#past update

[brokenpicassofanfic]

Chapter 15 - When the truth speaks...it shuts you up quick...

STEVEY

The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark - MICHAELANGELO

“Do me a favor and tilt your head slightly up for me please...perfect.”

Her toffee honey complexion illuminated in the beaming lights surrounding her in the photo studio; we’ve been down here for the past two hours, and I was grateful we were making progress. Indigo, one of the sophomore students I was assigned to in class for a project agreed to the impromptu shoot. After improvising a perfect angle of her face. When simply raising her phone up for service, it led us to 52 shots later, we were damn near close in placing the finishing touches to our mini project on angles, and lighting.

“I feel like I’m just twisting my neck an inch only every two minutes.” She chuckled before turning to me as I viewed the several images shot.

“I was trying to manipulate the little to no lighting in this room, but you did good. Real good.”

“Thank you, I’m not used to this at all. Staying in the background is my thing.”

“Yeah I know.”

I smiled glancing up at her. I swear she was a new student when her name was called as my partner from our professor. Being quite familiar with each and every film and photography student from being so sociable, I was sure I would’ve have remembered her; but from the looks of things, I was wrong. The timid girl who kept quiet in the back of the room, I found to know was always the first one to leave class, and the first one to enter. She never spoke but knew every answer, and aced every test. She had a peculiar but captivating portfolio of flowers, the forest, and beaches and shit; definitely one of those hippie types.

“I mean I don’t mean to, I’m just very observant.”

“Any particular reason why?” Taking the camera off of it’s tripod, I adjusted the aperture taking one last random flick of the back wall before taking the memory card out.

“ I rather watch and learn. Further dissect a thing before coming close, and declaring interest.” Our eyes locked for moments before she broke the stare gazing her eyes upward around the studio. She lightly hummed while picking up photographs that were left by other students. As she lifted a photo film roll in the light, my eyes traveled up from her bronze colored follicles to the golden hoop nose ring embedded her button nose. She definitely was a vision.

“Take a picture...it’ll last longer.” So I did, causing her to burst into a chuckle shielding her face.

“You sing?”

“Eh...I can, I mostly write though. “

“Like poetry?”

“It’s a little of both, only for therapeutic purposes.”

“You plan on going somewhere with that?”

“Nope, it’s staying right in the confines of my mind, journal, and dorm room.” Her soft chuckle masked the nervousness that made her face turn a light flushed red, as she turned away focusing elsewhere; she couldn’t fool me though if she tried.  

“What justice does it serve in doing that? I bet it’s dope shit.”

“I...I never shared any intimate content like that before, something so personal and vulnerable is a bit embarrassing for me.”

“Well I wanna hear it. Bet money it’s dope, and If I’m right? We’re gonna have to do something about that confinement.”

“We’ll just have to see…”  

DYLAN

My eyes glistened, and feeling the liquid consume my eyelids I inhaled tightly to prevent them from falling. Not much had changed honestly. The little babies I would babysit around the block, that would play hopscotch and freeze tag in the streets were now grown little women. Rid of them were the pigtails, and barrettes but instead 34’ inch bundles, with color coordinated mani’s and pedi’s. Puberty now emerging with a strong presence, as their shapely bodies filled their tight preteen clothing.

“Home sweet home baby girl...” Taking a slight right as Damonte approached the infamous rugged road of East 213th street, he made a quick stop at a local bodega, and so much love was shown his way. Like a true hood star, he soaked in every moment with familiarity because it was nothing new; the glares I received from the local collective of hoodrats was comical to say the least but I knew the deal. Hmm, I wonder which one of y'all hoes he done smashed and gave a wet dream this week...

“Oh so shorty you don't know nobody now!?” My decision to stay low and remain incognito for a minute to peep the scene fell short as Baby Deuce approached the vehicle with the brightest smile he could muster. He was known as such because of the undeniable baby face he adorned and the notoriety of being the youngest son out of the Ricardo boys. He looked more like their mother, as opposed to Damonte who was basically their father twin. He was the lowkey one, and crazy talented and gifted. He would always ask me to tutor him for his exams, being that I was two grades above him like his brother. While Damonte would roam the streets, I’d keep Deuce under my wing to focus; I always looked as him being my little brother too. Eventually when he got older he decided to run behind Damonte and his friends whenever I couldn’t prevent it.

“How’d you do on the test?” He looked up the block as he slid a hand down his swimming waves fixing his Yankees cap, out of nerves I can clearly see was there.

“I don’t know D, 1650 to get in man? That’s just...” He sighed shaking his head as he walked closer to the passenger door, letting a car go pass.

“You got it though. Math is your strong suit, you stressing over it is only gonna make you freak out unnecessarily.”

“I know but like damn man, the SATs wasn’t fuckin’ playin’ on the kid!” The chuckle that greeted his lips that made his cradle dimples appear relieved me of any worry that he’d be good; no matter the situation Baby Deuce was always the one known for clowning to diffuse a situation.

“I told you to study, see…”

“You was right and I did though, but gahdamn! 5 hours and shit, got a nigga ass hurtin’. Not to mention having to get up bright fuckin’ early and shit. But that’s the usual. A nigga gotta get up outta here man, so no complaints. It’s gettin’ rough out here.” I knew he was speaking nothing but the truth, as my eyes roamed the area where fresh spray paint of “R.I.P” signs adorned the abandoned buildings, and brick walls. Another hood legend slain, or dopeboy living to these streets for that credibility in this concrete jungle. It was a sad sight, and coming back not seeing much improvement, didn’t help lift my spirits but furthermore supported my reasoning and moving on from this hell hole.

“I can see that Deuce, that’s why I need you to keep clear of this shit, there’s nothing out here...forreal. And your hardheaded ass brother doesn’t get that..” I watched from afar, as Damonte chopped it up with a couple dudes from the block. Even as thuggish as his demeanor could be perceived, he still held this rawness, and distinctivity that set him apart.

“I see you riding shotgun though..” He smiled giving me a knowing look of accusation. “Dyl and Monte, back at it like it’s 2012?”

“No! Unh uh, let me stop you right there. I was forced, and dragged here today, I ain’t wanna be riding with him. Please..”

“Mhmm, I bet. But it’s a problem not seeing your face anymore Dylan forreal. I want you poppin’ shit on the runways, but your Bronx fam miss you like crazy too baby girl.” Leave it to Deuce to make me feel worse; trust me I wasn’t ashamed of my roots of being from the ghetto, because it’s home; and no fashion house of couture or foreign designed piece of retail could ever change that, I just knew more than anyone how congested, and confined this could keep you.

“Trust me..I missed y’all too.”

Shortly after being called off by one of the dudes hugging the corner near East Chester apartment complex, he jetted off in that direction. From my peripheral I could see Damonte swaggering his way back over casually with no care in the world.

“No se podía dejar el coche de alta sadity?” He chuckled looking over at me as he got settled in the car seat after entering. I simply waved him off while looking up the block, and for a pretty fair day in the weather there was a crowd outside.

“I’m not high sadity, you seriously tried.”

“Oh you not high sadity? Dylan, right or wrong, that jacket alone don’t cost more than the section 8 rent ma?”

“Goodbye Damonte don’t even start with me!” He was right though unfortunately. “Them buttas on your feet and that grill in your bottom row of teeth alone can pay a couple of my loans boy, so stop it!” We both laughed as he shook his head starting the engine, now riding up an alleyway near the bodega.

“Aye, I never said I wasn’t sadity I’m just gutter with my shit. The streets been missing you shorty though, as you can see.” I waved at a couple more familiar faces I seen looking out the window, and rounding the corner emerging to the only known bright red house on the block, I seen a short figure walking off the porch; now providing instant familiarity and comfort.

