They headed down the concrete steps to jump on the 4 train. Once they got on the platform, it was clear that many people had just gotten off work.
Due to the cooler temperatures that day, the air was less humid. He appreciated the break from the oppressive heat. They stood about two feet apart, both of them rocking out to their music. They probably didn’t look like they were together, yet they were able to communicate with a simple head nod that, to many, would go unnoticed. He tried to find a decent song on his phone. Something that got him in the mood to chill or prepare for a night out. ‘Bittersweet’ by Lianne La Havas began to play.
“King?”
“Yeah?”
“So, you wanna split an Uber or just meet up there tonight?” Shane removed one of his earbuds, waiting for his answer.
“We can meet up. I got a few things to do first and don’t want to hold anyone up. We can ride back together.”
Shane nodded, put his earbud back in, and looked down at his phone. Moments later, Shane began yapping about some chick he’d met the week prior, and how her photos didn’t match how she looked in person. King half listened as they continued to wait. A gust of wind hit him, making him acutely aware of his surroundings right then. There were just so many people around, congregating, swarming.
“See, this catfishing shit, man, has got to stop. I mean, she wasn’t ugly, but she didn’t look anything like the pictures she has on Instagram. These hoes be filtering the fuck outta their pics, man. Be careful.”
“I don’t have to be careful. I meet women in person. I need to feel that vibe. Know if it’s real.”
“Feel that vibe? Do you remember who I am?” Shane smirked.
King’s face heated.
“What are you talking about?” King grinned, knowing damn well where this was going.
“Lyin’ ass… Man, your nickname at one time was Sir Fucks-a-lot. Get tha fuck outta here!” They both burst out laughing “Plus, you’re a pussy puller. You got that exotical look, that shit these women be goin’ for.”
“Exotical? You’re making up words now, I see.” He briefly looked down at his phone, thinking of selecting a different song. “You’re crazy.” He chuckled. “I don’t look exotic. You’ve seen my real dad, man. My father is pale as a piece of notebook paper, and my mother, despite being Brazilian—to be specific, Portuguese but from Brazil—isn’t much darker. They look like regular White people to me.”
“You being half Irish and half Brazilian, the White Brazilian kind, definitely still makes you exotical. It’s just a term from the urban dictionary.” Shane stroked his goatee.
“I have to get some money, Shane. For real.” He slipped his phone back in his pocket. “You know, ever since Dayz closed, I don’t get a weekly check. My mind is on my money.” Dayz was a shop that specialized in inventive, one-of-a-kind clothing from local artists. King had worked there for several years, supplementing his art career, but since they’d closed down, money had gotten tighter than a virgin.
“You’ll get something, man. Guys like you always land on your feet.”
“What do you mean, ‘Guys like me?’”
“You know – the exoticals.”
“Ahhh, man! Don’t start with that shit again!” King looked up at the ceiling and laughed. He could feel air brush against his exposed teeth.
“Man, you better listen to Shane, King! Look, if these women can use their looks to get shit, you should, too. You’ve got everything in your favor, there’s no excuse. You’re tall as fuck, you’ve got—”
“You’re like what, six-foot-one or something? You’re tall, too.”
“King, I’m tall, but you’re tall-tall. Your ass is like six-four and two hundred forty pounds. People hear you coming before they see you!” He smirked at that. “Big as shit, got the muscles all over the place. You a nice lookin’ guy. Use that shit. No homo, but I’m secure in my masculinity to tell you the truth.” Shane’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He knew these sorts of conversations made him uncomfortable.
“Just shut up.”
Shane laughed and started to pace, blowing off bored energy, no doubt. But King couldn’t help but replay his words. Perhaps he could somehow, in a legal and non-demeaning way, use himself as, well, art. I really do need some cash. Rent is going to be due again soon. Nah, That’s stupid. I’m thirty-four years old, going on thirty-five. I’m too old to try and get into any