World's Apart 🌍

Work It

The sky grew darker as I sat in the recording booth playing with my thumbs. I was still suffering from extreme writers block. I was stuck writing a verse for my new song titled "Let Me In". After many days filled with photo and commercial shoots, this left me with barely any time for a social life.  Today was no different. I could barely keep my eyes open, as I stared at the blank notebook. I began to doze off until I heard light singing.

I blinked my eyes super hard; trying to make sure I wasn't dreaming. The singing was still there.  The person was singing Work it -by Korede Bello. I checked my computer making sure I had logged out of my Spotify which was always tuned to the Afrobeat station. It wasn't even up. Something is going on here. Nobody is usually at the studio this late but me....My heart begin to race, as I begin to run through all of the horrific scenarios that could happen. What if he's a singer murder? The voice was a male's voice from what I could hear. Although he sounded good, I didn't know his mental state. He could sing to his victims while slicing them alive. I know it seems far fetched, but with slight stardom, the things that seem far-fetched actually happen in real life.  

"Fine fine girls wanna work it"

"Girl I like the way you work it"

I quickly snatched my switch blade out of my book bag. I always kept it there for safety because I did know that weirdos existed and that I stayed in the studio pretty late. But I prayed to God, I'd never have to use it. I left the recording booth and followed the strange voice.  I felt like a complete idiot, but hey, I'm trying to live to see tomorrow. At the opposite end of the hall, the lights to the women's bathroom was turned on and the door was open. I saw a shadow moving on the wall, which indicated the person was in the washroom.

"God please let me live", I said a single prayer and swallowed hard as I walked slowly down the hallway.

I'd walked this hallway a million times, but today  it seemed as though it was taking forever to get to the end. A cleaning cart rolled from the washroom into the hallway hitting the wall. I was relieved a little bit, assuming it was a janitor, but I still wanted to check to make sure.  I finally reached the bathroom door, I peered in and saw no one. I saw the door on the farthest stall away from the door move, and I stepped a little ways to see if I could see any one. I was able to catch a glimpse of someone in grey sweat pants and a white t-shirt . I looked in the mirror and it seemed he was pouring some blue liquid into the toilet.  I leaned against the edge of the sink.
"Excuse me" I tried to get his attention. He ignored me and continued to sing.

I could only see the back of his head, which was twisted in some god-forsaken nappy twisty things. He was overdue for a haircut.   

"Sir" I cleared my throat. He ignored me but stood up straight and flushed the toilet.  

"I love the way you walk"

"I love the way you talk"

"Grab somebody, show them how you work it"

"Work it"

I finally got up enough courage to tap his back, making sure my knife was ready if he tried anything. He jumped and turned around, which made me jump and scream. He took the headphones out of his ears.  "Damn man, you was about to get shot. I thought I was the only one here," he laughed.    "I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I thought the same thing." 

There was an awkward moment of silence, like time stopped for a moment. Neither one of us moved, we just starred into each other's eyes.  Despite his hair, which was absolutely atrocious he was extremely attractive. His skin was fair tone and his face was painted with light freckles, which brought out his deep brown eyes. He stood at about 6"2 slightly towering over me.

I could tell he was somewhere in my age range, as I was 19 and he looked to be no more than 20. The moment stopped when I saw him look at my hairline. The glue from my lace front began to wear off which left the lace was clearly visible. I cleared my throat, and ran my fingers through my hair.

"My bad. I'm Keith.  He introduced himself. "I'm Mocha." I held out my hand for him to shake on impulse not realizing he was just cleaning.   "I would shake your hand but..." he lifted his hands to indicate the clear gloves and liquid over them.

"It's fine. It's a pleasure to meet you Keith."  He bursted into laughter.  "What's funny," I asked confused. "Why you say it like that?"   "Say what" I scrunched my face unsure of what he was talking about. "It's a pleasure to meet you Keith" he mocked me in a white person's professional voice.   "I didn't sound like that," I rolled my eyes.  "Listen. It's almost ten o'clock and on top of that we in a bathroom. You ain't got to be professional with me" he gathered his cleaning materials.   "How should I have said it," I turned to face him as he washed his hands. "You know, something like, what's up Keith. Not no, "It's a pleasure to meet you Keith " he mocked me again and bursted into laughter drying his hands.   "Isn't it past your bedtime," I gave in and laughed, because his laughter was so contagious. "That's your way of asking me if we old enough to date," he stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes looking at me.

"What", I said as I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm just joking with you," he smirked. I followed him into the hall and watched as he put his things on his cleaning cart. "I'm going to go back in the booth but wanted to tell you, you had a nice voice."   "Thank you," he smiled. "You have a nice night Mocha" he mocked my voice again. "You not funny," I rolled my eyes and laughed as I headed back to my office.  I closed the door, and cheesed extra hard at what just happened. "Keith eh?..Hm" I shook my head and went back to work.  

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