“She missed you most of all though, and is about to get in that ass..” He laughed some cutting off the engine after parking, now getting out and making way over to the same figure that now embraced him.

“I told her grandma she in trouble, she thought it was a joke.” Mama Santo stocky, but tiny frame scolded me with a stare not even speaking, but was unable to hold back a smile as she pulled me in. I was immediately rid of hesitation making way over as I held her for what felt like a peaceful eternity. She was the neighbor hood's grandma, and everyone around the block called her mama, and respected her as such. Providing meals, and sound council for majority of the kids in Bronx, she was everyone's abuela that didn’t have a parent to claim as their own’ and that included me, even though biologically she was Deuce and Damonte’s.

“Mami, you no call...no visit! Echaba de menos a mi pequeño bebé tanto. Cómo te atreves !?”

“Mama..mama. Stop, I’m sorry. I was busy with school but I’m here now right?” It was crazy how technically my father, of dominican descent held some familiarity with spanish but never taught me, but I understood it and knew majority from her home teachings. Damonte couldn’t contain his laughter as I gave him a death glare and entered the huge space of the livingroom, that was traditionally and homely furnished. The aroma of food ready consumed my senses, as I looked around at my sacred place of sanity my adolescent years. Here too, nothing much has changed as my own, as well as Damonte’s, and Deuce’s baby pictures adorned the walls. But I didn’t mind it this time.

“I know that university of yours doesn’t feed you good home cook meals, so get settled to eat, and you’re not rushing out of here this time..” How could I argue with the feisty old lady, as she compiled a large plate of food still scolding me nonetheless; these were the little moments that I missed the most.

“Abuela I can’t eat all this food.” I grinned hugely staring down at my plate filled with scrumptious spanish delights, feeling the my stomach grumble. Suddenly a large hand pulled it away with one of the same fingers motioned me to come.

“We gon knock this thing out together then, come here…” Reluctantly I made way over to Damonte sitting on his lap as he proceeded in digging in at the dining room space.

“Damn fat ass! She made it for me!”

“Hush..” He stuffed the spoon in my mouth, with me now trying to stifle a moan as I chewed.

“Mmm, I needed this. It’s been so long..”

“Yeah, too long.” We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, and I decided that cherishing this moment would be okay...for now.

TYLER

“How many packs of cigarettes do you go through a day? That’s what? Your fourth in three hours?” I’m in hell.

“Stop asking me shit. Damn…”

“Answer the fuckin’ question. “

“Fuck you.” The plumpness of his lips was licked over in a manner too awkwardly sexual for the heated exchange prior to the cruel act. Day by day he became more enticing, that it was annoying. Tyler you better get it the fuck together!

“What kind are those? Let me see the box…” I handed him my American Spirit Cigarettes with hesitance, watching as he held them in his hand for moments.

“Native Americans definitely didn’t make these…” Before I could declare an objection the box was clutched and squished in between in his hands, him now fisting it into a ball.

“THE FUCK!?”

“Leo-”

“Nah, fuck that..”

“Are you serious?!”

“This is the second pack I saw your ass buy since yesterday! Get the fuck over it! They’re gone!” I reached for anything I could get my hand on as I flung it across the room, aiming for his head, and the middle area between his eyes.

“If I hav-..” He ducked and dodged hopping off of the table. “If I gotta come over there for your-...ass. Tyler!” Ouch. My back landed against the yellow walls of his spacious livingroom; us clearly disregarding completely the other residents of the dormitory in the late hours of 2am.  

“Get off of me.”

“Throw some more shit at me again and watch I fuck you up.” Please? I fought myself not to say those words, as I shoved him off.

“You’re buying me some more cigarettes. And that’s on everything. The hell is wrong with you?”

“If I had to quit, you are too.”

“What the hell do I have to do with that?! That was your choice, nigga the fuck?!”

“Raise your voice again. Go head...it’s two o’clock in the fuckin’ -..” My hand raised to his face silencing him while bypassing him. Only for me to get yoked up and pulled completely out of the safe haven that was a foot away from him. I’m guessing the lovely students of NYU figured an innocent case of lovers quarrels, because they ignored us like wasn’t shit happening. Thanks alot fellow classmates!

“Get your hands off me! Do I look like your child? Your woman to be tryin’ to put your damn hands on me? Make me slap the shit out your ass.” I fixed his plaid button up that sagged on my shoulders my now wrinkled V-neck worn beneath. So much for studying for midterms; In the span of just five minutes we’ve went from studying fresco methods of Michelangelo, to a late night screaming match; the referee being sexual heat.

“Now if something is stressing you out, like these midterms, we can talk about it. But smoking your lungs away ain't gon’ solve shit. Now talk…”

“Did I say anything wa-”

“Talk!” And I so did. And for the first time, in the past weeks the barrier was dropped from my tensed shoulders I’ve been trying to hold up for the exhausted time span. From the gruelness of Alex, to Tyler’s situation, and my mother’s control issues, I sounded off what’s been compacted in my thoughts just screaming to get let out; surprisingly to the one person that has been annoying me since day one. But his sincerity, as shocking as it was, gave me assurance; and although I hated to admit it...it was needed.

“...So your sister is fulfilling your father’s dream and has neglected her own? At Columbia you said.”

“Yes.” My statement was barely audible; I didn’t realize, until now, how much this has been affecting me.

“I take it, you’ve voiced your concerns to her, and she’s adamant about seeing this through?”

“Absolutely. And it’s mind boggling to me. Acting was her life, her everything. And she just..just threw it away. For what?! A Phd as an accolade, and acceptance of my father?”

“Ty..she has to want it just as bad as you want it for her; it’s pointless in having a dream just passionate enough for you knowing how to do it...but not willing to fight for it. Get me?”

“Yeah but...I know you’re right. It’s true, but apart of me..apart of me has some fault in her making that decision. I know she’s doing everything she’s doing..because of me…”

“Tyler...come on, ma.”

“No, Leon seriously. I’m the black sheep of the Charles children; the bad apple. The one who was expected to be the disappointment. So of course Tony had to sacrifice a dream for my father’s smile, from a scowl I always caused.”

“Riddle me this…” He followed me out to his balcony that stood above pretty glowing lights of Prime East Village; Pedestrians on a careless troll to a destination I’m sure had meaning and more significance than my troubles at the moment. Or were some just as lost, and emotionally bruised like I was? Concealing the scars through defenses only hindering us by the days. Who truly knew?  His warm presence was close behind me as he began to speak.

“Why’d it never work when you tried doing right by your mother’s wishes?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did always “doing you” work? Despite everything?”

“I...it just feels right.”

“Doing you feels right?”

“Yes..”

“So how could you be wrong or at fault being honest with yourself? If not anyone, or even yourself, you owe it to your creativity and those who believe in you, to do what feels right; and that would mean doing you unapologetically even in the midst of opposition.” There wasn’t a response needed to be stated. We stood there in silence, which made it’s own conversation with the wind that picked and graced our faces. The truth spoke volumes for us both in a calm murmur that settled me. Despite the situational crises, at the moment I was at peace.

[brokenpicassofanfic]

Chapter 14 - look a little more clearly...

