it didn't shook throughout his place and went about checking his security as to assure his belongings safety from prying hands and eyes. It was a chore but he didn't get this far in life slacking off and using shortcuts, even if he wished he could, there was too much at stake for half-ass attempts.

Not knowing what else he could do in this morning hour, Noellen gave a tired sigh as he left the comfort of his room and headed down to the second floor. "Might as well sleep a little when I get there," he grumbled to himself.

Preferring the stairs over elevator so he didn't have to pass by anyone, it gave him time to think if this was it. Was he stuck here? Was he ever going to reach his goal? Was he going to finally find what he had been looking for? All these questions had settled themselves heavily in his mind and life, all he want is to get back to a normal life but he knew he couldn't if he didn't do this, all the things he did would've been for nothing if he quit now. Goddamn was his life depressing, shaking the unsettling feeling off him as the smell of coffee catches his scent and couldn't understand how people could stand the morning, it was horrible and boring as hell.

Glad that there was a few couches were placed around the place, Noellen unsuspectingly choose one near the back corner as not to bring too much attention to himself when he laid down on the seat, one arm over his eyes but kept his auditory senses on high alert since being one to collect information and secrets, he learned how to listen for things and one of them was identifying whoever is coming in and out of the room, if he knew them well enough that is. There was of course voices themselves, especially one of the teal model and the writer that could be heard over every other noises here. It wasn't long until he began to drift in and out of consciousness, eavesdropping a bit when he was aware of new footstep entering and then going back under.

When people began to pour in and taking up the seats, Noellen stayed as he were, not caring about those who wanted a seat and not being able to drift off again, just laid there listening to conversations and and identifying people he had significant interest in though not long until the ungodly voice of Ms.Furman grated through his concentration, wanting her to get to the point already.

Spitz glanced around, expecting an applause to commence. Instead he heard sighs of relief and a few explicits, all together mashing up in his brain like cerebral stuffing. The train wreck sweet had his mind flying and his face eternally glazed with this ridiculous, smitten look. Cocoa eyes seemed to squint as they took in his surroundings. Natural light flooded the open room to forcefully push tired tenants into its submission. Meanwhile he sat kind of slouched, his hat in his hands, simpering. Behind him he could hear Banksy harassing Jaylene and Elliot about the party at Manhattan Tower, which honestly didn’t actually need to be discussed. Once the sun dipped down, it was all gonna’ pop off like the party of the century and everything else would fall into place. Banksy’s main mannerism was always needing to know precise details. But Spitz was never easily irritated at irrelevant matters. Usually he’d smirk and listen to the bullshit, nodding absentmindedly. Because it was, and would continue to be, all good.

Finally he let out a yawn that he’d been squashing for the past hour. New breath stretched in his sternum and was just in the midst of encouraging him to stand up when Jaylene was evidently preparing for a small speech. So, Spitz adjusted his posture even if only a little and gave her his full attention while Banksy shamelessly yanked a metal chair across the floor and plopped into it beside his partner in crime. Giving him a sideways look of fraud disapproval, Spitz mumbled, “Ain’t you got manners homie?” In response, glassy blue eyes narrowed and Banksy just shrugged looking out of his mind.


Despite wanting to take a better inspection of the room and its inhabitants, only because he expected Kaleb to exit as soon as he saw Jaylene prepared to talk to EH leaseholders, Spitz stayed in place and maintained focus. He still got guilty pleasure out of watching men squirm around his homegirl he met back in Canada. It was funny they’d all bumped heads in a sort of lamentable coincidence. She’d grown significantly since then but Spitz was always a maddening reminder of what she used to be, do, and play. He respected that she was a strictly business type anymore, but he knew how fiends were even after some time off. Underneath they were just dying for a hit. Thinking about it, Spitz grinned and lowered his eyes as she started to speak, itching at his braids.

Alexandra had taken a seat far from the EH crew, blatantly occupying the last couch and claiming it as her own. One of the new tenants Spitz regretfully didn’t know too well took a seat betwixt other residents. Corey, was his name. He seemed perplexed most times, or intrigued. Something in Spitz’ intuition screamed, ’Red flag!’ every time he saw him though. But he was willing to give the benefit of the doubt.

Faintly drifting off he contemplated potential risks of the night. He’d have to worry about undercovers who were always trailing him in some way. To date none of them quite caught on. Rookies from the local department would get close, find some contacts, but never get to the overlord, so to speak. The cycle was unending and fruitless for law enforcement. Spitz was a proud, cocky man at times. But he wasn’t stupid, and he stopped leaving his tracks a long time ago. He could pawn off a lot of business as friendships effortlessly anymore. They could try as hard as they wanted, that shit always went cold.

When Jaylene finished, he became vertical and called out loudly, “Bring your girls, bring your girl’s girlfriends. Lessssss be honnnnest. We’ll treat y’all real good.” The feedback he got was under-the-breath laughs and a few of his neighbors blushing and beaming.

Juliet couldn't say she was surprised when people were still spilling in much after the designated meeting time. Honestly, no one could expect people their age to make a meeting on time...if at all. She wondered momentarily if anyone had skipped but then decided she really didn't give a fuck.

No one gave the same entrance as Adam, which was mildly disappointing, but she figured no one else was really that crazy. She felt his eyes on her for the quickest second after she'd laughed at his comment, and she'd spared a glance herself. He had a cute smile, she'd give him that, but she knew his type...they made her tired.

