xiv.

06:00

November

Tony's Pub

Zelda

"Thanks for coming, Zelda," Tony said his usual greeting when I came here. "I'll get your supplies while you shower."

I thanked him and went to take a quick shower in the narrow bathroom located at back of the pub. Within five minutes, I got back to the bar in a fresh set of clothes, my hair up in an effortless bun. As Tony promised, the cans of spray paint, paint brushes and a box of paint in tubes I brought here were already set on a mini work station near the wall, waiting for me to get to work.

Tony appeared again with a small bucket of water. "Here you go, sweetheart. Work your magic. Tyler would be here any second now."

I plugged in my earphones, then grabbed a can of spray paint and shook it. "Cool."

He left me to work after that, getting ready to go the bed as soon as his nephew came to clean the place up for him and continue their daytime business. They were one of the rare pubs that opened 24/7, even though they only started doing it when Tyler was legal. Tony didn't let anyone illegal step foot into the pub until me, not even his own blood. Maybe especially his own blood. I couldn't be sure.

I was humming along to the Pirates of the Carribean official score when I heard the door of the pub open. I didn't bother looking away from the mural. "Hey there."

"Hello to you too, Zelda," Tyler said, somewhere behind me. "How long are you staying here for today?"

"Till nine, at least."

"Did my uncle mention anything about giving you a rise?"

"The $40 per hour offer? He told me yesterday," I replied, matching his nonchalent tone, but simply because I was still in deep focus. "I can't. It's too much. I'm not even doing anything special. And I'm using your shower. It's a pretty fair deal to me."

"He has the money, Zelda, let him," Tyler said, successfully following his uncle's footsteps. "Good artists are hard to come by."

I couldn't help but snort. "That's kinda pushing it, Ty. I'm like, mediocore, at most."

"I bet that's why he wanted to give you a rise."

I turned around to give him a look. He shrugged, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed, watching me. When he didn't give me any other reaction, I rolled my eyes and turned back.

"There's no point, anyway," I told him, pulling my attention back to my work. "This should be done within my next visit. Actually, I might stay here longer to try to get it done today. I would be studying a lot more soon. I won't have time to work on this anymore."

"Shame. We were going to ask you if you wanted to paint some of the doors, too."

"Sure thing. It'll have to wait, though."

"Will you accept the rise then?"

"Tyler, come on. Give the money to charity or something. I'm earning what is worth. Nothing more."

"That is my uncle's way of showing affection and favourtism. I'm pretty sure you're the only girl I talk to that he likes."

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. "Oh, get out. And do you have nothing else to do? Get working, dude. Stop slacking off."

"Fine, boss." I heard footsteps, then the clear sound of glasses.

"Good try, man, but you don't sass me."

"Aren't your friends and family worried about you going out so early for so long?" he asked, swiftly but not very subtly changing the subject.

To say I was amused would be an understatement. "Ha! You're funny. Do you know at what sort of hours do I get back on normal school days back in Hong Kong?"

"When?"

"Around half past ten. Actually, my entire lifestyle and living habits are pretty worrying and questionable. I think everybody is more or less used to it now. It's all good."

"Aren't you just a wild fellow? I didn't think you'd be the party hard type of girl."

"Don't be silly. The only parties I go to are pity parties. That I throw. For myself. I'm about as interesting as a freaking rock."

He laughed. "I think you're pretty interesting. Why can't girls my age be more like you?"

I scoffed without even a beat of hesitation. "You've never exactly tried looking for them, now, have you?"

"Oops. Guilty as charged."

The rest of the morning went on like that, a discontinuous conversation going on between Tyler and I as people started filling the pub again. It was all new to me, since I usually left before people arrived to avoid gossip and rumours. This time, I had pulled up hood of my hoodie when the first customer arrived. But I stayed, and I continued.

Quiet chatters sounded in different corners, complimented by heavy chairs being dragged on the floor and the tick-tocks and sizzling of my spray paints. Sometimes, when the pub was quiet enough and people had stopped secretly asking Tyler questions about me, you could hear the water in the bucket splashing when I cleaned my brushes among the news reports playing on TV. I could feel people's curious gazes on me, on the reds and blues I was putting on the wall. I didn't know what they were hoping to see, but I could just feel the invisible weight of their expectations pressing down on me.

I wondered how weird the whole scene must have looked, despite how calming I felt in it. I could almost see myself like this in the future- me, doing what I liked. I was working with my friends, and I was paid regularly and generously... People were judging, but that was okay. Some of them always would. Point was, I would still be content.

Key word: almost.

Deep down, I've always known I would want more- life is too short for anything less than 100%. And I would get more, because I had never settled for less, nor do I plan on ever doing so. (Don't believe them. It'ts not impossible.)

(Just watch.)