STFU
Act 1: Look Asshole
Scene 1. And have a Truly Scrumptious Day Ma’am…
-Ding Ding!-
– from Shantel – ‘Mister Bubbles will be up to sign the papers and complete transfer of funds in about 30 min. Report after Asshole leaves!’
I growl aloud, without thinking, “Fuck!, Asshole’s a week and a day Early.”
Meet the subject and narrator of this episode, Ms Palimpsest Vellocet, Senior Account Executive in Charge of New Authors, who stares out the window of her ninth-floor corner office, and sees nothing. Not even the cloud of bubbles blowing past. Only angry dark red. Turns and says with a voice like Bob Newhart, “Hold on, I’m texting, P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U? and half assed listening to Judy, my new Admin.
Pissed, ‘cause it’s Monday. I gotta work. And…
Pendragon Hedgeman! Where the fuck are you? Judy, I’m about to walk out the door. That author everybody in the shop is reading will be up in about half an hour.” Thinking, To buy my shit from under me. “I gotta get some air before I meet him.” Thinking, So I don’t stab him in the face as soon as he walks in. “Judy, Watch the phone and stall him ‘til I get back.”
“P. Day to Otaku Meganekko – ‘Hi Xiao Mao. We’re just pulling up. I have your new backpack. Ready to meet the Haters’ and show me around your neighborhood?’ …Send.”
From her dimly lit little closet office, filled with vinyl records, posters, nick nacks and banker boxes, Judy stops her little record player, sits her pretty little flower pattern china coffee cup on the stack of pictures and hand written notes, covering the glowing light table between me and her little red love seat. She likes to remind me that it’s an original Eero Saarinen Womb settee. I’m thinking, Like I really care. Judy pops up saying, “Tolo: Start Voice to Text “Mister Bubbles is waiting for someone to walk him up to the office…”
I’m typing P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF is a Ricardian contract? Thinking, I’m so heated right now. I’m supposed to be lounging on a tropical beach with a half naked man that knows three words of English handing me coconuts full of alcohol and a umberella.” P.Vellocet to PenMan: “WTF R U? Send!”
With a face my kid sister would call Second Best Girl, Judy, my Admin puts on her glasses, sticks her red marble ink pen in her blue gray top knot, takes off her headphones, turns to look over her little red loveseat and says, “Stacey, Shantel says Mr. Bubbles needs a hard copy contract, and you need to be here to sign the transfer docs as witness. Send.”
Judy looks over her glasses and says in a tone I really don’t appreciate, “Tolo: Voice to Text.
Send. Start stream
Otaku Meganekko – to P. Day,
Begin “Hunter says Stacie should be treating him the way Miss Wilson would if she were still with us…” I’m thinking, She’s getting on my damn nerves. Judy says, “…He is our biggest vanity press customer ever. I’m his Editor and Hunter is not pleased with you. Mister Bubbles has this whole collection of quirks and idiosyncrasies and Nancy was one of the few people here who enjoyed helping him feel comfortable before he got up to the office.
And, he’s not happy about feeling forced to meet the rest of the partners at the resort before Perfect Summer Day 25.
He calls it. Girls Night Out number Three Hundred and something or other. He says you should be there in his stead, but you can’t be trusted.”
I’m thinking, I made that asshole rich. What’s he mean? I can’t be trusted. I don’t know what he’s talking about. P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U?
“I’m still his Line Editor.” Judy says, “Ms. Vellocet, The rest of your calendar is marked off as ‘ME Time’. And… …Before you go, you got my check? Right? Enjoy your
lunch. End Stream. Print. New Text. Otaku Meganekko – to P. Day, “Yes Mister Day. I’m looking forward to meandering my silent disco with you..”
The object of our story, IRL video game avatar and writer, Papillion Day sits in the plaza of H. G. B. Publishing on a planter bench under the canopy of a cube shaped tree. The plaza has been decorated just for this special day.
Papillion is saying, “Miss Dehr Whyte, read this shit man. Please. I’m on the phone with Whynter…”
Periwinkle Bubbles’ Major Doma reads aloud, “from Whynter Wyatt to Proxy Dad – ‘Hey old man. I read your post. Don’t spank that chick in front of everybody like you did me. I ain’t tryin to have another stepmom the same age as me. Love you.”
Then shouting like a child, “What up doh! I really like your bubble gun. Hey! Excuse me Sister. Got yo’ Yellowcard? Everybody up in this piece gettin’ one. Please! Come over here, check this out. I bet you an orange spinner this chick’s shoes won’t light up. You know she bought em herself too. Paid full price! Poor Dorothies.”