A new body beside her caused her to tilt her head back on her shoulder, and she smiled softly when she saw Kaleb with a curious little smirk on his face. She'd met him through Amil after being thrown together a couple of times, but she didn't really know him well. Just that she liked his stupid long hair and that he knew what he was talking about when one brought up music. “What did I miss?”

"Not much," she answered, blue eyes swinging over the crowed until they landed on her friend, who had just looked up when Kaleb entered. The tattooed beauty grinned at her, waving excitedly. Juliet offered a half grin and a peace sign, shaking her head slightly when Amil's seatmate gave her an unamused look. "The usual dragging intro. Boy's are already giving Furman a hard time," she mentioned, nodding towards Adam absently.

She fell silent as Furman started her speech, but it honestly wasn't something Juliet hadn't heard before. Renovations were more than often the reason for these meetings, but the few times they had actually happened hadn't been much of a bother. Then again, she had Ali, who was always more than willing to share her bed if things were too noisy at home. And anyway, not being able to use the elevator had never been a problem for her.

Juliet found her thoughts drifting the longer they stayed there, thinking about the other people in the room. She really didn't know any of them, just Amil and Monroe. She'd actually known the latter longer, about two years now, he was her closest friend...probably more like family, not that she'd admit that out loud. Kaleb she only knew briefly through Amil, and Jaylene kind of through Monroe. Everyone else she either knew by name or not at all.

Her eyes narrowed slightly on the fashion queen at the thought of her. Jaylene was beautiful, no dobut about it, but something about her just irked Juliet. Maybe she was just...too much business or...too high class for her. Before she could think any more about that, Adam's voice took her out of her thoughts and...speaking of, he was currently teasing the devil on her mind. She missed most of it, but caught the end: “You’d have to know what Dior is in order to compliment it, grease monkey.” Yeah, Juliet didn't even have a fucking clue what a Dior was...point proven.

Or maybe it was all bullshit and Jaylene only irritated her because Juliet was a little possessive of Monroe. My Ellie, mine, she thought, a little pout forming on her lips. Even if there wasn't anything romantic there, she hated sharing him. At all. Even a little.

She'd been so lost in her thoughts for so long that she hadn't even realized the meeting was over, except that the blonde diva was up and crossing the room next. Juliet exhaled through her nostrils deeply, falling back into her seat. Might as well just wait it out. She was too lazy to climb three flights of stairs right now anyway. It was that same laziness that was keeping her mildly polite throughout this entire ordeal.

Blah blah, weird name, blah blah fancy company, blah blah models, blah blah -- wait. Juliet sat up a little straighter. Did she say free? Catering? Elliot's food? Aw shit. Loaded bar and party favors. "Mother of fuck," she muttered under her breath, "Ima have to be sociable tonight..."

“Bring your girls, bring your girl’s girlfriends. Lessssss be honnnnest. We’ll treat y’all real good.” She chuckled under her breath along with the others, but honestly the idea didn't sound too terrible. Maybe she'd ask Alison to come...they could have some fun. And it'd been awhile since she'd been to a bar she wasn't working behind.

Next to a queen sized-bed, a loud buzzing sound of a cell phone on a dark cherry stained night stand. The stereotypical introduction of an proactive city's morning. The calls of roosters couldn't strike one's ears in New York since they migrated to the South. The alarm boosted his ego during the winters, lasting longer than rooster calls. An irritant sound that could continue unless it's purpose was achieved, which was catching the attention of a person, forcing them out of the subliminal cloud above them and into the real world.

The phone continued its vibrating hum until a tan-shade hand with white nail polish came forth from under a fluffed white comforter, quickly grabbing the phone to silence it. Whose hand was this? It was not soon after that the covers folded outwards to reveal, from the waist up, a young woman as complected as the hand. A black scarf was tied her head, covering the majority of her hair, but blonde and black peeked above her forehead. Her eyes felt like they were freed from being glued together.

She figured she would listen to some rhythmic therapy to shake the cobwebs away. The volume taking a break away from silent. From a playlist of random selections, the first song to makes it way to the top was an alternative Szjerdene. The dark ethereal introduction began as she strolled towards the small bathroom by the balls of her feet. She lifted her arms to the ceiling. Her clavicle getting a soft pop to relax after 7 hours of stiff tension and busy work, and if stretching didn't work, then the warm shower would.

However, the warm shower had to be brief. Why? A mandatory meeting at 11:30 am, and it was less than an hour and a half away. The landlady could have arranged a better time. Work was at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and Dee couldn't afford to miss even a second of it from her landlady talking on and on in her “Mob Wives” Brooklyn accent. For her third day in the apartment, Dee figured her landlady wasn't lenient, or assumed that all of her tenants were young and wild. With her wide curves and large eyes, this gave off the semblance of a daunting predator, and Dee was already one of her prey who made the first mistake checking out the apartments and signing her blood on the lease.

Because of the predator, Dee couldn't be belated to the mandatory meeting either, especially when it was 10 seconds of walking distance. Why make an excuse to be late or absent? Why even attempt it? Why already start the many days in Empire Heights on a negative note? Dee had to make this meeting on time. Even with the thought of boarding a subway in order to get to work. The time to walk and take the subway felt like eternity.

