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A profile picture of a blonde woman wearing a low-cut top sent a very pointed image: "Hi, saw your photos, so charming. Are you free to et Saturday night? I'm in the North Side." Attached was a hotel address.
A blurry selfie profile picture: "Oh~, daddy, I want one-on-one guidance. I can pay double." There was also a picture of a whip.
"Followers for sale, likes and comnts, affordable prices, DM for quotes."
...
What the hell was all this?
He had anticipated being questioned, being asked about training thods, or even being mocked.
But these private ssages aiming straight for his crotch, treating him directly as a gigolo, were a bit beyond his initial expectations.
It seed that no matter the era, so underlying logic of the internet ecosystem remained similar.
He glanced at the follower count again. Yesterday it was 0; now it showed 17 followers.
A few profile pictures looked like fitness enthusiasts.
The growth rate was okay. Although half of them were guys with raging hormones and half were just watching the show.
But so activity was better than a stagnant pool.
He deleted those ssy private ssages directly, exited the interface, edited the comparison photo with Kevin, and added a simple caption: "Change starts with acknowledging the status quo. South Side Iron Gym, 30-day witness, Day 1."
Done with this, he put away his phone and looked at Kevin, who was still groaning.
"Kevin, rember to keep your Thursday afternoon free. We need to show those West Siders the charm of us South Siders."
Kevin let out a long moan, then babbled incoherently.
"I finally understand why so people like BDSM now. They probably feel like I do now. You say do another set, or when to train, and I actually do it."
"I don't want to in my heart a thousand tis, but my mouth says Yes, and I even enjoy it a little? Do we actually just want soone to make decisions for us?"
"Thanks for the complint. Also, Kevin, are you fcking gay?"
"Um..."
Shane looked at Kevin; he seed to start seriously considering if he was gay.
"Shit, stop pondering these philosophical questions. You won't figure it out. Rember, Thursday afternoon at 4:30. Don't be late."
Shane said as he walked out of the warehouse and closed the door.
Bang—
Lip kicked the door open.
Then he jumped out of the car.
Today was his first day running the breakfast stall with Fiona.
Still a bit sleepy, he pulled open the rear door of the car. "Fiona, I swear, this is the first ti in my life I got up at 5 AM. Pulling all-nighters doesn't count."
"Then you should be awake now. It's going to be busier than yesterday noon later."
Lip shook his head on the spot and jumped a few tis. "By the way, what about your fixed part-ti jobs? Did you quit them all? What if this breakfast stall can't go on? What will you do?"
He rembered so of Fiona's part-ti jobs were long-term ones.
Fiona moved the last insulated box down from the car and laughed.
"Haha, what are you thinking? I told the manager at Go-Go that you had sudden appendicitis and needed care. Then I told that an bitch at the corner fast-food joint that you broke your leg while running on the street and had to lie at ho for a month or two."
"Now the managers and bosses in that area probably all think the Gallagher family produced a sickly invalid who falls apart after taking two steps."
"What?" Lip's face was full of question marks. "Why did you pin this 'paralysis' rumor on alone?"
Fiona lifted the insulated box, signaling Lip to walk with her.
"Shane looks strong now, unlikely to get sick; Ian goes to exercise every day. If I told people sothing happened to them, they wouldn't believe it."
Before long, their stall was almost set up. The sky began to brighten, and scattered people started to appear on the street.
While Fiona was arranging things, Lip tapped her shoulder. She looked in the direction Lip pointed.
About 50 ters upstream from their stall, two new stalls had been set up at so point—one selling hot dogs, the other selling bagels with cream cheese.
"Fck." Fiona cursed in a low voice.
The situation Shane had predicted earlier had indeed occurred. Vendors were neither fools nor blind. Where there was high foot traffic, they would naturally gather, wanting a slice of the pie.
"Fcking diversion is here."
Lip watched as several office workers who were originally heading their way got attracted by the hot dog and bagel stalls.
"We can't help it," Fiona withdrew her gaze.
"Shane said, in this situation, we can only let nature take its course. Anyway, earning more or less, this money is steady for now. Hurry up and prepare, people are coming."
After 9 AM, the morning peak began to fade.
Fiona looked at the money box, which obviously had fewer bills than before, her brows furrowed tight.
But she didn't think much of it. Just as she closed the lid and prepared to pack up, a man wearing a leather jacket and a baseball cap sauntered over.
He looked at Fiona and Lip with unkind eyes.
"Hey, you're occupying my spot."
Fiona and Lip looked at him simultaneously.
Lip retorted directly: "Does this place have your na on it? Or does where you piss count as your territory?"
The man grinned, revealing yellow-stained teeth.
"Kid, you don't understand the rules. This street, from here to that fire hydrant, was my territory before. I just didn't co for a week, and you guys are quite good at picking up scraps. Now, either get lost tomorrow, or—"
He rubbed his fingers, the aning very obvious—pay up.
"Fck you." Lip cursed back directly.
"Tough mouth." The man took a step forward. "That Asian kid who looked like he could fight didn't co today, just you two left?"
Seeing the conflict about to escalate, Marcus suddenly appeared behind the man.
"Get lost! You fcking looking for trouble here?" Marcus stood between them. "Get the fck away. Haven't seen you for a week, and you still have the face to co?"
Seeing Marcus, the man's montum weakened a bit, but his mouth remained tough: "Marcus, this is none of your business."
"Bullshit, they're under my protection now." Marcus pointed directly at his nose. "Get lost imdiately. Talk any more fcking nonsense, and don't think about leaving today."
The man's face changed. He didn't expect Marcus to react so strongly.
He looked at Fiona, whose hand was obviously already in her pocket, wanting to pull sothing out, and then at Lip, who had already picked up a folding stool, ready to fight at any ti.
Actually, he ca over today mainly because he saw Shane wasn't there and wanted to test if these two were soft and could be scared away.
Also, so old vendors gave him so money, wanting him to co over and intimidate them, so he just ca along.
"Fine, fine, fine, you just wait." He could only leave a weightless threat and turned to leave.
Getting beaten up for a little money was obviously not worth it.
Seeing him walk away, Marcus turned to Lip and Fiona and said: "This kind of guy is a bully who fears the strong. He saw your business is good and got jealous. He didn't dare co when Shane was here."
Fiona breathed a sigh of relief and released the pepper spray in her pocket. "Thank you, Marcus."
Marcus waved his hand.
"Just thanks is useless, Fiona. Shane can't always be absent. I reckon this hooligan ca today partly because so old vendors asked him to. Either you figure out a way to have Shane show his face from ti to ti, or you have to think of other ways yourselves. To set up a stall on this street, just knowing how to sell things isn't enough."
Fiona and Lip looked at each other, understanding Marcus's aning.
The two of them, one woman and one high school student who didn't look like he could fight much, setting up a stall in the South Side, were indeed easy targets to be seen as fat sheep.
Also, their breakfast stall had indeed stolen a lot of foot traffic during this period. With more traffic here, other vendors earned less money.
Marcus turned and left, and the two began to pack up the stall silently.
Now, Shane's plan of earning money steadily seed sowhat feeble in the face of street reality.
After loading everything into the car, Lip looked out the window and suddenly said: "Fiona."
"What? Go back and tell Shane directly, or do you have any thod?"
"Um... I was thinking, how about you call Tony and ask him to co buy breakfast tomorrow?"
Sitting in the driver's seat, Fiona turned to look at Lip, her expression sowhat uncomprehending: "Tony?"
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