Chapter four: The Hardest Button... Brain Florer

With only three hours of sleep under his belt, the morning was filled with the sounds of clinking plates and screaming chefs in far corners of this dainty kitchen that somehow echoed internally in his very own coffee dunked mind. Now, only ten in the morning and the sun was fierce with it's heat as Rowland scrubbed and piled plates blankly in a small scullery tucked behind everything except a mostly empty staff parking lot behind the building which entailed nothing other than a few cars and a large rusty old garbage bin.

With breakfast rush hour almost over to Rowland's relief a small break was sorely needed as he finished wiping and scrubbing the extra pot or pan that lay dirty.

Once done, he picked up the garbage bags he had left earlier in one hand and put a cigarette into his mouth with the other. And as he put the bags beside the steps that lead out the back door someone called after him:

"Hey, don't let me catch you smoking in my kitchen, young man.", a round man of average height bellowed the sentence over the murmurs of private conversations within the cozy café from the corner entrance to the kitchen, not too far from where Rowland stood.

The playfulness of this man's tone was recognisable to anyone who worked for the greying gentleman, donning a Fedora with an incredible resemblance to Santa, including Rowland -who sheepishly swiveled on one heal to face the Santa double and made a face as if he were bracing pain:

"Sorry, Mr. Moloi...just a quick smoke break, sir. "

"As long as it's not lit in this facility...", the old man waved his hand over the surrounding area to which Rowland nodded in compliance.

The old man dug into his deep puffy khaki shorts pocket and tossed a box of matches to him once he noticed Rowland was looking for presumably a lighter. Rowland dropped the garbage bag with a sharp clink of glass within it and caught the unexpected tiny box with both hands.

" Yes, sir. ", raising his arm in a salute to the old man for his kind gesture and for noticing he could not find his own light (yet again), silently thanking god for a boss like him.

******

Now and finally, his shift was over but unfortunately, his day was not. Being the first and last person to step foot on or off the premises had no perks at all in apart from the silence and solitude, as the hungry consumers went elsewhere for their dinner.

Once again finding himself finishing up by taking the garbage out somewhat subconsciously, he this time pulled out a rolled up blunt and sat on a step just outside the kitchen back door, using the matches which Mr. Moloi had given him. Rowland looked at his phone and the time flashed 18:48; this gave him an hour of free time which he decided to use in his opinion wisely, by walking about the city plastering his tag stickers of a hellish looking cat with a smile on it's face, anywhere and everywhere he could and writing silly quotes from the top of his head that he found rather funny all over random walls. As he prepared to leave having locked up, now using the front door, he couldn't help himself but to put one tag sticker on the lintel of the entrance, it gave him a twinge of giddiness to do want he loved despite the law (as minor as the felony was to him, it still gave him a bit of a rush) swirling the keys around his index finger just thinking about the mere feeling of his idea of lawlessness as the buzz from his recreational high was in affect.

Rowland casually walks the darkening streets with his artistic eye wide open to view the tragic beauty his small sandbox world had to offer, taking pictures here and there for future reference and just for the sake of photography, plucking stickers with his name all over town wherever he could. Making his last stop by the community college as his free time came to an end, slapping a sticker on the very door of the entrance not even realising that Nick somehow was right behind him; which gave him a start when Nick grabbed his attention and enthusiastically exclaimed:

"You're De'vile..!"

Rowland glared at him wide eyed with surprise as he looked around, searching to find out where Nick had actually come from; being sure he was alone, he soon then spotted his car still completely speechless for a moment too long when finally he answered:

"Er...you got me..?" awkwardly grimacing, raising his hands halfway like a caught crook as he nervously admitted his little scandal with much reluctance to a man he had just been acquainted with some two weeks ago (as if there was any denying it at this point). Rowland wasn't sure if he could trust him with such a secret at all, the idea of him spreading it gave Rowland heart palpitations, he silently put one hand to his chest imagining the pain.

"Holy shit...", Nick continued, "I'm a fan of your work. In actual fact, Banana Republic is one of my favorite.", his sly smirk slicing across his face as he confessed his admiration much to Rowland's surprise.

'Banana Republic..?', he thought, Nick must of been referring to the only other paint job he did of a banana wearing a suit and tie with a blurb saying "I'm not a banana!" while holding up a gestured peace sign in either hand.

