modeling or shit like that because I was never into it before. Shane has modeled for some urban ads, but he’s been doing that since he was like ten or eleven years old.
“So, you think like your agent or somebody would really maybe get me a print ad or something?” He hated even having to ask, but it was too late now.
“Hell yeah. The piercings, olive skin, eyes and all that shit… Straight hair and that big, black grizzly bear beard. Bitches go crazy over beards now, too. That’s a selling point.”
“If you say so.” King reached inside his coat pocket for his pack of gum, handed one to Shane and treated himself to a stick.
“I keep telling you to talk to my agent, get some modeling gigs. You’re not conventional, no, but a lot of these publications are into more mature men now, and not the cookie cutter preppie boy type. I get a nice little check when they book me every now and again.”
“I don’t know, man. I just think I’d find that uncomfortable.”
“Why? You do art modeling? You told me that you’ve posed for art classes plenty of times.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not. You know we just straight up hustle and I’m just trying to put you on, but suit yourself.” He shrugged. “Anyway, when was the last time you were in a relationship, man?” Shane questioned.
“Last year.”
“Nah, I think you’ve got it wrong. It was Mimi, right?”
“Yes.”
“That was almost two years ago.”
“You’re keeping tabs on me now? Got a written timeline?” King was impressed though. Shane didn’t recall what he’d told him the day before most times, but he clearly remembered something like this.
“Not tabs. I just know because we hung out a lot back then. Anyway, maybe I need to be like you. Stop taking these hoes so seriously.”
“That’s your problem. You see them as hoes. If you go into it with a certain idea, you’ll make sure they live up to it.” They glared at one another for a spell.
“I can’t make a ho be a ho, King. She was like that before I met her.”
“You missed my point, but even if all of that is true, I’m not trying to get into anything right now, you know, the whole dating thing. I know most of our friends are married with kids now. It’s just you and me left, really; well, you have Jahan and Kendal.” These were Shane’s twin son and daughter from a woman he’d dated seven years ago. Despite Shane’s flaws and at times childish behavior, the man was a damn good father. “It’s just not what I’m really trying to do; at least, not right now.”
“I think marriage is bullshit honestly, King, but I could dig trying to settle down eventually. Right now, after all the shit Kiara took me through, I’m just going to enjoy my freedom for a little while.” King nodded in agreement. “I see we’re on the same page with that piece of paper bullshit, though.”
“I’m not saying never to getting married, don’t get me wrong, but I’d rather concentrate on my art, the shows I have coming up, and getting some stable income. I have bigger things to address than chasing some ass and trying to settle down right now.”
“I hear you, man.” The train began to approach. “Finally. Shit. I ’bout fell asleep standing up, we’ve been waiting here so long.” They waited side-by-side, ready to board at any second. He wanted to get home, shower, gather his supplies, and try to get to the club and paint. Get that money. Not only that, he wanted to catch up with his friends and hear some good music, have a few drinks, even dance a little if he had time. “Yeah, King, tonight is going to be lit. I wonder if—”
“Let’s go, bitch!” a male voice commanded. The approaching train grew louder as King turned his head in the direction of the voice to see a woman struggling with a guy twice her size. She stumbled and fell down on her knees as he swung his fist, beating her about the chest and face.
“Ahhh! Somebody help me! Please!” she yelled, her voice crawling from an abyss of pain, tinted in tainted tremors of terror. People watched, still like urban statues, eyes glued to the scene. Some pulled out their phones, perhaps to call for help, but no one approached. It was a reverse zoo.
“What the fuck is he doin’?” Shane exclaimed, stepping to the side of