The two meter tall red head says aloud as she, types – Group text from P. Day– as Papilion says, “‘Xiao Mao, I’ll see you at break. Are you ready? Baby Gurl, Whynter, Miss Wilson, Sun…
…Okay! I promise, I will not put my hands on her. But somebody better warn Pendragon. I’ll see you all at GNO number Three Hundred and something or other. Love you too.”
Mad as fuck, ‘cause it’s Monday. I gotta work and this asshole is here to buy my shit from under me for half the surplus capital from his book that I sold. I’m getting off the elevator texting, P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U? Thinking, What else could I do? I saw every woman in the damned building reading that shit and talkin’ about that Mommy porn. I say, “Fuck it! I’m ‘bout to find a track that fits my mood. Thinkin’ What kind of perv could a dude named Periwinkle be? Pen Man’s evil twin. Right! Pen Man’s a letcher, but he’s all about the money and the image. I like that. I heard the chicks in the office say this Bubbles guy is just a nice guy. I say, “Bitch, I can’t without coffee!”
Checkin myself out in my phone’s vanity mirror, thinking I look better than any real housewife of any fuckin where. Bitches wanna be me. Nigga ought to bust’ a nut on sight. A cloud of bubbles dances across my screen and that dumbass Glitterbox sound goes off all around me. I look up and see passing me through a cloud of real bubbles, a bunch of real life women from lower decks, wearing blinking shoes. I sing, “Ooh! I want those” This one old girl in a shop coat says, “This is so much fun. I hate to go back to the mailroom. The plaza is lovely today. I hope it stays that way.” Her phone flashes yellow and her shoes start blinking like fireworks. She shouts, “Ooh! We going to a Perfect Summer Day #25!”
Pissed as fuck, I slow my roll at the coffee cart in the main lobby, I ain’t happy, shouldn’t nobody be happy.” I say aloud without thinkin.
Violet, the Cashier, “Oh, it’s such a beautiful day out there, Ma’am. How are you? How may I…” I cut off all her happy shit, saying, ”No! Yeah. Gimme a Grandee Ballroom, Basic Bitch blend half caff, fake sugar, extra salt Bull Wing froth.” I’m thinking, What’s so beautiful about it? I say, “Yeah. No! And one of these
Deez Nutz white chocolate protein shake snack bars. Yeah. No! I ain’t into that whole outdoor nature thing.” Trying to swipe my phone over the pay thingy, I bark, “Hey! It don’t work!”
Cashier points at the sign next to the register and says in a tone I don’t appreciate, “We accept Spinners, Glitter, these forms of crypto and cash. Thank you, Ma’am.”
Cashier says, “Gala 19 point something or other? Right. You need to buy the app. It’s expensive too.” I find my card and wave it over the thingy.
Cashier says, “Barely a sprinkle of Glitter, comes to six eighty seven. Please.”
The thiny don’t work. So I swipe it.
Cashier says, “Mister Bubbles says they’re the new Magnavox.” It don’t work. So I stick it in.
Cashier says, “Kids in Mister Bubbles’ neighborhood make their own phones and stuff.”
Looking at the cashier like somethin wrong with her shit. Thinking, I ain’t tryin’ to hear that imaginary places shit right now. My card don’t work.
Cashier points at the sign next to the register and says all loud, in a tone I really don’t appreciate, “We accept Spinners, Glitter or cash. Thank you, Ma’am.”
I say without really thinking, “Wait! What’s the fuck up with this Glitter and Spinners shit?” I’m thinking, I don’t carry cash. Who uses real money these days? I say, “Oh Shit wait. Yeah! I got it in this little ‘You never know Girl book Granny gave me when I went to college for the first time. She told me to keep the book in my wallet. Hold on.” Thinking, I miss my Granny.
Cashier says, “Oh, Psalms and Proverbs. Must have been a prayin’ woman. My mama used to say, ‘If you wanna hide something…”
“…From a nigger…” I say without thinking. “…put it in a book.” While Violet the Cashier counts out my change, I think, My granny used to say that shit too. She was always prayin’ and in her Bible. I miss my Granny. I say, “Damn! Damn. I get that shit now.”
Violet, the Cashier says, “And out of twenty, leaves thirteen thirteen. Pick up at window two and please have a Truly Scrumptious day Ma’am.”
Rubine, the Barista says, “Ma’am! Your order is ready down here. Sho is a beautiful day out there. Did you see all them bubbles a few minutes ago?”
I’m like, Ma’am? “Yeah. Nah. Thanks.” I grab my shit and keep it moving. Thinking, Half a million dollars. Nigga is buying my share of this company from under me. The barista says,”Thank you and please have a Truly Scrumptious day Ma’am.” I’m thinking, And what’s the deal with this Ma’am shit? Another chick from the basement comes dancing through the door saying something about, “…most of the time I’m out here by myself for lunch. But, yeah Girl, I didn’t know that sweet old man is…” Her phone’s screen turns yellow and her shoes start blinking. She starts dancing and shouting, “We goin’ to Dee Troy Eat! We goin’ to Dee Troy Eat!”
