Chapter ten: Onimino Blue

The next morning felt like a dream, not because Rowland could cypher whether it was good in particular or not, but because the high hadn't really gone away yet; he was a lucky one among few including his lady friend Charlotte; who slept beside him unnoticed, as Rowland woke up grinning like an idiot from ear to ear as he stretched, accidentally hitting Charlotte with an elbow to the back of her head.

She groaned an 'ow' in anger and stirred awake while Rowland cradled her head and kissed it while whispering apologies in between. Surprised in finding himself next to Charlotte waking up on the floor covered by a blanket dragged down from a bed he didn't recognise.

This made him a bit more alert in realising this, now looking around for some clue that he was somewhere he could recall. Which when searching for clues he dared to even so much as slightly part the kind curtains that shielded them from the light.

Only doing so ever so slightly ,just to take a look before being painfully blinded for a short while. Covering his half naked body and after said moment, noticed people laying around the backyard like dead bodies in a crime scene of some birthday massacre; in what Rowland recognised as Nick's back yard. Taking note of the novel floats that littered the pool.

Sick, bottles, balloons and half dressed people lay splayed across the yard with the DJ passed out on the deck, as Rowland watched a girl wearing a tight yellow dress fumble as she has probably just woken up, and was looking for one of her possibly painfully high shoes in his moment of dark amusement.

But then Rowland soon took notice of the yellow colour of the dress, it was so shocking to him as he watched her, the sun shone in such a way that when he looked directly at the dress, his eyes burned. And the sudden heat made him feel dizzy. So he closed the curtains and grabbed his things.

His phone bounced out of his jean pocket and hit the floor with a muzzled yet audible thud due to the carpeted floor, he winced at the noise it made when it hit the foot of the bed and when he went to pick it up, it flashed twenty one minutes past twelve in the afternoon but not a scratch.

The sun shone through a slit within the thick curtains and that became apparent to Charlotte. And upon waking and seeing Rowland's hazy face gazing out into raw sunlight one last time before buttoning up his chinos, she smiled, sat up and stretched; getting up completely and grabbing his waist from behind until she was face to face with Rowland from his position from the bed. While resting her body on his chest, putting their heads together as they lounged there on one another, still waking up, as they stood for a little while longer.

And though she smelt of alcohol and marijuana cigarettes, Rowland could still smell a hint of her scent of perfume that filled his nose as he laid his head atop hers and breathed her in.

"What the fuck happened last night?", was the first thing he said, which made them both laugh with fatigue and tired giggles.

"I have... No real Fucking idea. But I think it was fun.", Charlotte spoke through laugher, her laugh echoed in Rowland's hazy head like a song as she spoke in response. He realised how much he wanted her so bad, but was just too hungry to concentrate.

"Shit, I'm still kinda feeling it.", he huffed as he put on his vest, "You wanna get out of here?", Rowland asked, feeling the vibration of his deep voice within her own chest.

"Where would we go?", Charlotte sighed softly.

"I don't know, to get food. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.", He said to her, which made Charlotte all giddy as her throat bubbled with laughter, and although he knew she was probably still high too, he smiled.

Rowland stomach growled, it was audible this time. Charlotte then patted his chest, "So, breakfast?"

"Breakfast.", Rowland answered with a sigh. She then broke away from him and unsteadily hopped back into her panties and into her skinny jeans.

Rowland watched her for a while before deciding to get his dress shirt on and to go nowhere again. Charlotte stumbled momentarily before huffing and laughing at her self.

"You okay?", Rowland asked still standing ready to catch her with his dress shirt unbuttoned, "Shit, yeah. Think I may have eaten that sushi roll too fast, You're gonna have to drive.", Charlotte said in a daze but with a smile on her face, "Plus, you're buying. Just so you know."

Rowland laughed and straightened himself, now fully facing her as she grinned, satisfied with herself in putting her pants on the right way this time and with her hands on her hips looking for her shoes. Once Charlotte noticed him just standing around, he then suddenly tackled her. Picking her up and tossing her on the bed.

He himself didn't know where this energy came from, though he had a few ideas. And though he was indeed famished, it seemed as though he had no other explanation or excuse other than the fact that he missed her, figuring one more time before the high calms down.

Rowland hovered over her for a while after the fall and just looked at her light sap green eyes. He saw them not as a lover would for a moment; but as an artist would, the way artist fall in love with a particular thing within their painting that, to them; would have no meaning without. His world was the painting, and she was that one thing in a much bigger perspective oppose to the current situation.

Rowland saw the colours and envied their sparkle, how they mingled with the light; how he wished he could put them in his pocket and have them forever, but couldn't.

Then he saw how those colours in her eyes made her in all her beauty; her smudged mascara, her freckles her bucktooth; which would be apart of an incredible smile.

Rowland kissed her once his eyes thoughtfully traced down to her juicy and full rose pink lips as everything around them seemed to slow to a silence in his drug dampened mind.

The birds' chirps were muffled, and with only the sun gave romantic life to this dark room. Rowland fantasized about how to get Charlotte's pants back off of her curvy body, but seeing as how much trouble they were the first time, they might just slow him down. He knew his stomach wouldn't allow it, but he simply just carried on kissing Charlotte until she clung to him.

