The Deviant

by Tiana Laveen

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Naked Truth

  It had been a few years since he’d last shown his ass. Well, in this capacity.

  King entered the room smelling of fresh paint, eraser remnants, ointments and finishing sprays. He stepped into the bright space full of color and smiles where soft instrumental music played and college freshmen students huddled around a long wooden table with easels before them, sitting upright in chairs, talking amongst themselves. This was a detour from King’s regularly scheduled programming, but one worth the disruption all the same.

  He’d been leaving work one day, on his way out the door when he’d received a call from an art friend of his who was pals with an art professor in desperate need of a favor at the eleventh hour that Friday. They needed an experienced art model to fill in for their human form class. The other guy had something urgent come up last minute, and this drawing session counted as part of a test. So, King obliged. Besides, he’d been allowed to leave early since Ricky was there handling some other affairs. He’d planned to go home, rest, then go out to a bar with Shane and his brother Lucas, but that could wait until later in the day. I haven’t been to Pratt in a minute. I bet it’s changed a lot.

  King had done art modeling many times in the past with no issue, and had attended his share of similar assignments during his classes as well. Besides, it was a quick hundred and fifty dollars, a little extra pocket change. He figured he could use all the income he could muster, though his finances were far more stable as of late. He wanted to build his savings back up, and every little bit counted. Additionally, things would take a while with the shirt designs he was working on. The money would come slow initially, and on top of that, he was close to purchasing a car. He was also interested in beginning a search for a bigger apartment, mostly in Brooklyn but he hadn’t ruled out Midtown, wanting to get a change of scenery while remaining close to his family. Regardless, he was ready to step outside of Harlem. To try something new.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. Our model today is King Chrysalis.” The students greeted him, some waved, most looking rather studious. King smiled and waved back at the crowd of about twelve students. “King attended Pratt some years ago as well, and now has made quite a name for himself in the city. King’s expertise is in fine art, oil and acrylic painting, mixed media and murals. I bet many of you have seen his murals around the city and didn’t even know he was the artist. There’s one called ‘The Cure,’ which features different races of women and men huddled around one another, hugging. It’s in—”

  “Chelsea. I’ve seen it! It’s perfect. Real nice,” someone piped up.

  “That’s right, Sanders, it’s in Chelsea.”

  “King even taught a summer youth program here once. You can see his work in various places in the city and featured in art magazine publications, as well as online. He’s won numerous acknowledgements and awards, a true talent. He had an exhibit entitled ‘Deviant,’ correct?” The Professor looked his way.

  “Yes, that’s what it’s called, and it’s an ongoing theme for future shows.”

  “Yes, that’s right, and the last installment focused actually on how love, kindness, and being honest with one another is now seen as deviant. Normal is abnormal, and vice versa. A social and political barometer, if you will. The stunning display caused discussion all over the country. There was another exhibit in the Deviant art shows which focused on the emotions behind and during coitus. One of his most famous paintings, ‘Beat,’ one of my all-time favorites, featured a heart pulsating during a sexual climax. The heart was in 3-D color, looking as if you could reach inside the body and touch it, while the couple making love was depicted in black and white. Beautiful. King has received high acclaim and praise not only here in New York, but around the country. It’s a privilege to have you here, King. Thanks for coming today.”

  “No problem. Thank you for inviting me. That was a tremendous introduction, and I’m humbled by it.” King shook Professor Nassar’s hand, then began to disrobe. He was a bit rusty, but mentally prepared. He’d done plenty of art modeling. Sometimes nude, sometimes not, but he was fully capable of keeping the same pose for extended periods of time. He had the concentration and stamina. It didn’t really matter if he was in the buff or not. In these environments, it was almost like being at the doctor’s office. Clinical. There weren’t any worries, perversions, or ill motives – people were simply trying to work on their craft, perfect their talents. Seeing real life flesh, versus looking at one’s reflection or a picture in a book, was always better. The real thing trumped all. Once he was completely naked, he got on the low table everyone sat around, and stood in his first pose. Him standing with one leg slightly bent and his hands on his hips.

  He was to remain this way for five or so minutes, and only blink and breathe. It definitely was harder than it seemed, but he was used to it. It was far easier than the ad work he’d done just the prior week. Bright lights, hours of cameras going off in one’s face, having to re-take several poses, makeup and hair personnel zooming around every few minutes and having to deal with other models and actors, too. Though that pay had been more substantial, he much preferred this. It was more fluid. More natural. He did, however, have a renewed respect for Shane. The work his friend did wasn’t something that could be just done on a whim. It took skill. After a few minutes, the art professor interrupted to make an announcement.

  “Thirty more seconds, then he’ll change poses.” Several students began to draw a bit more aggressively, trying to rush to the finish line, while others turned the pages of their large drawing pads and waited. One woman off to his right had a flushed face. Her lower lip kept twitching, like a nervous compulsion she couldn’t rein in. She kept fidgeting, but had no problem staring at his dick. It took all of him to keep from laughing; she looked totally mortified and yet, oddly intrigued. Is it all the tattoos? Or maybe that I’m hairy as hell? He asked himself these questions, making light of it. Silly. He thought about cracking a joke to put her at ease, but thought better of it. Then, their gazes hooked. She broke her spell from pipe gazing, and realized his eyes were fixed on her. Her cheeks turned an even deeper hue of red.