I ain’t tryin’ to hear all that happy shit. I’m thinking, This asshole just spent half the mortgage for my new condo and my car to come in here and buy my shit. I step through the doors, “I ain’t trying to hear that!” I say aloud without thinkin, “I ain’t happy, shouldn’t nobody be happy.” I’m thinking, Imo sit my ass in my new whip -n bump som-a-dat gangsta shit-n-Chill.
Where… “Where…
…Where are my earbuds?” I’m texting P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U? My phone says “It’s Layla.” Ain’t no music playin, I’m like, “Gala, Where are my earbuds?” Layla says, “In your ears Bitch. You hear me talkin’. You must be stressed the fuck out.”
I’m like, “Oh! Oh! Oh Shit Gurl. You scared me. Hello. Hey girl, what’s up? Yeah. I’m so stressed. I ain’t doin’ nothin’. Just heated, cause, its Monday and I gotta work. On my way to my new car, catch a break before this fucker comes in to buy my division from under me. I ain’t happy. Shouldn’t nobody be happy.”
Layla says, “I don’t want shit Gurl. ‘Bout to jump in the lake with these freaky Em-Wah! Em-Wah named Little Michael. I don’t know what they are. Could be extra-extra terrestrials, but they cute as Em-Wah. How you doin? You coming down here for another Perfect Summer Day GNO Three Hundred and something or other?”
Thinking, All these happy mofos got me feeling some way right now, I say, “Probably not, girl. I fired my secretary for going on vacation without my authorization and I broke up with Walsh a couple of weeks ago. I’m Pissed and I’m heated ‘cause it’s Monday and I gotta work.”
The blue light glowing from the little sword on this big booty, sexy ass old white woman’s left thigh catches my attention. Without thinking I shout, “Shiny thing! I want one…
Ooh shit! Layla, you should see what this bitch wearin’ Old girl dressed like a character in my kid sister’s video games. Tight green Burn-out velvet pants. Fresh ink glowing through this gauzy lace jeweled bolero jacket, gloves, little whip tapping her riding boots. Straight glistening red orange hair. Same color as her boots and gloves. Yeah. Nah.
Anyway, I’m thinking ‘bout going to find work back home. No! Yeah, I mean, my hard work made this division big profit, and this asshole is buying it on some ego shit to spite me. And I can’t get in touch with Penman.” I’m texting, P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U?
Layla continues, “…Yeah. I think yo girl Capri used to Wah Em old dude, back when he was washing dishes in this club downtown. She ain’t sayin’ nothin’. ‘cept, he told her to leave his dick out of the conversation. So watch yo ass with that ole walk around the block nigah.” I’m thinking, That’s the same shit Walsh said to me before I dumped his ass. I mean, what else is he for?
-Ding Ding –
Message from Hunter – Mr. Bubbles is coming to review Galleys and save our asses shortly. Roll out the Red Carpet for him! I’m thinking, Fuck now I treat him like a diva. Layla’s saying, “…I think back in the day Shantel’s mom used Em-Wah Em-Wah-Em-Wah, him too. Couple weeks ago I seent his ass in my boy LeRoy’s graphic shop. He was all cleaned up and Em-Wah, lookin’ good, smellin’ good and actin’ like Em-Wah Em-Wah Em-Wah. I mighta hooked ole dude up too. Noimsayin’?”
I ask, “This Bubbles guy? The one that’s coming here to buy a controlling share of A.W.A.?
The one that’s coming to take my division from me. Yeah Girl! MY shit! I don’t give a fuck! Tell you what girl, if I gotta seduce this asshole, marry his ass, have his babies, kill’em and bury him. Immo get my piece of…”
A few steps past that big Redhead, still looking back, I say without thinking, “Damn Layla, That dark teal car by the bouncy castle is a big sexy bitch.” I am so distracted by the car behind that woman that I bump into this homeless lookin’ old man, waving this little cup and talking to himself, somethin’ ‘bout, “When your dick quits you just go online and order a new one…”
Layla’s saying, “Yeah! You know Shantel calls him an asshole to his face all the time. And he just says, “If your asshole Em-Wah Em-Wah…
I say, “Excuse me”, drop my change in his little cup and keep it moving. Mostly ‘cause shit’s getting on my nerves jinglin’ in my hand. I say, “Whatcha say girl?”
-Ding Ding –
Message from Shantel – ‘Mr. Bubbles is there. Waiting for you. Report after Asshole leaves.’