"Is this breakfast?", she asked while gently tugging on his lower lip with her teeth, she let go and he spoke;

"Oh no, I'm actually hungry.", he pulled a serious face as he joked, earning a good push away and back from Charlotte who smiled and acknowledged his slyness;

"Screw you.", Charlotte wiped her cheeks with her jersey sleeve:

"But, food does sound good though. "

Rowland went back to putting on his shirt and grabbed the keys from the floor and Charlotte finished dressing up. They tip toed around and over people who were passed out and too drunk or high to feel when either Rowland or Charlotte kicked them by mistake as they try to dodge broken glass and mysterious spills. But once they made it out, Rowland braced himself at the thought of how long it had been since he so much as touched a steering wheel.

They both did not see any sign of Nick, so they helped themselves by opening the gate of his estate with the help of Rowland's long arms and made their way, finding themselves at a cosy and half asleep diner near by on their way to the highway.

At a quiet spot just across from a bar and a car dealership on a sun bleached stretch of road. They both took a seat in a booth by the shop window as they entered, watching people pass as they waited for service.

Rowland had his eyes covered by his one hand due to the sun, and soon asked Charlotte if they could swap seats. Finally getting the attention they both wanted from a small woman in her late thirties, wearing thick horned spectacles, who had taken their orders:

" A meal sized chicken salad and milk shake.", for Charlotte.

" And a stack of thick and fluffy pancakes with butter and maple syrup on the side.", for Rowland; who was tickled by the waitress's thick and folksy accent as he smiled a 'thank you' before the woman left. Hoping that she doesn't have too much of a hard time trying to carry those large portions of food.

But she managed them, and when the food came both Rowland and Charlotte dove into their plates.

Everything tasted delicious and seemingly melting in their mouths, as if they haven't had food that tasted of anything at all for long time, despite the sloppy lettuce and two burnt bottom pancakes; going well with the taste of burnt coffee beans as Rowland washed down his food as Charlotte started to speak.

"So, there's this party..."

Rowland stopped her mid sentence as he swallowed his food:

"We haven't even finished breakfast.", he stated, looking at her from above his coffee mug.

And though his plate was half empty, his mug was still half full; meaning his morning hadn't even started yet, and if the sentence Charlotte was about to finish had anything to do with Nick, then chances were that he would need two more just to muster the energy to talk about him;

'Like can I finish my coffee first?', he thought.

"Hold on old man, it's not today, but soon. " Charlotte laughed; "We're planning this little like, Rocky Horror, slash, celebrating Halloween early themed party. Just a little bash for my new girl Yaya's new bar opening.", she finally stated before continuing, "...and maybe an early birthday present from me, seeing as it's your birthday three days from then. This is the only excuse I can find to get you out of the house.", she smiled with her mouth closed as she chewed.

"Yaya... You mean the chick with the beard you were talking to last night?", Rowland asked,

"Yeah, she's really nice, yeah.", she answered.

Assuming that another party would once again be another useless escapade for entertainment, for he never socialised. Rowland also felt it would be strange that she wanted it to be some kind of birthday gift but answered in contrast:

"I'll come.", holding his mug to his lips and shrugging his shoulders.

Rowland never enjoyed his birthday even before his father left, so he never really thought about any parties apart from a good brand of cupcake mix with his name on it and an after-school special.

And not that his mother didn't care, she was just too busy caring for others, being a nurse and all.

"Did I mention that it's a birthday present from me..?", she batted her lashes as asked.

"Oh, for me? You really shouldn't have... Really.", he ordered a refill.

"Okay okay, I know it's not your thing to be social, but I think you'll like this.", Charlotte played with her straw within her tall glass filled with thick and creamy blue stuff called bubblegum milkshake.

" Thank you, babe.",Rowland said defeated, they sat in the ambience of old and slightly inaudible music , covered by the familiar yet unwanted sounds of clinking plates and cups as Rowland knew he would never really outrun his job, finishing the thought of work over his cup of coffee.

Blankly staring at and past Charlotte, who continued to further finish her salad in piece. He suddenly started;

"Holy shit, I almost forgot, I have this idea... ", he began: "I wanted to do a photoshoot...", he mumbled the last part.

"What? For what?", Charlotte asked, completely taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm.

"Do you still have my camera? ",he asked Charlotte while in deep thought.

"Maybe, what for..?", she asked, still confused.

Rowland shrugged his shoulders as he hunched over the table,

"I just kinda need it."

"Wait wait, let me guess you're taking Nick up on his offer? We are talking about Nick; who just gave us hectic drugs, Nick right..?"

"Yeah, why?" Asked Rowland, who sat with his full attention on her now.

"I told you about it at the bonfire, this isn't anything new... What, did he say something?"

"No...", she started grimly; "Look, I know that he's super rich and crazy sexy...", Rowland raised an eyebrow at that last comment.

"...but... I gotta say he's a bit shady-"

"Says the drug dealer." he replied in a hush voice, as if not to alert people of their business.

"Row. And I've seen my share of pretty dark rainbows, but Nick... Is like a shade too dark, like... The colour Verdi Black: so black that you're eyes can't comprehend it.", She played with the end of her straw as she spoke.

"Did he even tell you where it is..?", she continued.