  “Sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” she whispered, looking completely mortified. She turned away, shielding her face with her hand, as if the most horrible thing had happened. King smiled at her, then cleared his throat.

  “It’s all right. Relax.”

  She mustered a smile.

  “Uh, Professor Nassar, do you mind if I speak to all of the students for a second?”

  “No, go right ahead.”

  “Thanks. Most of you have done this many times – drawn nude models. It’s not your first rodeo. For some of you, however, this is your first time. I’ve been in your shoes, okay, and one thing is for certain: you have to look outside of the flesh, the body of the person, and focus on the curves, the lines, the natural design of their form.” The professor nodded in agreement. “Remove the aspect that it’s an arm, a jawline, a hair strand, and see it as an extension of yourself. Become familiar with it. Get comfortable. Pretend each curve and bend is a part of you, or maybe someone you’ve known for a long time. It can help you relax and focus. Some of you are probably struggling with this. Now in fairness, I don’t have the best vantage point from here, but if I were to guess, you’re so busy trying to get everything perfect that you are missing the process. The journey of the drawing is just as important as the finished product. Last but not least, if you get stuck or distracted, breathe. If you’re a little nervous, or you find this a bit funny, that’s okay, too. If you—”

  “There’s nothin’ funny about it.” A student burst out laughing, causing a few others to chuckle too, as if they knew exactly what he was going to say. “My girlfriend is in here, man. I should’ve made her skip class. You makin’ the guys in here look bad.”

  “Speak for yourself, little man. I’m packin’ too!” someone else yelled.

  The room erupted in laughter, forci
ng the professor to try and calm everyone down.

  “That’s enough, Jose. He’s our class clown.”

  King smirked and shook his head. There’s a Shane in every group. Gotta love ’em.

  “I should’ve sat up closer. Gah damn!” a young woman blurted. “I know your significant other is happy as hell! Real talk. The MVP is in the building, with thirty inches of Cobra Kai. Karate chop on that sexy ass.” The room erupted in laughter once again, this time louder than before.

  King bowed his head. His face heated, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the mirth from bubbling up. Freshmen. What did I expect?

  “No more interruptions from any of you, please. Let’s get serious. Continue with what you were saying, King,” the professor urged as he rolled his eyes at his class.

  “So, the last thing I was going to say is, whatever you’re feeling, pull from it. Use that. That’s what I do. I pour everything I’m feeling on the inside into my art. The things I don’t say with my mouth, I put on paper. Use your gift to serve you.”

  “That’s great advice, King. Thank you for sharing that with them. Okay, class, sixty seconds then onto the next pose…”

  The class continued for another thirty minutes. As the crowd cleared, he started putting his clothes back on. The professor had disappeared in a back area, then returned as he slid on his socks and sneakers.

  “King, I want to speak with you for a second before you go. I hope you’re not offended by what I have to say.”

  “If it’s anything along the lines of karate, then yes, I will be offended.” They both burst out laughing.

  “No, not that. Um, as you were modeling and the students were drawing, I checked out more of your art online. I wanted to see when you graduated, just out of curiosity, but noticed you hadn’t. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I left early to make some money. I was living on my own and the workload here at the time wasn’t allowing me to have a decent job, so I decided to leave.”

  “How do you feel about that in retrospect?” The professor tapped his finger to his chin, studying him from over his thin-rimmed glasses.

  King shrugged, then pulled on his black leather jacket.

  “I used to not really care, but now, I kinda do. Actually, let me take that back. Sometimes I cared in the past, too, but sometimes I didn’t. Lately, I do care more because I’m trying to have my own thing, not just make money by providing for others, and my boss and parents have encouraged me to return. I loved it here at Pratt.”

  “Is it possible you’d like to return? You know there are special adult scholarships and I could even talk to a couple of people if you want.”

  King mulled over what the man was saying.

  “I don’t actually need the degree, but I want it. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I completely understand what you mean. Even though it’s obvious you’ve made a great career for yourself, you could have even more prospects with the degree. I’m certain you have a busy schedule, but some classes can actually be taken online and even if it takes you a few years to finish, it may be worth it. The way you spoke to the students was great, by the way, and you’d probably make a great instructor, too, if you ever wished to go in that direction.”

  The two spoke for a while longer and exchanged contact information.

  “I mean what I said.” The professor walked with King to the door. “If you decide to return, I will definitely pull for you.”

  King felt a little odd right then. In the last several weeks, people had shown kindness, compassion, and understanding towards him. Some he didn’t know, others he did, but he had never expected such a thing. Even Ricky, who would in some ways remain someone he had suspicions about, truly did seem to value him.

