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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.”

“Uh - that’s not how this works. I got to come in, set it up, and sign off. Heard me?”

She curled her lip. “You for real? Since when did Mama actually start running real businesses?”

It was rhetorical. The woman and him both knew this was a front. He just so happened to learn how to set up oxygen tanks from JoyTube. If he was going to be fronting like he knew what he was doing, he was going to at least know something.

“Something tells me you’re full of shit, but come on, make it quick,” she stated, stepping back allowing Maximus to get through the door with enough space for the equipment. “How does this work, Mama sends you back here every week with a new tank, or?”

Maximus shrugged. “Every few days or so, as needed. What? You don’t want that to happen?”

“Whatever she’s doing for my grandmother, I’ll allow it,” she grumbled. “Though it ain’t much.”

Maximus looked around the small apartment, noticing how tidy it was. He was almost amazed at how she and whoever else lived here could make it look like a palace, even though they were in the heart of Trae Way.

“You want to see how this is set up or...” Maximus started, hands in his pockets as he motioned her over.

She stood at a safe distance, no longer making eye contact. “Show me, she’s sleep, and I only got a small window of time before she’s up.”

Maximus demonstrated how to set up the tank, turn it on, and place the tube on.

“I think I got it,” she stated, taking the tube from his hold. “Anything else?”

“Heard you,” Maximus stated, before shaking his head. “Nah, if you need anything, just hit up Mama, she’ll send me or someone else back out.”

“Not on nothing funny, I don’t want you Trae Way niggas in and out of here, so drop it off in front of the door and keep it pushing,” she shared bluntly.

He could see her distrust for people, but didn’t have the time nor the space to dive into that.

One, he was on a time crunch, and two, he had a girlfriend, and staring at the woman before him wasn’t going to pan out well for anyone.

Priya would want to fight and make it a thing, and the woman before him didn’t seem like the type who fought.

With that, he acknowledged her with a head nod and stepped back.

He saw himself out and attempted to rid his mind of the encounter altogether.

Back in the van with Keon, he made his rounds before being dropped off at his apartment.

All he wanted to do before hitting the night shift was make himself a sandwich, catch a nap, and maybe record something, but the raucous laughter pouring out of the apartment proved that neither of those things was going to happen.

Priya and two of her friends were in the messy living room, twerking to some trash ass music while the camera recorded.

Purposely, he ducked it, not wanting to be caught in the video.

Sure, he released music, but his JoyCloud didn’t have any photos of himself, nor had he made a public appearance yet.

He liked staying lowkey. He figured that when the right time came, he’d pop out and things would go up from there.

After what seemed to be the longest sixty seconds of his life, the recording and the extra noise came to an end.

“Damn you not going to speak to me, baby?” Priya asked, almost out of breath.

“You were busy,” Maximus said, not offering her a glance as he tried to find what he needed in the disorganized kitchen. Crazy how he’d only been home for a week and had managed to clean the apartment top to bottom, only for it to look like he’d never touched it. “You headed to the club?”

“Yeah, you comin’ through? Paying for a dance?”

The look he gave her was loaded. “I’ll see you around.”

“Alright, bring me that money you made today,” Priya purred, putting on a show for her girls. Maximus hadn’t even touched her since he’d been home. His spirit just wouldn’t allow it.

“Heard you,” he grumbled as she exited the apartment. Once the door closed, he abandoned finding something to eat and opted to lie down instead.

Sleep hadn’t come. His mind ran on a loop. Music, his mother, his life, and what it had shaped out to be. A product of Trae Way wasn’t a legacy he wanted, but he felt stuck.

His phone chimed, alerting him to a text message from his brother.

Gus: get your ass up we got shit to do

Maximus huffed and pulled himself off the worn mattress and shuffled into the bathroom.

“What the fuck is this?” his voice rumbled, glaring down at the pregnancy test on the countertop of the bathroom.

The used test was surrounded by a mess of other things.

Used wash cloths, bobby pins, eye lash glue, smeared toothpaste and ashes, and roaches of a blunt.

Considering he’d been in lockup for six months, this pregnancy test was out of place in the array of mess Priya left behind before she went to the club.

No way she was six months pregnant or further along, and he didn’t know.

The way she’d overshared shit, surely, she would of have told him something.

And she wouldn’t be smoking or drinking the way she was.

The longer he stared at the bullshit on the counter, the more anger sloshed through his veins.