"What? "

"The gallery?", Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"Has he even given you his number..? She said this as if she knew she had won her case, folding her arms.

"Do you have it? ", Rowland asked, mostly because he wanted to get it from her.

"I'm sorted. But, you find it 'cause it's under a different name.", she said with a haughty and yet playful attitude.

"Will you tell me? ", Rowland smirked as Charlotte shook her head.

"Besides, I'm sure a guy like him has like, three phones on him so...you gotta ask why he would need that many phones.", Charlotte said, still with her arms crossed.

"How do you know?", Rowland asked.

"He had like two, I think I saw 'em at the party.", Charlotte flicked her hair out of the way.

Rowland, hating how right she was, leaned out of the conversation and off the table with arms now folded. He went back to the sneaking suspicion that Nick was in fact a fraud and a beautiful and shady lie, as Charlotte unnecessarily stated by his standards.

But Rowland felt that he couldn't let go of this, even if it was all an elaborate roll that Nick was playing, then he wanted to at least make a few millions in order to ditch the creep if necessary. But who was he to judge by appearances?

"So what?", Rowland began again, thinking about the conversation he had had with Nick the day they went to the forgotten house in the woods; about how bland and afraid of his life he was and it all took one question to take him through that journey through the looking glass.

And if it wasn't something mildly exciting that had happened in his life at some point, then it was something fairly horrible that which he always felt he felt, alone.

Constant mistakes of his past leave unkind reminders that contribute to his suspicions that the universe was against him.

He figured this was his chance to change this;

"So what if I don't have or know that? Don't you think it's a bit too late now..? I mean, I'll get it sooner or later, I guess it'll just be later rather than sooner. We met on informal terms, he was just a chilled rando not so long ago that borrowed me a lighter one day from class, y'know, and then it happened it just...happened and I never thought much about it.", Rowland said it so blasé as he made excuses to cling to this. Still sitting in his defiant opposition, gazing at Charlotte while deep in thought.

"Besides.", he continued, "You're one to talk.", he put his nose in the air slightly.

"Yeah, and..?", Charlotte batted her lashes.

"You seem pretty cozy with the guy. You already have his num- one of his numbers and I didn't even know about it.", Rowland stated trying to hide his jealousy with spite, only making it that much more obvious, so much so that Charlotte couldn't be mad about his remark on her business relations with Nick.

"Rowland, we're business partners, okay. It's informal but I can take care of myself. He gives me crazy drugs to sell that no one else around has and I get to spoil myself with my gains. ", she ended her statement with a playful yet catty grin.

"Ill gotten...", Rowland added.

"Gains none the less, sweety.", she said as Rowland asked for the bill; "Is that why I'm paying?", He asked.

"Duh.", she answered with a cute hair flip, unaware of his eye roll as he gazed at her smirking at their comfortable banter.

"Yes, Miss Jackson.", He shook his head and said sarcastically, partially mocking her but partially respecting her comment; the thing was that what he loved about Charlotte most was that she knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to say anything about what she didn't, their was nothing sexier to him than a woman that wanted him and didn't need him.

But I digress:

" In all seriousness, though. I feel that I have to do this...'If nothing else matters,then why the fuck not?'", Rowland quoted himself.

"If it is all just a lie, even if he is full of shit. I'm gonna at least see this through and push as far as I can.", he said.

"What do you mean?", she gazed back.

Rowland looked at her and his face softened, he didn't know what he meant by what he said at that moment, he just felt that that was true.

"I just...I just feel that I gotta do this.", he took her hand and leaned in once more; "At least you'll know who killed me.", he broke a smile and made Charlotte huff as he broke away from the tension of the possible conversation that would have come from his true confession.

"I hope you know what you're doing, or I'll be the one to kill you.", Charlotte said, looking at him through slanted eyes filled with scrutiny in her playful ways.

"I have no Fucking clue, but that's why you're here.", his smile was filled with bashfulness, breaking eye contact. They were both finished with their own plates and had nowhere to go on this windy yet mildly heated Sunday afternoon, so he paid their bill and they drove off to Charlotte's apartment.

Her apartment was just as quaint and as simple as his, but something about a woman's sense in particular decor made the place look stylish and well made; a neon sign shone 'green' in a rose pink glow just above her fridge; though old (she called it vintage), it was filled with pictures taken with Rowland's camera from top to bottom from a time in their relationship when she stole it from him some once before a time ago (that which Rowland still can't remember if she gave back).

None of the pictures were of him but rather of other people and her friends although he was with her when those pictures were taken. Rowland had an incredible ability to hide from cameras and was willing to defend that title.

Stiff mixtures of smells of weed, incense candles and a sickly sweet perfume ran up Rowland's nose, he sneezed.

"Bless you.", she said as she moved to a window and opened it. Once done she turned around and looked at him; who still stood at the now closed door.

"So...what do you wanna do now?", Charlotte bit her glossy lip and he smiled.

Five minutes later and they were in her bed, watching cartoons while Rowland rolled two blunts for the both of them:

"I never noticed how intense Invader Zim was until now. All that screaming, jesus.", Rowland said while chuckling and placed a marijuana cigarette in his own mouth to light it. Charlotte did the same while placing an ash tray on the bed between them.

