Graffiti Casanova

Choose Your Weapon

"Last chance to back out!" A good-natured, teasing voice drifted out of the alley, a hooded figure following just behind it, making his way towards us.
Lana grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. "Not a chance. How much do I owe ya?"
Casanova waved a hand. "Don't worry about it until we finish. It'll only be for the paint we use. Mark here yet?"
"Yeah, he's here." I gestured to the sullen, long-haired artist standing just inside the doors, overseeing the ten or so guys moving furniture, covering tables with drop sheets, and blocking out the windows with black paper. Lana had closed up early tonight, and the place would be closed all day tomorrow, giving the guys time to transform the inside. Tuesdays were dead anyway, she'd said.
Casanova stepped up beside Mark. "How's it going?" He clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. Mark looked at Casanova and scowled.
"This is a stupid idea."
Casanova's grin could be heard in his voice. "Those are always the best kind. Do we have everything we need?" He looked inside. "What else needs done?"
"Just gotta tape stuff off."
"Let's do it, then." Casanova slipped inside and grabbed a blue tape roll off of a sheet-covered table in the middle of the room.
"Anything we can do to help?" I stood in the doorway beside Mark.
"Stay out of the way," he muttered, brushing past me into the diner.
Casanova looked up, hood still pulled down over his features.
"Don't listen to him, he's just grumpy." He tossed me another roll of blue tape. "You're perfectly welcome to stay, both of you."
I spun the tape roll on my finger, turning to Lana, eyebrow arched. "What do you say, Lana? Wanna stick around?"
She grinned back. "I've always wanted to be a graffiti artist for a night."
"Well tonight's your lucky night!" Casanova called from the other side of the room before another roll of blue tape sailed towards Lana. She snatched it out of the air with one hand.
"Hey, you got any music?" he asked her.
"You read my mind!" She crossed the room and ducked into the back room, and soon we were working to the sound of classic rock.
"You're my kind of woman, Lana!" Casanova shouted over the music, bobbing his head.
It didn't take long to finish taping off the walls and floor. Casanova was everywhere, taping, moving furniture, inspecting walls, joking with the guys. But suddenly he was standing next to Lana and I, who were finishing up taping off the outlet in the back corner.
"You guys up for painting?"
"As long as it doesn't require artistic talent," Lana said from the floor beside me.
"It requires two beautiful women who know how to shoot a gun. I have a strong suspicion you two fit the description." Casanova's impish smile was peeking out from the black shadow that covered his face. "We just need one more wall primed, and one wall needs a base coat of blue. Doable?"
"Put me to work!" Lana jumped up, and we followed him to the other side of the diner.
"Choose your weapons." He spread a hand at two strange contraptions on the ground. I stooped to pick one up.
"What in tarnation..." Lana squinted at hers, turning it over in her hand.
"Airless spray painter," Casanova explained. "They make painting large surfaces much easier and quicker."
He stepped up beside me, the sleeve of his army jacket brushing me as he pointed out the mechanisms. "It's essentially a giant spray bottle. Hold it eight to twelve inches from the wall and go slow. We've filled them up already, so start whenever-- perfect, Lana!"
Her spray painter was buzzing, a cloud of white floating from the nozzle to the wall.
"Andy, got extra bandanas?" Casanova called over his shoulder. A guy on the other side of some sheet-covered tables tossed a couple over, and Casanova caught them, immediately handing them over to Lana and I.
"Put these over your nose and mouth for the fumes," he grinned. "We'll vent the room, too. Crack that door again, Mark!"
And he was gone again, off to another task. I pulled the trigger and my gun came alive, a cloud of blue shooting at the wall. I smiled under my bandana.
What I was doing may have been entirely legal, but it didn't stop me from feeling like a rebel. And I realized I was one-- pulling the trigger on this gun that spit paint instead of bullets, I was choosing a side in this war.

So it begins :) what do you think about Claire's new hobby? Talk to me in the comments, and hit that star! :)

Chapter song is This Is War by 30 Seconds to Mars