“No?” She raised a brow, “what do you want from me then?” Carmen sat back in her chair and watched him move the chess pieces around. “Best for last of course. I get to spend the most time with you now that everyone else is gone– I thought you’d appreciate that.” Carmen pouted playfully.
Often times, Carmen found herself wondering what would’ve happened between them if she allowed herself to get closer to him. Hell, he was the only guy who asked her to a single dance all throughout school. But Carmen was self-destructive to her very core, she was sure that she loved him too much and because of that, she didn’t dare to get closer and mess things up.
“You’re not planning on staying here all night, are you?”
-
“What do I want from you?” Taj looked up from the board, tilting his head in observation. Carmen and him had a very long, complicated history, one that tip-toed lines and danced around boundaries, blurring their relationship till he was dizzy from it. Even then though, it never took away from the certainty that she was someone incredibly important to him. “I’ll let you know when I have that figured out, Carmen.” He said finally, crossing his arms over his chest waiting for her to make a move.
“It depends. If I’m needed, I’ll stay. I don’t have anything better to do at home.” He let out a breath, running his hands through his cropped hair.
Arm, and arm with his sister, the two strolled through what the vibrant event had to offer, only pausing to look over the art that would potentially be added to their collection, yet none caught his eye like others previously had. Could it be due to their lack of notoriety, or their price tag being a few dollars off from their lunch bill? His conscience called from within, an angel on his shoulder that attempted to undo the materialistic mindset that was instilled into Eren long before he knew the long term effects. Attempting to pull him away from a luxurious lifestyle was a lost cause for those that attempted the battle, or that was until Clayton became his home,a rural area lacking all the necessities that Atlanta readily provided.
Something in him started to shift, slowly, but the grip it once had on how he previously lived was drastically loosening. Did he fear change? Absolutely. Would he admit it? No chance. Eren never thought that he would stray from all that he knew, but the insight from others drew forward what he didn’t think he previously needed. One being the blonde that appeared before him, yet she already chose to hid behind another, prompting an amused expression to flicker on his features as if he was witnessing her antics for the first time. Entirely aware of who may be lurking around the booth, he couldn’t allow uncertainty to be apparent in his step, knowing how easily it would spark a confrontation that didn’t need to transpire within the public eye.
To avoid more curiosity than he had the patience for, a hand motion his sister towards a coffee stall as he fell into line behind a woman and her child, allowing his hands to causally settle into either pocket. Eren should have anticipated the reaction he received, and maybe it was for the better, especially if the wrong person noticed how familiar they were with one another, their connection so taboo that would surely place them in the center of a war. “Are you painting, or should I wait?” He stepped forward as her hand rose in silent greeting, his lips curving into a grin when a subliminal question hung onto Del’s response, which Eren had no answer for, and nor did he plan on giving one just yet. “I promise I’ll donate to the cause,”
-
Del had to fight a grimace, stomping down the urge to look for any sort of back-up. None of the mechanics seemed too keen on the idea of face-painting, so there she was, stuck with most of the shifts. She pressed her lips together before shaking her head and sitting back down to fidget with the paints and brushes she had in front of her.
“I think I’m your best bet if you want to have anything done.” She said lightly, trying to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t look too nervous.
It wasn’t working.
“Of course, I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. My customers haven’t been too happy with my artwork.” She let out a half-hearted chuckle before finally looking up at him, tilting her head to the side. It’s been a while since they’ve last spoken... Not long enough, though, for her to forget just how flustered he could make her.
Pull yourself together.
“Well? Come on, Mr. Polat, I’m guessing you don’t have all day.” She said finally after a sharp inhale, holding up a brush, eyes twinkling with a renewed sense of mischief. “I’m not one to turn away a paying customer. Now what can I do you for?”
Another stroll was in order as Laurie finishes up her duties over at the Cloud 9 Cabaret booth. Her eyes wander, arms crossed over her chest. If you didn’t know her, you could only assume she was a person with a plan set to be in action. Her face was stern yet beautiful, oozing the kind of intimidation that was in abundance in a town like this. She hears a familiar voice coming from her right. Yes, she would have recognized that fairy-light falsetto anywhere. She turns the corner, spotting Delphine and her bright head of golden locks in an instant. At first, she watches over with a small smile, that same heavy aura lingering despite her lightening expression.