CREE

“In the night, I hear 'em talk the coldest story ever told, Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless..How could you be so heartless?“ - HEARTLESS KANYE WEST

"They're so fucking weak and ugly this year. Like oh my goodness Stacey! Wha- wait...is tha-” I had to blink twice. “..is that a knock off Cèline!?-" Immediately Stacey pushed me to the side trying her mightiest to subside my loud shriek of absurdity. They were all horrifyingly...basic! A total downgrade from the last year line sisters of AKA who now, like myself, were upperclassmen on the road to graduation. From the cheap weaves, that looked like bushy squirrel tails, to blatant disrespect to the knowing, and fashion gods of these awful knock off  of “trends”; I was disgusted.

With clear, and utter pain I injected my perfectly taupe manicured claws through my hair before taking a light tug to the voluminous dark brown tresses. Was this the thanks I get? Poor Patricia, my personal miracle worker -who took me in twice a week, would damn near have a heart attack. If she seen me rumple my fresh wave of layered curls she just done two hours prior? What? It’d be over! Like what the fuck!

“Cree...stop. You’re such a harsh bitch.” Her chuckles lighthearted the declaration, but it was the truth; and it only confirmed how already aware I was. I’ve heard it said so much, I fight myself to not list it as a trait on an application when having to describe myself.

“No I’m just honest…” I brushed past her going back in front of the starting line up fellow lames.

“Name?” As I rid my shoulders of the peony pink Lanvin trench, my eyes surveyed the tragedy that lied before me of a frail ginger head that obviously had an obsession with cats, as her red and white sweater was a collage of them. Have mercy..

“Abigail Sue-Ann Smith..” The creep of metal material that framed her teeth was shown as she smiled lightly adjusting her rectangular medicinal eye blockers.

“Freshman?” She nodded. Of course.

“Nex-..”

“Sorry I’m late. My film class ran over 15...” Before grinning lightly my way while abruptly entering, her wild bushy curls bounced in a soft rhythm upon her shoulders as she sat her things down on one of the nearby tables. You can tell her jet black tint of hair wasn’t natural but it looked pretty nonetheless. Thank goodness, one with quality.

“Name?”

“Paloma, Paloma Castillo...” Immediately my head snapped up, and she met my own with a knowing look. I never met the girl in person, but I knew Leon protectiveness over her went miles. I seen the resemblance, and the presence of a rich Hispanic heritage in her exotic features was uncanny. I wonder what Mr. Castillo would think about his precious baby sis becoming a fellow pink and green, hmmm. After getting the rest of the trolls names, I met each of their eyes with a chilling look that winter coats wouldn’t even be able to provide warmth.

“First and foremost, welcome to NYU for the fresh babies out here, I hope your professors are atleast easy on the eyes, and you don’t have to fuck for an A..” I chuckled at my own crass joke, fighting myself not to holler out at little miss Abigail’s now horrid expression.

“Let it be known however, you’re crabs...bottom of the barrel let’s make that swarovski crystal clear. Like these beautiful gems in my ears ladies! You have to fight to be able to breathe the fresh air that lies at the top of the bucket you all have to climb up to. Alpha Kappa Alpha isn’t just a name for bragging rights..” who the fuck was I kidding..”It’s a sisterhood...a fellowship, and foundation built by our beautiful founders of strong and phenomenal women standing up for a change..” Hearing the door swing open, again my head snapped towards the door with pure and utter annoyance, and immediately my face grew even more grim at who stood at it.

“Umm..excuse me, are you pledging? Or…” My nude stilettos clicked in her direction as she defiantly stood in place now entering even, with her eyes roaming up from my Alexander Wang killers to my face that still grew smug. Yes bitch admire them, and look on sis.

“You’re done at 7 right? I need the room.”

“It’s...6:57. Waiting another three minutes wouldn’t be crucial for you right?” Instead of answering me she turned to Paloma who looked on at us both with a pretty concerned expression.

“Paloma, you got the room key? I left mine in the art studio.”

“Y-yeah. It’s right here.” Before she could maneuver her way out of the line while digging her hands in her pocket retrieving the key, my hand flashed up causing her to stop in her stance.

“Hold it crab. Who are you?” The rogue red that coated her plumped lips broke out into a sly grin as she proceeded in taking off her jean motorcycle jacket. After she placed it behind one of the chairs taking a seat, her feet swung on top of the table, the patent leather Doc Martens causing two loud thumps on it as she looked back at me challengingly with nonchalance.

“Depends on who is asking..but uh..” She checked her watch flashing a wide grin. “It’s 7:00 now.”

Trying to suppress my rage at this point a sinister laugh left my lips as I squint at the little bitch. I didn’t know who she was aside from her having some association with Leon, and damn near the whole family from the looks of it; but I felt it in my bones she was to become a problem just by the two occasions I’ve seen her.

“We’ll be seeing each other again. Miss anonymous...I assure you. You’re all free to go crabs!” Like bugs they scattered, as we still kept our stare off before I left out.

Bitch.

EBONY

Ten minutes turned to twenty then to a half an hour before I heatedly slammed my MacBook closed, rising up out of the comfy plum colored lounge chair in the library. See this is why… I was damn near seething, gathering all of my items and placing them back in my bag; a simple text would’ve sufficed.

But no he just doesn’t show up, as if that’s acceptable. This was what? The second time? Shortly after the door swung open, and in came his presence. The library dimly lit from it being after nine was settling, and as he walked his shadow crept slowly behind him commanding the room of only the five of us in it.

“Damn my bad shorty.” Strolling in carelessly, while currently on the phone he showed no type of remorse; the audacity and nerve of him had me taken aback as I folded my arms across my chest, making slight crinkles in my gleaming teal hornets Jersey.

“Nah...I said I’ll see you later ma. Chillll. But let me call you back aight? I said I’ll call you back.  I promise. I’ll be over there later too..” Ummm...excuse me? A smile remained on his lips for moments before he made his way over just in time for me to trail my eyes smugly from the soles of his cool greys, all the way up to his neatly designed braids. After several blinks later, no words were spoken as I bypassed him, and grabbed my bag leaving right back out the door he just came in.

“Ebony! Shorty it was my bad I had to make a stop. Wait up..” He didn’t miss the chance of adding in a light chuckle as if things were comical or cool. “Shorty-..”

“Don’t call me that!” Immediately I snapped, serving him an intense glare as I turned to face him.

“It takes two seconds, two! To shoot me a text saying you’ll be late! Don’t just stroll in talking to whoever, like it’s cool! Don’t have me waiting while you do whatever with whoever! The hell?” I swear I was tempted to smack that stupid smirk off his face that was now apparent. Ugh! So cocky!

“She’s-..”

“Did I ask whoever she was?”

“You didn’t have to..”

“Rafael don’t play with me alright? I can give two fucks about who you entertain, but the moment it disrupts my time, and grade it’s an issue!”

“You sure about that ma?”

“What? Look..we have a project due. Don’t flatter yourself okay? like I said I don’t care whoever she is, you should’ve been here!” He stepped closer bridging the gap between us, but taking a step back, I gave us some length again.

“It was an emergency..”

“Oh like the last time...when you had my ass waiting at the New York Library for a half an hour? The same “emergency” huh? Please..” I turned on my heels, and proceeded in walking off towards my dorm.

“I hope these little emergencies help you pass too...” He didn’t have to lie, if it was a girl then he could just say it. And furthermore stop pursuing me if what what I deemed of him was true.

“I can’t help it if I’m a momma’s boy Ebony...grams needed the kid..”

“What?”

“Yeah; I came from my grandmother’s to help her take her meds. She’s diabetic, and likes to sneak sweets, so I gotta look after her..” His chuckle was soft and low that held a glimmer of sadness in the midst of it. Immediately my demeanor settled lightly as I stepped closer to him staring into his intense brown orbs.

“Grandma huh?”

