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“Ayo!” his brother, Augustus, called out, grabbing his attention. Augustus popping up at his spot unannounced wasn’t anything new.

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 Keon to 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 54 th .”

“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 what I did,” Augustus stated, pointing to his chest, then shoving his finger into his brother’s. “It’s about what you can’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.

When the pair arrived at the club, they came through the back entrance, void of security and patrons looking to get in and see the sights.

Down a long red lit hall, Maximus scanned the area for Priya, needing to talk about the bullshit she left behind.

Following his brother’s steps, they stopped at Mama’s office.

The shouting and cussing could be heard through the door.

“Bitch, what the fuck I tell you about my muthafuckin’ money?!” Mama shouted, the sound of something whipping through the air and hitting skin resounded.

Augustus chuckled. “She fuckin’ one of these bitches up.”

Maximus didn’t find shit about that funny.

Their father, along with the string of boyfriends who called themselves Uncle John, all had a habit of putting their hands on their mother.

It was always for bullshit – asking him for money to take care of his kids, threatening to tell his wife about his second family, or telling them she was going to stop dealing with them.

“I’m sorry, Ma!” the woman shrieked. “I’ll get it. I’ll get it.”

“You fuckin’ right you are. Take your ass upstairs, you gon’ be on your back and your knees the rest of the fucking night. You won’t see the pole as long as you keep coming up short. Get the fuck out my fucking face, bitch.”

The door flew open, and the young girl flew out of it. At the threshold, Mama stood with a scowl, a blunt hanging out of her mouth, and a belt in her hand. “You niggas is late.”

“My bad, Ma,” Augustus said with a smile.

“Don’t fuckin’ smile at me. I got shit to do,” she huffed, watching the men walk in past her. “MB, it’s good to see you. Got out and couldn’t come say hi?”

“Been adjustin’,” Maximus replied simply.

“Nigga, relax, it was six damn months. The way I look at it, you made me have to pay twice for some little nigga who didn’t know what he was doing,” Mama stated with a scoff, closing the door and moving to her safe behind a portrait of her.

Maximus hated that portrait. It was a naked portrayal of her, maybe a hundred and ten pounds ago, with her thighs open and a panther sitting between them. Tasteless, but who was he to judge? He was a drug dealer with rapper dreams.

“Ten ki’s,” Mama confirmed, dropping them on the corner of her desk. “Break it down, get my money back in two days. Don’t fuck with me.”

“Now, why you have to look at me when you said that?” Augustus questioned with a furrow of his brows.

“Because you think ‘cause you handsome and your dick long you can talk your way out of anything. Have my money back in my fuckin’ hand on time. I whip niggas too. Turn them all into my bitches.”

A frown covered Maximus’ face. Mama was, at minimum, two hundred and ninety pounds with a mustache and a beard, and chain-smoked like it was the air she breathed. Augustus bending her over was repulsive. That was if Augustus was actually the one doing the bending. Anything was possible with Mama.

Kilos tucked away under his sweatshirt, Maximus walked out of the office leaving Augustus and Mama to talk about whatever business they had.

He roamed to the dressing room, leaning on the side of the wall, waiting for the cluster of women to walk out.

In the mix was the woman from earlier – Poppi's girl. At least that’s how his mind had categorized her in rebellion against what he told it to do.

Earlier in the day, she was covered up in a pair of oversized dark colored sweats.

Now that she was on display, she seemed out of place.

Nothing about her looked like she was supposed to be in a place like this. The belly of the beast – hell .

About five feet five inches. Soft features and a body untouched by surgery, no blemishes, no tattoos, just smooth, milky-chocolate skin.

Off her features alone, it was confirmed she wasn’t made for a place like this.

Behind the cluster was Priya, ending his silent musing.

Big titties, big ass, tattoos and more than enough showing.

When Maximus met her, she wasn’t so – filled with plastic.

She had dreams of being a celebrity hairstylist, of getting out of Trae Way.

But the popularity of being a stripper seemed to make her lose sight of that.

The moment Priya was in his line of sight, he stopped her.

Priya went to scoff and yank away before realizing it was him. “Oh, hey, babe. Came to make it rain on me?”

Maximus pushed her back into the empty dressing room and pulled out the pregnancy test. She didn’t look six months pregnant, which posed a major problem for him. He’d seen plenty of pregnant women in his day, and this wasn’t a woman carrying his seed.

“What the fuck is this shit?” he gritted, holding up the test.

Priya snatched it out of his hand and cut her eyes at him as if he’d made an offense to her trust. “Why were you going through my shit?”

“Your shit was all over the fucking bathroom counter. Not to fuckin’ mention, I’ve been locked the fuck up for six months. You ain’t showing, so what the fuck is it?”

“My fucking business,” she hissed, attempting to push past him. “I got to get to the stage.”

“Nah, you ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what the hell this is? You pregnant?”

“Obviously.”

“Whose is it, Pri?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, her eyes darted around before landing on the door.

“Let’s go, bro,” Augustus spoke up, offering Priya a look before she could tell on herself. “We got moves to fucking make; I don’t have time for your lover’s drama bullshit tonight.”

“We ain’t done,” Maximus stated, flicking the test on the floor. He backed away from her before he could say or do more. But he steadied his emotions and headed down the hall, paying attention to how Augustus lingered behind.

Inside the Mustang, with his blunt sparked up, anger rising, he was ready to go. When Augustus joined him in the car and pulled away, he chuckled. “Why you treat her like that?”

“Like fuckin’ what?” Maximus grumbled. “I’ve been pretty fuckin’ good to her. She pregnant and it ain’t mine. Don’t that seem like an issue?”

“I been told you to let her ass go back to the streets,” Augustus shared. “But naahhhh, you was in love.”

“You seen any of these niggas around her?”

Augustus smirked like the serpent he was. “Nigga, I ain’t finna break up your happy home.”

Maximus kissed his teeth in detest.

“But Wando was sniffing around her a few times. I tell you what. Let’s divide and conquer. You break down the product, I’ll pull up on Wando and see what he knows. You know that nigga likes to talk.”

“I’ll pull up on him.”

“You want to go back to jail? Let me handle it. Plus, it’ll be one less thing you cry about.”

“Man fuck you,” Maximus huffed.