"Right, like I Fucking love that show.", Charlotte chuckled, now binge watching several episodes of Rick and Morty.

And after four blunts and three seasons of two shows each, they both now lay down with candy wrappers, chip packets and pizza boxes all around them as Rowland inhales the very last bit of the last roach of the last blunt he made, before huffing it out as one giant cloud of smoke into the already smokey air.

It was dark out and Charlotte got up off the bed and lit some candles, she left the room and disappeared for a while; leaving Rowland to watch the end of an episode of The grim adventures of Billy and Mandy alone for a while. And just as Mandy appeared on the screen indicating the start of a another episode, just as she said her weird quote in front of a black background wearing bright pink.

Charlotte walked in wearing what appeared to be nothing but his hoodey (which truthfully wore her) as she came to his side of the bed and closed the laptop without warning, moved it aside and sat on top of him in silence. He looked at her, not sure of what to make of her actions as they were watching a show. Rowland rubbed her smooth thigh, tracing a finger on a stretch mark;

"You lost?", he asked getting heated, though he played it cool.

She stared at him and unzipped her (his) jacket;

"Fuck me like you hate me.", Charlotte demanded as she then slowly unzipped the jacket completely open, revealing that she was in fact not wearing anything at all, with her bare chest slightly covered by the rest of the jacket; just enough for Rowland to pay attention.

She sat under his belt, sitting lower this time. Tugging on his belt and in doing so unbuckling it, then she unzipped his jeans and slip her hands upward and under his shirt with warm hands, undressing him slowly as he watched with his hands behind his head.

And now shirtless, her long nails ran down his sides, Rowland flinched as he found this ticklish:

"Whoa, hey now. We spoke about this.", Rowland said as he tried to pull a straight face between all the excitement and anticipation, but Charlotte simply giggled and carried on doing it until he gagged and flipped them both over; pinning her down as her joy made her freckled cheeks glow with colour. She was like a light bulb in his dim life, in that moment everything to him was perfect; the smokey air gave a nostalgic aura to the moment, somewhat like that very afternoon at Nick's bachelor pad. That simple magic of a romantic mind.

Rowland hovered over her just a little while longer like he did before.

"Is this dinner, then?", Charlotte asked as Rowland started kissing her on the neck, moving down to her chest, where he hummed a no that vibrated through her body; heightened by her excitement, she felt it all the way down through her toes.

"Dessert...", was all Rowland could manage to say, concentrating on how her body responded to his certain touch and how each groan of unexpected pleasure sounded like music in his ear. She writhed under him, letting herself go in his hand, melting. Her skin soft to the touch as the air smelt of magnolia and smoke. The night was theirs for the moment, he found his little piece of heaven in this place the locals called Hell city; him being one of them, after five years of residing here.

Being attacked by his inner demons on this bone dry desert island he called home; bearing the scars of his battles on his sleeves. She never judged him for it, she couldn't as she-like him, had her own very haunting apparitions. It was yet another reason why he felt that loosing her could hurt him. But along with the scars on his arms, his heart lay there as well.

At least for her.

*****

'Monday...fucking Monday.'

Was the first thing Rowland thought as he woke up for no apparent reason. It wasn't even five in the morning yet as his phone flashed thirty three minutes past three in the morning. He couldn't remember his dream, he woke up too fast.

Suddenly feeling the urge to go to the bathroom, he left for the toilet knowing he was never going to go back to sleep.

The neon light above the fridge shone and made the small apartment glow a light pink that changed the colours of the very walls. On Rowland's way back he noticed the little lights on her vanity that mixed with the light pink glow on the bedroom's bare poster filled walls. Charlotte moved towards the middle of the bed and Rowland saw the moment to take a few photos shots of her with his phone and to take a shower.

Walking out a clean man, bearing the pep in his step to match. Rowland stepped out of her bathroom and found Charlotte awake and sitting on the bed.

"I was really looking forward to seconds.", she said with a seductive smile as she played with the jacket's zipper. Rowland bit his lower lip and smiled; "Don't do this to me now.", he said as he climbed the bed with nothing but a towel on his waist and sat face to face with her for a kiss.

"Er..", she began, "Did you steal some of my mouth wash..?", she farrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, didn't you steal my camera?", he smiled as he played the, 'tit-for-tat' card. But truly for the sake of his camera.

"Touché.", she said, giggling.

Rowland jumped off the bed and put on his shirt;

"I could drop you off...", Charlotte stated as she walked towards her vanity table and opened one of the draws, looking for his camera.

"Nah, I'll just catch a cab or something.", he laced his shoes in no rush as he spoke. The sun already adding a cool gradient to the dark blue horizon but just not enough to mask the twinkling stars.

"It's still dark out, though.", Charlotte said with concern, having finally found his camera which she then handed to him as he stood up to leave.

"I'll be fine, I need the exercise anyway.", he said while fiddling around with the lens, he knocked his head on hers in such a way as not to hurt either one of them, and then exited the room, heading for the front door with Charlotte following him. Now standing in the door frame of her bedroom, watching Rowland as he opened the door to leave.

"Love you, bye.", he said without a second thought and as the door slammed behind him.