When she’s able to approach her fully, she does so slowly, allowing her gaze to travel over her little painting station. “None for me. But thank you, baby.” Laurie says, “This is expensive foundation.” She adds with a laugh, her hand motioning to her face for a moment. “Why don’t you take a break and come get a bite to eat with me, hm?”
-
There was a lot to like about Laurie. The woman was on a different level of class that Del had only seen a handful of times in her life and while she always found herself completely stunned by the woman’s beauty, it did not take away from the fact that she had been nothing but welcoming since she had arrived... which was honestly not something she was used to from women like Laurie. She felt her cheeks warm at the attention before clearing her throat and standing up, pulling Taj to take her place at the stall (much to the latter’s disapproval).
“Oh! Yes, sure. I haven’t eaten all day.” She dusted off her ‘I love Clayton’, straightened the sunflower hat on her head and flashed the other a smile before skipping towards her.
“Please keep her!” Taj called, only for Del to flip him the bird in response.
“Have you eaten yet? I haven’t eaten yet. I think I saw some fried pickles somewhere. We should get fried pickles. I haven’t had a fried pickle in ages! I think the last fried pickle I had was in Louisiana and that was a long time ago.” She continued to talk excitedly, the warmth of spring truly getting to her.
Every year she tried going to the festival, and for the last eight years, she never managed to make it through the entire night. She felt lonely, and of course she physically wasn’t. She had Laurie and Phoenix and Gabe with her that night, but she was still lonely. Her dad and her brother weren’t there, and it still stung that they couldn’t continue to stuff their faces with funnel cake like they used to.
Carmen knew where she’d likely find Taj, and the face on the teenage boy leaving Street Chess was a dead giveaway. “I don’t feel like emptying my pockets like I have a feeling little Tommy just did.” Carmen scoffed as she sat across him. “No, I just had to get the hell out of there and my shift at the cabaret doesn’t start for another couple hours.” She shrugged, “Gabe and Phoenix took the kids home, and Laurie had some phone calls so–” she trailed off.
-
He quietly rearranged the chess pieces before finally looking up at his long time friend. He could tell that while it has been a while since her brother and father had passed, the wound must still feel fresh, and with a wound like that, he couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to have to go through the festival alone.
Lucky for her, she wasn’t. Not on his watch, at least.
“I don’t want your money, Carmen.” Was all he said before grasping a pawn and moving it two spaces forward. “So am I your last resort for company? Is that it? You’ve run out of people to hang out with so you’re slumming it with me?” He hummed in mock offense as he regarded her with a raised brow.
Of course Liam was going to come to the stall, considering he worked at the place to begin with and check out what everyone was doing on the kids’ faces. He always found it amusing that badass bikers sat down and pained on kids face’s. Of course Taj didn’t seem to find it amusing, considering he was sitting in one of those chairs. He shifted his weight, taking a good time to think and process what the other man had just said.“Oh man, somethin’ about that doesn’t seem right. You volunteered, right?” He asked, though he knew the answer to that. Anything to get Taj still talking to him. “Cause I don’t know, feels wrong getting paid to do something charitable. And I’m sure you’re a way better painter than I am. You’re good with your hands.”
-
“I didn’t volunteer.” He snapped. “Del bullied me into this. She worked her bullshit witch powers on me and now I’m stuck with snot-face over here.” He then pointed his paint brush at the ten year old looking up at him with wide eyes and a runny nose. “You’re a poo poo head!” The kid said in reply, only for Taj to stick his tongue out in response. “Careful kid, your face is under my mercy.” He sneered before turning his attention back to Liam.
“You hitting on me, kid? Because I’ll have you know, I’m way out of your league.” His smile turned shark like. “But I might consider it if you take my shift.”
“Come on, I have better things to do with my time.”
“free? i’ll take it. they should take my sister, too, wherever the hell she is,” bash looks around, as if he could magically summon her with his words. he was meant to keep an eye on her, too but so far she’s been doing a great job at hiding from him and malcolm. “good thing i’m not tired of you yet,” he says and playfully bumps his shoulder into taj’s. “what’s up? was that them on the phone?”
he can’t help the laugh escaping his mouth. “yeah. i know. poor fucking kids.” and bash says is as if he didn’t just cheat his way out of face painting duty. “didn’t see any of your masterpieces, though. maybe we should get my brother over to our booth and you can give him something real ugly.”