'Oh...', he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's good to know I actually have a fan.", Rowland chuckled, dumbfounded as they both proceeded to walk to their class room as they both followed a somewhat large crowd of students which dispersed chatterdly into their necessary classrooms amongst the six open doors.

"Is the work on that billboard further down south yours as well? Because...Man, there's a buzz about you in some circles...exclusive circles, y'know.", Nick stopped by the door and Rowland turned around just by the door to face him; "If ever you wanna...", he said smoothly, forcing his full lips downward by the corners and shrugging his shoulders in a type of fashion that made it seem as if he was offering Rowland drugs as he looked back at him and they spoke about these said circles secretly.

Nick's eyelids hung low; suggesting a sarcastic look upon his resting face, as they stopped for the moment by the door of their class, letting people pass by in droplets as Nick leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

He was quite tall compared to Rowland - who although was known for his slanky stature, was standing in front of someone who easily hovered over him by at least a head.

Two weeks go by and the last thing he ever said to Rowland was his name, and yet now he speaks of seats not so cheap when one has the right contacts. Who could he possibly know?

"Pssh, Really?", Rowland responded sceptically, again raising his bushy eyebrow humouring the conversation, yet with genuine intrigue as he waited to hear what Nick had to say next.

"Yeah. Really, some up-and-coming galleries are looking for new eye candy for media exposure. I guess, to keep people talking.",

He spoke in a colloquial manner that assumed a friendliness that only two old friends would recognise. He seemed quite comfortable in his skin; a cliché rouge from a seventies television show that Rowland loved watching as a kid popped up in his head as Nick spoke, he used outdated jargon and phrases unfamiliar with present day youth, yet it seemed to suit him well.

Though to Rowland, who lost interest as soon as he mentioned 'eye candy' the charm wore off.

"I'm not interested in being 'eye candy', bro.",

relaxing his face in a low brow glare opposed to his previous wide eyed stare of intrigue as he shook his head and began to walk away with his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Which Nick obviously took as a 'no' and shrugged his broad shoulders in acceptance of Rowland's lack of interest.

"Suit yourself. Whatever floats your goat.", Nick pushed himself off the wall as he took one last glance at Rowland with his hands now in his black tattered jean pockets and coolly slid past the wooden door frame of the business classroom and past Rowland.

"You know Row, you should really keep in touch with artistic circles.", he said while walking away as Rowland turned all the way around and watched Nick go further into the long corridor.

Those very words said by Charlotte reverberated in his mind from their last conversation;

"You're doing yourself a grave injustice, your shit's pretty good.", his loud comment echoed, despite the other classes in session as he then disappeared around the corner.

"Floats your goat..?",

Rowland scoffed recalling the odd phrase and laughed at Nick's sudden concern for his employment opportunities in such a skill like graphic art or graffiti, which he himself never really thought much about, until now.

All his life in his head he imagined the opportunity would come for his photography skills rather than his art, be that as it may that they are the same thing, he figured his work done on the streets was simply made for the streets, for it always has been something he did for fun, an out let so to speak. And being from one of South Africa's most vibrant cities; Johannesburg, where almost every wall in the inner city was covered in tags, prints or tasteful illustrations. He felt even more so that he would be a drop of water in an ocean of people who share the same interest as him now, having moved to America with his mother ten years ago.

He couldn't see his work in an art gallery, believing his night time doodles were a paintbrush short of even avant garde artistry, in short just not worth it.

Contemplating such an opportunity as he descended to his seat upon entering the quaint but mostly empty auditorium, it seemed rather necessary to him as a swell of pride and anxiety in his chest clogged his mind from any thoughts or words that could possibly have been said during the class. And quite honestly, he couldn't have been bothered to care either (he was doing well for someone whose last concern was schoolwork) and figured he would ask Amy; who was as sweet as she was smart and has been well acquainted with Rowland for quite some time, for the work via email straight after.

He figured he wouldn't see Nick ever again and that the opportunity had come and gone just as fast as he could blink, if it was in fact an official offer at all. Still flattered and happy by the news of his artwork he jumped up and out of his seat with new inspiration as soon as the Professor dismissed the students; writing on his hand the name of the new series of works he would do, but he slowed down once he remembered to ask Amy to send the notes she made for every class.

He stopped her and a friend on their way out, startling them both in the process:

"Hey Ams! Could you send me a copy of the notes you made for today... And yesterday..?", he asked quick and enthusiastically, fearing that he may loose Nick along with the open door he had left for him upon entering his life.