The loud bang made something in his head click, he had just said that he loved Charlotte for the first time in their entire relationship and it freaked him out. He hesitated by the door, turning to leave and then turning back, doing that at least three times. For, he didn't know if he meant it if that wasn't what she wanted, but, that would only mean that what they had was...or could be...

He didn't know what to call it if not what he thought it was... Is:

'"Love".?,tss, no. ', Rowland walked off with a nervous laugh under his breath.

But what scared Rowland the most was what Charlotte's reaction was to those words.

"Shit.", he whispered under his breath while rubbing his head, for the most part to fluff up his coarse afro.

'shit...', he repeated to himself.

Walking the cold weather away as the sun rose higher into the sky, bringing people to life. And turning the streets into busy-car hoarded parades of melancholy mascots wearing the masks of gloom and fatigue, anger and frustration; dragging their feet and starting their day on the opposite side of the bed.

Not truly a good start to the day so far, but Rowland was doing just fine. His birthday was coming up, and although he wasn't the type to get excited about such events, it seemed as though in some way, it came early. And with it on the way, Rowland felt that this time it won't be so dull or vaguely backwards. His mother always made sure that she at least sent him a card or something around this time of season as his home in which his mother raised him, was actually in Seattle.

His home away from this place called "home", away from home as he moved from place to place quite a lot. But last time he checked he lived there due to his mother's employment arrangements.

Although she was never home, mostly because she was working as a nurse but always on such occasions did she bring back a small cake or candy he fancied. But there was always a gloomy elephant that sat in the room when this day came, like clockwork.

Always new neighbours in new places but nothing was ever new. Not because the architects of these places lacked imagination but because the people did, in terms of their social spectrum.

The world grows but rather in quantity than quality (apart from that being true altogether), it personally hurt Rowland when those who truly stuck to their assumptions about him and held those assumptions against him violently.

Rowland knew others had their fair share of mistreatment, he felt that he was somehow... an outlet of their misunderstandings of him. But Rowland learned how to fight them off, not only himself but also those who wished to fight him. Until he realised he shouldn't be fighting himself.

Then suddenly in some way, Rowland felt that he could contend those said offenders and that they would be fucked.

His day had started the same and ended the same way, as he clocked out of work and on his way home. Hours had passed and he managed to muster the energy to check on how much work he has missed in the past week of school in reference to a Punk Rock band's poster that which he spotted on the concrete floor, with a small lead singer wearing a sexy-cute Japanese school girl uniform on his way home.

And while Rowland was walking, on his way to class he noticed a white vintage car parked near his apartment building, feeling the stare of someone seated on the car's bonnet wearing dark black clothing while smoking and almost completely shadowed, if not for the street lamp lights. Rowland slowed his pace and figured it was Nick, but carried on walking for awhile until he got close enough to see from the other side of the street.

Rowland was tempted to just walk past and see what Nick would do but ended up crossing the street instead (possibly also looking to get a free ride out of it).

"Yo!", Nick said once he noticed Rowland coming his way; "'Was afraid you wouldn't see me.", he said.

"How could I not with that car of yours. And your brightly coloured clothing.", Rowland said as they exchanged handshakes.

"C'mon, let's go grab a drink, we have business to discuss.", Nick said as he swung a clenched fist from his side and hit Rowland on the shoulder, dropping the cigarette bud that was in his hand and got up from his seated position.

"Dude, we have class. We've been missing class for, like...the past week.", Rowland said this as if to remind him, but Nick's reaction to that statement was a shrug of his shoulders and his signature smile.

"Please.", Nick scoffed, "Hop in.", he beckoned as he opened his door and climbed into the stallion. Rowland followed.

"So, you're saying that their is no point to higher education, is that what you're saying here.?", Rowland asked once he got in, challenging Nick to see if he could justify that statement.

"I mean,...", Nick began, twisting his face in contemplation before he answered;

"Higher education is obviously necessary, it's just unnecessary to go to some class room to get it. I mean, that is what a library is for, free access to the people. But... Y'know, if they're up for it.", Nick finished as he shrugged his shoulders, this comment made him sound clumsy but Rowland allowed him to continue; "I mean, it's human nature to be instinctively curious, I feel that knowledge is why it was put there in the first place, a library of course. But we've dumbed the necessity of creativity and curiosity down so much into some...enthusiasm-draining reiterations of half truths and historical hearsay, that many have contributed to the loss of many millions' of appetites. We go to class to learn what,... business and all any professor talks about is profit and personal financial stability while keeping your employees' happy in the hopes that no-one puts up their hand and asks if ever they was a way to stop this sickening 'boom-bust-boom' cycle that this country has fallen into financially since the twenties, and why we haven't been talking about...how we're feeding into a bigger problem, despite how prestigious the university may be. So we get fed into said bigger problem, and the corporate bubbles created by this cycle. In the hopes that we don't get fucked six ways 'till Sunday. And that is one reason among many why school is stupid.", Nick said with a slight tone of irritation aimed towards the education systems of the world in general and it's supposedly overlooked flaws.

Rowland was surprised by his answer, having half-expected a dim speech of privilege as Nick seemed so rich, that he needn't pay attention, yet he continued; "Besides, you can't teach a fish to climb a tree, right? I mean maths and science is, tss great, but I think they can solve their own problems for a change.", but instead he gave his wisdom of scholar'd old money or rather the information that which old money was trying to hide all along, either way that made sense to Rowland.