“Yeah...grams. You still don’t care whoever she is now?” Chuckling he met my stare with a challenging stance, as he beamed down on me. I can admit I did kind of overreact, and maybe whoever was calling did matter deep down inside; I mean way deep, but still..

“You still could’ve called!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on shorty, little feisty ass. You better have them notes, and poem analysis too. All that shit you talkin’.” Placing me in a headlock while redirecting me, I settled my resistance realizing I didn’t have much of a chance at escaping as we walked back to the library.

“You hush!”

“Make me..” A light jab in his side cause him to chuckle, as he fluffed my curls pulling me closer.  

LEON

“Did it work?” His broad grin was wide as his funny looking ass laid across the chaise eyes glued to the screen where Pain In Full played. While juggling a blunt back and forth, waiting on Zaire’s arrival, we chilled back at my place after ordering loads of Chinese food. Call it a study, or smoke session if you wanted, we tried our hardest to get our work done as the weed took it’s effect. But clearly we weren’t getting too far as Rah’s literature book still laid on the table untouched.

“Oh you ain’t got my money?...No ribs! No rice! No champagne, you don’t eat nothinnnn’!” As he recited the infamous line while hollering in laughter, I chunked his ass with a colored pencil again trying to get his attention.

“Rah!”

“What Nigga?! Damn..”

“Did it work!?”

“Did what work?”

“Ebony!” As expected his eyes immediately shot up in my direction, before slowly a slick and wide grin appeared on his face giving me confirmation.

“Best advice you’ve given me thus far my dude; her little mean ass. Lil mama was swoll. Of course she tried to conceal the shit, play if off, but she looked so fuckin’ cute pissed and confused.”

“Told you..” Nodding, I grabbed my sketch pad from off of my lap rising and reached for my phone from off the charger.

“Chicks like Ebony, you gotta chase ‘em but at the same time you gotta keep ‘em guessing; Can’t be too thirsty or they’ll kill your shit...if she haven’t already..” By his expression I knew I was right causing me to snicker.

“It’s not even her killin’ my shit. Yeah she’s head strong, but the problem is she think I’m a hoe man..” He looked at me with confusion as if it was far from the truth. I couldn’t contain it, as immediately I hollered out a laugh so intense tears filled the brim of my eyes.

“She’s not lying though.” Rafael, was that nigga on campus, whether he believed it or not, that the ladies flocked to mainly cause of his lyrical skills and the comedic relief he’d bring to the atmosphere. He was the charming type, and just as smoothly as he can spit a verse to a beat, he can convince a chick out her panties in the same breath.

“It ain’t over though, I’m just getting started with her ass. But Me?! My nigga what about you?!” Here we go..

“You had, shit still do, one of the baddest chicks on campus, and these bitches damn near drool when King Leon the great graces the campus ground with his presence. Seeing one of your paintings alone be having they asses damn near cumming, going bananas! All hail my nigga..” He playfully bowed at my feet as his chuckles deepened while re sparking the blunt from the ash tray. The mere thought of her caused me to cringe as I thought of the tragedy that lied ahead of her being back. The full semester of not seeing her was better than Christmas, I cherished the break from her, but however knew I’d be seeing her again eventually; and I was right.

“You stupid. We’re not together anymore. And we never will be..”

“You still love her?”

“It’s not just about me loving her Rah..” At this point the problems we had took more than love to recover them ; I couldn’t deny that I did, but with her deep rooted issues, and my own and how they clash wasn’t healthy. Not to mention the shit she done, and her manipulative ways; I was passed, and over it.

“Then tell me what’s it about then man? Y’all were like the campus’s Bey and Jay...the fuckin’...Obamas nigga!” Leave it to Rafael’s silly ass to make anything a joke in such a serious moment; while our laughs grew, from afar I heard a tumultuous amount of knocks bang on the door giving me a clue of who it may be.

“It’s open man! Damn!” As expected, with his lanky and slender stature was Zaire with an expensive looking suit on; the bow tie undid as well as his shirt’s top three button. Me and Rafael both furrowed our eyes in confusion as we looked at him now flopping on the adjacent couch exhaustively.

“Care to explain Rico Suave?” Rafael asked the question we both were wondering.

“Man fuck y’all, I’m tired as hell. I can’t feel my gahdamn fingers..”

“But what’s with the tuxedo?” I couldn’t deny it was sharp though, but definitely not something you’d wear on the regular.

“I had to substitute the pianist for the orchestra ‘cause he broke his arm..” Wow.

“The fuck was he doing?! Goin’ crack speed on the keys?!” My God why is he so stupid? Zaire couldn’t do anything else but shake his head and chuckle at Rafael’s forever antics while taking off the suit jacket, and button down right after.

“No dumbass, he injured himself at a bar fight. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hot as hell up there on that stage man.”

“I mean duh! Got on a three piece suit and shit.”

“Fuck up man. What you nigga’s up to? Yo Lee borrow me some sweats until tomorrow man.”

“I want my shit back too lank ass.” I pointed at him, while getting up going to my closet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah..”

“We ain’t doing shit though, but studying with the help of Mary Jane, as I try and finish this poem analysis with Mr. Picasso over here..”

“Pass the blunt then smokey, you fuckin’ addict.”

“You damn right..” He grinned weakly, as his eyes appeared even more red and lower than before while extending the blunt off to Zaire.

“This muthafucka is lying. He’s been watching New Jack City and this bullshit for the past hour..” Immediately he stuck up his middle finger my way, with me shooting one right back.

“Where’d you get this fancy get up anyway? If I’m not mistaken that’s Tom Ford nigga..” I asked while throwing him the sweats, as he proceeded in kicking the Christian Louboutin loafers off of his feet.

“It is, my little mama helped picked it out.”

“Is that right? Your little mama?”

“Ohh you talkin’ ‘bout that fine ass model broad Emory right? Ain’t she a dike? I heard she be bumping pussies with Stevey ass..” Yeah this nigga was done for. As his eyes hung low, his gold grill shone through his smile as a chuckle followed; slinging lazily across the couch chair, his neck rolled back with his laughs never ceasing.

“Aye! Cut the bullshit Rafael aight?” He sharply cut his eyes at him. “Emory is cool, I’m feelin’ her but we just chillin’ for now..”

“Can’t lie, I did hear that though Z; I really don’t think Rafael on his bullshit this time. I mean I know they close, but yeah... I do be hearing they have a little thing going on..” It’s hard to believe he didn’t hear about it; damn near the whole campus suspected it. It’s not a surprise that Stevey do have a little crush on Emory, despite their friendship but it was always deemed as hearsay, and nothing more. But really if you keep hearing the same speculations, after awhile you gotta figure some truth to it.

“Whatever man..” Sinking low back onto the couch, I seen the slight anger he tried to restrain and settle surface while taking a long pull from the blunt as his eyes wandered off. He was pissed. In the midst of the chilling temperature of the city that never slept, was love definitely emerging in the air; I hoped and prayed cupid dodged my ass for another sucker though, cause I was good off it for the moment.

[brokenpicassofanfic]

Chapter 13 - Gotchu Wonderin’....

EMORY

“Let me in your world, you know what I spy? Spy you looking lonely, you know boy that’s why….I wanna be your lady, your l-l-l-love…” - LUXURY AZEALIA BANKS

The symphony of Mozart could be heard in the conservatory, where a slim and tall figure ferociously played. Although his back was faced to the vast row of seating, the sea of waves under his Yankees cap made him easily recognizable; and as I watched while his fingers collided with the keys, his gentle strokes effortlessly played caused many to stop and take a listen. Some continued on their careless stroll, but I hid in the last row listening keenly, unable to remove my boots from the spot I’ve been standing at for the past 30 minutes.

