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Flies On the Wall: Part 1

“This room is bugged.”

I tried not to laugh as I watched his light hazel eyes dart from side to side. Elijah inspecting my mess of a room from an upside down position on my orange covered futon, while shaving my legs in my baby blue boy shorts was our usual Saturday morning. I watched my best friend in his grey jeans and black long-sleeve shirt pick up discarded clothes and small hair brushes, peering into the hard wood floor while keeping a third eye on the baby fly that buzzed around.

“I’m sure Obama isn’t that interested in me, Elijah.”

“It’s not Obama.” He muttered as he walked towards me, dragging the palm of his porcelain hand along the olive painted wall. “It’s the CIA.” He sat next to me, resting his elbows on his knees. “And the Illuminati. I believe they have a strong interest in you.”

“Really? How so?” One could never tire of Elijah’s Illuminati rants.

“Lana Del Rey.” Her name was doomsday in his voice.

“Ah,” I nodded. Lana Del Rey, the lovely mistress that started it all.

“Remember when you were talking to me about being a Brooklyn baby a few months before her Ultraviolet album dropped?”

“Mmhmm.” I brushed the wet cloth against my now hairless legs with a sigh. Once a pair of wolves, now soft as a new born’s head.

“How interesting that she released a song of the same name with lyrics that allude so closely to what you were telling me.” He watched me dizzily sit up from my upside down position, my new born legs now folded under me. “Getting down to beat poetry? You were talking about starting a beatnik movement. My boyfriend’s not as cool as me? You were talking about how I’ll never be cool as you. Well, of course I’m not your boyfriend…”

Yet. I thought in amusement.

“But she tweaked it!” he quickly continued with a blush. “Lana is clearly watching your every style. Your very uniqueness is the basis of her rise in that evil organization.”

“I’m not that unique, Elijah.”

“You mix your popcorn with twizzlers, m&ms, skittles, and extra butter whenever we go to the movies and made it a tradition to wear smirf t-shirts on St. Patrick’s Day every year.” He raised his bushy eyebrows.

“That’s more weird, than unique.”

“It’s still worth noting.” He shyly nudged my shoulder. “I like that about you.”

“Why thank you, good sir.” I twirled a strand of hair around my index finger with a smile. “So Lana is not the high priestess yet?”

“No, that’s Madonna.” Elijah sat back on the futon. “But Lana is on her way there. Soon Madonna will be sacrificed and Lana will take her place soon.”

“I would’ve thought Beyonce would be the priestess after Madonna.” I smoothed out his shoulder length curls. If only my tight afro could be that loose, I wouldn’t have to use so many brushes. Coconut oil can only do so much for you.

“No, they’d want her to stay in her position as queen to keep her followers going.” He shot me a playful glance to which I winked in response. I was wearing my Yonce shirt.

“You seem to know a lot about the Illuminati, Elijah. How do I know you aren’t secretly a part of it?”

“I wouldn’t be so obvious.” He said with a small chuckle.

“True that.”

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He said suddenly. “All this Illuminati talk has got me starving.”

“Yeah, me too.” I scrolled down my smartphone for a moment before turning to him. “Ashley texted me, actually. She wants to rendezvous at this Korean BBQ restaurant on 36th street.”

Elijah nodded.

“Sounds great. Let’s do it.”


“I can’t believe Ashley is letting us starve like this.”

My rumbling stomach agreed with the hungry despair in his voice. We were wandering through the notoriously crowded Macy’s situated on 34th St. Walking through the gift shop section, we watched tourists with their mountain boots taking pictures of small spaces filled with appealing signs and ribbons, and middle-aged upper east-side moms with their fur coats checking tags for sizes. We tried our best to avoid the various advertisers promoting new products with their frozen smiles. They were the bane of my side-eye.

“You know Ashley,” I muttered “always with the twerk videos.”

Red head, freckle faced Ashley had only recently discovered the joy of booty popping in the mornings and boy, did she put her lower back into it. Unfortunately, it was one of those mornings where her spine wasn’t feeling it. She must’ve fallen on her ass while twerking upside down. She wouldn’t say what exactly happened. She told us that the L train was delayed, but she’s used that excuse before and her roommate, Leslie, had texted Elijah what the best remedy for bruised ass cheeks were. I had a feeling Ashley will be wincing every time she sat down for a while.

I was checking out a sun flower dress, debating whether or not to add it to my spring wardrobe, when I felt Elijah frantically tapping my shoulder.

“Cassandra.” He whispered “I can’t believe this-“

“I know right.” I showed him the price tag. “Fifty dollars for this? Jokes.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not that. I’m taking about that woman over there.”

“Woman?”

“Look over my right shoulder. Don’t stare.”

My eyes followed the angle of his shoulders to find a young woman hovering around the perfume section. She had dirty-blonde hair and was holding her Samsung in the air towards her face. It looked like she was talking to herself.

“She’s following us!” whispered Elijah, his eyes wide. “That’s the 3rd time I’ve seen her!”

“Stop.” I rolled my eyes “She’s probably taking a selfie.”

“While talking to herself?”

“Good point.”

“We gotta get out of here.”

“No, let’s switch it up. We’ll be the flies on the wall and follow her instead.”

I wish I could’ve taken an Instagram photo of his face.

“Come on,” I hopped up and down in growing excitement. “I’m so bored, this will be fun.”

To be continued in part 2.