The Real Wall Flower

“Hey Universe, it’s me again”. These words moved through the young woman’s mind. Like a breeze that rustles through trees. She did this regularly. She is a lost woman who lays in her bed at night talking to herself, wondering if she is crazy or if she is talking to a higher vibration of some sort. “Please lead me in the right direction, help me to see the truth I need to prevail in this life.” These are the types of words she spoke to herself at night, or in quiet moments throughout the day. As a child these rituals were similar but with variations of word play. The words sounded more like, “Dear God, thank you for this day please help me to not be scared, help mom make money and quit smoking. Help my Dad not be fat.” Even as a child she questioned her sanity while speaking to this higher entity. As the girl moved to adulthood, she questioned the existence of this entity that she gave her thoughts to. But the doubt of the existence of the higher being left almost as quickly as it came. And the doubt no longer mattered because in those moments of discussion with herself there is comfort.

The young woman is looking through an open window. The sky is a blue grey color, and the air is moist from a previous rain fall, night is approaching but there is still light in the sky. There is no sunset just the pure solid color of grey blue. In the distance she can see the black shadows of trees and the full yellow moon high in the sky. “Give me courage to prevail my obstacles, help me be open minded to see what it takes to achieve my goals.” As the young woman thinks to herself her conscious feels at ease from the troubles she feels. The sound of her phone notification breaks the concentration. Reality rushes back like rapids from a river.

As she scrolls through her messages and news feed a post catches her eye. Networking for artist and vendors. 5$ entry fee, private location, address drops day of event., full bar, 7pm-1am. The post intrigued the young woman since she is an up-and-coming artist. And networking with other artists helps get your name out! “Should I message this person?” As she contemplated the on what to do her quick impulse had already decided. And she responded to the post. The person who responds is very professional and after a short discussion the young woman found out the event is for music artist but decided she would go to the event anyway.

The event is in one week, and throughout the week the young woman questioned her decision about going to the event. “Was this another dead-end move? Am I just wasting my time? What if I run into someone I don’t want to see!” And then there is the positive thoughts, “Any actions made towards your dreams whether it’s a fail or success is a move in the right direction.”

As days passed the day of the event quickly approached. The young woman became hesitant and was open to any reason not to show up to the event. But as much as she tried to find a reason not to attend, the world moved around her making a path to that night. The day was here, and she saw another notification, DM for address drop. Once again, her quick impulse reacted, and she direct messaged the event promoter asking for the address. The conversation was quick between the two and she had the location.

Night came quick and the young woman got ready.

Her hair is long, brown and a little messy. As she brushed and flat ironed her hair the ends reached down to her lower back. Still naked she walked to her closet and chose a black tank top dress. The dress is skintight and stops above her knees she paired the dress with white converses. Lastly her eye liner was thick and bold. Something the young woman did when she wanted to be taken seriously.

The GPS took her to part of the city with a reputation. She parked her car in the lot across the street and walked over. At the door she was patted down, and her bag checked. She was questioned who invited you. This took her by surprise and nervously she answered, “uh the guy?” The security guard looked at the young woman with a serious face and said “you got messages to prove this? Let me see them.” The young woman took her phone out swiftly and showed the security guard the messages. The security guard looked at her messages then said “aight you good mama”.

If you could slow time down and watch the world pass, you would see everything and every detail in that very moment. And when the young woman walked through the door that is exactly what happened. The place is small and full of smoke with a strong smell of cannabis. She just smirked and thought, “ok it makes more sense now.” The young woman walked to the bar and ordered a shot of Ginn and a Dos Equis. As she looked around the dark room red and green lights slashed through smoke, the D.J is playing good music and the whole atmosphere is a vibe. She looked at the vendors who were set up. Once again, she chuckles to herself. The vendors in the place are weed vendors. Every table has containers on top of it filled to the rim with The Sticky Icky Good Stuff. These containers would normally be used to store dry goods such as, pasta, rice, beans, & cereal. After downing her shot she sipped on her beer and analyzed the layout. Once the beer was gone her nerves are calm and she is ready to network. Her quick mind gives her an idea, all these vendors have a product with packaging and the product would sell so much better with art on it.

