What is the last thing you learned?

STFU 

Act 1: Look Asshole 

Scene 1. And have a Truly Scrumptious Day Ma’am…

-Ding Ding!- 

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.” 

 

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 thingy 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 COPY LOO WAK! SOMAMABITCH!” 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, 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 redheads 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, Niggah 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 moving 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 escort 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 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.” Amber says,  “So, wait, you’re him! You’re here in character? Today?  Shit. I was planning to wear my My new May Jay F. M. P.  I want you to make fireworks.” Looks down at my shoes,  shaking her head, 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?

So, 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 pulls her 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 for 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. Niggah 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.