But until then, she had to start the day. She traveled to her scarlet hued curtains to separate them, lifting the blinds and her lips for a wide yawn. Chilly and snow white were the characteristics of New York's November through February days and nights. The large hot ball of plasma tried it's best to shine in the apartment, only for clouds to block its way. Instead, the wintery mix dominating the city the night before caused the aftermath. The entire setting illuminating in bright honeydew hue. Dee's apartment affected by this brightness, and also nearly blinded her. Her eyes squinting, but her raising hand saved the moment by blocking her view. Once her eyes began to adjust to the abrupt transition in lightness, she witnessed every second of life outside her window. People socializing as they dug their boots into the white layer above the sidewalks. Some sidewalks covered in dirty snow from being plowed to the side by a plowing machine, while what was left on the roads melted from the large packs of organically shaped Sodium Chloride thrown around. Since they didn't have machines for sidewalks, residents had to shovel a pathway from their doorsteps. The landlady was no different. A heavily-built man of middle age decked in flannel did the heavy work for her, pushing the shovel with ease as the landlady stood at the stoop with a cigarette in one hand and a grip of her long black coat with the other, trying to keep warm from the freezing climate.

Dee's nose felt the cold winds freezing her window, attempting to slither inside of her apartment and snatch all of the moisture from her clean body. Fortunately, it fell submissive to the knob-controlled heat circulating in the homely air, mixed with warm cinnamon apple pie fresh out of the oven. This was an illusion, and the Glade plug-in beside the window was the magician. However, a chill pierced at Dee's collar, and a reminder that Dee's belt was loosening from her waist.

But all Dee would hope for was the meeting to equate to skimming the many pages of a novel until the main points were discovered. After lowering the shades to prevent any lewd public acts, she practiced her morning ritual, like any female. It was prepared and unluckily long: Aloe Vera moisturizer on her limbs and face, winter clothing with undergarments underneath, ample pink plushgloss on her lips, black eye liner, and others in between that can't be mentioned. Her five10-hour long braids loosened from her fingers, flowing curly and wild above her chest. Her appearance was finished, but later than her expected time. 11: 10 am, which she proceeded to sigh over. The thought of her landlady being a rather strict woman over lateness of any kind. Dee couldn't let that strict side emerge, so her gait began to quicken.

Her breakfast had to be quick, so a banana, two slices of toasted cinnamon bread, and a cup of orange juice could fill her up temporarily to prevent the lion in her stomach to growl at the meeting. The plate and glass cup was empty. This time? 11: 24 am. She was ready to go to the meeting....

Wait...she had to brush her teeth, but the meeting was getting closer. She couldn't brush her teeth in time, but she couldn't cause a gas of “food and morning” breath to smother the room. People may think she's exaggerating, but she was a woman. That was more than enough.

Instead of brushing her teeth, she ran to her bathroom to search for mint mouthwash under the sink, rushing to pour a dose into her cup and pour into her mouth. The gargling wasn't as directed because of the time, but it got the job done. Spitting the mouthwash into the sink, she exited the bathroom to see how many minutes left until the meeting. 2 minutes.

What was left? Leather boots, purse, money, identification, keys. She thought this would take 30 seconds because of her rushed pace.

Now she was ready for her day. She snatched a black coat from her closet, turned her music off, and headed towards the door.

Behind the stairway, she could see people already sitting in the lounge, but no heavy lady in a gown. Dee didn't have to experience her strict landlady, or so she thought......

“11: 32 am. Fashionably late aren't you?”, a voice crept behind Dee. A voice that suffered from mucus down her neck, or future throat cancer.

The fear was beginning to happen. Only because Dee was two minutes late, she had to endure being thrown under a bus, or a finger bit off. Dee just had to deal with the pressure and reply with a nod.

“Hmmm..” the landlady continued as she scanned Dee's neutral winter style,“Since this is your first meeting, I'll be easy on you this time, but do not be late again.”

Dee's heart quickly dropped. In her mind, she was shocked over the landlady giving her a warning. Just a warning for being a new tenant. To prevent judging her landlady, she couldn't express it with her face. A warning. This thought conflicted with her motor skills. She wanted to freeze like a snowman at the door.

“Go ahead and a take a seat.”, the landlady quickly commanded Dee, causing her nerves to function again. Dee left her a grinning nod before heading to her seat. An improvised seat near a window, since the other seats were taken.

While Ms. Furman continued, Kaleb’s mind drifted before he could even realize it was happening. His eyes kept scanning over the crowd, jumping across all the faces. There was Juliet beside him, the bar vixen. He had played at a couple gigs she’d tended, and she had always slipped him a few drinks now and again. She always seemed to have someone tailing behind her, like a lost puppy begging for attention. They had never fooled around, much to his own surprise seeing that if given the opportunity he would probably do so. He had a soft spot for blondes though.

Especially a specific blonde that lived on floor 7. As much as he would resist, Kaleb time and time again found himself stealing glances at Jaylene. Kaleb didn’t see her as often as he had initially feared, now when he did find himself around her, he’d often find himself hiding from her, peeking through much like an amazed explorer. Everything about her had changed, the way she carried herself, the way she talked. Perfectly manicured head to toe, dressed like New York Barbie. It was freaky.

Plus he felt a twist in her gut every time he saw her.