-
“Shit, my mom would be more than happy. ” Taj said, lips quirking upwards at the thought. He knew his parents loved him despite him being the biggest pain in the ass, but it was still funny to think about. He turned to Bash with a raised brow, only to bump his shoulder back. “Speak for yourself. I see you lot too much these days.” He pursed his lips before pulling out a cigarette he had tucked into his pocket, waving his hand in dismissal.
“Just my mother expressing how she thinks I’m going to die alone.” A wry smirk. “Same old. Nothing worth repeating. But yeah, no, we can drag Malcolm over there now. I’m sure I can work something out.” He crossed his arms after popping the cigarette between his teeth.
“Checkmate, loser.” Taj said with a shark like smile, knocking over his opponents king with his rook and slamming his hand down on the small pile of cash next to the board. The thirteen year old in front of him frowned, crossing his arms over his chest before raising a brow in obvious disapproval. “You’re kind of an asshole.” He said, but Taj was too busy counting his money to care.
“Yeah, come back when you know how to play a decent game, kid.” The kid in question could only flip him the bird before leaving the table in search of something else. Taj couldn’t help but smile, amusement filling his chest as he glanced around for another competitor. His grin only grew wider at the sight of a familiar face.
“I don’t want to do this.” He complained as Del bullied him into the painter’s chair. He had tried his best to avoid his shift for their auto-shop stall, but unfortunately their receptionist was not only festive, she was also annoyingly good at tracking them down. “You will do this, and you will like it.” She said cheerily, shoving a paintbrush into his hand and patting his head affectionately. “All smiles, Taj! Don’t scare the kiddies away!” She sang before floating out of the stall in that hideous “I love Clayton” t-shirt.
He scowled even more just out of spite, turning to find Liam not too far away.
in theory, bash was going to have a lot more fun today but the world had other plans. maybe he should’ve learned by now, to never make plans because shit always goes sideways one way or another. and today it’s his mom having to pick up and extra shift and not having anyone to look after and, more importantly, take malcolm to arts alive. it’s like bash knew what she was going to ask him even he picked up the phone; there was no chance that tessa would watch their little brother, being the rebellious sixteen year old that she is, so he’s the only other option. or just the only option. always has been.
“junior, dude, wait up. i ain’t running after you,” he calls after the boy; malcolm eventually stops by one of the game stalls and bash stands a few feet away, finally getting to pour the now lukewarm coffee down his throat. when a familiar face comes into view, he’s grateful. don’t get him wrong—he loves his little brother to death but sometimes a twelve year old child is not the company you wanna keep on your day off. especially when he’s finally managed to slip out of the victory booth. and yes, he was absolutely being shit at face painting on purpose, just for that. “know anyone i can pawn my little brother off to?” bash jokes—as if he could ever do that. “i need a drink. and to be free of babysitting duties. but mostly the drink.”
-
“Enjoy yourself, beta, your father and I are fine at home. Eat some pie. Get some sun. Go meet someone so we don’t die without grandchildren.” Taj bristled at the mention, phone pressed against his ear. “Mama, what did I tell you about-”
“Have fun, my love, don’t worry about us, alright? We’ll call later, Wheel of Fortune is starting.” And without another word, the line was dropped, leaving Taj cranky and speechless. So much so that he didn’t notice the twelve year old that ran past him, stumbling slightly as they both ran into each other.
“Hey watch it!” He grunted, watching the other continue on his path.
It only dawned on him that it had been Malcolm at the sight of Bash, the other now standing a few feet away from him. He pressed his lips together before letting out a scoff, shaking his head. “I think my parents would take him off your hands for free. It seems they’re tired of me.” He closed the distance between them with a frown.
“... Did you leave Del to do the face painting?” He raised a brow. “She paints like fucking Jackson Pollock.”
“You look ridiculous.” Taj had commented as he gave Del a once-over. She would have taken offense had she not been enjoying herself, the relief of spring and the obvious excitement of the town hitting her like a freight train. “The hat too much?” she asked, knowing that it would only piss the man off a teeny bit more. She knew that everything about her was probably too much.
