Beyoncé Knowles
It's pushing the end of February and Shawn and I are fighting against the traffic of people on the sidewalk.
Our articles are due in four months from now.
We are still looking for inspirations for our stories. It's a struggle because we are at a loss and Philips keeps knocking down every idea. It's like being a chicken with it's head cut off. You run in one direction then back the other way. It's like a shot in the dark with what might satisfy Philips and his vision for this new extravagant "never been done yet" edition.
What else would we be able to tell a compelling story about? How many homeless people have threatened to push me into oncoming traffic as I was confused trying to read from my paper map and then the map on sidewalk signs?
Shawn and I got some donuts and coffee from a local shop and we've just been venting to eachother, completely annoyed by our boss.
"I mean.. you wanna tell me that the rap scene in New York wasn't impactful to rap all across the US? Especially earlier rap? I could've really been able to push an article like that. I don't understand what he means by "too" urban. Does he want us to talk about the state bird or plant?" I chuckle. "He's ridiculous and I'm really gonna just say fuck it and write about rap culture."
"I mean if we can't find something to jog inspiration after today..." I bite into my donut. "Do it."
Shawn is about to respond to me but his phone rings. He picks up and answers, not even being able to get a greeting through before his facial expression hardens into one of defense.
Shawn is frantic and distressed within seconds of answering the caller.
He looks to me and the street. Then back and forth.
We're a long ways outside of Manhattan.
"Shit, look, Beyoncé. I know you don't know your way around here yet. Wanna come with me? I gotta do something real quick."
"Sure."
In an instant, I am pulled into a Taxi and Shawn slides into the backseat with me.
He's frantic, like a whole other person. His energy had completely shifted. Makes me wonder if I should be fewrful about what we're going into. Where we're going into.
"Gets as close to queens as you can! Southside Jamaica!"
"Southside?!" The driver responds with wide eyes and disbelief.
"Like I said, get me as close as you can to it!"
My heart is going a mile a minute.
"Shawn where—-"
"To my brother's place. Don't worry not dangerous."
"Do you swear on your life?"
"I swear on everyone that I love."
The drive to Southside Jamaica—- or close to it begins.
Eventually the bright manhattan streets turn into duller looking suburbs until the houses begin to look a little more broken down. I look to Shawn wondering if he's lied to me about this place being dangerous or not.
