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Lunar slouched deeper into the cushioned chair, his body heavy with exhaustion, but his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. The bass rattled through his chest, the beat knocking - all felt distant, like he was hearing it from the bottom of a pool, submerged in something much thicker than fatigue. His fingers tapped against the armrest - restless, and impatient.

Even that felt like too much effort.

Ahvi…that damn phone. His daddy’s voice trapped inside it.

Shit had his neck tense and his mind restless.

The thought alone had him gripping his knees, legs bouncing as he fought the urge to check his messages again. He’d already hit Ahvi up twice today. once in the morning and again before he stepped in the studio. No reply all day. He knew better than to double text, but fuck it. He needed that phone. He needed to see more than what his mama had given him…needed to hear his daddy’s voice with his own ears, not just as a memory passed down through someone else’s mouth.

Two weeks in Jade City, and this was the first night he’d even bothered to step inside his in-home studio. Maybe he’d been waiting for inspiration to slap him in the face, or maybe, he was just waiting for his best friend, Pimp.

Right on cue, the door swung open.

Pimp strolled in with that usual grin, shaking his head as he took in Lunar’s slumped posture. “A few weeks without me, and you out here makin’ deals and can’t make two words rhyme he” joked, plopping down on the couch across from him. “Nigga, I leave for one second, and you got a whole blackmail situation goin’ on.”

Lunar smirked, shaking his head, but the restlessness didn’t leave his body. “Man, shut up…do you even know what blackmail is?”

“Shit, when a muthafucka shake you down for some cash.” Pimp shrugged, feeling like that was the gist of it.

Lunar only laughed while shaking his head.

“Nah, for real,” Pimp leaned forward, rubbing his hands together like he was about to start some shit. “What kinda deal we talkin’? She got you in a scam? Secret baby?”

Lunar exhaled hard, rubbing a hand down his face. “I wish it was that simple.”

Pimp whistled low. “Damn.”

“Then she ain’t hit me back like she said… shit got me outta body.”

All Lunar knew was that the longer he waited to meet up with Ahvi, the heavier the weight in his chest got. And right now, that weight was damn near suffocating.

“Call her,” Pimp suggested like it was that easy.

“I did, nigga.” Lunar side eyed him with a duh look.

Pimp stood to make his way to the sound board. “Then push that shit to the back of your mind and put something on wax.”

Lunar brushed his hand down the back of his head hoping to ease some of his neck tension. “What you got for me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Pimp went to his bag to pull out his laptop and connecting it to the board.

He went through beat after beat with no real luck. Time ticked by quickly for Pimp but slow for Lunar since he couldn’t stop checking his phone.

Six hours of studio time, and yet, all he had to show for it was a bunch of half-finished lyrics that felt more like scribbles than art. His mind buzzed, but the creativity-- the spark, was missing. All that was left was this endless loop of sound, each beat feeling heavier than the last and thoughts of that damn phone.

A bead of sweat slid down his temple, and Lunar wiped it away with the back of his hand. The sticky warmth of the room clung to him, and he could feel the weight of his own body, like it was pulling him down into the floor. He hadn’t had a solid night of sleep in heaven only knew how long, and every hour seemed to bleed into the next.

The glow from the mixing board cast a faint blue light over the room, making everything seem colder, more sterile. The track spun on, looping over and over, blasting the surround sound, but Lunar couldn’t find the energy to finish anything.

He just sat there, his head gently bobbing to the beat, his eyes staring at the neon lights flickering above him like they were trying to keep him awake, but it wasn’t working.

“You good nigga?” Pimp was next to him, crouching down to get on eye level with Lunar, his brow furrowed in concern.

Lunar dragged his hand down his face, wiping away the frustration and fatigue. “Shit…” He let out a long, exhausted sigh, not even trying to fight it anymore. His voice was rough, raw. “I’m fuckin’ tired… and pissed that this girl ain’t hit me back yet.”

Pimp studied him for a moment. His eyes narrowed, taking in Lunar’s slumped posture, the way he barely registered the beat that played and the dullness in his eyes. It was clear—his boy wasn’t just tired. He was running on empty.

“Like you can’t even put no lyrics to the beat?” Pimp raised an eyebrow, his voice incredulous. They’d been in this business together long enough for Pimp to know when his boy was grinding for real and when he was just burnt out. And right now? Lunar was burnt out.

Lunar leaned back, rubbing his face again, the weight of his palm pressing into his eyes like he could squeeze the exhaustion out of them. “Man…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. The words just…ain’t coming, Pimp. I can feel the beat, but I can’t find the flow. My head’s too full of shit. It’s like the words are stuck behind a wall, and I can’t break through.”

The sound of the music seemed to intensify, swirling around him as if mocking his inability to connect with it. The track throbbed in the background, smooth and slick, with an infectious rhythm that should’ve had him up - writing…vibing. Instead, it just made him feel…empty.

Pimp shook his head, a small, knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Man, I told you to take a break. You been on this grind for too damn long. Ain’t no way you gonna keep pushing like this and still make your best shit. You need to reset. Let your mind breathe. Go get some pussy or somethin’.”

Lunar’s eyes flickered to the mixing board, his fingers twitching with the instinct to adjust the knobs, to add more layers, to make it perfect . But he just couldn’t find the energy to care about it. Instead, he let his shoulders slump even further, as if the weight of the music industry was pressing down on him physically. He didn’t even have the strength to argue.

