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Lee Harris

"My hands are bloodied and it'll stay that way" [WIP history]

0 · 295 views · located in New York City, US

a character in “The Wild & The Wicked”, as played by Syaqeera


Full Name
    Lee Noellen Harris
    24 Twenty-four
    ♁ Male
    6'1 Six foot One
    210 lbs
    Sous Chef / Informant
    Never one to give himself away, Noellen is tied to Europe and Australia.

      Sienna brown
      Olive to light hazelnut
      It doesn't matter what label people place on themselves, if he finds them attractive, there's no arguing with him
      A clean canvas with no holes, Noellen is only creased with welts that has been etched into his abdomen, most noticibly on his back
      Passive with a side of apathetic is what his friends will describe Noellen in his entirety, unmoved and not easily intimidated by others' statuses. People are usually either intimidated or infuriated by his lack of care at times, giving a simple matter-of-fact statement or just simply an answer that showed no interest. He does of course show compassion and interest if it benefits or intrigues him, his entire personality switched easily as a coin flip. He would at times hold an air of sadness around him if a conversation steps over sensitive topic regarding close relationship with anyone and would quickly change topic to avoid listening or answering conversation.
      Overly bias about a lot of things, he doesn't let his own personal opinions and views get in the way of helping those under the table, often exchange his clients secrets with person of interest rather than money, seeing as people's vulnerability gets him what he wants faster than money can buy.
      He harbours his sociopathy from many, accommodating the act he needs to pass those around him undetected and keep himself off the limelight. Cunning and fearless, he will pursue his plan and frame others to reach his goal, very rarely does it end with a corpse on his scapegoat's doorstep.
      Noellen is considered a nocturnal, being a cook at a well known restaurant that closes around midnight, he spends most of his days asleep or just inside relaxing. Even when a day or two off, night time is when he is most active and is often sighted in the streets than he is with day time. He spends his daylight hours in bed, doing one of the many chores he needs to do and sometimes go out if anyone could convince him to. His nightly hours are spent at work, off-days would be sleuthing the streets for a bit of excitement and digging up information on anyone that interest him.
      Very rarely does he go out to eat, being a capable cook means he doesn't spend money at a restaurant but cooks simple to complicated dishes depending on his mood. Even if he uses wine to cook with, he doesn't drink them or any sort of ancho related beverages, the same goes for drugs as he uses them only when needed.
      He is not hesitant when it comes to taking a life, digging through his past may reveal several skeletons that's never been recorded on any papers with his name on it. Although he has more control over himself now than in the past, Noellen will take action on his own when met with a problem in his life that could ruin what he had worked to achieve.
      Having been living on the streets meant he had to learn the ropes of the underground world, adapting fast and quick meant he would get what he wants and survive another day. This means Noellen can tell what people are for who they truly are, not easily distracted by lies and deceit, he will try to uncover the reason behind the untruth.

    Being a foster child, Noellen never stayed in one home long enough to feel that he belonged, being born from a young mother who gave him away in hopes of a better life. Her judgement is anything but good as he was transferred to various foster homes, some pleasant, often times bare-able and others not so fitting. He has endured the not-so-fitting lifestyle for most of his childhood, having experienced various damaged homes of alcohol abuse, drug usage, domestic violence and even child slavery, though he was never privy to substance abuse with the exception of physical punishment.

    When he wasn't lugged around from family to family, he stayed with the other unfortunate children in the main housing, holding up to seventy-odd kids of varying ages of infants to teenagers. When old enough to care for himself, Noellen was given a responsibility to take care of one of the infants, a little girl name Winry, and cook for most of the hungry mouths in the housing vicinity.

    At the age of eleven, Noellen and nineteen other children, including Winry, were transferred out the country and into another foster home. All that were in Noellen's mind was to keep the little girl from harms way, the few eldest of the bunch took it upon themselves to protect the younger ones. It was a harsh start for them all as they were beaten and whipped, having found themselves in a religious foster home that took to disciplining their kids into obedience. Violence, malnourished and broken down, those who were transferred had accepted their fate but very few stood firmly and Noellen wasn't going to back down, doing everything he could to stay above the brainwashing and lashing of the 'sisters' and 'fathers'.[WIP]

So begins...