“Can, who ever is back there, at least tell me if I’m doin’ good or not…I know you’ve been there for awhile..” Shit. There was a slight echo, as his voice blared through the vast space with only the silky tuned he continued to play despite of. I’m sure if he was closer to me though, my erratic breathing could’ve been heard as well.

“I..um..” Like my steps, my words clogged in my throat as I swallowed deeply, maneuvering my way over to him shakily, but with slight haste.

“How long you’ve been standin’ there?”

“…Just a couple minutes. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” My feet settled in his spotlight that glistened his honey complexion, like a blazing star. High in the ceiling where the different sets of lighting were, coincidentally the middle one beamed angelically on top of us, secluding him and I from the darkness of the stage.

“Mozart right?” Forgetting the tune was impossible, and I couldn’t if I tried. At many formal teas I’d attend with my mother, and grandmother, the pianist played various songs to accompany the fancy, but highly dreading occasion. Nonetheless it was a beautiful melody, and this time hearing it wasn’t grueling the least bit; it didn’t help that this pianist was one I was crazily attracted to.

“Yeah shorty, Turkish March Sonata…and I’m just about tired of this shit.” Slight tension and stress was apparent on his face as he continued to aggressively hit the keys which was enticing. Control your bloody self Emory.

“How long have you been in here playing?” Abruptly he stopped, and arose while massaging his fingers, that had a slight red shade at the brim of each finger tip.

“Been in here since 2…it’s now going on what? Five?”

“Sheesh. Why?” And here it goes…The numbness of my fingers, and reddening of my cheeks became more apparent as he walked up on me, now rising those fingers, that held it’s many capabilities, across my bang fully exposing my eyes; and the invasion of space was welcoming.

“Unfortunately the orchestra’s pianist broke his arm at a bar fight, on some straight fuck shit, so my music teacher asked if I’d take his place…” As aggravated as he seemed, I could sense a hint of pride in his voice.

“You don’t sound too excited about that. That’s…a pretty good opportunity Zaire.”

“I know that Em, but there’s just one thing..”

“What?”

—————-

“I look like a fucking square…a damn fool.”

We were now in Neiman Marcus posted in front of the vast mirror in the men’s department, as the Black slim fitting Tom Ford suit jacket rested on his broad shoulders nicely. He looked breathtaking, and even the sales ladies, who I had to constantly side eye, had to contain their composure of some professionalism and retrain from fangirling. Zaire looked nothing short of scrumptious right about now.

“No you don’t. It looks really good…you look like a true pianist.” My smile brightened wide, as his dwindled and he motioned for help on finding dress shoes in a specific brand. The problem he spoke about was the need of a tux by 9:00pm tonight. Quite a stretch being as though we only had less than three hours, but we were in luck. Apparently he needed my help because he figured I had some sort of expertise in this area which was kind of true.

“I should just rent this shit..I’m only gon’ wear it once.”

“It’s Tom Ford Zaire, and besides this isn’t prom…it’s a very special occasion that’s gonna cause you to receive great notoriety and attention. You still need cufflinks right?” The bowtie he was struggling to tie correctly, prevented him from nodding a full yes in my direction, but I was still able to comprehend making my way around the store as if I had some familiarity of sales associating. I felt his eyes roam over my body while he finally received the help from one of the chicks that was so bust sizing me up, that she didn’t realize Zaire was two seconds from choking his damn self. From my peripheral, I zoomed focus on the Malibu platinum blonde barbie squishing her silicone filled boobs damn near up his nostrils; but overtime after enough shoving on her part, he simply brushed her off, and made way over to me with it still undone. How rude…but a relief.

“Come help me mama..”

“Oh the bloody Malibu barbie couldn’t get the job done?”

“I wanted you to do it..plus her chest felt like hard ass beach balls..” Simultaneously, we both broke out into a fit of chuckles before I tied the silk white bow tie with little to no effort, to make it look as perfect, and coordinated  as I could…but he already was.

“I think you found the one Zaire..”

“Indeed.” With one more final look into the mirror, finesse dripped from his pores and stained the suit as his debonair look gave you a cross between a CEO and a GQ model; and finally as if he was auditioning for a Colgate commercial, one final smile was thrown my way that made the numbness, and reddening reemerge. Christ!

“Thank you beautiful.”

“You’re welcome handsome.”

DYLAN

For the past hour my phone has chimed back to back annoyingly, of texts and phone calls I wasn’t interested in acknowledging. And for the fifth time it rang, I couldn’t even fault Rebecca, my partner in my Fashion history class, annoyed expression she glanced my way. Our snarky but lovable teacher Professor Deveaux, the Parisian fashion guru would literally put a curse on your grade if you missed any of your projects; courtesy of rateyourprofessor.com. So me and Rebecca didn’t wanna take that chance whatsoever with the unneeded distractions.

“Hold on Rebecca..I have to take this call. But take the magazine editorial with Tyra Banks circa ‘93 with Kate Moss, and place it in the Retro pile…the teal and yellow stripped folder..”

After a nod of her head, she settled on the shaggy yellow rug, with vast amounts of ELLE, Vogue, and Seventeen magazines dated back to twenty years ago spread all over across the floor, awkwardly she crawled to the area in full tunnel vision.

“Yes…” Clearly I was filled with aggravation, and I hoped my tone made it apparent.

“So when I call we don’t answer right? That’s what we do?” I wasn’t sure if it was my jacket making me hot or the anger that was brewing from this phone call as it persisted; the Periwinkle pink silk bomber was perfect for New York’s 60 degree weather, so surely that wasn’t it. It was his tone, it was the audacity, and it was the time fucking wasting on my behalf. Besides my bomber was the shit, the $250 price tag confirmed it too; Thanks BCBG!

“Damonte I’m busy…what was so urgent? 5 missed calls though?”

“Did you answer the first time?”

“I just sai-”

“Did you answer?” Breathe Dylan.

“No!”

“Okay then shorty, what you expect?” Him calling wasn’t much of a surprise, but it damned sure wasn’t welcomed either. When I said I didn’t need the distraction, I meant that more ways than one. Damonte, however, was the type of nigga that didn’t give a fuck and he never would especially when it came to me.

“…For you not to blow my shit up. Have some respect, and decency to understand that I might’ve been in class! Now what do you want?”

“Be in the front of the campus. I really don’t feel like having to hunt for your ass.” With that he hung up, and just as quick as my heels marched back into the break room in the design studio, my fingers texted rapidly at the same pace.

iMessage sent to Ebby ❤️: 911!

It was our signal that trouble was approaching and that we were to stop, drop, and come to assist. It didn’t matter if you were getting the best dick of your life….or at the altar waiting to say “I do.”, a 911 text screamed urgency; not even seconds later she called me with a gust of wind crazily heard in the background..

“You better…shit…you better be…dead!” Her harsh breathing picked up, as the seconds went by, and I would do anything to see her face this very moment; I’m sure it would be a comedic relief.

“Ebony…Damonte called..”

“That’s it? Awww Dyl, I was in line at Barnes & Noblesssss!”

“So?!”.

“They had a 60% off deal on all marked down items! Ughhhh, what..what did he want anyway?”