He forced his mind to wander, his gaze following. A pair of full lips immediately distracted him. Her dark, full eyes read BORED in bold font and her body language mirrored the message. There was something familiar about the girl, a memory stirring in the back of his mind, framed in filtered sunlight from where she sat, making herself comfortable in a makeshift seat in the window. She was gorgeous, creamy mocha skin and a full shape. He entirely blocked out anything Ms. Furman could be saying, enraptured by the pretty young thing before him. He narrowed his gaze, sure that he knew who she was. It was on the tip of his tongue, he could taste it.

He was digging through his memory, watching the young woman, just on the edge of making the final connection. Just as he could feel her name crawl out of his mind, the startling interjection of a much too familiar voice spoke. Where his landlady had just stood, instead it was the devil herself, poised and perfect. Despite his usual urge to leave as fast as possible, seeing her so open and vulnerable to the stares of others left him enraptured. It was funny to him how despite how much she had changed, he could still read her like a book. Standing tall and confident before them all, Kaleb saw her squirming from within. She looked onto the faces of each one of the EH tenants, skipping over Kaleb’s curious eyes, it was like he didn’t exist. ”...listen, if nothing else, the bar will be loaded and you’ll get party favors. Everyone is seriously welcome. Like I mentioned, your cover charge is on me. Just come out and have a good time. Oh and Hudson, we would kill for a live act. I’d pay you. So, yeah. Thanks.”

He chuckled to himself, ‘You mean you don’t want my band to play?’ He thought to himself, resisting yelling the question across the room to her, put her on the spot, make everyone else see her squirm like he could.

Then he rethought, startled by his malicious thoughts. It had been years since Kaleb had been visited by the darkness, somehow going through the struggle of homelessness and finding a way back on his feet had given him a sense of wholeness and happiness. There was something about having Jaylene around that made him feel like the ghost of his demons fought to resurface, rekindling old emotions and inner rage. Of course she couldn’t have meant that he was invited as well, or she could just be just assuming he wouldn’t shown even if given the opportunity. Throwing his arms over the back of his chair, he leaned back, glancing to Juliet beside him who’s reaction to the invite had been comical enough to warrant a chuckle.

“Yea, I don’t know how I feel about being around that crowd, free drinks or not.” He mumbled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as if in deep thought. His eyes watched as Jaylene walked off the stage and wrapped her arm through Monroe’s once again. “Shiesty people, you think that they’d be above pettiness but most of the time that’s how they trick you.” He left his words hanging in the air, his dry tone letting his quip be interpreted as either a joke or insight. Getting to his feet, he slung his knapsack over his shoulder, walking to where the light skinned shapely vixen had remained, by the window.

He couldn’t help but to run through a variety of greeting, scratching one after another. It almost felt like a movie, his mind in frenzy as he approached the pretty girl, going to overdrive in the last few seconds. Finally he stopped before her, feeling his charm turn on like a switch. He felt smooth, relaxed, pushing his hair back from his face and a handsome smirk lighting his features. He pointed a finger to her as he spoke, “Don’t I know you?” He asked, and as he spoke the words, her face flashed in his mind once again, but instead this time it was in a sketchbook, drawn with charcoal. It had been in the hands of his beloved friend Mordy once when they had spent a night in the cove after a night of doing drugs and drinking too much.

“Dee?” He said, more in a tone of recognition than as a question, a dark shadow passing his expression briefly as he felt the loss of an old friend tug at his heart. He had only met Dee once, after Mordy’s funeral Kaleb had invited her to the cove with him and their friends to mourn for their loved one together in a place where he had been for so many great memories. Even with only having met the girl that one night, Kaleb understood why Mordy had fallen so deeply in love with her. She was beautiful and down to earth, and her smile lit everything up. Was it strange that Kaleb felt a connection with her when he recognized her grief from hopelessly lost love?


He set down his bag, gesturing to himself, “I’m Kaleb, remember I invited you out after Mordy’s...erm..yea.” For some reason he couldn’t spit out the words, then shuffling his feet and looking around as if to find the words to say hanging before him. “Sorry, I just...I knew that I knew you, I just couldn’t figure out how.” He laughed awkwardly. Silence hung between them briefly before he asked, “What are you doing in America?”

In any other circumstances, Patrick would have completely disregarded Barbie’s offer, even if Amil or Kaleb would beg him for hours, but feeling the weight of the unwritten article burdening his beloved laptop, Patrick found the idea of a distraction enticing. Amil finished her pastry beside him, watching Kaleb and Juliet exchange words and then Kaleb straggle to the new tenant that had caught his eye. It was obvious she had to resist rolling her eyes, the same for Patrick. For claiming to love his girlfriend enough to consider proposing to her, he sure sought out other girls often. Amil never minded being a casual fling, there was absolutely nothing romantic between the two. However after the second week Amil had been at EH and Kaleb took her out for drinks, the two would occasionally wake up in one another’s bed. The first month the boundaries were a little fuzzy, but they had worked everything out and considered each other’s friends first. Now and days their encounters happened as few as once every one or two months. The only downside was that Patrick always knew when something had happened between them, somehow sensing it in the air, often calling them out on it. It had become a bit of a joke between them.

