Page 1 of Are You Going to Love Me

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. . .

“This shit got to change.”

The words were muttered into the chill of the Waynesville prespring evening air. It nipped Maximus’ face as he pulled his hoodie strings securely around his neck. He strolled out of the tiny apartment in the Hilltop Apartment Projects of Waynesville. Waynesville was divided into five sections – the hundred blocks of Trae Way, the opulence of Cashmere Lakes, and the gentrification, hustle, and bustle of Midtown, Uptown, and Downtown. On the outskirts in more rural areas were towns like Hasley, McCormick, Valleydale, and a few smaller cities.

Maximus had been in the apartments since his mother forced him into a life on the streets. His brother’s spot had too much going on, and Maximus felt comfortable being in plain sight. Trae Way was his home; he knew the streets, the people, the sounds, and the smells, and it all made him who he was.

Well, that and his multiple stints in the county jail added layers to who he was – at least the fabric he currently wore. His latest release came with instructions on holding down an actual job. A part-time gig flipping burgers and taking orders from someone else wasn’t going to cut it for him or his pockets.

He was still a hustler, but the need for something more burned deep in his spirit. More than running packs, breaking down product, and dividing it up through runners. There were the melodies he heard on a daily basis, rhymes he’d mumble to keep himself from slipping into the darkness. Which was a task when you were always surrounded by darkness.

Maximus’ worn black Air Force Ones trekked across the cracked pavement of the parking lot, catching Keon’s attention.

“C’mon, nigga. We got three pick-ups,” Keon stated as Maximus trotted to the van, reading Waynesville Medical Supply on the side of the faded green paint. “One drop off.”

Maximus stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweats after climbing into the van. “Where we droppin’ off to?”

Keon shrugged. “Mama said to take some tanks of oxygen to the Magnolia Apartments.”

Maximus’ face frowned. “We got work in Magnolia?”

“Nahhhh,” Keon dragged out as he took off out of the parking lot. “Something about her mother or some shit.”

Maximus’ thick, unkempt brows knitted. “Ain’t her momma Poppi?”

Keon nodded.

“Why the fuck she got her up in the Magnolia?”

Keon shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I don’t get involved in none of the shit Mama got going on personally. I make my drops, collect my paper, and keep it rollin’.”

“Heard that.”

“Speaking of keeping it rolling, you got some new raps, some shit for JoyCloud?” Keon posed.

Maximus winced. “I been home a week, nigga.”

“Exactly, muthafucka, you been home a week. Where the heat at? Where’s the – fresh outta county got my swerve on?” Keon tried to rap one of Maximus’ songs.

“First of all, nigga, don’t fuck up my shit like that,” Maximus pointed with laughter. “Second, ain’t no fucking time. We drivin’ this fuckin’ medical van, making drops all damn day and at night, we movin’ up and down the block.”

“You makin’ excuses, nigga. You know that gift is‘get up out the hood’type shit. Keep sitting on it, you’re going to be stuck like the rest of us. Rap your ass on up out of here,” Keon pressed as Maximus slouched in the front seat. “Stop makin’ excuses and get your shit done, nigga.”

There weren’t a lot of people whose words Maximus took heed to. Keon was one of the realest people he knew. When he spoke, it meant something, and it held weight. Sure, Maximus had an older brother, but Keon seemed more level – genuine – real.

When the pair arrived at the apartments, Keon nudged Maximus. “All you. I’m going to let these niggas know we on the way, so they don’t do no fuck shit.”

“Heard you,” Maximus mumbled with a slight sigh as he pulled his body out of the van. Trekking to the back, he retrieved the necessary medical supplies and walked to apartment 4A. A quadruple knock led to a woman slightly younger than him faintly pulling it open and looking up at him.

Her eyes, the uncertainty of her creased brow all put him at a pause. Like if air hadn’t been readily available, he would have passed out from the presence of her. The prolonged silence from him led her mouth to open, the softest, defensive tone escaping her full lips. Rightfully so. These ghettos would eat you up if there wasn’t any backbone or fight in your being.

“You here to stare at me or what?” she questioned, making him sway and then clear his throat.

A nervous lick of the lips hadn’t happened since he was a boy. “Yeah, Mama sent some oxygen over.”

The woman gritted as she lowly cursed to herself. “Great, hand it here.”

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