Page 3 of Are You Going to Love Me

Maximus grabbed the rest of the toilet tissue off the roll and wrapped the test in it. As he pushed it into his sweatpants pocket, he made a mental note to grab some more after this drop. He cleared his throat and rummaged through the bullshit, tossing the things he knew were trash. “Yeah, bro, what’s up?”

Augustus’ timberland-covered feet stomped closer to him over the carpet, meeting Maximus in the narrow hallway. “You ready?”

Maximus bobbed his head, braids in desperate need of a redo. He’d only been home for a week after catching an initial charge for possession with the intent to distribute. A charge that carried years and was pleaded down because the investigators couldn’t find where he threw the rest of the stash. He had Keonto thank for that. All Maximus had on him was a stack of cash and a few bags of cocaine. From intent to distribute narcotics to simple possession.

He hadn’t had a chance to get his hair done, let alone get to the bottom of what was going on in the spot where he paid bills. Whether in or out of jail, he prided himself on taking care of what he could with dreams that this shabby, too-small two-bedroom apartment would be a mansion. Rich off of cocaine and rap was his first dream. Sure, his Greek mythology and Roman empire-loving mother would have rather he lived up to the meaning of his name and used his talents for anything other than serving fiends and rapping about it. But this was the hand he was dealt. Maybe if she hadn’t opened her legs to a hustler, her sons wouldn’t have been hustlers either.

He liked to blame her, but the truth was he chose all this shit. The streets were all he knew, and compared to a bible-thumping, hypocritical, alcoholic mother, he was doing fine. Enough, anyway.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he announced, looking over his brother’s fresh fit. “Where the fuck we goin’?”

“To Midnight. Mama got some packs for us to pick up and then to the trap over off 54th.”

“How much weight we movin’ tonight?”

“About ten ki’s. Nothing crazy. I told her she needed to increase our flow, but she don’t trust us,” Augustus shared, making his younger brother furrow his brows.

“Why not? What you do?”

“It ain’t about whatIdid,” Augustus stated, pointing to his chest, then shoving his finger into his brother’s. “It’s about whatyoucan’t seem to stop doing.”

Maximus knocked his hand from his chest and pushed him out of the way. “I ain’t doing shit other than minding my fuckin’ business and trying to stay out the fuckin’ way.”

“Nigga, you just got out of jail off a simple possession charge.”

“Why the fuck was I there in the first place? And before your lyin’ ass gets to lyin’,you,nigga. It was because of you. Like you got short man syndrome or some shit. Drunk off your ass, wanting to fight a gang of niggas from the East like we the damn avengers!”

“You wasn’t talking that shit when we was whoopin’ those niggas asses,” Augustus defended.

Maximus scoffed as he roamed into the equally small and cluttered living room to don his sweatshirt. “So, I was supposed to let you get your ass beat? Come on, nigga, be real. You shootin’ your gun and running off is what got us jammed up.”

“Not my fault you and the cops know each other on a first name basis.”

“Nigga, shut the fuck up,” Maximus grumbled, putting his worn sneakers on and heading toward the door.

The chill of the night air nipped his nose, making him groan instantly. No way he wanted to be on the curb serving in this type of weather. But he had rent, studio time, and basic needs to pay for. Not to mention this positive pregnancy test that would probably change the course of his life.

“You always do that bitch shit,” Augustus grumbled, walking out the apartment and securing the door using the key Maximus gave him.

Leaning on the brick wall, he looked down his nose at his brother. “It ain’t bitch shit. You always pointing your finger and forgettin’ your role in the bullshit.”

“I ain’t forget my role in shit. Who kept money on your books, kept the rent paid, and the lights on?”

Maximus shook his head again and started down the stairs. “It was my money.”

“That I flipped.”

“Oh yeah? Where the bands at?” Maximus challenged.

“I told you I got you.”

Augustus, in fact, did not have him. Maximus knew it, and he kept trying to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. They were brothers. They were supposed to keep each other, look out for each other, but it seemed like that just wasn’t the case. Everyone had always made Maximus out to be the more emotional one, so he kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. But nothing of what was happening around him felt like real love.

In the two-door blacked-out Mustang, the Burton brothers moved toward Midnight. It was the only strip club with the type of talent swinging on the poles and flavor for your nose you could get without being harassed by police. Part of the reason? They were in there enjoying the secret menu, too.

If you were paying, Mama was serving.

The car was full of weed smoke from the Trae Way Octane, seeping into the fabric of his sweatsuit. The sativa was sure to keep him up and alert throughout the night. When he got back to the apartment, he’d smoke something else to come down and attempt to sleep. But sleep hadn’t ever been his friend.

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