Page 92 of Are You Going to Love Me

“Why you bring it up? Think I’m gon’ be laid up with you saying one thing and out here doing another?”

“I wouldn’t want to think that, but I also know that we’re just kicking it. So getting lost in my head isn’t really the best thing to do.”

Maximus stared at her on the screen for a long moment before saying, “Don’t nothing worth anything get birthed from living in your head. My first year in prison, I just sat there in my head. It’s dangerous. You too great to be spinning in your head, Eden. Heard me?”

She smiled faintly. “Heard you.”

“Good, go head and close your eyes. Get some sleep, I’ll be back in the morning.”

thirty-one

. . .

Proppedup on the side of the chauffeur-driven sprinter, the sight of the security towers and tall iron and cemented blocked gates of the prison transported him back to the feelings he had four years ago when he arrived. Helpless. Angry. Betrayed. Alone. Along with the emotions, reminders of the logistics tackled his mind. The biggest war Maximus fought hadn’t been on the streets but in his mind. It wasn’t until now, with Eden, that he was raging war against himself and trying to calm it.

The anxiety that had been non-existent while he was wrapped in the peace Eden offered was back. A dull stabbing in his chest caused him to rub it and huff. He looked over to his right, where Keon stood.

“You aight?” Keon questioned, not looking at Maximus straight on. After all the nights they served curbs and lit up blocks, Keon knew what the subtle motion meant.

Maximus nodded his durag-covered head and cleared his throat. “I can’t ever go the fuck back.”

“You ain’t,” Keon stated with his chest. “And not because you got some motion but because you got the light and it can’t be trapped in there.”

“Heard you.”

“You better, nigga. The goal is for you to be sitting on the top of the charts and the game. It all starts with who you surround yourself with. This nigga Brody ain’t nothing to worry about, right? You already a quiet storm type of nigga, we don’t need a loudmouth, too,” Keon stated, before finalizing. “I don’t want to put this nigga down. Ain’t caught a body in a minute.”

“Nah, he’s cool. We ain’t gon’ have no issues out of him. Not unless it’s behind a woman. Nigga is a lover boy,” Maximus said with a chuckle, recalling the days of Brody tripping over women and making plans for his future family.

“Aight, Keon muttered, checking his phone for a text from Staysha and smiling softly.

Maximus caught the glint, and his face mirrored Keon’s. “Yeah, Poppi’s girls something else, huh?”

“Something else. I was gon’ stick and move like I do everyone else. I’m stuck, nigga. The crazy shit is, I’m not trying to get up out of it either.”

“Yeah… heard that,” Maximus spoke, biting a grin as the buzzer to the gate sounded off. Their attention turned to the gate, slowly gliding and clanking its way open. Brody stood on the other side with a plastic bag of his belongings, his San Quentino prison-issued sweatsuit, and his sneakers without laces.

Brody took strides toward the pair with a crooked smirk on his face, a joke brewing on the tip of his tongue. “Nigga, don’t look at me like that. You looked like this too when you walked your Chewbacca ass out of here.”

Keon snickered and nodded in agreement.

“Here you niggas go,” Maximus chuckled, embracing Brody. “Welcome out, nigga.”

“It’s good to be out,” Brody stated, as he dapped up Keon. “Brody.”

“Keon. Brody your real shit or your street shit?”

Brody smirked. “Street shit. Always the youngest in the crew, so they dubbed me Brody.”

“What’s your real shit?” Keon asked.

“Bransheer Wallace III.”

Bransheer?” Maximus and Keon quipped together before laughing.

“Sound like a suit and tie nigga,” Keon cackled. That was the Staysha effect loosening him up.

“Ay, fuck y’all,” Brody laughed. “My momma was a creative.”

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