Edward's heavy breath in the phone woke her up.
"They massacred Fifth Avenue."
"What?" Bella sat straight up in bed. Her head was spinning. The room smelled of spray paint and sex. Alice burrowed her face into the pillows while Bella clutched her head, already sure what Edward was going to tell her.
A dreadful empty feeling in her stomach, like a phantom limb that hadn't been cut off yet.
"It's gone," he sighed.
The bird wasn't the only one.
The city had taken out twelve landmarks in under two hours, done in broad daylight as though they were thumbing their noses at the midnight hours it had taken to put the pieces up. There were giant patches over Snitch's tags, BOMBR's name had been buffed clean away, and the ghost of a piece thrown up by the INRcity crew was still barely visible, sanded down to a specter haunting its home from the afterlife. Twelve pieces in all and Bella could barely bring herself to look at the bird.
Or the big roller patch of grey laid down over the top of it.
End to end, just like those wings, but they'd missed a few of the falling feathers the bird was molting down the wall. Four of them, the only testament to what lay beneath. Edward's stencils and her carefully cut lines. The crow that looked as though it had burst from a bucket of paint, dripping as it caught the air. It was the first piece she and Edward had done together and it had been burning for six years, the longest run they'd ever had. Bella bit her lip and tried not to let herself get sentimental. This kind of thing happened and it was stupid not to prepare for it, but part of her had come to believe that the piece might remain permanently, like the girl on the library. That someone would fight for it. She wondered if the Rosehill piece was only the start of the city's crackdown message to her kind, written in ugly grey paint.
That the streets would be taken back, no matter how intrepid or thoughtful or artistic they were.
Alice showed up in tape.
Again.
"Can I ask where you were?" Bella asked in amazement as Alice stomped into her apartment.
"The fashion shows downtown. Two of the designers used illegal fur in their collections and that shit has to stop," she ranted under her breath.
"And you were wearing that?"
Alice stopped with an agitated puff of air and turned to face Bella. Her tits were taped up a little more thoroughly this time, but not by much. A thin black band wrapped around her torso that left her breasts spilling out on either side and a tiny crescent of her left nipple was peeking out the top. "If you think the tape is bad, then you definitely wouldn't have liked the flour."
"Oh god," Bella sighed.
Alice rolled her eyes. "They deserved it, Bella. They skin bunnies. To make clothing. Little furry bunnies. It's just fucking cruel and uncalled for, so I gave them a taste of their own medicine." A manic grin ate up Alice's face, equally evil and gleeful. "On national television."
She was right. The news was airing a clip of tiny taped-up Alice darting through the crowd like a pickpocket and then an exploding a bag of white flour in the middle of a lit up runway, six models in fur swallowed in the haze. By the time the melee cleared, the girl was gone and no one had gotten a good solid look at her face.
Bella hated to admit it, but the part that irked her the most was that Alice was letting everyone and their mother get a good solid look at her tits.
"Will you help me get this off?" Alice stood next to the bed, fingering the edge of tape between her tits and eyeing Bella carefully. Bella shoved the laptop away and hung her legs off the mattress with a sigh. She tugged slowly at the tape, Alice spinning in front of her as she unwound, hissing when the last layer peeled off her skin. She clapped her hands over her nipples and Bella pulled her close, pushing her hands out of the way and using her mouth to soothe the ache. Tasting plastic and sweat. Sweet and salt and the kind of want that Bella was just beginning to grow fond of.
"Don't be mad at me," Alice spoke into Bella's hair.
Bella ignored her, definitely a little mad, but not wanting to voice it. She reached under the bed and pulled the box from the hiding spot it had been languishing in for almost a week. She shoved the box at Alice harder than she meant to, nervous and turned on, yet more than a little unsure about giving it to her in the first place.
"Got you something," she muttered, bashful and already blushing.
"You shouldn't have!" Alice's eyebrows perked and she clambered onto the bed, tearing the box open and squealing with delight.
"Oh, I should have," Bella snorted. "And I should have done it a long time ago. You're gonna burn your lungs off without one." She helped Alice pull the gas mask over her head, her hair rumpled around the straps and her cheeks bulging beneath her eyes. Bella knew she was still smiling under there, even though she couldn't see it. "Except now that you've got it on, I don't like it at all."
"Why?" Alice's voice came out in that odd mechanical hum so Bella pulled the gas mask down Alice's chin, freeing her mouth.
"Because it's in the way," Bella whispered.
A kiss like the first touch of paint to an open, endless wall.
The End, Yo.
AN:
I could never thank Hadley Hemingway enough.
She rolls with me, no matter the oddball idea. No matter the subject. No matter the amount of run on sentences I force her to deal with.
She is special, untouchable, unparalleled.
Terminology:
tag
A stylized signature, normally done in one color. The simplest and most prevalent type of graffiti, a tag is often done in a color that contrasts sharply with its background. Tag can also be used as a verb meaning "to sign".
bite
To steal another artist's ideas, name, lettering or color schemes. Seasoned artists will often complain about toys that bite their work
burning
Any work that hasn't been removed. Yet. "That piece is still burning on main street."
toy
1. Used as an adjective to describe poor work, or as a noun meaning an inexperienced or unskilled writer. Graffiti writers usually use this as a derogatory term for new writers in the scene. The act of "toying" someone else's graffiti is to disrespect it by means of going over it.
An acronym meaning, "tag over your shit."
black book
A graffiti artist's sketchbook. Often used to sketch out and plan potential graffiti, and to collect tags from other writers. It is a writer's most valuable property, containing all or a majority of the person's sketches and pieces. A writer's sketchbook is carefully guarded from the police and other authorities, as it can be used as material evidence in a graffiti vandalism case and link a writer to previous illicit works.
slash
To put a line through, or tag over, another's graffiti. This is considered a deep insult.
tapped
To watch a potential location. Often a writer will leave a small mark to determine police activity and claim the space from other artists.
crew
A group of associated writers or graffiti artists that often work together.
heaven spots (heavens)
Pieces that are painted in hard-to-reach places such as rooftops and freeway signs, thus making them hard to remove. Such pieces, by the nature of the spot, often pose dangerous challenges to execute, but may increase an artist's notoriety.
slam
To paint an extremely conspicuous or dangerous location.
dropsy
A bribe.
getting up
To develop your reputation or "rep" through writing graffiti.
king/Queen
The opposite of toys. Kings or queens (feminine) are writers especially respected among other writers.
all city
Being known for one's graffiti throughout a city.