you to pieces if I can’t pay my fuckin’ bills on account of you. If you make me lose this job, I will stomp your ass into the fucking ground, slap a price tag on you, and tell everyone that you’re a new rug.”
Shane smiled as he nodded to the words, as if he were being let in on a funny ass secret.
“Calm down! Damn. You don’t have to spaz. Chill tha fuck out.” King ran his hand over his mouth, dragging his lips down before placing his hands on his hips. He tried with all of his might to control himself, keep his composure. Shane managed to get under his skin at times, and the bastard knew it. Just like a true blood brother. “See? Over here threatenin’ mothafuckas…” Shane snatched the same shirt that was on the mannequin off the rack as if it had called his mother a bitch, and tucked it under his armpit. “You from tha hood like the rest of us. Nigga.” Shane chuckled, then spun around, checking out the neatly stacked bowties, arranged by color. “Who tha fuck out here wearin’ bowties ’cept Farrakhan and someone with the last name Poindexter?”
“Do you want that shirt or not, Shane?”
“Yeah, I want it.” Shane held it tight, as if it were already bought and paid for.
“I can give you a ten percent discount. That’s it.”
Suddenly, Ricky came through the door. All heads turned in the big boss’ direction. The air grew stiff and the two cashiers, one brown-haired, long-lashed Dominican in a tight pink shirt that showed ample cleavage and a curvy chick in six-inch heels, with dark red hair that came down to her ass, stood to attention. Everything stilled as if the man in charge were God himself.
“Hello, hello! ¡Hola a todos!” Ricky greeted with a dazzling smile over the classic jazz music. “I’m the owner, my good man. Anything I can help you with today?”
King took the moment to turn to Shane and say in warning, “That’s my boss.”
“I figured. He looks a little like an older version of Hector Luis Bustamante.”
“Yeah, that’s all good, Shane, but I mean what I said. Unless you want to be rolled up in a furniture showroom to be bought and placed on someone’s floor, the first Black oriental rug to hit the scene, don’t say anything slick.”
“Keep on threatenin’ my life, you big Bluto from Popeye, King Triton lookin’ mothafucka, and I will grab that mic up front and tell everybody up in this joint how you farted in class when you was flirtin’ with Tonya in the eighth grade. ’Member?” Shane began to cackle loudly, the type of laughter that rolled from the depths of one’s gut. “You bent over, tried to be all cool, and before ya know it, that shit ripped in surround sound stereo! Sounded like five horns, trumpets and clarinets ’nd shit. You musta had beans that morning! Needless to say, you didn’t get any ass that day, ’cept your own!”
King could feel his face heating. Before he could snatch Shane up like a piece of trash that needed plucked and tossed, Ricky approached in one of his custom white suits, his shoes patting the floor like drumsticks.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
“Hello, Ricky.” King tossed on a smile.
“What’s up, Ricky?” Shane grinned like a shark in pursuit. His eyes glistened as he looked Ricky up and down, as if he were trying to assess him, figure him out. “I’m a friend of King’s, just came in to see how a mothafu—how my brother was doing. You know, fitting in with the new job and all.”
“That’s nice of you. What a great friend you are.” Ricky sounded a bit patronizing, but one could never be totally certain. He patted Shane on the shoulder. “King is excellent. Charismatic yet classy, well versed and a quick study. He trained quite fast, didn’t have to go over anything twice. He got it the first time and he’s sharp. So, needless to say, he’s doing great, really great. I’ve had him on… how long? Three weeks now?”
“Yes. It’s been three weeks,” King corroborated.
“Fantastic. He’s a great asset here. Nice to meet you, Shane.” Ricky extended his right hand, two of his fingers adorned with chunky rings.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“I see you’ve selected a nice shirt there. The one ya got balled up under your pit.”
King swallowed, trying to not laugh at Ricky’s obvious annoyance at the way the garment was being handled, and trying to not think