Lee Harris's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amil Sheffield Character Portrait: Elliot Monroe Character Portrait: Kaleb Dean Sivaj Character Portrait: Juliet James Character Portrait: Jaylene Sullivan Character Portrait: Patrick Murphy Character Portrait: Scully 'Spitz' Rollins Character Portrait: Adam Banksys Character Portrait: Lee Harris
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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.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amil Sheffield Character Portrait: Corey A. Delgado Character Portrait: Elliot Monroe Character Portrait: Kaleb Dean Sivaj Character Portrait: Alexandra Kaersson Character Portrait: Juliet James Character Portrait: Jaylene Sullivan Character Portrait: Patrick Murphy Character Portrait: Scully 'Spitz' Rollins Character Portrait: Hudson Hawthorn Character Portrait: Adam Banksys Character Portrait: Lee Harris
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The woman’s deteriorating height, a product of age and unyielding scoliosis, stiffened when one of the newer tenants commented on her appearance. Maybe inwardly she welled with strange pride, but her near black eyes twitched at his cry for attention. At least, that’s how she saw it. Adam picked up on it straight away, sagging in his seat with his knees wide and his hands folded between them. A satisfied smirk beset slightly dried lips only to briefly flash a pair of canines. Elise Furman narrowed her gaze, briefly touching a hand to silver hair by her ear as she waited for the evident amusement in her audience to fade away. She was by no means humored by tawdry young men that lived in the complex. But they all paid their rent on time, which only left her to remind them of their place in the world, rules and common courtesy.

Adam tilted his head at the mirth escaping a nearby femme’s throat. This widened his gratified smile, but he looked straight ahead to maintain at least a sense of false attention. He knew her. Juliet. Platinum hair framed her round face and unceasingly blue eyes that peered out like toxin dripping away from shadows. She probably looked down on him; a girl who regularly worked behind a bar and dealt with shit slinging from junkies and alcoholics might not have the tolerance for his type. On top of his less than admirable ways, he was a new tenant. A young one at that. He already knew most of the other residents thought he was brazen. He couldn’t be fucked to give a damn about any of them - with a slivering exclusion where tail was involved. Luckily for Adam, he didn’t have a type. He just liked women. And the building was full of them. Beautiful, all of them. None of them a day over twenty five. But there were always those few diamonds in the rough. The ones that meant or shone a little more than the others. Truly, he had trouble identifying if anyone from Empire Heights fit into that tier, but he never necessarily bothered trying to find out either. Life had become less of a romantic conquest and more of a crooked hustle.

Or, life had never yielded any real romance to begin with.

After sweeping his gaze shamelessly over the girl next to him, Moni - something or another, Amil, and Juliet once again, Adam smugly tuned into Furman’s speech. It droned. Furman stood, a curving spine making her look ready to drop like a fly. She fought the urge to take a seat as she paced across the anterior of the room. Her creaking voice stuck to stoic walls, causing the uninterested turnout to groan and shift in their chairs like sophomores listening to scientific theory.

“I know we’ve been talking renovations for months but in a few days painters are coming in to fix up the main foyers. Some drywall construction will follow, so I’ll need you all to be patient with the noise and temporary chaos. As per usual you’re expected to abide by EH regulations, your leases…”

A distinct shuffling noise was heard as Spitz grabbed his snapback and twisted it in his hands, rocking on his chair. They’d all grown bored. Behind Spitz, the diva from the seventh floor hung her head back and closed her catlike eyes. Her arm was rested behind Monroe’s neck who was equally as passionless about the meeting as anyone else. Adam slipped away from his position in the back and crept towards the couple, making his presence known once he threw himself between them, half on each of their laps. Furman finally rolled her eyes and threw her hands up, “Just pay your rent okay?”