It looked like Spring in Clayton threw up on her, but really it was just the fact that she was just festive as a person, and she finally had an outlet to be so.
She had on an enormous ‘I Love Clayton’ t-shirt that she found hiding in one of the gift stalls, obnoxious and yellow, just like the sunflower hat she plonked atop her head. “You’re an eye-sore.” He grumbled, much to Del’s glee. She was about to relieve him of his shift at their face-painting booth when a familiar face caught her eye. With a high-pitched yelp, she ducked behind Taj, clutching at his shirt to keep him in place.
Eren.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t move.” She hissed, hoping the man hadn’t seen her. Taj, however, couldn’t have cared less, extricating himself from Del’s grasp and escaping without another word. She let out a string of curse words at the sudden lack of cover before finally making eye-contact with the man and offering a sheepish smile and an awkward wave from where she stood.
“... What’s it suppose to be?” Del narrowed her eyes at the kid holding up the mirror, eyeing the suspicious looking blob on their cheek. She gnawed at her bottom lip, looking between the reflection and the child in question.
“It’s a flower.” She said, trying her very best to keep the offense out of her voice. “A daffodil, like you asked.” She had been particularly excited when Gabe announced they were doing face-painting for their stall, but she didn’t take into account the fact that maybe she wasn’t skilled enough to participate.
But still.
“It doesn’t look like a daffodil.” The kid rebutted with a frown.
“It’s abstract. I’m telling you, you’d definitely see something like that at the MoMa!” Del countered before shooing them away with a huff. “Now go on, you’re holding up the line.” Her smile turned saccharine as the kid walked away, only to brighten at the next person.
“Laurie! Are you next?” She held her paintbrush up in excitement. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
@lastcalls
where: victory auto
who: isaiah grymes
She was dizzy, and she didn’t know why. (Correction, she absolutely did know why, but it took a different kind of maturity to acknowledge that). So there she was, sitting behind the receptionist desk back in victory auto, fingers sticky from a popsicle and heart beating fast from the sugar (and the fact that the pull to this town slowly seemed to solidify, the anchor she didn’t mean to make getting heavier and heavier with every friendly smile thrown her way). She shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts, sniffling slightly and pulling out the deck of tarot cards she had hidden in one of the desk drawers.
She needed some clarity.
With a huff, she shuffled the cards, hoping the universe had some answers to the many questions floating around her mind.
“We’re closed.” She called, not looking up from the deck as the front door bell signaled a new arrival, decidedly placing down three cards with a grimace. One look at the The Fool had her resting her forehead against the desk. “Go away please.” She grumbled, voice muffled.
Del’s always been a fan of spring. New beginnings, longer days, pollen. The inevitable excitement she was feeling made her giddy to the point that it distracted her from the fact that she was a few months off schedule on her supposed departure from town.
Well, I can’t possibly leave now. Not when the weather is so nice.
No, she’d just have to put it off for a bit longer. So with her stomach just a tad bit too full from the food, and her smile achingly bright from the celebrations, Del allowed herself to just be, weaving through the crowds in a rare moment of feeling oddly like her old self.
... So much so that her eyes seemed to zero in on the tell-tale sign of a wallet peeking out of a person’s pocket. No, no, no, no, you left that person behind. Del tried to tell herself, despite the fact that her feet were now taking her towards the person she didn’t even bother to recognize.
People had become sparse in this area of the fair and truthfully she probably had been a bit out of practice, but that didn’t stop her fingers from being sticky. With a quick slide of her hand, she pinched at the edge of the leather wallet and pulled, swiping past the man with a small twitch of her lips.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” She murmured under her breath in an attempt to bump past him.
It’s time. That I got to do something, right? Trying to save my fucking life. So, that’s what I’m doing, okay? No one else is gonna save my life. Right? If I just sit here and diddle around, what am I gonna have? Nothing.