"Boom bust boom...", Rowland repeated, having heard the phrase before.

'At least his not wasteful', Rowland thought as Nick interested him with his conversation.

Though in truth, he honestly hated school, but would seemed to enjoy an intellectual challenge once in awhile. It made talking to people worth while to him.

"So what, we climb our way up to the top, until there's no point in looking bellow any more, right?", Rowland asked as he stared out the window for a moment and blinked at a vagrant who was minding his own business as he stood by a fire in a garbage can, otherwise shadowed by the alley in which they stood.

"Pretty much,...", Nick sighed, "I mean, don't get me wrong, helping out sometimes is rewarding. But, it's more fun to watch."

Rowland didn't really know what Nick meant by that last part but it carried a dislikeable tone, as they drove onto the highway.

The lights of which swung hypnotically, in and out of the car with every bright street lamp they past.

"It might help if teachers got paid more.", Rowland joked, though Nick seemed to have had a light bulb flick on in his head as Rowland said this while he looked for parking.

"Y'know, if we celebrated our teachers the way we celebrated our football stars, I feel that the world would be better for it.", Nick laughed, they both imagined sports channels turning into academic mathalons and spelling bees with children wanting to be librarians or professors instead of football players and pop stars.

"I'm pretty sure teachers don't get paid enough to deal with someone else's brat, y'know.", Nick added on, as they walked into a restaurant just aways from Nick's place as they took the same roads, but turned somewhere into a street filled with rustic locale-like night cafés and bars.

Located in between homey yet rustic bakeries as well as a book store that was obviously closed at this time.

Rowland felt underdressed as many people seated were wearing rather pressed, clean and fashionable clothing; and hoping he had enough money in his credit card to do so much as afford a drink in such a place.

They both sat down, under the El fresco out looking the hipster avantgarde of the street's night life.

Nick ordered drinks, starting with a bottle of Rosé for the table, sitting there in silence after the waiter had gone before once again, Nick spoke.

"How badly do you want this?", he was a completely different person from the Nick that Rowland drove there with.

Seated with an elbow on each arm rest, resting his back on his chair and clasping his hands just under his straight nose, only allowing his eyes to be seen, glaring at Rowland from across the square, linen napkin-covered table.

Shaped with eternal boredom as Nick's eyes rest upon Rowland's face while waiting for their (or rather, Nick's) order.

His eyes always look sad or upset yet, Nick always seemed to have a smile on his face that was now covered by his hands.

Rowland was forced to look at Nick's piercing, cold and stormy grey ocean eyes, shaded by his low set eyelids, and filled with confidence.

Rowland blinked at him for a moment and then looked up in thought;

"To be quite honest, I never really knew what I was going to do with my life, what I am doing with my life. I mean, I've been washing dishes for five Fucking years, Jesus Christ! Shit, I never saw an opportunity...", he furrowed and raised his eyebrows in confusion as he said this; the last part being mostly to himself as he rubbed an aching brow once Rowland realised how redundant his world had become without him noticing he closed his eyes for a moment, having no-one else to blame; "Why not give this a try?", he chuckled nervously before taking a rather large swig of his glass of sweet wine.

"I'm serious, Row.", Nick managed to annunciate through his fingers, among the surrounding low hum of sophisticated social speech and behavior, as he raised an eyebrow.

Rowland sighed, he knew that wasn't convincing.

"You can use this opportunity to prove to the world...", Nick piled onto Rowland who was already raking his brain as he continued; "Whatever it is you want to show them but the true question is when are you gonna make your move?"

Nick leaned on the table as he asked this, clenching his sharp jaw in concentration of an answer as he watched Rowland.

Rowland felt grilled with questions he never thought he'd ever live long enough to have an answer to. He was twenty one years, going on twenty two and had no prospects apart from finishing college and paying the rent on time and in all that time, the lack of trust he has had in his own artistic skills has lead him astray.

Leaving him to believe he aught to keep his day job. But he felt that now he knew better.

"Look, I may not know why just yet but dammit, I gotta try how far I can take this opportunity. I know...", he sighed "That I can not be... Decisive at times, but fuck, I never in a million years thought that I would bump into someone like you. ", Rowland finally answered, which earned the signature yet strangely knowing smile that Nick always flashed though something changed in his eyes.

"By the way, what were you doing at the college in the first place? ", Rowland asked before Nick suddenly broke away from the conversation, by swiftly swiping his glass from off of the table, drinking the last bit of his wine.

"Good, I was starting to smell bacon with all that thinking.", Nick stated, "From me I mean, tying to figure out if you were with me on this or not."

Nick slid a small black card onto the table with the words 'ONIMINO' written in sliver with a bold font and fine print on the other side including what Rowland assumed was Nick's phone number, right under the words 'N. Volknov'.

'What a strange surname...', Rowland thought, but what did he know about Russian surnames.

"You didn't quite answer my question.", Rowland pressed.

Nick sighed and looked at Rowland as he said:

"I like to do my own research, figured I could find the 'oh so elusive', DeVile,", he glanced at Rowland and continued;

"That some friends of mine were talking about some time ago.", he coolly poured himself wine.