Before they could throw him off, he grabbed both of their faces and smeared a sloppy kiss on their cheeks, “Beautiful couple. Really.” With a mock tipoff, he turned his focus to Jaylene whose cheeks had significantly drawn in with disapproval. “So, Jasmine, what kind of treats you got planned for me and my friends tonight? I’m sure good old Monroe will help you fix everything up real nice.”

“It’s Jaylene, moron.” She sighed.
“Jaylene Monroe you said? See that’s what I thought I heard.”
“Soon to be.” She countered, batting long lashes at Elliot with mock adoration.
“Go getting married to strangers you find in the big city and you might end up on dateline. You never really know anyone.” Adam messed up Elliot’s hair and got to his feet again.
“Just be at Manhattan Tower around nine, that’s when shit will get real, so to speak.” Jaylene drawled, interest lost on whatever Adam had to ramble about.
“Should I wear a tux to compliment your Dior, barbie?”
“You’d have to know what Dior is in order to compliment it, grease monkey.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when your BMW needs a tune up.”

The blond shrugged, playfully rubbing at Monroe’s shoulder before she stretched her long legs and slithered away from Adam. All the while she still wore this convincing smile as though she were talking her way through a business meeting and not a cat-and-mouse conversation. She made quick work of scuttling towards the front of the room, straightening her unduly large cardigan and wrapping it around herself for a moment. Adam raised his brows, ultramarine eyes feigning interest. He glimpsed towards Monroe, “You’re fucked up, b. Leading a pretty thing on like that. She has no idea what she’s gotten into.” Clownishly the young man showed a few teeth to signify slim sarcasm. Spitz and Adam had a bad habit of heckling the guy, but if Monroe knew anything, he knew that they meant no harm. If anything they had his back.

Adam dug his hands into the pockets of his khakis. His weight rocked back and forth from his knees as he peered toward Jaylene and then back down at her consort, nodding in preparation to roam lazily back to Spitz. He’d only looked over his shoulder once or twice in delay to glance at the selection of femmes in the room.

It wasn’t long before the room filled. Amil was already present, bantering with Patrick which made the slumlord at the head of her EH circus sighed with irritation. Spitz sympathized with the senescent woman. She bit off maybe more than she could chew, welcoming a swarm of young adults with the gleaming luxury of no background checks. All in all, the old broad wasn’t so bad. She was subtly maternal. She gave homes to the desperate and the crestfallen. When her speech concluded, she’d risen her white flag with her arthritic hands and disappeared.

ImageSpitz 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.


”Come on, we wouldn't want to be late."

Though Jaylene picked up on the apparent dismay in Elliot’s face at the thought of having to ‘work’ on his one day off, he didn’t have to be wooed too meticulously. At least not when it came to her. She could chalk it up to her charming personality if she was feeling narcissistic but… She wasn’t going to give herself that much credit. And if anyone knew that the young woman wasn’t so truly charming and well-mannered, it was Elliot. Indicting the young woman with being a maneater was a knee-slapper. In fact sometimes she felt more than a little rusty at the dating game. Of course rumors circulated. But she hadn’t taken anyone home in a long time. The truth of the matter was, Elliot was her second self. People could believe what they wanted and, at the end of the day, the two were just great friends who had trouble saying no to each other. Being worn on his arm gave her a sense of pride and vindication.

Throughout their wait during the elevator’s descent, Jaylene flexed her fingers with disappointment. Her joints were sore. Mildly she muttered, “I’m catching up with Furman.” She drew in deep breaths through the nostrils of her straight nose, trying to work with what caffeine was in her body.