I say, “Look. I ain’t got time to talk. Ole dude is here. Gotta smash this snack bar and get back to my office ‘before he gets up to my office…”
“MY KOPI LUWAK! BITCH!” The old dude I ran into yells at the top of his lungs. Looking back to see who he’s going off on, I realize how pretty the plaza looks today. He’s sitting on a planter, under a tree I’d never noticed before, yelling, “My fucking Kopi Luwak. Fuckin’ eh! Mister White, Man. That overpaid, inconsiderate, blind, siddity Indigo Obsession lookin’ little..!”
P Vellocet to PenMan: WTF R U?
Old guy is crying like a toddler, “…Wait. No… I’m sorry. Not you Whynter. That rude child, her ill-fitted, off the rack Byron Lars knockoff dress from some random suburban outlet mall, eatin’, textin’, talkin’ on the phone and actin’ like a crazy bitch just dropped something in my Kopi Luwak, Man.”
I’m thinking, Ill fitted. Off the rack. Damn he going off on some bitch? Indigo Wha’? Crazy?
He catches his breath saying, “Wait. Yeah! Complete with that bleached blonde Demolition Man fade. Hold on Whynter, let me look.”
Demolition Who? Crazy Bitch! I scream, “MOTHER FUCKER!” I turn and bark, “I know yo old broke ass ain’t call me a Crazy Bitch!
I’ll show you a crazy bitch! Bitch…
…Who the fuck you callin’ a CRAZY BITCH! Who da fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?
Let me tell you somethin’ Asshole…”
Thinking, I’m about to fuck this old man up. Yelling at his back, “Muthafuckah. I’m trying to be charitable to your ole ungrateful homeless ass and…”
He scoops out the coins I dropped in his cup, pours out his coffee or tea or whatever. Like a diamond disco ball, his cup catches sunlight and scatters rainbows everywhere, splashing my brand new Thirty two hundred dollar Mary Janes. Without thinking, I Jump back and bark like my sister’s Cockatoo “…SHINY THING!” …giggle. “Ooh! I want one.”
Layla Says, “Oh yeah. Hard ass big redhead white chick, actin’ like his nanny.? Bout six feet tall, fifty-ish. Short sword and a pretty pistol? Yeah, that’s Miss Dehr Whyte, Captain of the Navigators’ Guild and his personal assassin. Loops back and says, “…that scruffy old fuck tells Shantel & Whynter all the time. ‘If your asshole…”
I’m like, “Gurl! I’ll call you back. Bye!” I type, P Vellocet to PenMan: Where are you? Put my phone on mute. take off my earbuds.
He’s saying, “‘Cause, if your asshole quits you die. Yeah. thirteen cent. I’ll call you back, Love. It’s time. Tell Walsh I say What up doe?” Taps the blinking gem on his earpiece. Grabs the notebook in his lap, saying as he scribbles, “Mr. White, where the fuck is here? And why the fuck am I here anyway?”
I think, Whynter? Walsh? Capri? This nigah! Right now I’m so glad he’s got his back turned ignoring me, sitting on the edge of this planter I’d never noticed before.
I’m just realizing, there are square trees and women in shop coats and utility vests, wearing blinking, glowing shoes, blowing bubbles and dancing to the music playing all over the plaza. I’m thinking, Where’d all these trees come from? Where y’all come from?
He’s talking up to that big sexy woman and this lady in a facilities uniform and reflective utility vest. Her shoes are blinking the same rhythm as all the women on the plaza. I’m thinking It really is pretty out here. I want One! When they go off like flashing fireworks.
That big sexy red head smiling at me is extra polite, but very stern with him, “Periwinkle, please stop writing and pay attention!”
He starts packing, as she explains, “I understand you’re a little upset, but you should know this. We’re in Silver Springs. A suburb of Washington D.C.. We’re to review galley copies of Orfeu do Tanque de Prato and to complete the purchase of a Senior Partner’s share of Asbury Wyatt Associates. The print division of H. G. B. Publishing. Recently purchase by the five year old advertising firm that is selling your first book.”
That big Redhead talks him down, saying, “I believe you told them it has something to do with their bindery operations being a craft trade and cultural pathway that should be reserved.” She’s caressing the hilt of her little sword, studying me and telling him, “H. G. B. has a strong focus on the young adult market of romance novels and self help manual consumers. Ninety eight percent of their earnings come from digital editions like yours. After Penman negotiated the sale of your
publishing rights to H. G. B. their value is now forty three poin…”
He stammers out, “Dude! Don’t talk to me about money! I don’t care.” Where is Miss Wilson? I’m going to be late.” Continuing to carefully pack his backpack with the little nest of things around him. He informs her, “Whynter told those grant people that shit. Come on, Captain. Damn! You know me better than that. I told those pale money grubbing little dicks that the feel and scent of embossed ink on bound rag eases the symptoms of my dyslexia, but this is about My Kopi Luwak man. ”
She says, “Periwinkle, your appointment is in ten minutes, if you need to postpone to go all the way back to get another Kopi Luwak, I’ll make it so, but Shantel is counting on you to be present and to be on your best behavior.”