“Whore.” Patrick said to Amil, gesturing to Kaleb. Mouth full of pastries, she stifled a laugh, shoving him gently. She nodded in agreement, finishing her tea and taking her dirty dishes to the counter, Patrick following suit. Watching as she walked, Patrick asked himself why he seemed the only one that hadn’t submitted to Amil’s charm. He watched her deep teal hair, slicked into a high ponytail, swish in count with her hips, the tip of her mane tickling the tawny divot along her back from where her slouchy knit sweater had slid. Her mannerisms were endearing, and her crude sense of humor was refreshing. Perhaps it was just that they had never been in a situation to find sexual interest in one another, Amil always seemed to have someone else in her paws, Patrick would usually play the role of wingman.

Tugging her arm, he swerved her in the direction of a mutual friend, Corey. Perhaps it was slight egoism, but he enjoyed having Amil at his side, so that everyone else could see that the pretty tattooed asian girl had decided to hang with the craze haired cynic from 2C. It was like he was sporting the jewel of the ball, anyone who knew Amil liked her, she was friendly and easy going - for her to choose to stick by him over anyone else made Patrick feel just a few ranks higher than the other tenants in a almost humorous way. “What do you think?” He said once they came to Corey, Patrick leaning against the table and holding his laptop under his arm like a book.

Amil plopped in a seat across from Corey, looking to Patrick with an annoyed expression, “You can’t just start a conversation like that, idiot. You’re a writer, use complete sentences.” she bitched, rolling her eyes.

Narrowing his eyes, Patrick stared her down briefly before looking back to Corey with exasperation.”What do you think - about the invitation to the banger?” he said, almost mocking Amil.

Amil crossed her legs delicately, answering before Corey could. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t go, I never go out with people from Empire Heights besides the recluses that barely venture to a dive bar.. oh, and Juliet.” She said with mild humor, referring to Patrick, Kaleb and Corey, all either very busy or a bit of a homebody, although Amil wasn’t sure what Corey would be doing most of the time. She watched him from the corner of her eye, the way the fabric would stretch across his muscles. Smirking, she rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, folding her hands together like a hammock to prop her chin up. Corey had never been dissapointing to Amil, although the whole act of mystery got old quick.

“Well I wasn’t asking you Amil.” Patrick said as she batted her eyelashes at him playfully. Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Amil stood, backing away from the pair.

“Stop talking shit, man.” She said simply, turning on her heel as she walked away, Patrick then taking her spot. He gestured over his shoulder, shrugging mildly, “Always has shit to say.” He joked, remembering why Amil and himself hadn’t been intimate, ever. They’d probably end up killing each other in the process. Shaking his head, Patrick set up his laptop as he peeked back at Corey. “So what’s the verdict, are you going?” He asked.


Amil was planning on swing back to Juliet, maybe the two could help each other pick out outfits and how to do their hair. Out of the lot, Juliet probably was the only one who had similar taste in fashion, so Amil knew if she couldn’t find anything in her own closet, she probably could in Juliet’s. However she had to walk past the notorious dealers of the complex, and in passing it was difficult to avoid eye contact with either boys, although it was when she locked eyes with Spitz a smile cracked across her lips. The blonde who’s name Amil always forgot sat nearby, twisting seductively from where she lain, looking over to Spitz. Turning a chair, Amil sat facing the two, sitting sideways on the seat so that one arm could go over the back of the chair while her legs crossed over one another. “What’s wrong, you can’t say hi to me anymore or something? Your boy got you on a leash that’s too short?” She joked, gesturing to Banksy and winking playfully.

She stuck her thumbs through the holes of her sweater, folding her elbows against her side and gently cupping her own face delicately as she leaned forward with obvious amusement. “So when you say you’ll treat us good...” So close to the two, she playfully trekked her finger tips along Spitz’ leg, mocking foot steps across his jeans. “Does that mean your own product is in the goodie bags as well?” She joked, looking between the two. At the moment of silence, she leaned back in her chair. Aware that as far as they knew, she was clean cut, but she wondered if they would take her words as a joke as she intended. Although depending on how the night went, she wouldn’t exactly turn down a bump or two.

Amil hadn’t gotten on the level of comfortability with Banksy as she had with Spitz, something about his cold eyes left her a little at ill ease. She had heard enough about his violent history and tendencies that had left him with a cloud of danger that was both alluring and left her cautious. Still despite his somewhat friendly demeanor, Amil had played it safe and normally did her share of joking around with Spitz.

The espresso had worn thin and filtered itself out of Jaylene's brain as much as it had her blood pressure. An unforgiving headache ensued as she rubbed a palm to her forehead, exhaling smoothly. Dips in her cheeks amplified as she shook her head back and forth with the theories on how her evening would go. She wondered what the turnout would yield as far as inviting neighbors and randoms she'd yet to even shake hands with at Empire Heights. It was her fault for lack of planning, and she knew that. Deadlines were getting more and more sloppy where her work was concerned but somehow she just kept moving up at the agency. Even if the majority of agenda planning and design went to her, she couldn't ever take full credit. Elliot was always there to underpin the final workings and come through for her. If she were an attendant and had to choose between his nutriments and her rambling on stage and payout - she'd totally take the food and run. She owed him big time. No Herrera, Gucci or Valentino was ever going to properly do him justice for his work and unwavering friendship.

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.

[/img]

Juliet had to tilt her head in consideration to what Kaleb said. She kind of agreed, perhaps free drinks and food really wouldn't be worth the company of the people that attended. They really weren't her crowed. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew Alison would enjoy it, so she knew she would end up going. She kind of owed the girl anyway.