A somehow pleasant ‘ding!’ welcomed the duo to the second floor. The pleasantry however was vastly overshadowed by the frayed subject matter that would be vomited onto EH renter’s in just a few moments. But by this time, Elliot and Jaylene were regular equerries of Elise Furman and almost like teacher’s pets. They’d held up their ends, kept tidy, didn’t complain and stayed to themselves for the most part. Jaylene couldn’t necessarily speak for her friend, but she knew that she hardly mingled with her neighbors. Quiet and observant suited her best. In addition to less than kind vices, she wasn’t just going to dive headfirst back into her history. It was an ongoing battle within herself. Maybe it was better to be looked at as the stuckup bitch than the coke whore? She almost laughed when the designations resounded in her head. Nope, she wasn’t going back to that persona any time soon. Clean for four years, give or take. Soda Pop was a ghost. A memory floating in Belleville, Canada. Where teens were so bored that they hit lines endlessly, fucked the friends they’d grown up alongside, and shot cops that tried to tell them they had a substance problem.

Jaylene strolled into the cafeteria area, towards the side of the room that was designated for gatherings. The poise she corroborated with Elliot was almost laughable considering the two were by no means a couple or nimble. Spitz was already seated a few rows ahead, and the seizure of plush seating was clutched by the pretty alternative model, Amil, and Patrick. The way the two got on kind of reminded Jaylene of Elliot and herself but tweaked in more ways than one. As expected the last couch was snagged by Alexandra, a young beautiful woman. Jaylene commonly recognized her as the blond head that bobbed down the hallways with Beats in her ears.

The walls were painfully bare, an uncanny reflection of the color in nearly every apartment in the building. Because of the size of the room, the air was a little more brisk than anywhere else in Empire Heights. Jaylene wrapped herself in the cardigan as she took a seat beside Elliot. After a while, she sluggishly slung her arm around his shoulder and zeroed in on Furman’s diction. It all pulped up after a while, it was all the same. So far the Sullivan girl had no problem following the rules and keeping her land lady happy, so she confidently let the meeting fade from emphasis.

Its conclusion was ungracefully brought to hand when Adam, a prior delinquent, fell right into Jaylene and Elliot’s lap. His Supreme hoodie was thick with the scent of body spray. He rambled about Jaylene being Elliot’s fiancee, the event at Manhattan Tower, and some other completely insignificant shit that the young woman didn’t care to read into. She batted her dark lashes, rolled her green eyes and affirmed the time and the place to Spitz’ protege. Shortly thereafter she politely excused herself, wearing a twinkle that could fool America’s greatest conartist. Before anyone could escape she cleared her throat and slid into place at the head of the room. She could feel the irritation of bored and exasperated young adults, but what she had to say, she felt, was worth it for them to stay.

“Hey, guys,” she began, her voice pygmy in the room, “I’m Jaylene. Seventh floor.” Her eyes grazed the audience and skittered over Kaleb which made her swing her focus back onto anyone else. “I usually don’t do this kind of thing, but I’m busting open a huge deal for my agency and we’re having a banger at Manhattan Tower tonight. Everyone has to pay a cover charge but I’ll let you all in for free because honestly, I’d just love not to be surrounded by anorexic models all night. And, Elliot is going to be helping with the catering - he’s a great chef as some of you may already know. 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.”

Awkwardly she side stepped, ran a hand through her wavy blond hair and weaved her way back to Elliot. With a groan she continued, “Jesus Christ, the way some of them looked at me you’d think they wanted me dead.” She screwed up her face, squinting over her shoulder at Corey and then Lee. The two were so unearthly and quiet. Rolling her shoulders, she looked at Elliot and proposed, “Shall we?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elliot Monroe Character Portrait: Jaylene Sullivan Character Portrait: Lee Harris
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Always expecting a change in the meetings Ms.Furman always insist on having, Noellen drifted off again once he realised the routine of her speech, nothing of importance to him that he hadn't already known. There was of course the occasional murmurs and conversation running underneath the old hag's drone, though it was expected with what it being a room full of twenties, who not that long ago were teenagers doing god-knows-what and still do keep the old habits. His habit is to keep tabs on the people around him who had a history worth exploiting or status of all manner that suited him, often using those history as blackmail and bribes for legal and illegal clientele. He didn't much care for them on a personal level. Business was business and he preferred to keep it that way. Personal attachment is a taboo for him, seeing as it's his kryptonite in a way that bothers and unsettles him.

