a teeny tiny band ✧

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Get the order, do as told, leave. Whizzer could understand that. He'd been doing it ever since he went into the business. Though his second job didn't sound all that hard, he could say otherwise. It wasn't easy to be a bootlegger.

The man was an extraordinary photographer. He could capture a multitude of feelings and moments in one photo alone. The only downside was the fact that he was in a city thriving with top-notch photographers. So he wasn't very popular. If he was mentioned, the common reply was, "Oh, that dude who does family photos?" and nothing else. But there was an advantage in not being known, like not being recognized when he slides the best camera he owns out of his bag and starts filming in the theatre. He could still show his talent and earn a decent amount of money, even if it could cause him his life. He liked a challenge.

He was completely aware it was illegal. Completely aware. But there were always two sides of an argument, and he was on neither. He just needed an easy way to earn money, and despite how dangerous it was to bootleg, he knew that it would get him by.

What made him shift into one side of the argument was something he didn't expect.

"I hate you both! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Jason screamed, shoving past his mother as he ran up the stairs. The divorcées winced at the sound of the child's bedroom door slamming, something that added to their frustrations.

"Listen to him. He said that you keep thinking about youself. Isn't that right, Marvin?"

Clenching his fist, Marvin replied, "He said both of us keep thinking about ourselves, Trina. Ridiculous. You can't even make out what your own son is saying."

Trina ripped her apron off herself and hurled it at him, aiming at his face. He retched when the smell of rotten bananas and carrots sneaked up his nostrils as the object hit him. Before he could throw profanities at his wreck of an ex-wife in return, the doorbell rang, leaving him to fetch it. It was a good distraction.

"I swear to God, if it's Mendel again I am going to kill a bi—"

"No," Whizzer smirked, "I'm not Mendel, but it would be no surprise if you'd kill me too." He pushed the door wider before crossing his arms. "You guys have thin walls. And I've been ringing the doorbell for 5 minutes now."

"Whatever. Let's get out of here."

"About that... I kind of got a last minute meeting with a client tonight. It lasts until 9 so I'll have to skip dinner with you."

"Jesus!" Marvin groaned, a vein throbbing on his neck. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. But I'm sorry. You're happy to see me, right?"

A charmer. That was what the tall man was. Marvin couldn't resist it. That was just how their relationship worked.

"You motherfucker. Maybe, I am, but I'd rather look at anyone else's face than the one in the living room, anyway."

"You don't have to be so mean to Trina, you know."

"It's none of your business," the older man snapped, shutting Whizzer down. The younger man took a step back in reflex, but Marvin was unaware of the effects of his own words. "Just go, Whizzer. I'll finish what I started here."

"I'll be back by 9:30 or so."

"Be here by 9."

"9:15."

"9:10 and be set to screw. That's not a request."

Door to face. Whizzer pressed his palms against his shirt, now realizing that sweat had formed on them. No, he wasn't scared of Marvin. Fear was the last thing that came into mind when he thought of him. He was just annoyed at how much more bossy Marvin gets each day.