"These friends..?", Rowland asked.

"Journalists. They've been running around looking for you, but clearly not in the right places.", Nick stated.

"That's where I come in."

Rowland blinked:

"Okay."

" You'll be sending me your banking details and I'll transfer the money for my payment of that sketch you just did.", Nick sat back in his chair. Tapping a finger on the card between them;

"That's my business number but for you, I'll make an exception.", he finished his sentence with the last bit of wine he had on his glass. Rowland had completely forgotten about the sketch he did that Tuesday night, mostly because it was glossed over by all that had happened earlier that very same day.

Rowland huffed a bout of laughter out of disbelief of his situation and smiled as he spoke:

"Who are you?"

"The candy man.", Nick smiled and said loosely; apposed to who he was a minute ago, he was the Nick that Rowland knew once again.

"Is that a name meant for a rather different set of 'friends'..?", Rowland asked comfortably.

"Oh, Heavens no.", Nick chuckled, "Why, your girlfriend got you curious?", He raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that.", Rowland answered.

"Well, to answer your question, no, that's not my... 'name'.", Nick played with the superficial amount of light pink wine that remained within his glass, swirling it around as he spoke.

"Care to share..? ", Rowland asked.

"Nah,", Nick answered to Rowland's disappointment, " You know the rules, members only.", he smirked.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. This Rosé left a strange taste in my mouth.", he said while signaling for the check; which was given to him by a chubby yet sweet looking young Indian lady about Rowland's age, who wasn't serving them earlier but seemed willing as she almost hit another waiter on her way to their table.

Rowland was flattered by the apparent yet subtle attention his art works were getting but would never admit to this.

"Thanks." Rowland said," I appreciate your faith in me."

Nick raised his empty glass slightly as he bowed his head slowly in acknowledgement.

"But if I could ask...how old are you?", Rowland continued.

Nick put down his glass and answered:

"Twenty five, I know I sometimes don't act my age.", Rowland laughed at this, for it was true on both planes of the spectrum. He sometimes acted like a child though, he seemed to believe himself wise and experienced.

When the waitress came back with the bill, an extra piece of paper was found within the leather sleeve of the check book. It was found to be her phone number which gave Nick an extra gleam in his smile.

It seemed that so far, the name held true to Rowland. Nick seems to be a passing for normal human being, he was alright with that.

Nick looked at him;

"What?"

"You gonna call that number?", Rowland raised an eyebrow and smirked knowingly.

"Hmm.", Nick hummed in contemplation as he watched her walk away and tend to another table, "Maybe, she's juicy...", he stared off after her for a moment, before continuing:

"Maybe another time."

Nick got up and took his paper with him;

"It's past your bedtime."

"Pfft, fuck off.", Rowland laughed.

"Tss, rude.", Nick replied with a smirk.

Becoming more and more disappointed with the underwhelming entrance into the world of art, Rowland still knew that this was only the beginning. Again it was a done and dusted situation, he expected boardroom meetings and paperwork, but instead it was a simple card placed neatly between the two of them which he took and gazed at upon swiping it from the table as they left.

"'Onimino'..?" Rowland read aloud, "What does it mean?"

"It could mean anything." Nick said whilst opening the car door,

"But it's how it makes you feel when you think about it and how you say it. When I made up that word I felt an emptiness...a sense of peace. Like still water under a blue sky. It was nothingness and it was everything..."

Nick stopped to think for a moment, then added as he started the car;

"It reminds me of an open mind. It's a richer shade of blue, oppose to a depressing gloom... It's a blue that rhymes with gold. I guess, that's why I picked the colour for a sort of theme for the place.", he finished off flaccidly as he drove off with Rowland in the car.

"Onimino blue, huh.", Rowland said as Nick looked at him and simply said:

"Exactly."

One glass was enough for Rowland, he felt that he was already finished, mostly putting the blame on the slow after burn of the "Bubbles" that he had tried the night before. Though the alcohol made him feel warm.

"So when do I get to see this place?", Rowland asked.

"Oh..?", Nick said in the mist of peacefully driving, showing surprise in response to Rowland's enthusiasm.

"Well, it's in Los Angeles."

"L. A.", Rowland echoed, "That's a long way from home.", he expected to be somewhere more local, he actually half expected Nick to drag him there right that moment.

Excited to be leaving this place, he figured he would work in terms of the exhibit's theme, Rowland's mind was racing with ideas.

But also figured he could make a trip out of it if Charlotte wasn't too busy.

He put a pin in that thought...

"Will there be any other artists at the exhibit?"

Nick shook his head no and and turned a corner.

"You're the first, one and only.", he said before stopped for a red light. The red light of the pedestrian crossing acted as a full stop to Rowland,

this made him feel special.

An all exclusive exhibition on his art, he was thrilled and he was also... on the verge of soiling his pants.

Rowland thought about how all the eyes that would be on him and his artwork and how this could also jeopardise what Rowland could only imagine, was Nick's reputation if he failed. It had occurred to him that Nick was putting as much faith in him as he was in Nick, amazed at how Nick was willing to put so much trust in him. Despite only having met.

