The Painting

#74 Brick Wall - Balla Brice

The lobby of X-Enterprises teemed with people. Well-dressed business associates in monochromatic outfits gathered in hoards, circling in on themselves in intense conversation. Reporters huddled near the elevators and doors. Some ventured near the clout of business people only to be shooed off.

We'd been camped out at the coffee shop across the street for the last two hours but when the free wifi dropped off for the seventh time forcing Frankie into a conniption Lyle conceded that we move to the office building.

There she found a corner for us in the furthest part from the check in desks. Cushioned folding chairs were set up across the lobby floor to accommodate the increasing numbers of people who spilled in from the sidewalk. We snagged three but Frankie elected to sit on the floor. A glob of businessmen congregated between us and the main desk but I still sat behind Lyle wearing a giant pair of cat eyed shades I borrowed from Evelyn.

Since the plan was to move into X-Enterprises eventually, we dressed for the occasion. I wore black trousers and a flowing cream colored top. Lyle wore a similar outfit in all black. Wrangling Frankie into clothing more formal than ripped jeans that hadn't been washed for three days took Lyle and I's best negotiating skills. Finally after our bribery met it's limit at four bags of Cheetos he agreed to wear black dress slacks and a white button up. The tattered converse were nonnegotiable and stuck out with his combination white socks as he sat crisscross on the floor.

Because of my sparse closet we borrowed from Evelyn and her boyfriend with the excuse that we were headed to a friend's gallery opening in the city. I felt unsettled lying to my good friends but there was relief in knowing it would be my last.

"How is it going?" Lyle asked.

Without turning his head from his computer screen Frankie held up nine fingers. "That's how many times you've asked me. If it gets to ten I'm leaving."

Aside from his worn shoes Frankie blended in with the business crowd more than Lyle and I. Every clique kept to themselves not daring to look away from their inner circle unless it was to cast a snide glance at a bumbling reporter. Lyle and I were alert, and while I'd like to think we were being subtle about it everyone in the lobby seemed automatically on guard, keeping themselves closed off from our curious looks.

"Is there something wrong?" Lyle ignored her friends mild threat as she leaned over me to peer at the screen. "Usually it doesn't take you this long."

"Nothing's wrong. I just need some damn peace and quiet!" Abruptly he shut his laptop and rose making a beeline for the public restrooms.

"Is he ok?" I turned to Lyle. A slight smile spread to her face as she watched our friend duck passersby with his laptop clutched to his chest.

"He doesn't like big crowds. Once he gets his space it'll get done."

I hummed in agreement, myself smiling at the thought of Frankie sitting in a bathroom stall furiously typing while he balanced his keyboard on the toilet head. My smile faded as my stomach muscles tighten. My worries, once thin pieces of twine had braided themselves into a sturdy rope and as we sat in the lobby. As minutes ticked by I could feel the rope looping in on itself. A tangled knot formed in my gut.

My eyes wandered around the lobby. Above the sea of tight updos and meticulously combed hair televisions lined the glass walls. Imposed on the black screens were clocks, perfectly synced with each other as they ticked past the seconds. There was no explanation to the timer but I knew as well as anyone else in the room that it was the reason why we were all here. In 17 minutes Monroe would officially take over the company.