Just as Noellen was about to fall asleep, the sudden sensation of falling and a shock striking his muscles made him jolt into wakefulness as his hands instinctively grabbed onto any surface it could grasp, which was the seat itself. Heart beating faster than usual with a whispered curse, he let one leg slip off the seat and propped himself up with one hand whilst the other ran down his face then through his hair, his body protesting for a rest that lasted longer than the three-four hours he gave it. Years of lack of sleep really did a number on him internally, though having done it routinely meant he would live his life without a problem but the occasional disturbance of that flow was a bitch to his already battered body to which the repercussion of his negligence had to be endured before he could reset his body's sleep regulation.

A much smoother voice with an undetectable shaky undertone to the untrained ears washed over the room, making him snap his head to the source. The Try-Hard Blonde, a nickname he gave her for his own uses, was giving and oral invite to her little soirée though why invite the entire Empire Heights tenants was more intriguing to him than the thought of mingling with a crowd of people he didn't want to interact with. It sounded a tad last minute to him but knowing her bond with Monroe, anything is possible. A small smirk tugged at his lips as the thought of the Chef de cousine being in the mids of many affairs and chaos of connection was rather incredulous, if it was him in the mids, he would've been ecstatic to be in the heart of it all, but he wasn't. A tired sigh escaped his lips, knowing that he was better off observing from the outside in.

Remembering his own line of work, Noellen blocked out most of the conversation about him as he fished his phone out his pocket to check his work schedule, the morning meeting fried his ability to recall simple memory that he can access easily on any other day. His phone told him nothing on whether he was on duty today or not, frustrated at the lack of flow to his day, he laid back down on the seat, massaging the bridge of his nose with furrowed brows. At the very moment, he couldn't give a damn care about people around him, a bit pissed off at how un-controlled the day was starting off for him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amil Sheffield Character Portrait: Corey A. Delgado Character Portrait: Elliot Monroe Character Portrait: Kaleb Dean Sivaj Character Portrait: Alexandra Kaersson Character Portrait: Juliet James Character Portrait: Jaylene Sullivan Character Portrait: Scully 'Spitz' Rollins Character Portrait: Dominique Norwood Character Portrait: Lee Harris
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#, as written by Jaybt9

After Dee settled for a wide window sill as her seat at the tenants meeting, the landlady decided to start with a cut short introduction about how blunt her words would be, since she understood that many of these young adults had jobs to keep. Dee grabbed the edge of the sill to keep her balance, and resist laying her back onto the cold glass pane. Her long legs pressed together.
“I know we’ve been talking renovations for months but in a few days painters are coming in to fix up the main foyers. Some drywall construction will follow, so I’ll need you all to be patient with the noise and temporary chaos. As per usual you’re expected to abide by EH regulations, your leases…”

Furman paused after witnessing what she knew she was going to see in front of her. Few individuals causing a scene to express how uninterested they were. A rather bold move on their part, but she tolerated it. This may have not been their first tenant meeting since they've been here. Since she was new, Dee was trying her best to listen to the landlady's plans to improve the apartments, but she also had dancing on her mind. A recital coming next Saturday and she had to practice all she could since she reduced her daily work hours for this day. She couldn't practice consecutive mornings last weekend because of moving to Empire Heights.

Dee used her 20/20 vision to glance around the room, observing the new tenants of the house. A colorful crew the Empire Heights had under its roof, including Dee herself, and a variety of body languages. Dee's “judging the book by its cover” habits were kicking in the double doors. She could honestly see herself communicating with them, but not on a friendly basis. Some seemed too flamboyant. Others seemed too cynic and anti-social, especially one of them, sitting with a cold blank look on his face. His entire frame was small. His medium brown hair combed to the back of his head. Dee wondered who this individual was. He seemed like someone from a glooming background.