'Oh my soul, this is happening...' he thought, as he realised that the excitement didn't come from any paperwork or formal introduction (apart from the exhibition). The adrenaline came from the process of work on paper and canvas that which will depict his heart to the world; and for them to judge whether to regard his said work as art, no less. An initiatory process built to break him through to the other side or to simply break him and watch him fold.

But Rowland knew that that was for him, and only him to decide the outcome. All the more reason why he felt that pressure was applied. But he couldn't afford to feel it, he couldn't even afford two-ply toilet paper. He had to find away to use it.

The radio station tuned into a news report of the unknown and unhinged killer that was yet to be stopped or spotted, no less. Rowland tuned out of the words of which the reporter used to describe the situation, and used it as white noise, switching off his brain for a while and laid back in his seat, exhaling a deep sigh as Nick drove him home to meet yet another day.

"So what are you gonna do with the money?", Nick asked, breaking the silence.

Rowland thought for a moment not bothering to raise his head from it's resting position;

"Shit, I'm gonna buy a car, Dude. ", they both shared a laugh for a moment;

"Maybe..., buy a crap load of canvases and paint, maybe take my special lady out for a drink, y'know, shit like that. Little by little."

"I'm really gonna miss these times, yo.", Nick said as he pulled a face and playfully sniffled.

"Awe dawg, you know we'll always keep in touch, my guy.", Rowland said, playfully swaying his body and imitating a dramatic bashfulness as they stopped at an intersection and waited for a green light once again.

"So, what do you say, you sure you wanna call it a night..?", Nick asked.

"Yeah, I gotta wake up early tomorrow morning... It is past my bedtime.", Rowland rubbed his afro and rested the back of his head on his arm.

"I tell you, quit your day job, Row.", Nick stated demandingly.

"Er... Are you asking me or telling me? ", Rowland looked at him and scoffed, "Besides, it pays the bills."

"It paid the bills, past tense.", Nick corrected him.

"Okay, paid the bills, but I-I can't just up and leave, I mean Mister Moloi is an awesome boss. His retired and looks like he needs help-", Rowland shrugged his shoulders, knowing how Mr. Moloi played a much larger part in his life then he would like to admit.

Rowland saw his boss serve as a kind of grand-farther or father figure, (grand being mostly for his resemblance to Santa).

Yet, Nick cut him off and inhaled sharply, " Holy shit, you're so nice, it's disgusting."

"Whatever, you know what I meant.", Rowland chuckled.

"I really don't, to be honest, I mean, talk about 'safe haven syndrome'."

"What do you mean?"

"You're looking for excuses to stick around there, chicken blood.", Nick stated. "I mean, what the fuck are you so afraid of..?"

Rowland couldn't answer him, I guess as cleché as it was, he was afraid of the unknown. The usual symptom of 'Save haven sydrome'.

Nick turned a few corners and finally reached Rowland's apartment building. They bumped fists and parted ways, getting up and out of the vintage steel.

He stood in the parking lot for a moment, blankly staring at the sky while his limbs carried on with the task of taking out his lighter and joint and further proceeded to smoke as he watched Nick drive away.

Now staring at the ground as he thought of what he was to do next. Rowland had to plan, what was his next step, as he had to get organised if he really wanted to impress.

He dabbed his unfinished blunt onto his shoe's sole to snuff out the flame and walked up to his apartment.

Once inside, Rowland grabbed one of his art files that weren't completely full and started to brainstorm; he drew skeletons and studied the curves of flowers as he worked, he wanted to impress anyone more than, himself, as Rowland had the tendency of being his harshest critic at times. He had something to prove, but only to himself. Rowland just didn't know what it was as a fool mental map or picture just yet, and that became his new mission as he furiously sketched until he drew blanks, then smoked, then went back to work as soon as he felt he wasn't satisfied with the way something looked like, using fresh eyes to layer his works with edits and redos.

And by the time it was three in the morning, his apartment's carpeted floors were flooded with papers and pens as well as pencil colours as he lay on the couch facing the ceiling and smoking his last blunt for the night, or rather morning. He knew it was late but he didn't want to look at the time, Rowland always believed that knowing what time it was made him that much more tired for he knew how many hours he had not slept.

Rowland went through all the sketches and drawings he had done for the night and remembered one he had done based off the picture of Charlotte that he had taken that very early morning.

And then Rowland thought about the night they had on Sunday, the scent of her room still lingered in his nostrils... What he said to Charlotte when he left for work. He abruptly stopped romanticising;

"Shit." , is what he thought, though he heard himself saying it aloud, he got off from the couch as the sticky and uncomfortable feeling of anxiety wound him; the thought soured his mood slightly as he thought of her reaction. He felt that he ruined everything, they were having a great time and with those two words he believed he ruined everything.

He hadn't spoken to her the entire day and was afraid of what she might say when they met again; the worst part was that this only happened a day ago, so it was most definitely fresh with her mind;

'It's probably bobbing around in her head, probably freaking her the fuck out! She's probably planning her escape.',

He sighed and felt that it was over as well as overwhelming.

He didn't want to think about it anymore, and so he got up and played a sort of game of hopscotch as he dodged papers in order to get to the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and figured he'd better put the two hours he had left of sleep to good use and he swept the thought under a carpet.