Billy watched Marcus walk away and melt back into the crowd by the grill. For the rest of the night he smoked and mingled with the partygoers, never bothering to glance back in Billy’s direction. Something in her moved when Marcus spoke, something that hadn’t moved in a while. Glancing at the slightly crumpled business card in her damp palm, Billy decided that she’d give some serious thought to Marcus’s offer.

Paul sat in the basement of Marlene’s house, perched in front of an easel. Marlene had converted the basement into a makeshift studio where he could come and work when he was there. There were canvases and poster boards of all shapes and sizes at his disposal. Her thoughtfulness was just one of the many reasons why he was sure she was the one. Chicks in the hood weren’t built like his boo.

When he had first planted himself there, hours prior, it had been a blank, white canvas. Now it was host to blunt angles and vivid colors. Painting was something that always helped to sooth his nerves during tense times and Marlene definitely had him tense. She just couldn’t see why Paul was so reluctant to move in with her. He knew she meant well, and would gladly share all that she had with him, but that’s not how he wanted it. He had promised himself a long time ago that he would never have to lean on a woman.

When Paul was locked up, he had no choice but to depend on the kindness of others to help him get by. Larry would send him a letter or a few dollars every so often, but he knew that the man had his own life to live. The person whom he had expected to hold him down didn’t measure up.

When he had gone away, he and Rhonda were somewhat serious about their relationship. Though they didn’t have any kids together then, he had held her and her children down until the day they put him behind the wall. Rhonda would come up to visit sometimes or send him the occasional kite, but as far as keeping it gangsta, she had no idea what the phrase meant. Instead, Paul utilized his skills to get the things he needed. He did tattoos for those who wanted them and made holiday cards for inmates and COs. It wasn’t as lucrative within the prison as drugs or prostitution, but it beat the hell out of starving. Ever since then, he vowed to do for himself.