Present
I held the stencil against the wall and sprayed three steady lines against it. Usually when I went kamikaze style, my heart pounded in my ears and my hands shook. But not tonight. Tonight, I was steady and clear and so goddamned mad.
Every time I thought about that notice taped to my door, my breath came out in a huff. A noise that was loud in this deserted alley. But not as loud as the hiss of my spray paint.
I tossed the can down and grabbed an orange one. I wanted this piece to be bright. So bright they’d have a hell of a time painting over it.
I wanted it to show through like the blood they had on their hands.
Stupid, asshole, rich pricks who didn’t give a shit about the little people they stepped on. As long as they made their stupid tv show and got their accolades at their appearances and collected all their blood money.
I doubted they even noticed the trail of destruction they’d left for me and others to pick up.
My dad was in jail because of these pricks. Or to be more specific, one prick in particular. Dylan Burns. Asshole extraordinaire.
Not that I expected his brothers were any less dickish. I bet they were all rich, entitled assholes who cosplayed at being regular middle-class people. Between their tv show and their custom motorcycle builds, they were raking it in.
And stepping all over us little people on their way up.
“You forgot to shade that corner there.”
I jumped at the voice that came from the other side of the alley. Whirling around, my terror filled wide eyes locked on the man standing in the shadows. “Shit.”
I scrambled to grab my kit. I couldn’t afford to leave evidence behind. And I really couldn’t afford to replace any of my paints either.
“Whoa.” The mystery man lifted his palms and stepped toward me.
I whipped up a spray can. “Stop right there. I get that I’m trespassing, but if you get any closer, I won’t be afraid to give you a new shade of eye shadow.”
He stopped moving but kept his palms up. “I believe you. And I honestly don’t give a shit that you’re painting my wall.”
I shoved two more cans into my bag, keeping an eye on the guy.
“It’s good. I really like the arc you got with the piss. You got some chops, kid.”
My painting was titled ‘The Trickle Down Economy’ and showed a fat cat standing on a mountain of thinner, poorer cats while the fat one on top peed on the mountain under him. Or itwouldshow. I’d only got half of the mountain painted before Mr. Nosy here showed up.
“Right. Glad you’re a fan. I’ll just be going now.” I shook my head and reached for the stencil I’d dropped earlier.
“Wait. I’m serious. Who are you?” The guy took another step toward me.
I waved a spray can at him. “Never mind. Just…forget I was even here.”
He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s gonna be kinda hard with that technicolored opus to greed decorating the side of my paint shed.”
His paint shed? He was one ofthem. “Yeah, well consider it a big middle finger from us little guys. Fuck you and all the fucking rich assholes.”
“Okay, seriously, who are you?”
“A ghost.” I bared my teeth at him as I fought to keep my rage in check.
“If my family or my father did something to screw you over, I need to know. And I’d like to make it up to you if I can.”
I snorted.
After shoving one more can into my backpack, I zipped it closed despite my shaking hands. “Unless you have time travel abilities, there’s literally nothing you can do for me. Fuck you very much.”
Hitching my backpack onto my shoulders, I slowly backed down the alley away from him, keeping him in my eyeline as I blended into the shadows with my all black clothes. Once I was a safe distance away, I turned and ran.