She gazed at him momentarily, eyebrow lifted, not sure if he was joking or speaking from experience. She kind of figured the later, but Kaleb was gone before she could say anything about it. She stayed in her seat for awhile, lack of motivation to get up mostly, as she watched the other meal about. Honestly, she probably would have been hopping up to bother Monroe by now, but Jaylene was with him so she didn't bother.

Juliet finally got up when she watched Amil move from her group, assuming that the tattooed beauty was coming her way to begin with before she was distracted by the dealers of the building. Juliet didn't mind such company, so she crossed the room to where her friend was crashed in a love seat and plopped herself on the arm of the couch, pulling at one of Amil's dark strands of hair to absently play with. Everyone knew she didn't have any boundaries whatsoever. In fact, she probably would have fallen right on Amil if the girl hadn't been in the middle of a conversation.

Juliet stayed silent, running her fingers threw strands of dark hair while she waited. She didn't care much about what they were talking about, just waited for them to finish so she could have her friend. She was sure one or both of them was going to end up digging through the others closet for the night.

Juliet simply shook her head at the way Amil's lips thinned when Spitz got so close to her, and the look Amil gave her out of the corner of her eyes was more than enough to back up what she was already thinking: someone was going to end up babysitting her tonight. Juliet didn't mind, the few times she had actually gotten Amil to party with her included a lot of 'here drink this', 'now this', 'how's this taste'. Amil was fun when she got trashed, like the few boundaries she actually had completely disappeared with each new shot.

She scowled when the girl pinched her, but it didn't last long because then she was being tickle attacked. Amil was probably the only person in the world who could get Juliet to laugh like that. She fell off the arm of the couch, right into Amil's lap, squealing and begging for mercy which she was soon granted. She took it upon herself to get comfortable in her friends lap, which is when she finally saw the look Amil's friend was giving them. Patrick, if she remembered right.

“I thought women were supposed to mature faster them men, I’m only two years older than you Amil and you act like a seven year old whore.”

“I may act like a fucking seven year old, but even if I acted my damn age I would still be hella years behind you, you have the enthusiasm and the floppy dick of an 90 year old man.”

Juliet snorted out a laugh, because hell that was funny. "I'm still a child at heart," she muttered with a grin. Actually, seven year old whore wasn't a bad description for them. A little morally wrong, in the scheme of things, but it fit.

She didn't know Patrick well, if at all. Amil had introduced them once or twice, but Juliet wasn't the type to really hang out with a group. The few times she had been in his presence it'd been the three of them and Kaleb, and she'd easily gotten along with Kaleb better than Patrick. She figured they were too much alike, silent observers occasionally biting out a remark.

The other male she didn't know at all, though he looked about Patrick's age. Tall, strong features, dark brown hair and eyes. She didn't feel the need to put her two cents into the conversation so she curled up against Amil more, pressing her face into the girls shoulder. She was still tired, otherwise she would probably join in on the banter. Instead she just chuckled under her breath on occasion. “We should start picking out our outfits now.”

Juliet looked up, knowing Amil's words were directed towards them. "Mm...but that means I have to get up...and you're so soft."

Kaleb Dean Sivaj:
Fate always played funny games with Kaleb, although maybe it was karma - he lived life in disarray, so life had a fucked up way of unfolding. He could see a light go off behind Dee’s light eyes when he said his own name, bittersweet fondness mingled with grief. He figured the image of Mordy had popped in her mind, as it had in his own. When they shook hands, he almost flinched at her soft touch, his warm mitt clasping her cool docile paw. Gliding his fingers across the palm of her hand as he pulled away, he couldn’t pull his eyes from her as she feigned excitement in them reuniting all these years after a brief encounter.

He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, a text, most likely from Kaycee - not many other people texted him throughout the day. Fidgeting, Kaleb looked over Dee’s shoulder as she answered his question to where Amil and Patrick had been sitting. Still attentive to her words, Kaleb almost did a double take when from the corner of his vision it seemed as if a certain cap wearing individual had stooped down to be so brave as to kiss a familiar head of blue hair. He felt as if something had twisted from his throat to his chest, his tongue heavy. A few choice words threatened to slip out, and he felt his stare darken. From what he could see, Patrick didn’t offer any strong reaction, so Kaleb dismissed his former presumption, although it didn’t put him at ease. Amil hadn’t pushed Spitz back like Kaleb would of preferred, instead Kaleb could tell even from afar she was sizing up her prey.

First and foremost, Amil was a good friend of Kaleb. She was wild and sassy, alluring and seductive. Amil was like a product of some perfect woman cyborg a inventor rock star would create, with very few program flaws. The two had their share of intimate moments, although not as many were with their clothes off as other people liked to assume. Still, even with Kaycee always reminding him of his presence, Amil was an important lady in his life. Ironically she gave him a lot of advice about Kaycee, and she never would be the one to initiate anything between them. It wasn’t that Kaleb knew he would sleep with Amil again, but it just always seemed to come up again. The nights would come from out of nowhere, a perfect cocktail of drinks, location, laughter, stolen glances and magic. They would wake up confused, share a laugh and grab breakfast from the cafe and most likely be busted by Patrick, who would openly call them out. They knew they had no romance between them, maybe it could just be described as an animalistic attraction.