"S-sure, via email?", the grey ambré haired girl asked even though she knew very well the answer as this was not the first time Rowland had asked.

"Yeah, thanks...again.", thanking sweet Amy just as he prepared to dash, stuffing the pen behind his left ear.

But before he left she stopped him and asked,

"Hey Row, there's a bonfire tomorrow night down at the beach... Y'know, the last few days of summer and junk. If you're interested, it'll be straight after class.", she was bashful as she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear and waited for his response with her her books clutched to her chest.

"Cool, 'see you then.", smiling softly as he responded, to him a party didn't seem like a bad idea but he rushed past them through the door, to which Amy's silent partner shouted after him,

"Bring your friend!", he immediately assumed Nick was who she was specifically talking about.

Turning the same corner at the end of the corridor, he skipped steps as he climbed the stairs to the roof top three floors up, hoping that Nick would be there waiting, which to his relief was true.

Still panting heavily from the unexpected cardio workout it took to reach him, Rowland muttered a breathless 'hey' before bending over to catch his breath.

'Fuck! I'm unfit!', he thought, shaming himself for his sloth.

"OH!", Nick exclaimed with nonchalant attitude, "You came." while lighting two cigarettes, one of which he gave to Rowland once he recovered from his sprint. Which to a confused Rowland seemed odd;

"You were expecting me?", Rowland asked, now standing beside Nick who leaned on the brick wall facing the horizon. He noticed that Nick carried a scent of rosewater or a rather sweet yet earthy musk from where he stood, as if dried roses were thrown into a fire. Rowland turned, now both facing and overlooking a decent horizon, seeing as though it was partially blocked by office buildings and the like. Watching the tiny silhouettes of people coming to and leaving the campus as the ocean dangled at the edge of their vision.

"I figured you'd like to hear me out, take me up on my offer.", smoke came out of his nose and mouth while he spoke like a dragon as he took one glance in Rowland's direction, who huffed bouts of laughter and said through them:

"I don't even fucking know you. I-I don't even know what I'm doing up here."

"I don't know you either, but isn't that exciting? the middle of an adventure... Such a perfect place to start... man, who said that line...?", Nick said the last part as if talking to himself, as if completely unaware of the bewildered Rowland who stood next to him. or the oddity of the situation all together.

Exhaling, the emphasis on 'exciting' and 'adventure' made Rowland's stomach flip out of anxiety for his idea of adventure and excitement may differ from Nick's, but none the less it seemed quite exciting indeed.

This all seemed to happen all so fast to Rowland whose counter part seemed not too aware of the pace or how convenient it all seemed.

"What?", Nick said out of the blue, noticing Rowland staring at him;

"Y'know, people meet all the the time, I don't know why this is so freaky for you... Plus, I just wasted a perfectly good cigarette on you.", continuing as he noticed the cigarette he had given the now eerily silent Rowland lay on the balcony untouched and practically already burnt to the bud.

Rowland remembered himself and picked it up, pulled a blunt from behind his ear and used what was left of the lit cigarette to light it, discarding the cigarette once done.

"Whoa, where did that come from?", Nick asked, smiling out of surprise.

Rowland ignoring his question asked, "Wanna bless this joint?"

"Bless? ", Nick raised an eyebrow, Rowland shook off the spooked look on his face and smiled a little as Nick took two good and long puffs as if he hadn't had any weed in a long time,

"You had this the whole time and you got me smoking cancer sticks.", Nick jousted jokingly which broke the ice furthermore, the buzz got to both of them.

And after a minute or two went by and the blunt turned into a roach, Nick once again spoke;

" Okay, look. How about we sit down and actually have a good conversation about this some other time. Say... Tomorrow night... At the beach bonfire?"

Rowland looked at him again, sort of frustrated with his own confusion, not sure how he knew about the get together as he furrowed his brow and finally said;

"What!? ",

Nick sighed and looked at him with slightly wide frustrated eyes, shaking his head in annoyance, "What, what? You think you're the only one who knows about that party, bro.", he laughed and carried on, " I may have not been in class for most of the two weeks, but I'm pretty sure your class mates have a life outside of it... Hence the party.", He raised his eye brows as if expecting some sort of compliance or response from Rowland - who just kept quiet, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot as it finally hit him that he can do what he loved and possibly get paid for it. Nick must of noticed, for he smiled that same sly smile and said coolly,

" Trust me, you need this... And I know, this shit is crazy but... This, my friend is where the fun starts."