Calliope glanced all around at the concrete walls surrounding what looked like a cement factory. On the other side of the street, a windowless brick building ran the length of the block. That wasn’t what had captured her attention, however. Nearly every inch of concrete and brick had been graffitied. Bold, vibrant designs lit what would have otherwise been a desolate expanse. At the end of the block two teenagers, a boy and a girl dressed alike in jeans and hoodies, were tagging a blank spot on the wall.
“Let’s go watch,” she said.
Tox stopped her. “They’ll run off. It’s technically vandalism. If they don’t know you, they don’t trust you.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” Calliope watched from a distance as the teens wielded spray paint like samurai warriors. “This is amazing.”
“Ever heard of 5Pointz?”
Calliope’s eyes sparked. “I think so. It’s a street artist collective in Queens.”
“It was this huge factory space. Street artists turned the exterior into their canvas.”
“Was?”
“It was torn down a few years back. A lot of the artists migrated over here. This is a cement factory. Across the street is a movie studio.”
At the far corner of the block, a young man walked with purpose toward them. He too was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Tox took Calliope’s hand but it was more an act of possession than protection. The guy was wiry, average height. She wasn’t too worried.
“Yo.” The man extended his fist to Tox.
“Hey, brother. How’s it going?” Tox completed the first bump.
“Good. Really good.” He cast a glance at Calliope.
“Cal, this is Murmur. Murmur, Calliope.”
Calliope warmed unexpectedly at the way Tox had called her “Cal” but introduced her as “Calliope,” like the shortened version was only for him.
“Nice to meet you,” she smiled.
“Likewise.”
“Murmur’s a cool name.”
“It’s my tag. Murmur is a mythological demon.” He gave an impish smile that made him look even younger. “My real name is Martin.”
“I like Murmur,” Calliope said, assuring him she would use his artist moniker.
“Ready?” Tox placed his hand at the small of her back and gently moved her forward.
“Ready for what?”
“The tour.”
Calliope turned into Tox’s body, halting his progress.
“This is about to be the best date I’ve ever had.”
Tox leaned down, his breath a whisper across her ear causing a delicious chill. “Don’t jinx it.”
He turned her back in the right direction, and they meandered down the uneven sidewalk.
Murmur took them up and down blocks, pausing at work he found interesting or of note. Calliope wandered over to a vibrant, violent abstract.
“That’s Thrace. She’s incredible. Really talented.” Murmur stood shoulder to shoulder with Calliope, admiring the painting that took up an entire section of a concrete wall. Tox stood behind her ever the protector.
“See that huge crack in the concrete? How it fractures out like a web? Nobody wanted this section of the wall. Then Thrace comes out one night and tags it.”