The fact that Spitz was even around her made his blood boil, but he didn’t seem to linger long, walking away carrying Alex on his arm. He didn’t know the girl very much, she almost reminded him of Jaylene sometimes, how she seemed dismissive of most people. As Jaylene popped into his mind, she popped into his vision, predictably hanging off of Monroe. Before he could let his blatant disdain betray his expression, Kaleb turned his attention back to Dee before recognizing her questioning eyes. His reaction was a bit delayed, not comprehending her question until after she asked it, nodding his head and saying “oh,” under his breath, as if reminding himself to answer her. Clearing his throat, Kaleb coughed into his fist before shoving his hands into his front pockets.

She had no way of knowing the weight of her question, the story of how Kaleb had ended up in New York. He had forgotten pieces along the road, he definitely wasn’t going to open with how he had to hitch hike from New Jersey to New York alone after leaving his once best friend and was homeless for months. Shrugging, he chuckled to himself as he reached to grip the back of his neck, as if he were almost nervous to answer. “I was actually born in New York, I moved to Belleville in middle school. So, I’m actually American.” He laughed again, dropping his hands to his side.

When a silence fell between them, he offered a weak question, “Are you going to that party you think?” Choosing to ignore that Jaylene was behind the banger, someone who Dominique might know by name, it would just make the entire conversation easier if it were like Jaylene was just a insignificant detail. From over Dominique’s shoulder, he could see Juliet and Amil fall into fits of giggles. He looked back to Dee’s searching eyes, down to her full painted lips. Smiling, he looked back to her eyes, awaiting her answer.




Juliet made no effort to move, only further making herself comfortable in Amil’s lap. Huffing with false annoyance, she rested her head once again, looking over to Patrick and Corey. Both of them usually spoke in low voices, their words inaudible to Amil’s ears. She frowned, assuming they must be talking about her. Biting her lip out of habit, she watched them with curiosity. Patrick and Corey had always gotten along well, so Amil had been told. No one really noticed when Amil and Corey started seeing one another, if that’s what someone wanted to call it. It mostly consisted of late night visits, infrequent lavish dinners and many unanswered questions, which was what clued Patrick in eventually, her curiosity being what betrayed her. But it was pointless to even ask Patrick about Corey, he made it clear he didn’t know anything either.

There had been something in the way he carried himself, possessing culture and tact unlike most people Amil crossed paths with. To say that he made her nervous sometimes wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration, something in his eyes that showed much more than he meant to let on. There was some dangerous edge to him that was intoxicating to Amil, although the mystery he seemed to hold so close drove her crazy. She and Corey hadn’t ended on bad terms, just sort of drifted away and loss the initiative to see one another. If he had been affected by her at all, he never let on, and vice versa. It had been an adventure while it lasted, and Amil would never out rule him from her pool of options.

Her mind had drifted, realizing she had been watching Patrick and (mostly) Corey as long as they had been talking when Corey looked over to her and Juliet, locking eyes with Amil. At first Amil felt startled, as if she had been caught sneaking through her mother’s purse. Then her expression softened, offering a weak smile and a little wave, head rested against the arm of the chair. Patrick had said something to break Corey’s eyes away from Amil’s, but she didn’t bother to look away. Her fingers played with Juliet’s locks. “My legs are falling asleep.” She whispered, almost affectionately, wiggling her legs from under Juliet.

Laughing more to herself, Amil used her arms to hoist herself from beneath Juliet, sitting on the back of the couch to have Juliet lay as she had fallen into the cushion of the love seat. Her eyes glided across the cafe, most of the tenants had gone to hide away, but the social ones remained, and one not so social tenant who seemed to be falling asleep in his seat. Giving Juliet a look that said be right back, Amil swung her legs over the arms of the couch, sliding down to stand on her own two feet, Juliet undisturbed. Amil looked over to Noellen for Juliet to understand.

Noellen had been a project of Amil for quite some time, the guy was eerily quiet, and had the a similar mixture of danger and mystery that allured her to Corey, but there was something about Noellen that made Amil aware that he was thrown a little off-kilter. He never seemed to show any kind of genuine emotion or interests in anything anyone had to say, and was rarely seen talking to anyone, let alone laughing. Running her hands down her sweater as if to smooth it out, she primped her hair once before turning before Noellen. “Wow, did Furman have to bribe you with a month of free rent to get you to make it to the meeting?” She joked, taking a seat across from him and crossing her legs delicately.

Noellen had the perfect chisled features of an American Hollister God, a pretty boy cut and piercing eyes. Grade A meat, but such a fucking weirdo. His apathetic expression put her ill at ease as she wrapped her arms around herself, her smile growing weaker. “Yea, I just wanted to say you should go tonight, I’m forcing Patrick, and he’ll probably force Corey and Kaleb, it’ll be a whole table of disturbed insociable minds.” She joked nervously, her humor bordering inappropriate, her awkward tendencies forcing her to make a fool of herself. Looking across the room, she looked to Juliet pleadingly, as if asking her to save Amil from saying something that might actually offend someone. Even sober Amil could make herself look like an asshole. It was as if she was missing a layer of a filter that other people seemed to have that kept those random pieces of grit from slipping out. Smiling, Amil shook her head, looking down to the floor and pulling at the hair at her temples. “Sorry, my mouth likes to run ahead of my mind.” She said, wincing slightly and hoping her joke was not in bad taste.