He says, “Okay. Fuck it! I’m sorry. I’ll play nice. Captain, after Um…” He starts flailing again. “Um. Um…”
She says, “Miss Palimpsest Anastasia…”
He says, “I don’t care. I want Miss Wilson? I’m going to be late.”
Still not processing, I ask, “Me?”
And, without turning back to look, he points that rainbow-making cup right in my face and says, “Yea! Her.”
I’m like, “You! You’re the…”
He, jumps down from the planter box, hovering over me while saying, “Thank you, Miss Dehr Whyte, Yes. Please, have Joe send up enough for everybody, snacks and bring Xiao Mao’s new D-BOMB set. If you come by chance, bring me some Monkey bread or Naan with Honey, pastries or something, and some more yellow cards. Thank you. And…
…please forgive my abuse of language, but, here…” He blows another stream of bubbles with his little purple unicorn bubble gun, turns, his Bulletproof Love hoody, all in my face, reads Belle Isle University Detroit.
He says, “…hold my bubble gun. I’m going in.
Yup! Here to give you the mind fuck of your life.”
Skipping down a few steps to stand at my eye level and out of her reach.
He locks eyes with mine and says, “Unless your daddy was an overshadowing angel of God, a turkey baster, a fringe science experiment, a frozen condom, or something I don’t want to spend time imagining…”
This niggah says in a tone I mean, I really, really don’t appreciate, “… everybody’s father is a mother fucker. It happens. I ain’t judging. And, that is a main gauche…”
Pointing at the sword on that big sexy redhead’s hip, “… A left-handed parrying dagger and Miss Dehr Whyte, there has a license to kill me with it, should I fail on my quest. You’ll learn soon enough.”
I’m like, “You? You’re the incorrigible, Mister Periwinkle Bubbles. Shut the fuck up!” I giggled again. “It’s just that…
…Nevermind.”
He smiles sadly and says, “…Yeah. And over two nickels and three pennies, I just called you an overpaid, Afro-curious, tourist, brand aware, matriculated, spoiled, tasteless, second-black girl in an all-white sorority type, image-conscious, inconsiderate child, with a tiny guilt streak that motivates you to tithe to some mega-church, donate to TV charities and drop loose change in hand blown, hand cut crystal cups of handpicked, hand roasted, hand ground, conflict-free, fair trade, cloud forest Kopi Luwak and, ACTIN’ LIKE A CRAZY BITCH. You know, I don’t even want to put you over my knee no more. You ain’t mean or intentionally evil, just young, rich, and…
…You might enjoy it…
…Oblivious to your effect on people. Always in a rush to go nowhere in particular, just somewhere you ain’t until your spirit gets there. Then you’re ready to leave again. I may take exception and just reduce you to serving paper cups of brown swill in the airport franchise chain cafe in the lobby. ‘Cause you just don’t know no betta. Baby. But, I doubt it…”
Pointing at my cup with his magical rainbow-making…
…what do you call a cup like that? Jingling the change in his left hand, saying, “…This was the best cup I’ve had since arriving in that shit hole town we had to go through to get here. And with the genuinely kindest gesture you’ve made this week and thirteen cents, you fucked up the beginning of a very happy…
You’ve had the stuff in there! It’s overpriced flavorless crap.
…But, you’ve got a big ole round booty and sexy FMP.”
I’m actually thinking, Thank you. Until, Nigah kneels to talk to my shoes, “Dorothy. Po sad shoes.
Ain’t never touched a happy nobody’s back.” Holding out my change, with the eyes of a disappointed father he says, “Here Sistah, take it back.
You might need it for a subway token to Gramma’s house in Queen’s tonight.”
As the women on the plaza disburse, I’m ‘bout to lose my shit up in this piece, I’m dumbfounded, I’m about to piss myself. I’m embarrassed as hell. I wanna hurt this guy.
Coming to buy my division from under me, dressed like some freshman community college art student straight out of prison. Dirty paint-covered jeans, a hoodie, an old ratty tweed sport coat, and a nasty-ass old Detroit Wolves baseball cap. Who the fuck are the wolves? His high school team or something? But that big sexy bitch is standing over him like a mother hawk, strapped to the gills. Think fast girl. So I say, “You’re right! I’m always in a rush. Anyway, Miss Wilson won’t be seeing you up to the office today. I will. Hi, I’m Ana…”
He says,” I know who you are. You’re that chick, Um… (Why do I feel like I know yo’ ass from somewhere?) …that in ten weeks sold two point one million unedited incomplete copies of “Orfeu do Tanque de Prato” to lonely girls with rape fantasies in six languages.” His gaze anxiously moved from the door to my shoes. “Two million one hundred thousand copies of literary pigeon poop! Shit may as well be a party flyer stuck on your windshield. Yeah, and you got an unfinished sixty-sumthin’ page novella, a contract to be a subscription-based TV series? Because you understand the audience. I do too. In fact Miss. Um… Um…
…I don’t care. I’m here to get it fixed.”
