Page 7 of Standing In The Sun

Somberly, he slid into the backseat of the truck with Mav hopping into the driver’s seat.

“Your impulses gon’ get you into some shit we can’t get you out of, Lunar.” Tiny twisted her body to face him. “What be going through your mind?”

“So I was supposed to just let that nigga hit me?”

“You weren’t supposed to taunt him! Then you out here acting like you was deep in love with Apple. Don’t get me wrong, I like her, but you ain’t in love with that girl enough to be doing all that. You just hate that she’s better at being you than you are.” Tiny tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were sharp with judgment.

“Okay, mama,” Lunar mumbled, tired of the conversation. It wasn’t like she was wrong, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

Apple moving on stung more than he wanted to acknowledge. He didn’t love her… not really, but he could see himself loving her or at least that’s what his mind kept trying to convince him.

Apple was beautiful and ambitious – a go-getter like him. Born into a struggle but raised with a silver spoon—just like him too.

The first time he met her at one of her new clubs in Madison Heights, he was drawn in immediately. She was tall, statuesque, and carried herself like she already owned the world. It wasn’t even surprising when he found out she was from Emerald City. There was a whole pipeline of Black nepo babies making their way from there to Madison Heights.

Their friendship had been easy, natural, and before long, it shifted into something more.

When Lunar finally brought up making things official, Apple hesitated. She pulled back with sweet promises, telling him she just wasn’t ready yet, promising that she’d come find him when she was.

…because Lunar was just that special.

At least, that’s what she said.

Now, he wasn’t feeling so special and Apple wasn’t there to reassure him. Instead, she was somewhere with the next nigga nursing his wounds. Bently was a ball player like her daddy so Lunar knew she saw forever in him.

“Do you hear me?” Tiny asked, pulling him from his hungover state of being.

Lunar swiped his tongue across his dry lips. “Nah…my bad, ma.”

Kissing her teeth, Tiny looked over at her husband giving him the signal to lay it on Lunar. They had made a plan and now it was time to execute it. Lunar’s name was always buzzing in the blogs with negative gossip and she didn’t want that for him. As far as she was concerned, it was time for her son to get away from all this drama and lock in with his music.

Lunar caught the look between his parents and sat up. “What y’all got going on?”

Mav gripped his wife’s hand. “Son, I think you should go out to Jade City, away from the bullshit and focus on your next steps. Somewhere that don’t care how many streams you got or who your mama is. Somewhere that gon’ force you to just be.”

He laughed. Lunar’s head fell back as the loudest chuckle filled the truck. “Y’all know I’m grown, right?”

“And you know I will still beat your ass, right?” Tiny snapped back. “If you so grown, then be grown and stop doing little boy ass shit!”

“Ma, I’m not trying to disrespect you but you gotta give me a little leeway.”

Mav slammed on the breaks, not giving a damn about anyone behind him. “Lunar, you gotta walk light when it comes to your mama. I know I let you get away with a lot but that rah rah shit with your mama not gon’ fly, bro.”

Lunar knew better than to puff his chest up with his Pops, ’cause one thing Mav didn’t do was play about his wife. Instead, he only kissed his teeth while sitting back.

Mav pulled back into traffic before he continued talking. “We think it’s best for you to spend some time at the Jade City house. Ain’t too much for you to get into out that way and you really need to put your head down and work.”

“Don’t sound like I really have a choice,” Lunar mumbled under his breath.

“And don’t.” Tiny pursed her lips and crossed her arms, signaling the conversation was over.

Even if Lunar couldn’t figure out how to save himself, he had to at least try—for them.

two

The smellof burnt pancakes clung to the air, stubborn and sweet.

Ahvi stood at the counter in an oversized tee with a hole in the shoulder, balancing Kamari on one hip while trying to scrape the half-browned mess out of the pan with the other. Her curls were pulled into a lazy bun that had given up around 9am, and her left slipper was missing. It was probably somewhere under the play pen.

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