“Well bookworm he didn’t say, and I’m not so sure but-” Click. Wait…I looked down at the phone then stood in place for moments in denial. This bitch..did not…just hang up on me! Surely it was accidental; it better have been. Before I could dig my foot in her ass through a text, my phone rang in my hand obnoxiously, and I reluctantly made way in front of the campus. She’s lucky as fuck.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that awaiting me was the loud boom of Future blaring how much base he served, as a cloud of smoke blew throughout in the air from his lungs. His butter Timberlands stood out amongst the preppy school kids of NYU’s Sperry Topsiders, while he leaned casually against his matte black Mercedes G Wagon. Like a dot of dripped chocolate dipped in milk, he stood out vicariously, shrugging off the questionable stares from a random Molly sue, and a curious Dan that made up majority of the campus. Interrupting a growl that he was staring back, his face softened once he noticed my presence.

“What the fuck Damont-” The tight grip placed on both sides of my hips was firm, and with the strength of hulk I felt myself being pulled roughly towards him. His arms then wrapped around me, with the soles of my feet completely off the ground, I wonder if this was how Betty Ross felt whenever hulk when straight bananas? I mean she was in love with the crazily strong hero.

“I’ma need you to recognize who you’re talkin’ to..you hear me?..” The question went upon deaf ears once his lips connected to the side of my neck, giving me a complete distraction and unawareness of everyone and my surroundings. I  was back here again…in his presence, in his hold, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

It was hard for anybody from the streets to not recognize who I was talking to in all honesty. Damonte Ricardo, son and heir of Bronx’s late Kingpin Lucas Ricardo was my kryptonite in human form, and the streets current Trap lord.

“How’s my shorty?” With a swift and smooth motion I took the Black & Mild from his lips and dropped it on the ground before my precious rouge pink pumps crushed them. My soles didn’t deserve such treatment, but I’m sure his lungs would appreciate the gesture. At least it isn’t weed, I had to keep in mind, cause lord knows any other time it wouldn’t be much of a surprise or problem for Damonte to be smoking it. It’s like his medicine.

“Aye! Aye yo…babe chilllllll. Damn!” He had a deep frown on his face, that I could care less about. A grunt from me released once I seen him reaching in his back pocket for what I assume was his blunt.

“You have yet to answer my question, what are you doing here Damonte? I was working on a project for class, and I have my next one in ten minutes.”

“I miss you…” I didn’t need this.

“Damont-” He was so aggressive, and intense, refusing to let up; and the more he pulled me closer the more weaker I began to feel because I knew this wasn’t right. I left him, as well as all of the negative shit behind in the Bronx for reasons, I couldn’t chase my dreams riding shotgun, in attempt for someone to make me their Bonnie. I wanted to reside in Fashion houses of Haute Couture, not busting bands in trap houses.

“Damonte stop! Stop doing this to me! We’re not together anymore and we never will be, as long as you’re in that life I told you..” I began to feel my voice crack and sound faint as the tears began to brew..”Yo…you can forget we ever happened..”

“Understand this ma..” The commotion he was causing caught most of the bypassers attention as he gripped my hand, pulling me towards his truck, with me relentlessly trying not to allow him.

“I will forever be your nigga, who’s also  that street nigga from the Bronx, OUR city. OUR neighborhood. And I don’t give a fuck what bougie ass school got you thinkin’ you can  just forget where you came from but it don’t work like that mami..” I didn’t even realize, while listening to his low, gruff, and chilling words he had picked me up and placed me in his truck already.

“Don’t even try no slick shit either..the child safety lock is on and poppin’. You expect me to just forget about the love we shared, and you holding a nigga down cause you wanna be posted up with Anna Wintour, and these other white rich mothafuckas for clothes and shoes?! Nah baby girl..” The engine roared as he pulled off and jetted in the direction to a place of familiarity…my home.

“You a product of the ghetto, and don’t you ever forget that shit..”

TYLER

“Three weeks…Three…whole…weeks.”

The tension in the room combated in the air like a clenched iron fist, and reeked in a deadly silence. If one was to walk in this very moment, the exact feel of a child being chastised by their mother could’ve been mistaken as such. As I looked on, soaking in the quietness, the bridge of her nose swelled with steam, as the perspiration meshed with the red that now shaded her pasty white skin tone. Even NARS couldn’t match the form of shade that added a natural pigmentation to her skin. I doubt pissed could measure up to half of  how she must of felt right now. It reminded me of the time Tony, and I would play doctor and patient, one of the only times I’d see a glimmer of hope in my father’s eyes that maybe I’d eventually see the light; but I always chose to be the patient, and the sigh that he'd release was equivalent to the one Kateson just gave as she looked at the canvas before us both.

“Three!” Her sleek, and fine manicured hand held up three fingers, and trying my hardest to pay attention to her chilling tone, the hot pink and crystal studded nails easily became a welcoming distraction. They were so pretty. Hands down, Kateson Gage, was one of the very few professors that always looked as if they made a pit stop off of the runway. Her now purple hair, that spirally flipped and crown her face in curls meshed well perfectly with the black and navy green striped Balmain blazer.  Adorning her feet as she angrily clicked her heels on the flooring was Guiseppe’s with a 6 inch deadly heel.

“That’s 21 days! It’s going on four weeks and this is what has come about since then?!”

“Kateson I-” Nope. Shot down.

“Ahh! Save it..” She took a moment to breathe, and I was grateful. But her head snapped back in my direction, with pure rage in her eyes just as quick. “.. You miss Tyler..need a wake up call. Let’s make this crystal clear, I mean clearer than a newborn baby’s bottom! I could give two fucks if your ex walked in this room and you’re instructed to slow dance, and make happy, that’s what you do! There’s no options!” The mere thought of Alex even being in my presence caused my skin to crawl, I’d probably shoot him if I could.

“So if you’re assigned a partner, that’s who you’re to work with, and effectively get the job done. Honestly, like my God and I must hear it from you. What’s this problem that’s going on between you and Leon that’s so tragic you two can’t work properly together?!”

It’s as if we spoke him into existence, the soles of black timberland boots could be seen entering from my view sitting on the floor. I always wondered while surveying his tall, and slender frame whether or not he opted to ever play basketball as he nestled his black patent leather back on the floor, cautiously looking up, as Kateson flashed him a chilling look. Yeah muthafucka…shit just got real.  

“You two… have until 10am Saturday morning to show me something more and actually impressive than this bullshit, Or so help me God…” Crimson red, her cheeks changed from pink to a deep rogue of red that quick! For once out of all my years dealing with various assholes of teachers and instructors, I was actually pretty frightened. I mean I did  like Kateson and respected her vision and artistry so she earned some fear from me. She didn’t even finish her statement she just shot us daggers, that I absentmindedly flinched at, and rushed out. To add insult to injury it was Thursday…night!

————-

“You told me sweats, and boots I wouldn’t mind getting dirty, I guess this’ll do..” He didn’t have much of a choice to be honest. The baggy sweats that gripped my hips, and locked around my ankles at the bottom was my first pick cause I struggled to take it back off; not to mention the lavender scent that remained from being fresh from laundry.

So when I took a taxi, and gave the directions to an unexpectedly cheery taxi driver, this wasn’t what I expected. The sweet old man waited until Leon appeared from the darkness, with no intentions of displaying any harm before I could pay him my tab so he can leave. I didn’t spazz on the loving grandpa because he gave me a nostalgic feeling of my very own.

“Follow me..” It was so dark I couldn’t make out really where we were exactly as he lead us to the opening of what looked like a glass door. As I trailed behind him closely, his scent remaining and filling up the tight space, the remnants of dried paint and L’homme dwelled in the air; inching closer to take a deep whiff would’ve been awkward, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. Finally, after a click of a lock he pushed the door open that led us to a bright room of neon yellow, orange, and blue walls.