Looking around me at the front doors, then back at my shoes. “Where is Miss Wilson? I’m going to be late. We need to review galleys on the way up, sign the papers for Shantel and Hunter, and meet the creative team. Walk with Xiao Mao, meet Motts Sister and Architect, catch the last train home.”
I say, “Palimpsest Anastasia Delphine Vellocet, Senior Account Executive in charge of New Authors, here at Asbury Wyatt and Associates. Let me show you up and
I’m paying for your Kopy Loo Wack? Myself.” He says, “…I don’t care. Where is Miss Wilson? I’m going to be late. We need to review galleys on the way up, sign the papers for Shantel and Hunter, and meet the creative team. Walk with Xiao Mao, meet Motts Sister and Architect, catch the last train home.”
Bangs his head with the prettiest pale purple enameled and gilded unicorn bubble gun. Says, “Shit I’m cycling.” Blows another stream of bubbles, takes a deep breath and continues, “…Yea um…
…Stacie. Hunter calls you Stacie, Right? The readers, Yeah, they want to be just like you. Sexy, rich, powerful. Blah blah blah. In fact, the first story is about someone just like you.”
Miss Dehr Whyte says, “Ms. Vellocet dismissed Miss Wilson for taking her vacation without her consent. She’s fine, says she’ll show you the resort’s library before G.N.O. Three hundred and something or other.”
He turns to her and says, “Okay. Thank you. I remember now. I can adjust. Please fetch more, yes. Miss Dehr Whyte, I’m going to let Miss Um…
Palimpsest here escorts me to her office, like Miss Wilson used to do, while she explains to me why I shouldn’t do what I’m here to do. Thank you. Captain, make a note to take it out of her pay.” Holding out his old-school flip phone. And I’m terribly sorry for the emotional outburst. Please forgive the faux pas.”
She curtsies as if he was nobility, opens his Obama flip phone, and reads, “From Baby Gurl to My Asshole – ‘Resort is beautiful. Play nice dammit! Don’t put that woman over your knee in front of everybody. Remember
last time! See you next Tuesday. Love you.’ Then says, “Very well, Sir. You need to put a hundred twenty dollars in the Bad Word Jar. That’s about ten sprinkles of Glitter, Sir.” And she strutted off to that sexy-ass sedan, and she was off to handle her shit.
As soon as she sits in the suede gray Model D, he turns, smiles, and says, “Nice shoes Lady.”
Forgetting who’s talking, I say, “Thank you.”
A woman in a Mailroom shop coat wearing sneakers with strobing soles walks up, hugs him, and asks, “HI Mr. Day. Who’s calling you an asshole today, Sweety? How’ve you been?” Turns to me, does this hand thing, and says, “Hi! I’m Amber. I work in Q. C.” Another little woman in a utility vest, with a yellow screen on her phone, passes us, smiling at him, saying, “So, you gone keep’em on when you…
…You know. I am.”
Her phone makes that stupid Glitterbox Glitter sound. He says, “Ah com’on. What’s your rush? I was hoping I could watch you dress in the morning. I’ll make you coffee.”
She runs back and snaps a selfie kissing his cheeks, purring. “Good morning Mister Bubbles, sir.” They do that hand thing again, then Amber says, “So, wait, you’re him! You’re here in character? Today? Shit. I was planning to wear my new May Jay F. M. P. I want you to make fireworks.” Looks down at my shoes, shaking her head, and says, “Sad. Just sad.” Shoots off her bubble gun. Giving him a tight hug, she whispers, “Oh! You’re… Hmm. Yeah! Miss Wilson warned me about you. Bitches don’t read. Kay kay, So, let me tell you. Oh! You got me in the best trouble in the Silent Disco Sundae Nite.” Out of courtesy, she half-ass waves at me. Flashing her adorable little black mermaid bubble gun at me. “Hi!
I’m Lauren. Her name is Camilla! She’s Cloisonné.” Then all perky and shit she says, “My wife Tiara, says you can get it. Again. I told her okay, but only if she throws the roll on your sunporch. She’s got a golden lasso card and a Princess Nebula Hentai Skirt. Ooh. All this time I didn’t know that You are Him. Think she’ll trade me for a completed hand signed cuddle buddy application and a plexiglass confession? Nigah! I’m keepin my shoes on. I don’t want you to forget me.” Lauren looks down at my shoes and shakes her head.
He giggles like a bashful little boy, looks back at me and says, “It’s a line in the book. Bring your Baby. Come visit me soon.”
