"You’ll have it by the end of the day tomorrow, Mike, I promise." the voice said.

An unintelligible response was given by the other party and the voice said again, "Have I ever actually been late? I mean, I know I come a little too close some times, but I always make it, right?"

there was a silent moment and then the door handle turned and Noah walked in. he nervously tussled his hair in a manner that he thought was endearing and walked into the room, quickly closing the door behind him.

Noah glanced at the bed. A pile of clothes slumped over half of the bed onto the floor. The bed had not been slept in for several months and when Noah had been in the bed, he had been too occupied to actually get some rest. He placed his canvas knapsack on the bed and walked past it to the computer.  He flicked the mouse and the screen came to life.

Several hours later, Noah had confirmed his worst fear.  There were no hook-ups that would work out and he was bored talking with his friends and people who lived several states away.  Noah felt anxious and trapped.  He knew that it was the effects of coming down.  When Noah had first started, he was guaranteed an hour or so of paradise and then 10 hours of even flow.  Now, the tides came and left in half the time.

Noah stripped down to his briefs, pushed aside a pile of clothing, lay on his back and closed his eyes.

There was a moment of blackness and then he was conscious again.  Noah was aware of the smell of his sheets and made a mental note to clean them.  The laudromat was literally on the corner next to his building.  If the wall wasn’t there outside his window, he could see it.  Yet, he could never make the time to make a trip for a single load.  most of his clothes were only worn for an hour total each day, so with a little fabric sweetener, he could make them last, but there was no remedy for the sheets but to bite the bullet and walk 50 feet to the 24hr laundromat.

Noah lay still while his consciousness reach out around him.  Then came the sound.  It was the sound of metal scraping on stone.  Noah bolted up.  The windows of the room were semi-draped with an extra sheet that undulated around the bar over the window that held the dilapidated blinds that came with the room in the flat.  The windows gave the occupant a beautiful view of a brick wall and beyond that was the back of convenience store.  the area was riddled with homeless people and the small alleyway behind the apartment building made a very cozy place to crash when you had no place to go.  For reasons of privacy, Noah had long ago draped an old sheet on the windows to keep what was going on in his room as private as possible.  During the day, the sun poked though the places that the sheet didn't cover casting various motley shafts of light for the dust motes to settle through, during the afternoon.

 Noah’s first instinct was to panic and then control himself.  He had started to lay back and catch up on a few days' sleep when he heard the sound again.  Metal scraping stone, like a knife being sharpened.  From the darkness of the room, Noah had the advantage.  Stray beams from the streetlight bounced off of the glass of his windows and reflected on the wall, giving him more visibility than someone from outside the room.  A cool night breeze wafted over his bare skin and he shivered slightly.  Noah unhooked the screen and removed it from the window.  A voice shot from the darkness.

"Oh, my...hello."

Startled, Noah looked down and standing below his window was Andy Warhol.

VVV 

Section 2

 An art history major in college, Noah was sure of what he was seeing, but it was impossible.  'I’ve lost my bloody mind', Noah thought quietly.  He was wearing a black suit with a skinny black tie and his large trademark glasses.   

"Umm, hi?" Noah said.

 "ahhh...yess. You should put something on...I’m not complaining, but it gets cold out here."

"Aren’t you-?"

"Yeah, every wonderful bit of me." Warhol smiled.

"Yeah, but you're dead..."

"You have no manners.  Go get something and put it on. I’m not going to stand out here forever..."

A dazed Noah simply nodded and found a pair of blue jeans for the top of a pile and slid them on.  He grabbed a hoodie and went back to the window.

 "You want me to come with you?"

Warhol nodded.

"Where?"

 "It’s easier to show you, just come on..."said Andy Warhol with an affected wave.

 Noah mulled it over for a few seconds.  He weighed out all of the possible consequences of jumping out of his window, but then realized that Andy Warhol was standing under his window and that all rules pretty much went out the window, so to speak.  Noah had done crazier things with living people.  And with a shrug of his shoulders, Noah grabbed his keys and vaulted out of the window and into the alley.

Warhol nodded his approval and started to walk down the alley. Noah followed him, taking note of the blonde hair and the walk.  You had to hand it to this guy, if he was an actor, he was doing a fairly good job.  He had to be an actor.  Andy Warhol was dead.  right?  one had to wonder why someone dressed up as Andy Warhol would come to his window in the middle of the night and urge him to follow.  this was Los Angeles, it could be some kind of ingenius con scheme, or a setup for a robbery.  a quiet anxiety slid up Noah’s spine and grabbed him by the back of the neck.