Dee, however, shifted her attention from him to everyone else, trying to seek for comparisons. The obvious one being ethnicity. Only very few minorities within this group of career and thrill seekers. One man in particular, with a darker skin complexion than Dee, pushed his way onto a pair of women sitting on the couch together. Ever since Dee went to New York she had seen many men like him flirting with the blondes who could make it in a covergirl commercial. Not that Dee actually minded this behavior. She just found this amusing, since this wasn't such mainstream activity in Belleville. Everyone liked anyone they could connect to. The hair and skin color was never a preference. In New York, or better yet U.S.A., statistics were involved. She didn't understand this until her sorority sisters educated her. Bad idea. Let's just say that the word “privileges” are involved.

And this girl he was pushing his appeal on was not the only blonde in the lounge area. The majority of girls were blonde, whether born or dyed. Even bleached to rich platinum. One of the blondes in the back of the lounge had a boyfriend she was clinging to. So much that she could constrict him if he ever mistreated her, but from how much of a gentleman he seemed by the way he looked into her eyes before going in for a quick kiss, arguments would never occur between them. How this blonde stuck out to Dee? Her extravagant fashion sense. Name brand clothing from all around Europe. With how this blonde carried herself into the front of the lounge, Dee would assume that she took a trip or two there.

This woman and her boyfriend went up to the front of the room to introduce themselves to the new tenants, but based on some of their reactions, they were familiar with her. Some more than others. Dee reminded her of a blonde in Belleville who was at a house party once for one of the football players. The dirty blonde was slipping and falling in every room that day, including their garage. She remembered a brunette hanging around with her. The brunette was at a worse drunk state than she was. She wondered what ever happened to them.

Back to the tenants meeting, this particular blonde, who Dee now knew as Jaylene, invited the new tenants to a party she was hosting with her boyfriend that the new tenants, including Dee, could be interested in attending.

“I usually don’t do this kind of thing, but I’m busting open a huge deal for my agency and we’re having a banger at Manhattan Tower tonight. Everyone has to pay a cover charge but I’ll let you all in for free because honestly, I’d just love not to be surrounded by anorexic models all night.......”

By that time, Dee's cellular phone vibrated on her palm, nearly causing her to jump in fright. She wondered who would give her a message at this time, but since her friends and sorority sisters are all working in jobs or careers in the morning, it was no surprise that one of them would contact her. She proceeded to investigate, needing her ears to multitask.

“You've received a video message from: Erica”

Dee smiled to herself in delight. Her best friend from high school. The one that was cautious about her little “cave trip” in honor of Mordicai. After high school graduation, they split separate ways: Dee heading to the United States, and Erica moved to Toronto to pursue a career in Criminal Justice. Dee hadn't heard from her best friend until her senior year, thanks to social media. After giving Erica her number, they talked for three hours that day, reminiscing on old memories and sharing new ones.

Ironically, Erica had married a Muslim Physical Therapist at the college she went to, and she was expecting a baby boy soon. The same month of graduation to be exact. The husband wanted to name the boy Kareem, which Erica found to be intriguing. She thought it was named after a grandfather of his, but it was actually named after the American basketball legend, Kareem Abdul-Jabar.

Now to present time, Dee wondered what the video sent from Erica could be. She opened the small envelope icon. A video of baby Kareem in Erica's living room. The climax was Kareem already walking, adding his own manner of communication by waving to the camera with only his fingers. Not even a year old and he's already moving his legs. Dee's smile lit even more. Who knew something so enlightening could control her emotions, and have her day at a great start? It even calmed her tensions of potentially being late for work.

“.....would kill for a live act. I’d pay you. So, yeah. Thanks.”

That was the last she could hear from the blonde in front of her, but at least Dee got the location. She wasn't so sure about the time, since she had to work the whole afternoon to closing at night, but the day was on a weekend.

