Graffiti Casanova

Veggie Burger

Of course I wasn't noteworthy enough to merit an audience with Casanova himself. I hadn't proved myself yet, and Mark was still suspicious.

I had a name, though-- Mark. Not much, but to me it was a guarantee that we'd speak again, and that was good enough for me. He'd taken my number and disappeared after saying he'd be in contact soon.

I'd been on edge until I got his text Saturday afternoon.

6pm. Tell me where to meet you.

Short and sweet. I responded within seconds, only realizing it probably made me look too eager once I'd hit send. Oh well.

Ricky's on Ash and 4th.

He'd meet Lana, he'd hear me out. If she and her cooking couldn't convince him to team up, no one could.

So now I was sitting at a table in Ricky's, watching the door that refused to spit Mark through. Lana was busy in the back, for the most part; and though she eyed me with sharp curiosity when she made it to the front, she didn't get a chance to interrogate me. A shaggy-haired kid with an apron that I'd never met before had brought me a coke ten minutes ago, and the glass was sweating as much as I was.

I was about to text Mark when he strolled in and, with barely a glance at his surroundings, headed straight to my table. He dragged the chair back and sat.

"Talk."

I blinked at him.

"You don't want to order first?" I asked after a pause.

"Not hungry. We won't be here long enough anyway."

Another pause stretched between us. Well then.

"Okay. Well." I cleared my throat. Now that it was time, I wasn't quite sure where to begin.

"I'm willing to bet you aren't a huge fan of Platt."

Mark grunted, his eyebrow lifting in an impatient twitch. I took a rushed breath and continued.

"Well the artists aren't the only group of people he's upsetting. Local business owners--"

"You mean the biggest supporters of the anti-graffiti movement?" Mark's condescending eyebrow was beginning to grate on my nerves. "That'd be the entrepreneurs. But, yeah, continue."

I glared at him. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when the shaggy-haired kid approached our table.

Mark lifted his hand. "We don't--"

"Two burgers with everything, please," I interrupted, my glare never leaving Mark.

He shot me an irritable frown. "I'm vegetarian."

"Then make it a veggie burger." I stared back at him. I was determined to regain the upper hand; I was done being talked down to.

He glared back at me but didn't argue. The kid left, promising it'd be quick.

I tilted my head. "You obviously don't like me, but Casanova wants to hear me out; so that means you get to shut up and listen."

Mark's eyes darkened for a split second, but then a tiny grin split his face.

"Alright." He leaned back in his favorite lazy position, crossing his ankles under the table. "I'll listen."

I paused, sipping my coke.

"I brought you here for a reason."

Mark still didn't look up at his surroundings.

"The woman behind the bar owns the place. She may hate Platt more than you."