Her phone makes the Glitterbox sound. She skips off, shoes blinking like fireworks while she’s shouting her text out loud. “Bitches, I’m going to Dee troy Eat. Who’s comin’ with?”
Thinking. Shit! I want some!
He starts walking to the door, turns hard at me, growling “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Um… Palimpsest, we ain’t fuckin’! Shoes on or off. At least not each other. Aw shit! That’s one thirty. Oops one forty. Anyway, on the way up, you tell me what happened with you and Nancy? You know, the nice lady that used to show me up to the place where you used to work? You were that close to becoming a Senior partner. Then you picked this nigah to fuck with. So, You are moving to Detroit tonight or…”
Holding up two fingers, “you’re quitting today. I hate power games, but I’m really really good at them. Now let’s get to work. No need for the tour, I won’t be screwing with anybody else’s life today. Okay?”
I was on the fast track to senior partner by thirty, now I’m so fucked. I’m thinking, Damn it! My panties are wet. I’m horny. This is not a good look. I ain’t been called bitch that many times outside of bed. Ever. I don’t know how I feel about it. I don’t know. I’m ready to shoot him in the face, stab his frail lookin’ old ass or push him down and hate fuck him right here. Don’t nobody dominate me like that! Five years I’ve been up in here, bustin’ my hump, learnin’ the ropes, playing the game like a champ. Sizing up my prey and making smart moves. I’ve taken this company to the top one hundred in its market, and I never fucked a colleague or a superior to get there. Except Wash, the IT Guy. I didn’t know he was a partner, but anyway, this old twerp walks in and clocks me like a sissy in a biker bar. Because I didn’t have the cash to buy in as a Senior partner when we opened. Just five hundred thousand dollars, the down payment on my house and my new car. There are millions of writers that would love to be where I put him in. And this Asshole is tripping on some ego shit and taking it out on me.
Holding the door open, he says, “Hi, nice to meet you. Lovely weather we’re having today. Don’t you think?” He sniffs the air, then says, “It’s about ten Shittonnes of Glitter. The five hundred thousand dollars, you’re thinking about. Don’t worry, you can keep your house in the country, and your corner window office. Keep all your little funky status crap you use to impress your girls and the Walled Street and Madison Ave thugs, janitors and tech guys you fuck, but it all stays here. You can visit it ten days out of the month, the week of your period. Now, I’m returning the first round of surplus proceeds from the edition you published to A.W.A., just so I can get at you. And we ain’t fuckin’. Not ever.”
Thinking, Like I want to fuck yo old ass. Detroit? What the fuck you got against me? We made millions and now you want to punish me. Here comes Hunter. Well it’s Showtime now. I’ll worry about it later.
Hunter practically jumps in his arms saying, “Hello. Hello, Periwinkle, Hunt..”
Periwinkle jumps in, “Whatupdoh! Ducktown! Oh man, so good to see a familiar face. You know how anxious I get.”
Hunter says, “Dead Zone. Whatupdoh!”, throwin’ this old guy dap like a brother on the block, turns to me and says, “So, yeah Stacey, we hung out a few weeks ago back home in Hamtramck, with my cousin Whynter, who’s still in Detroit and Shantel, who is out of the country on business right now and Yeah. Right.”
Periwinkle says, “Yeah Dude, we had the breakfast burger over at Mike’s. Whatupdoh. How’s it hangin’ Yo?”
Hunter looks at me and says, “Thing works swell! Shantel says, you’re forgetful and bad with names, but YEAH! Great music, Fun House. Hale Yeah! Right? Really – really good food all weekend. So yeah. Come on up. I see you’ve already met Stacie. Let’s go in and get this ball rolling, shall we?”
Holding the elevator door open, Hunter says, “By the way, Shantel is really happy to have you help us fix this little mess. You know, I inherited the print shop from my granddad. H. B. G. was A. W. A.’s biggest account. They absorbed the press with the publishing. The family wanted to sell the whole thing. But I love this shop.
Shantell told you that you’re doing us a major favor. Right? Is it true you dated her mom? That lady is so mean. I see where Shantel gets it. You know, after the signing. Imma tell you about the very first time we met.”
Periwinkle is fidgeting about six feet away, blushing and saying, “Stop with that man. You know how I feel about you Wyatts. You’re Whynter’s kin, so you’re my family. Used to date her mom. Ah yeah, she is kind of mean, ain’t she. Yo! Hunter, can Um, yeah, Ms Vellocet. Um, Stacie. Right? Stacie and I take the stairs please?” Eyebrow raised and pointing at me.
Hunter says, “Up to you Stacie…”
Periwinkle says, “I don’t like being in elevators with strangers. Hunter, you’re cool, and all but, you know the unicorn thing and…
Yeah I just get horrible anxiety attacks and shit. You know. Yo Um, Stacie, how much do I owe the Bad Word Jar now?”