  The attorney he’d met with had showed compassion, going above and beyond and ensuring that he would be okay, regardless of what Tomas was claiming and the strife he was causing. It was as if as soon as he let people get a bit closer, instead of proving him right, they’d proven him wrong. Ricky actually didn’t have to offer him an opportunity at all. The attorney could’ve worked the case like many others, but he showed great interest in keeping King out of jail and his record clean. Suri had never made him feel as if they couldn’t be together unless he adapted to her exact frame of mind.

  She accepted him as is. Sale final. Maybe he was changing. Maybe the metamorphosis had begun once he acquired a new set of eyes, a new vision, to see that not everyone was selfish and out for blood. Maybe that new vision consisted of beautiful clouds, and the world around them all in shades of red.

  “Call me anytime about this, all right? It’s not often we get a local celebrity in here to do this for us. They haven’t paid this much attention in class for weeks.” King laughed as they shook hands once more. “I could tell you’d be a great art mentor. The students truly enjoyed you and valued your opinion, despite the couple of silly comments.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool. Thanks. I appreciate that. Have a good day.”

  King left the building and took his time walking about in Brooklyn before jumping on a bus to head over to Park Slope, an area in the borough he was interested in possibly moving to. Once he arrived there, he took in the scenery. He enjoyed the neighborhood to the utmost, and could envision himself living there. It was nice, a bit quieter than where he’d grown up and the current location of his apartment. Yeah, I could definitely see myself here. Painting, working. Nice restaurants and bars. Bodegas and plenty of recreation. I could do this, relocate here.

  He slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.

  They should still be open. Since I’m out here, let me head over that way. He called an Uber and walked to the corner of Flatbush Avenue. Soon, a white Toyota Corolla pulled up, he got in and sat in the back.

  “Hey, how are you doing?” he asked the driver, a middle-aged Black woman with salt and pepper braids in a bun.

  “Great! You’re off to Brooklyn Automall, right?” She had a thick Jamaican accent. He loved Jamaican accents.

  “Yes, that’s where I’m headed.” He put on his seatbelt and stretched his legs. “Wanna get my own wheels.”

  “No more Ubers, huh?” She laughed as she pulled away from the curb.

  “Right, well, sometimes it’ll still be more convenient to catch the train or get an Uber.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, parking, things like that. I get it.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Do you know what kind of car you want to get?” She smiled, glancing at him through the rear-view mirror.

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll see. But one thing is certain. It’s got to be red…”

  “Oh, this is faaaancy!” Mom was so damn giddy as Suri escorted the woman inside Sunday in Brooklyn restaurant on Wythe Ave. The place was spread on two floors. Inside was a bar, a dining area, garden and bazaar. “Where’s this Mr. King, huh? I’m ready to meet and eat.” She was all decked up in her favorite blue pants suit.

  “He’ll be here soon. Hi, excuse me.” Suri went up to the reservation desk. “My boyfriend made a reservation for a party of three for brunch. It’s under the name Chrysalis.”

  The host scanned their roster and confirmed the reservation.

  “Your table will be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Great, thank you.” She took her mother’s arm and led her closer to the door to stand. The woman had a huge smile pasted on her face.

  “This is so nice. I haven’t been to brunch in I don’t know how long. Thank you for bringing me here. It’s a nice change.”

  “Well, it was King’s idea. He loves this place. He and I have been a couple of times.”

  “Can I smoke in here?” She began to rummage through her purse, looking for a cigarette no doubt.

  “Mom, no! You know you can’t smoke inside any restaurants anymore.” The woman rolled her big eyes and sucked her teeth. “You act like you haven’t been out the house since 1986, with ya
Jeri curl, red ‘Beat it’ jacket and leather parachute pants!” They both burst out laughing, tickled to death.

  “Well, shit, you said there was a bar in here so I figured maybe I could.” Her mother shrugged. “You know I was kidding about the cigarette, but I did think that since they had a bar, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “You have to go to a specific smoke or whiskey bar for that, like the one King took me to for our first official date.”

  Mom looked her up and down, lips twisted to the side as she really got silly about the matter.

  “Oh? So he’s been taking you to lavish smoke and whiskey bars, huh? You don’t even smoke and I know for a fact you don’t fool with any whiskey.”

  “He likes cigars, and it was the ambiance and music that hooked me. The food was great, actually. I’ll have to take you there sometime, too. Oh… here he comes.” King was walking to the door, and her heart thumped, her stomach filled with butterflies. No matter how many times they talk, kissed, made love, it always felt like the first time. He opened the front door and when he turned to his right, he spotted them.

  “Heeey.” He approached, his smile big and radiant. “You must be Suri’s mother. I’m King.” He extended his hand.

  “You damn sure are a king. My baby always gets these pretty ass men! Come on in here and give me a hug. You look like a big, sexy ass lumberjack teddy bear!” All three of them burst out laughing as King bent down to embrace her mother. Mom placed a kiss on his cheek to top it all off. “We haven’t been here long.”

  “You must’ve read my mind. I was just about to ask you that. I’m sorry for running a bit late. Traffic was slower than usual.”

  “Yeah, we noticed that in the Uber over here. It was backed up,” Suri added.

  “Well, I’ll be driving you both home. I got my new keys!” He dangled them in front of their faces.