I came to the realization quick that we were at a gallery, but the place was empty, and rid of people. After another turn to an all white room, hanging from the ceiling was an astonishing and jaw dropping statue of a bright pink dragon with golden scales of a line from the top of the head to the tail.

‘’Chen Sui, 25. Made it in three years. He started it his senior in college at the Royal school of the Art.” Circling the perimeter of the huge figure, I had to admit it was impressive, but hard to take in by it’s size. The colors meshed off of the all white room, giving it a bit of a glow.

“You ever met him?”

“He taught me last semester when I studied abroad in Paris.” Again he trailed out of the room, to an even bigger space with an eggshell white wall, a shade below the color in the previous room. In the middle of the floor there was an empty space, but strangely a note card. I walked over to it, the soles of my boots bouncing off the walls with an echo. Inching even closer the letter peeked back at me Leonardo Castillo, Tyler Charles :_______. No words needed to be said, as I turned to face him with the nod of my head.

We went at it for hours, ducked in the cave that was the top floor of the gallery, an unmarked portion of the place that was an art studio; The only time we took a break was to read the time, and as he spoke on the phone for a brief moment, I read my watch that signaled 11:47.

“Sausage or Pepperoni?”

“Pineapple.”

With a nod of his head, he focused his attention back to the phone call as he read over the order for the third time.

“Yes the MoMA building….13th floor. Thank you.” Hanging up, we both faced the canvas, with I can assume similar thoughts to decide whether or not we were done. One of the biggest crisis with being an artist is feeling the need to add just a final touch, when the piece had a comma to its progression, and not a period of completion.

Rightfully so, I think we deserved a break this time as he dusted the paint remains on his army green sweats, making teal lines. As my charcoal black fingers prints dotted my peach pink tank top. The theme was Mental Blur; rage and a lot of red. Pure anger. The dashes, and intricate lines on the canvas of exploding brain matter from a little boy he drew, to a screaming little girl adjacent from the painted figure, was stretched about on the canvas. Strangely coincidental, they both faced each other, almost as if they were trying to read the other, at the same time dealing with their own rage of their surroundings. He chose the colors black, yellow, crimson, and blue. Royal blue. And the painting with my charcoal touch was regal. A strange feel to it, but the kind you’d grow to appreciate.

“Think she’ll like it?” The question I asked kind of to myself was one I didn’t really expect for him to answer cause truthfully no one can really figure how Kateson thought.

“Once she understands it. Come here for a second..” I examined my hands, not appreciating my now ruined parakeet green manicure, Yoko insisted I got. I told you Yoko the yucky green wasn’t to last, you and that damn colo-.

“Don’t flinch, the coldness will go away.” His light grinned turned into a deep chuckle as he dapped the peach scented liquid on my hands with a towel that rid the charcoal stains. Me nodding was the only response I opted to give him, as I focused on the various tattoos that graced his hand that held my own.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

“Too many, to the point where I lost count years ago.”

“Give me an estimate.”

“A lot.” His phone chimed in the quiet space surrounding us, and he immediately headed for the elevator where moments later as it opened a thin Indian looking teen greeted him with an anxious expression on his face. Must be his last delivery before his shift was to be over.

“That’s not numerical.” Without much effort to lift the two boxes, I still took one from him as I opened the one I took and was smacked in the face with the sausage and pineapple aroma baked beautifully. I guess I really was starving, as my growl could be heard amongst our footsteps walking to the lower level in the museum.

“But it’s an estimate you asked for right?”

“Why the fuck are you so difficult?”

“Same reason why you’re fucking rude.” An unspoken agreement was made of being tired of walking when we popped a squat in Picasso’s section in the east wing of the museum. Right next to The Weeping Woman, Pablo’s 1937 creation was where I rested my head biting into a steaming hot slice, as he sat across from me chewing his pepperoni and mushroom covered one.  

“You’ve got a point. But I’m not that bad…” His facial expression almost caused me to choke, as he stared back with an objection. My laughter now filling the place loudly, and uncontrollably.

“Don’t even, you’re horrible. A true jackass, at least my reasoning for being so are valid.”

“Tyler really!?”

“Yes!”

“You told me to go fuck myself, when I simply asked for you to pass me paint”

“Right after you told me to stop being a bitch, and not drip paint on your side of the studio.”

“You damn right! Cause my ass was gonna clean it not you. Like always.”

“You have ownership issues! You’re compelling as fuck, and your bright ass is too authoritative but don’t realize it!” He casually committed to his chews, as he brushed my statement off taking a few more bites.

“How bright?”

“What?” Reaching over and grabbing a slice of the five that remained in the box, I examined the interesting choice of topping and decided my fate biting into it.

“Me…Prince “Purple Rain” era  bright? Or “Remember The Time” Michael bright?”

“Fuck outta here yo..’ We both shared a laugh as he took a swig of the liter Ice Tea bottle.

“But no all jokes aside; Half of the time what I say is just that: a statement, -but my tone varies. And quite often it’s not a positive one.. ” My eyes traveled up to the distances that separated us from the gold and white ceiling, taking a wild guess of how far away we were from it, but I caught every word he said with understanding.

“You don’t think before you speak then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Feelings aren’t the first thing that I take in consideration.” I took a moment to self reflect, feeling the same way. Half of the time I say what I feel, and would suggest one take it with a grain of salt and deal.

“So Mr. Castillo…you just don’t give a fuck huh?”

“Nope…and neither do you Ms. Charles.”

“How you figure it’s a Miss, and not a Missus?” I pray for the person that was to be my husband, and laughed at myself imagining the poor guy wanting to kill himself at the alter.

“Cause I can bet my life on it, no little boy you’ve dealt with has the strength to lock you down, let alone tame your ass.” He said it with such conviction, it almost sounded convincing…almost.

“And I’m sure the women, excuse me, little girls you’ve had dealings with, allow such treatment?” His laughter was an answer within itself and I continued to probe. It was fun, and I’m sure he wasn’t done doing the same to me either.

“Tell me Leon, what’s your type? Does “Yes your highness..” come in the terms & conditions to be with you?”

“If I had known I was being interviewed today, I would have had my resume, and list of references set and ready.” His chuckles came out with ease, but I didn’t doubt that majority of my questions were far from being accurate.

“Oh go fuck yoursel-“

“See.”

Alright so I guess he had a point.

“…Straight savage.”

“I’m not a yes woman..” I couldn’t picture myself waiting at any man’s beck or call, or to give me the go to do anything. Docility sickened me more than any of my allergic triggers.

“Oh so being polite automatically means submission? Or lemme guess…it’s a tactic. Like… a defense mechanism. Blocking…” It was like a tennis match of questions. Challenging inquiries being thrown back and forth between the both of us; and we both smoothly won over the other with the oldest trick in the book: begging the question.

“Don’t be so quick to draw conclusions my guy..”

“Don’t be the pot calling the kettle black Miss…or is that Missus? You never clarified.“ His smile was the worst. You never knew the true intentions behind it no matter how good looking it was; and it was so rarely done it was hard not to admire it for the short time you was to see it. He’s such an ass…

"Go. Fuck. Your. Self”….and with that he released an obnoxious laugh.

“Thought so.”

[brokenpicassofanfic]

Chapter 12 - What’s Understood...

TOMMY

“…So carelessly there, is it truth or dare, there’s a limit to your care There’s a limit to your love, like a waterfall in slow motion..” - LIMIT TO YOUR LOVE JAMES BLAKE

We came to the realization after a switch of his hips, and an air kiss of the cheek later, Paloma’s friend was not only her classmate, but a very flamboyant junior who she met in her film class that’s obsessed with the movie Clueless. Although Leo and I sighed in relief, the daunting feeling was still present and sunk even deeper, growing more intense over time. After the announcement of going to find his “boy toy” he stated, she turned towards us both, and I never appreciated a stranger’s presence so much until now. The silence was overwhelming, and his distraction was appreciated, even if it was to be a disappointment on my part.