SOUND OF METAL (2019), dir. Darius Marder
( RIZ AHMED, THIRTY-FIVE, CIS-MALE, HE/HIM. ) TAJ AZIZ has been living in Clayton, Georgia for THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. They are/ a the TREASURER FOR THE IRON COFFINS and currently working as a BIKE SPECIALIST AT VICTORY AUTO. They are known to be CRUDE & TACTLESS, but also known to be INTELLIGENT & LOYAL. I hope you are enjoying their time in Clayton, there is no place quite like home.
- He was born with a messy mind. That’s what his mother always told him. A jumble of numbers and letters that supposedly didn’t make sense to anyone... what they didn’t understand, though, was that it made sense to him. He just didn’t know how to translate it so it would make sense to everyone else.
- Taj knew he was smart. He had always been smart. He was managing the household finances by the time he was 12, did his parents taxes by the time he was 13 and could calculate their grocery bill before the register (with all of his meticulously cut coupons) by the time he was 16 and doing all the family errands.
- He was smart, he was good at school... It was just a shame that that would more than likely never amount to anything.
- His family wasn’t rich. Far from it. His father was in and out of jobs while his mother worked 3 to make ends meet. His intelligence was nothing if they couldn’t pay for education he needed to be somebody.
- At 18, he was accepted to MIT on a full scholarship. He had an out.
- A week after, his parents got into a car accident that left the both of them incapable of taking care of themselves. The shackles of Clayton seemed to snap tighter around his wrists.
- The Iron Coffins was a means to an end. He needed money and they needed his mind. Who was he to say no?
( LUCY BOYNTON, TWENTY-EIGHT, CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER ) DELPHINE DUPONT has been living in Clayton, Georgia for FIVE MONTHS. They are/ a the CIVILIAN and currently working as a RECEPTIONIST FOR VICTORY AUTO. They are known to be ECCENTRIC & FLIGHTY, but also known to be COMPASSIONATE & EFFERVESCENT. I hope you are enjoying their time in Clayton, there is no place quite like home.
- It was raining when she arrived in Clayton, Georgia. She was low on cash, bleary eyed from driving for so long, and her car smelled of cat piss and granola. She figured it was as good of a time as any to settle down for a bit, replenish her pockets and maybe head east. Being back in the south wasn’t ideal but she wasn’t going to fight it.
- It’s been one month since her arrival in Clayton, and it seems the town has claws... or maybe she unconsciously dug her own into the rich soil of the small town. It reminded her of home. Reminded her of a life she once had. She’ll give herself a few more months. Nothing wrong with wanting to stop running for just a little bit.
- She keeps her head down as much as she can because the last town she was in, she splayed herself so open it seemed like there was nothing left of her. No, Clayton was going to be different. Besides, she wasn’t going to be here for long. Three months of incognito work? Not a problem.
- As far as anyone knows, she’s just a girl that always has a tank full of gas and a fire lit under her ass. “Just need to keep moving is all. Don’t wanna get too attached.” What was the point when she was going to leave. She knows that people have their questions, but being a mystery woman amused her. She would then throw in an extra bag of twizzlers onto the pile of groceries, toss a friendly wink in there for good measure before going about her life trying to be the nobody she figured herself to be.
- She doesn’t tell anyone but she feels she lost herself somewhere along Oklahoma. Her crystals are still in boxes and she hasn’t burnt her sage once since arriving here (it’s because she left that Delphine back in Louisiana. She has no place here in Georgia.)
- She tries not think about all the things that go bump in the night when she manages to find a comfortable spot in that tiny room she’s renting short term (she’ll be gone in three months. She knows it.) She tries not to feel the invisible string that tied itself around her heart whenever she heard the engines rev in the streets. She tries to forget the siren song that seems to echo inside her. Being in a town with a motorcycle club should have been her first red flag, but hey, she’s a masochist.
- When she applied for that receptionist job in Victory was testament to that.
- She misses home sometimes, but a lot of the time, she doesn’t even know where home is. Maybe she just misses the idea of a home, one she once had a couple times before. Clayton isn’t it though. For sure it isn’t. (She wonders if she’s trying to convince herself of the fact at this point).
- She’s been in Clayton for five months now. Two months longer than she planned. Her tank is still full of gas and she still has that fire under her ass that pulls her to the edge of town... but there’s also this anchor tied around her waist now. Weighed down by the smiles of people that are slowly crawling under her skin.