As the young woman walks up to the first vendor, they lock eyes. And she introduces herself “Hi! I’m Olivia I’m a local artist in the area”. The vendor smiled genuinely and introduced himself, “Hey sup, I’m Ajani it’s nice to meet you, you’re an artist that’s wus up let me see your work!” Olivia is shocked by how nice and welcoming this man is and now her nerves are gone. She pulls her phone out and shows Ajani her Instagram. They talk about art and possibly working with each other. Instagram names are exchanged, and goodbyes are said.

Olivia walks on to the next vendor and the next moving through the crowd like the smoke in the air, she is barely noticed something she has always been good at. She finally makes it to the last vendor who is tucked away in a corner against a wall. The vendor is tall, and his skin is a beautiful reddish-brown color that shines. His hair is braided, and both his nostrils are pierced. Olivia walks up to introduce herself, “Hey I’m Olivia, I’m a local artist in the area and I’ve talking to the vendors here about putting art on packaging.” As soon as Olivia mentioned art the vendors face lit up. He introduced himself as Lucky. Lucky and Olivia started a conversation about art, business, and possibly even working together. Lucky had a beautiful smile and when he spoke to Olivia, she felt like every word that came from him was genuine and very charming. One of Olivia’s first thoughts is “I wonder if he’s a libra, this man is way to charming.” They both exchange Instagram information, but they keep the conversation going. There is something special about the natural spark between two people. A man walks up to the table and Olivia steps back so Lucky could help the customer. Slowly she moves closer to the wall to give the two some space.

Suddenly a loud bang echoes through her body and rattles her ear drums she is frozen not even a breath escapes her. The man who walked up to the table drops to the floor. Wide eyed Olivia looks at Lucky and before either of them could react Lucky is pushed back from a row of bullets hitting his body and he collapses to the floor. Shots from an automatic rifle are being fired from the front door. People are running, screaming, and dropping to the floor. Olivia has not moved she is still standing against the wall. Each breath she takes is so slow she is not even sure if she is breathing at all. She stares into Luckys eyes while he struggles for air. His eyes told her; he knew he wasn’t going to make it. He touched his fanny pack as he looked into her eyes, he unclipped the clasp and the bag fell off his waist. Blood is soaking up his shirt so quick that is starts flowing onto the floor. This all happened with in three minutes, but those minutes felt like thirty. And in those minutes, everyone in the room was dead except Olivia and the two people who shot the guns.

Olivia has always been looked at as a wall flower and in these moments, she finally understood the whole meaning behind that phrase. She looked around as best as she could being careful to stay completely still, she listened to what was happening around her. Olivia noticed that she was standing close to the back door and she could hear the shooters frantically grabbing as much as they could. Olivia hoped they were too distracted to notice her, she did not even look their way her eyes are focused on Lucky and the door.

There was so much noise from the robbery taking place. Olivia is waiting for the right moment to slip out the door. She stared at Lucky and his fanny pack laying next to his body. “Should I grab it? I think I should”. Once again before she has mentally decided her impulse made the decision for her and Olivia bent down to grab the fanny pack then slowly, swiftly, and smoothly she walks to the door opens it walks out and closes it as quietly as possible. Once outside she walks away from the building down the road and keeps walking not looking back once. “How do I get back to my car? Cross the street walk back towards the building and get to the lot where you parked the car.” Before Olivia knew it, she was back by her car. She opens her door, gets in, starts the car, and drives off. Five minutes down the road and she see’s flashing lights from police cars driving past her.

Olivia pulls into a side street and puts her car in park. She has never felt so numb in her life. She was not scared, happy, or sad. There is nothing, just a blank void and the sound of the engine. She realizes the fanny pack is still in her hand. “I didn’t even notice this, has been in my hand this whole time?” She looks at the fanny pack and opens it, inside the bag is stacks of hundred-dollar bills. “Oh my God there has to be at least 20,000 dollars in here”. She moves the money around and notices there is something else in the bag, a small black book. Olivia grabs the book and opens it. Inside there is a key taped to the cover and the pages are filled with numbers, notes, quotes, and doodles. The young woman sat in silence for a long time smelling the wet air. “Dear God, Universe or whatever you are. What in the actual fuck was that!”