“So boys…what are you guys doing after the festivities come to a close?”

“Ma may likely want to go to Nobu’s as a celebration, after Kateson have me circle this whole perimeter of people first to meet.”

“Well that’s sis for you of course, expect to leave about…” I checked the time on my watch that read 9:23. “I say 11, midnight even. As for me, I’m not too sure…depends.”

“By 10:30 I’m getting the fuck out of here, I could care less if Michelangelo himself appears. The hell? But you..” With a swift turn in her direction his statement was settling, but firm nonetheless. “What are you gettin’ into tonight? A bed to go to sleep I can assume. What time is your class tomorrow?..” And at this very moment I seen Paloma’s true youth for the first time; I witnessed first hand the innocence of her expression as her doe shaped eyes filled with embarrassment, and a hint of rage. But it settled, and of course looking away as her eyes avoided my own for obvious reasons she spoke with defeat.

“To my dorm Leon, where else? and 10am.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.” As he walked off, the silence that remained, this time, was loud and made clear as she still avoided eye contact. There wasn’t much to be said, and with that I walked off, without the intentions of coming back to her, or speaking to her for the rest of the night…shit period.

RAFAEL

For moments as time passed I focused solely on my heart beat as my tongue glistened the tips of the blunt. It was calming, causing me to actually think with ease. Even if it was on something so minor. See, a lot of mothafuckas don’t really take the time to do shit, and the little shit like rolling a blunt is one of them. Being in such a haste, they sloppily roll, then wonder why they get a fucked up high and breeze through the whole bag they have. Like giving a massage, or something worth serious skill like eating pussy, you gotta take your time. I treat rolling a blunt, like I treat making love, and every time I bring that analogy up to my niggas they look at me strange. Especially Stoopy dumbass…the only one that really get it is Leon; and it’s only cause that nigga is as peculiar as they come.

Put it like this: you’re putting time and work in.

You got this craving for Mary Jane, and strong urge to wrap your lips around her slender and honey brown frame, so take the time to really get her seasoned and prep. Consider it…foreplay. Like I need my woman’s, the inner crevices of the blunt’s walls has to be tight, holding a death grip; Thinking this even had my ass laughing but a nostalgic feeling of needing pussy emerged. Yes I fucked on the regular, but making love? It’s been a cool minute since I did that shit. Most would wonder if there was really even a difference between sex and fucking versus making love. With an immediate response, and a look of absurdity my response is always hell yeah!

I could have sex with any girl, with no emotional attachments. Cause it’s really just me hitting that shit until I’m done with it, with no motive but to selfishly relieve myself of a hard on. Now with fucking, it’s a tad bit different. My dick is in agreement, with her pussy, and it’s made crystal clear: we both want this; so we go at it until we both get our shit off, and we’re exhausted beyond belief. But making love? Shit…

From afar I heard my phone chime, interrupting my thoughts as I reached for it seeing Ebony’s named flash across the screen; immediately I sent it to voicemail. She’d be pissed but I really didn’t care too much, I mean I did…but there’s some shit that needed to be understood, and quick. After I lit the blunt, and grabbed my keys, I made way out of my apartment located in the heart of Harlem, and admired the city’s deteriorating features as it’s cryptic beauty still shone through. Before I knew it after strolling several blocks down Lenox Ave, looking up I was met with the entrance of New York’s Public Library. From afar I spotted a bushy fro’ filled with orange curls, and pretty brown freckled skin that glistened in the beaming 85 degree weather.

“You’re late..” She didn’t even look up at me as she focused on a book that nestled on her lap.

“I’m here.” The blunt I was previously puffing on was now a roach as I threw it on the floor, and headed for the entrance not seeing if she was even following me or not. Finding a secluded section in the vast library, I sat my items down and went in search for the Edgar Allen Poe’s book of poetry. From afar, I smelled the sweet fragrance of her coconut and vanilla mist but still kept myself at bay.

“I found it.” She voiced out loud a row in front of me, but I still casually searched, finding a similar titled book, of his poetry and made my way back over to the table.  

“The poem we were assigned by him was the “A Dream Within A Dream” one..” While opening the book and pulling out the instructions from our literature class for the report that was to being written, I listened keenly at her instructions while turning to the poem in the book. After rereading, and highlighting the depressing ass poem, blankly I looked up at her, as I asked the question.

“Alright so basically analyze each stanza tone, and it’s motif right?” She nodded just staring at me for moments..”Then we dive deep into the parallels in Dark Romanticism, once we choose another poet of that era?” Another nod followed from the last, and I broke my stare getting right to work. Aside from the sounds of shuffling pages, and quiet murmurs from others in the library we were extremely quiet and focused. Several times I felt her eyes look up at me, and break focus but not once did I meet her stare, or even paid attention to her period.

“Rafael..”

“Wassup?”

EBONY

The expression on his face was neutral, unreadable, and…..unusual. Clear of his usual boyish charm, and grins that lightened his brown eyes, and grew chinky when he laughed. This terse demeanor wasn’t something I was used to, and I fought with myself on whether or not I should ask what’s wrong, or if I should even be concerned period.

“Yo-..” I cleared my throat shifting in my seat as he stared back at me waiting for me to continue. “..You got anything?” A small nod followed before he slid me the full sheet of his notes then resumed reading. For the fifth time since sitting across from him, my eyes found themselves roaming admirably at his strong jawline that I found to clench not only when angry, but when fully focused, or in go mode. His smooth chocolate skin, in what I can assume from the familiar smell, radiated in Moroccan oil. It was a challenge to distract myself from that natural fragrance that he had; a perfect mixture of axe, and fresh laundry. Realizing that minutes passed of me just staring, I snapped my focus back on the reading as he then casually looked at his phone…and smiled, then smirked, and that particular smirk looked familiar.

“Aye Ebony…I’ma have to cut this session short ma; I gotta jet. But I’ll email you the remaining notes, and you can exchange with me what you got aight?” I doubt he even seen the nod I gave as a response while he, in a swift motion, grabbed his items, and was still smiling at his phone while leaving. Eventually an hour passed of me just sitting here slightly confused trying to continue analyzing this God forsaken poem about dreams and the true meaning within them; but it really was just me staring at a plethora of words with my thoughts elsewhere. Check yourself Ebony..

Ugh!

[aumv]

‘wanna know what sounds good right now?’ she innocently asks ‘your lips’ he answers and immediately apologizes for it she sais it’s fine and continues with the conversation, little did he know that’s what she wanted.

who else but me

[moomoomooved]

A while ago me and my friend were hanging out at my granma's house, and we were playing on our phones. I remember my grandma saying "all you teenagers do these days is play on your phones". My immediate thought was, "wow, really?", but then she continued with, "when I was a teenager we sat around the tv all day. That's all we did. As you can see, nothing has changed".

[frogkenny]

Remember when this happened

[deathintheshadows]

So Shadow, what do you know of Satan..? I mean, surely the Council has books on him?

Death's ears perked in surprise, he was sitting on his couch, sipping some tea. "They do.."he nodded, his ears drooped. "eons ago... Heaven and Hell were at war, and hell was close to winning. The Big Guy decided that this could not stay, and he used a vast majority of his power to make the Council and make Death. Death is the one that keeps the balance, for during the war, souls just went to whoever got them first, but Death sends them to where they rightfully deserve."He explained, sipping his tea