Love in All the Wrong Places

I’d been living on Travis’s couch for the past couple weeks and we were still getting along pretty well. I was still nowhere close to figuring out how to deal with all the crap back in Chicago, and nowhere close to figuring out Travis’s signature look for his promotional pieces. Needless to say, these last couple of weeks were spent doing a whole lot of nothing. I was getting stir crazy being in his apartment all day. What was worse was that I didn’t even have my sketchbook with me to even try to draft ideas. I left the damn thing in my room back in Chicago. I broke down and bought another sketchbook and sharpie pens in hopes of inducing some sort of idea for him. My mind was drawing blanks. Just when I thought that I was getting close to finding something I could use for him, he would do something that would take me by surprise, and that idea would be completely scrapped. This happened countless times. This whole appearance thing was becoming more and more of a challenge to figure out as time went on. To be honest, it was beginning to piss me off how picky he was about what his signature look would be. I understand the importance of discovering your “signature” but he was beginning to get ridiculous. Every little idea I presented he just shot down. All he would say is, “That’s not something I would typically wear.” What. Whatever. I was bound and determined to find something that would suit his picky taste.

I had spent a better part of today trying to come up with ideas when Travis burst through the door with the biggest grin on his face.

“Chris, today’s the day! I’ve found my look!”

I looked up from my sketchbook in my lap, and looked at him skeptically. I’m interested in seeing what he came up with; I was running out of ideas, which is saying something. He quickly closed the door behind him, keeping one of his hands behind his back, concealing whatever solution he had come up with. He told me to close my eyes because it was a surprise. I obliged and closed my eyes. I heard some shuffling around the apartment and was growing impatient. What was taking him so long? After a few minutes I heard him move back to his place right in front of me. He told me to open my eyes. I could only look in awestruck horror at what my eyes beheld.

“You’re serious about this Travis?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course! This is exactly what my image has been lacking and what will really help me get noticed!” he enthusiastically spoke.

“Ok then. Let’s work on your branding then.” I then turned back to my sketchbook to come up with ideas that centered around Travis’s new-found identity.

***

I was about half an hour into the new brainstorming phase when I heard Travis laughing hysterically beside me on the couch. I look up, disgruntled, and questioned what was so funny.

“God Christy, I really had you goin’ didn’t I? Ha. I never thought you’d take me seriously! The fact that you did and that I can see the results in your sketchbook makes this experience all the better!”

I deadpanned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Obviously I’m not serious about this!” He said, gesturing to his chicken-wearing-Elvis suit that he was currently adorning.

I just looked at him, unamused that he just wasted half an hour of my time coming up with ideas for a look he wasn’t even serious about.

“Travis, if you weren’t serious about this, why did you go through and make me believe you were? Furthermore, why did you waste your money buying this hideous costume? You’re barely making rent as it is, even with my contribution.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Chris, I didn’t waste my money. I wish that was the case. Unfortunately this is my new uniform for a 50s inspired chicken joint that just opened up. I was getting desperate for money, and this place was offering a job. The pay is actually not that bad to stand on the sidewalk in this for a few hours every day. Sorry for messing with your creative mojo or whatever. I just wanted to have a little fun. Geez.” He then got up and trudged off to his room.

I felt a bit bad then, but seriously, why waste my time and his with an idea he wasn’t seriously contemplating. I absolutely abhor wasting time when it comes to designing. Luckily I hadn’t gotten much further past the thumbnail stage. I decided to take a break for a while and clear my head. I put my sketchbook on the end table to my right. I sunk into the couch trying to figure out what to do when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was Emmett.