Noellen seemed in comparatively good spirits, joking back somewhat, although his tone seemed borderline apathetic. It seemed like behind his bored expression, there was a glimpse of amusement, a dark smile lighting his handsome features as she began to fidget. Smiling back, Amil buried her face behind her hands as if to shield herself from his gaze, leaning so that she was doubled over in the chair as he said "You're fine Amil, take deep breaths and relax a little. We're not in an interrogation room here,"

She laughed, peeking through her fingers to Noellen with amusement. “Don’t do that, you’re just making me feel worrrseee.” She whined, once again hiding her face into her hands and shaking her head at herself. After a moment of collecting herself, Amil straightened herself up, her arms resting across her lap as she leant forward, closing the distance between herself and Noellen. “How do you always do that...make me feel like I’m making myself look like an idiot?” She joked, smiling up to Noellen, eyes searching his face for any kind of reaction.

He was supposedly just a chef, but there was something daunting in the way he carried himself that left Amil uneasy, yet curious. The less he seemed interested in her, the more she wanted to challenge why?

Pulling her hair so it all rested over one shoulder, she began to play with the ends of her hair, braiding some pieces and then letting them fall apart on their own. As her eyes looked Noellen over in the brief silence, her lips stayed slightly parted, as if she had been planning to say something but stopped herself. As she ran up from his form fitting shirt to his face, she grinned, catching his eye and winking playfully. “I don’t think you’d want me to relax anyways, I tend to get a little...unmanageable[/].”

Looking back to her group, she had seen no activity, gathering that Juliet had no intention of swooping in. Smiling to herself she looked back to Noellen, scooting forward so that her leg bumped his, leaning in even closer than before. “I think that you should go tonight, and if it ends up being a bust we can find a more [i]fun way to spend our time.” She said, almost innocently, smiling sweetly to Noellen. Perhaps it was wrong for Amil to play her options carefully, she didn’t see it that way. Men didn’t care, they never cared about what she did with her life. She was never the girl that people worried about who’s feeling would get hurt, she was the one who would hurt feelings, ruin relationships and not give a fuck about others...

She leaned back into her seat, resting her hands in her lap politely. “I promise I won’t try to make you dance.” she added for good measure.

Dominique could feel some tension reaching Kaleb's nervous system and frequent eye contact to her left. In her mind, she wondered what was disturbing him. Was this disturbance outside of the glass window? Was a pedestrian passing by that he was familiar with, or was there someone in the room that Kaleb felt uncomfortable with? Did he hear this person's voice resonating to his ears.

Of course these questions were all based on Dee's own assumption, but once Kaleb began his response with a mumbling “oh,” with his eyes to his worn off shoes, this proved that Dee's assumption was correct. Something, or someone, was bothering his aura.
Dee didn't want to display her curiosity in an obvious manner by following his focus. She just met the man after many life changes. Their relationships and mindsets of life have developed since the adolescent years. Secrets revealed to the public or added and locked into their mental journals. She didn't want to drive straight on to the personal questions full speed like most women do.
After some hesitation, continuing his uneasy habits, he finally came up with the answer to Dee's question involving migrating to the Bald Eagle country. Opening his mouth, Dee's speculative thoughts took a break.

“I was actually born in New York, I moved to Belleville in middle school. So, I’m actually American.”

“Really?” Dee thought internally, but only nodding to surprise externally. This man was American? She couldn't tell, but who really can when Canada and United States are two big melting pots? The ingredients being descendants from other continents. They can, however, tell by accents.

Dee still spoke her native dialect, which was a subject for New Yorkers to ask about. She wasn't short or thick with her vowels, or creaky with her consonants, so it wasn't rare for someone to ask where she was from. She couldn't answer that to strangers, but her dialect was a dead giveaway that she wasn't from New York.

Kaleb, while he lived in When she first met Kaleb, he had a clear Canadian accent. One that could exaggerate the “o” in “sorry”, but talking to him now, it was different. It was like his Canadian heritage was snatched away from him once he reached the border. Even with his body language, he was well adjusted to the New York Urban scene. Much quicker than the 4-year New York citizen in front of him. This no longer drew questions as to whether he was lying or not.
Kaleb drew more of his adapting skills, asking Dee about another subject.

“Are you going to that party you think?”

This was when Dee's conscience kicked in. The party that the well-dressed blonde was hosting this weekend? A party that may be filled with young adults that knew each other, but didn't know Dee? Dee felt hesitance over attending a party full of strangers. Watching as boys and girls perform various acts that may be comedic or crude.

On the other hand, this is the beginning of where social connections happen. Dee could get a chance to communicate with more people. Even those who may be her tenants. Even those who were mutually friends with someone Dee knew from work or college. The chances of meeting new friends were wide and open with an invitation.
When she came up with her answer to Kaleb, she wanted to display confidence in her body language, but her conscience still didn't want to leave her.

“I'm not sure with my work schedule, but I can change things around.”

Since Kaleb was the one to address if she was going to Jaylene's fiesta, this implied that he would be doing the same, but Dee proceeded to ask him anyways.

“So how about you?”

Hopefully, he could attend. So far, Kaleb was the only tenant she was closer to, and this was their second time communicating together. Nonetheless, she felt more at ease with him around, since he may know the neighbors living in Empires Heights.