I stuck my foot in my mouth saying, “A hundred sixty dollars. We’re on the ninth floor, you know?” Periwinkle had just sized me up completely. He smiles and replies, “Yup! Sweet! Here Princess, please hold my cup. It’s Lismore. Look it up.” He taps this pretty cut crystal coffee cup with his pen, it rings like a bell, in my hand sparkling rainbows all over the elevator.
“I’m giving one to everybody in the company. And for the people in my division a tea and chocolate service.” I’m thinking, Your division? He says, “Yup! Hunter, you have the contract with you. I’ll take them now to scan over again. I’m taking the stairs! We’ll sign them when
I get to your office. Miss um… …Vellocet. Right? I say, “Stacie.”
He says, “Right! Ms. Vellocet. When I get to your office, please, I’d like a calculation of how far I have to go to complete my daily walk. Thank you. The stairs are free and could save you thousands on fees at the club. Just saying, if you don’t need someone barking over your shoulder to do the shit you need to do. But you don’t go to the gym Delphine, do you?” Leaning slightly left to check out my ass, he says, “Me neither. But I’m old, eat a lot of junk, smoke and drink and sin a lot. I gotta stay fit. You know. Sad face emoji. It would’ve been fun watching you get sweaty climbing those stairs. Anyway, it’s a good time for a Silent Disco.” Hunter shouts, “Aw hell yeah!” He says, “Besides, you really don’t wanna talk to me right now. I get it. So, it’s cool.”
Old dude, polishes his glasses with his shirt, pulls these huge cute headphones from the folds of his hoodie and says, “Dakini” His backpack rumbles and says with a voice like Whynter Wyatt, “Yep! Wha’chu want Dude?” He says, “Dakini, Play Wham. BattleStations. Then …mmm… Do It Properly, segue into an effervescent remix of something.”
His backpack rumbles then starts bangin’. He points with his thumb and says, “Da Bitch On My Back…” Hunter says…”Keeps me hustlin’ Yo! I got a Kajira III.” They slip on their glasses and say, “Fresh!”
Bubbles says, “You know two and three come with a free upgrade to five. Solar powered Baby.” And he was through the door, headed up the stairs.
I’m furious. I slap the floor button and sigh thinking. Half a million dollars, and say, “Asshole.”
Hunter sang loud and pretty, doing this cute little sexy dance. Vamps and piping on her spectators strobing softly to the music in her cute little matching headphones, “All I’m trying to give you is a good time honey Why d’ya have to keep on playing games with my head…” I’m thinking. This cute little dyke can really sing. While the old elevator clinked and clanked and stopped on damned near every floor, every cart pushin’ evelope carryin’ nobody getting in and off singing. I’m thinking, they’re really getting on my damn nerves. I’m looking up Lismore, I find Waterford on my phone, I see the price and almost drop the cup. “Ooh Shit! This is real.” I say without thinking.
Half way up, we’re alone, “Periwinkle Bubbles’ Silent Disco, you know?” Hunter stops the lift, takes off her headphones, “So, Vellocet, my Lovie got a tea service and my first D-BOMB when they read about the musical vibrator thingy in his book. I’ve seen you in the Silent Disco chat one or two times, right. Yeah. No? Well anyway, it’s an app. Yeah Stacie Look!”
Flipping through the projection of her phone’s screen on the elevator door, “It lets you listen to what he’s listening to while he’s walking. Some people have walking themes. Dude’s got a walking soundtrack. Track lists, liner notes, album art and everything. Nigah made just walking the new luxury. He says I can call him that. Dee Jays from all over the world drop him mixes. Shit’s so dope. So dope! Shantel taught me how to say it right.”
Then all of a sudden, Hunter looks hard over her glasses at me. Counts her breath, then says,“You have read the book…Right?”
“Nope,” I said.
Hunter says, “He’s supposed to be here a week from tomorrow. Yeah. You’re in deep doo doo. Yep! So, dig yo! You didn’t know you sold the first draft of his galley proof. Yeah. Papillion was planning to press a vanity edition. Yeah, the song’s right, Monday is your worst day. You’re so fucked. This shit gets personal. It’s poetry and prose. It’s literature and…
…Oh shit you didn’t know. Hold on this is important.” She’s typing on her phone saying, “I was wondering why Nancy just got up and left me alone with you. Yeah. I told the whole board, I was going to push you out my office window and follow you. She laughed and was like, “I’ll see you in the D. after Another Perfect Summer Day.”
The doors open, everybody’s shoes are blinking like a disco at their feet. The whole office is humming and singing, “Buya Dala ndikumele Khawubuye Dala ndikulindele” Somebody else is holding up a yellow screen on her phone.
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