She could see a slim lower body heading her way. Someone wanting to speak to her? Who knew what this persona wanted to say? She didn't know the tenants too well, so she couldn't have them in her personal business just yet. She closed the video of Baby Kareem on her cellular phone before turning it around. Once the person was finally standing across from her, she lifted her head with a warm smile to whoever the lower body belonged to.

A young man piercing her with his dark eyes. His handsome face surpassed his eccentric sense of clothing. Comparing him to the blonde from earlier, they were complete opposites, further complimenting the varieties of Empire Heights, and after brushing his dark hair back with his fingers, he had a coolheaded charm that many women loved. He proceeded to speak to Dee, and she was curious over what he would begin the conversation with.

“Don’t I know you?”

A rather odd introduction. She quickly wanted to respond with a shaking head, but then it got even more strange when he said her name.


Her narrowly gazing eyes began to widen, and by the way she had responded, this man was right. How did this man know her name? Better yet, her nickname. Only friends and family know her by “Dee” rather than “Dominique”. Maybe she had seen this man in a distant memory. The more her eyes was drawn to him, the more his appearance seemed acquainted to her. His black strands of hair sprouting wildly from his scalp, and above his eyes. The light fawn shaded skin, with hints of stubble on his chin. Before she could ask him the obvious “how do you know my name?”, he quickly gave her the answer after placing his bags down to the crowd.

“I’m Kaleb, remember I invited you out after Mordy’s...erm..yea.”

His name was only said once, and Dee felt gravely affected by it. A soft catch of her breath. Her eyes widening more. She didn't know whether to feel dumbfounded, or ecstatic over a long-lost mutual friend reuniting with her after only hearing about him once, and seeing him from time to time in high school. These past few years have been a trip to the past for Dee. First her best friend, and now her beloved and dearly departed Love and what was left of his legacy. Was this fate wanting her not to forget about Mordicai? No, Kaleb staying in the same apartment building had to be a coincidence.

These many thoughts couldn't distract her for long. She had to respond to Kaleb.

“Kaleb! Hey! It's nice to see you again.”, Dee responded in her distinctively light, raspy tone, greeting him with a handshake. From what Dee could remember of Kaleb, every part of him remained the same. Even his stubby facial hair. Only exception was his height, which was a slight upgrade. Dee was, regardless, still shorter than him.

“Sorry, I just...I knew that I knew you, I just couldn’t figure out how.” He added a laugh into the sentence that he may judge as awkward and timid. Dee could imagine how he still felt that way. Even after meeting each other for the first time, their diaries were still locked tightly to their hearts. They were not as open to each other as they were with Mordicai, and since they lived in Empire Heights together, the cliffhanger had another opportunity to raise itself up to the ground.

“What are you doing in America?”, he finally asked after a moment of muteness to gather up the letters in the alphabet to form words, and finally a sentence. That was an excellent question to ask. Of all places, they both managed to migrate to the United States. What was the fascination over the United States?

“I go to college here in NYU.”, Dee easily responded. “I've been here for more than four years now, and I'm working on getting my graduate degree.

Dee's future in dance had to involve one of the greatest schools in the country. In a location where many aspiring dancers lived, wanting to compete to the lead roles on stage, or the television screens.

So how about yourself?, Dee questioned in turn, I didn't think America was such a common place for Canadians to live.”
Dee sneaked in a lighthearted joke to mellow their awkward encounter, and secretly Kaleb's diffident mannerisms. His current status after mourning Mordicai's death was still a mystery to her. even the other friends Mordicai left behind, or rather joined him in the case of the student who allegedly succumbed to a terminal disease. From Kaleb's warm skin complexion, Dee assumed that he moved on from the past like Dee had to.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amil Sheffield Character Portrait: Corey A. Delgado Character Portrait: Kaleb Dean Sivaj Character Portrait: Alexandra Kaersson Character Portrait: Jaylene Sullivan Character Portrait: Patrick Murphy Character Portrait: Scully 'Spitz' Rollins Character Portrait: Dominique Norwood Character Portrait: Adam Banksys Character Portrait: Lee Harris
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#, as written by Jaybt9
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.