“I ain’t really on that right now,” he said, his voice flat, defeated. “I told Ma I was gonna lay low… and something in me is telling me to wait, like some grand shit is gonna happen and change my world.”

Pimp let out a short laugh, but it wasn’t mocking. It was full of understanding - the kind of wisdom that only came from years of experience. He sat down beside Lunar, leaning back against the wall, letting the cool breeze from the studio’s open window rustle through his locs. The night had started to settle in, and the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. The heat outside was finally letting up, replaced by the cool calm of the evening.

“You already changing the world,” Pimp said slowly, tapping his fingers against his knee. “You ain’t gotta prove nothing to no one. You already know what you can do. You been showing up, spitting fire since day one. I know you want to make this elite album about your Pops but maybe it ain’t time. The people want whatever Nar puts out.”

Lunar glanced over at him, his expression softening just a little. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to let on how tired he really was. But damn, Pimp was right. He could feel the walls closing in around him, the weight of the work, the expectations, the pressure to keep climbing, keep moving, keep proving . Then there was Ahvi and the key to his sanity that seemed to be costing him more than ten thousand.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Lunar admitted, his voice small now, revealing a crack in his armor. “It’s like, if I stop, then what? I’m just…stuck. You know?”

Pimp was quiet for a long time. The track in the background faded to a low hum as he watched his boy wrestle with his inner thoughts. Pimp finally spoke, his voice calmer now, no longer pushing but just there .

“You know what you are, right?” Pimp asked, his eyes meeting Lunar’s. “You’re Big Lunar’s dream in human form… A fuckin’ storm when it comes to painting stories with your words. Take a step back if you need too, my boy.”

Lunar stared at the mixing board – Pimp’s words sinking in. He wanted to argue, wanted to push back and keep going, but something in him just… clicked . The realization hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over his defenses. Pimp was right. He’d been running on fumes for so long, afraid that if he slowed down, the whole world would pass him by. But maybe the world wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was okay to stop…to breathe. Lunar had been trying so long to prove to the world that although he was privileged, nepotism didn’t give him his talent. That shit was raw and beautiful… natural.

It was his daddy…actually both of his fathers—both of them guiding him through life.

Just when Lunar was about to pack it up for the night, Ahvi sent him a text.

Ahvi: Tuesday at three…the post office on West Cambell.

Lunar: Bet

Ahvi : Have my money in cash, too please.

He smirked at that, feeling a slight relief wash over him even if Tuesday was two days away.

* * *

Butta rolled her eyes. “Tuesday? Like why would you tell him to meet you on Tuesday when you need the money now?”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Ahvi knew her little sister was right, but she didn’t feel like hearing all that right now.

She was still shaken up about being robbed and had been at her mama’s house since she finally found the courage to rush out the house last night. Sheena didn’t have too much to say when Ahvi pulled up with dried tears on her face. She just allowed her daughter and grandbaby to go inside.

Now, the four bedroom home felt like it was closing in on her. She loved her siblings but they could all be a bit much when you’re used to having your own space. With it being summer, there was no school for them to go to. Even then, they were up at the crack of dawn begging for something to eat or to play games on your phone. Ahvi was overstimulated and stressed the hell out.

To add to her stress, Sheena sashayed her wide hips into the room with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

“Mama!” Ahvi bucked her eyes. “Mari in here and you know I don’t like smoke around him.”

Sheena rolled her big eyes, but smushed the tip with her finger to put it out. “How you gon’ tell me what I can and can’t do in my house, lil’ girl?”

Butta shook her head at Ahvi, urging her not to push her luck with Sheena. When the two of them went at it, it never ended peacefully and Butta wasn’t in the mood to be in the middle of their shit.

Sheena leaned against the doorframe eyeing her first born daughter. Ahvi was naturally beautiful - let Sheena tell it, all her kids were cute. “Now, what happened last night?”

Huffing, Ahvi tucked her foot under her leg. “I was robbed on my way into the house. Nigga took every dime I made that night.”

“And you ain’t got no more money? Where the money from your daddy’s policy?”

“Daddy ain’t have nothing but enough to bury him with a couple dollars left over for me to pay rent for two months.”

“But you ain’t gon’ get a job?” Sheena challenged.

Ahvi balled her face up. “How can I when I have a son?”

“Where’s his no good daddy at?”

“Nah, mama,” Butta interrupted, cocking her head to the side, - saying so much without saying anything. Sheena was one to talk about a baby daddy when none of her kids daddies were there to help her. The one good one was Ahvi’s daddy and Ish was gone now.

Sheena’s chest bounced from her silent laugh. “You always taking up for your sister like she needs it.”

“No I don’t… I’m just unbiased and you be acting like your shit don’t stank.” Butta fake smiled.

Sheena waved her off. “I’m just saying…what’s the plan now cause I love you but ain’t no room for you to be holed up here for longer than thirty days.”

“Mama, I know,” Ahvi mumbled. “I’m got some stuff lined up. You think I can get a couple stamps to get some food so I can sell some more plates? Mari ‘bout to be outta milk and gon’ need a couple summer fits since he’s getting so big?”

Sheena head shook before she said, “No baby. I ain’t got no stamps or no money. You ask Dro?”

“That nigga ain’t answering but I really need to make something shake before Tuesday.”

“What happens Tuesday?”

“None of your business.” Ahvi smirked.

“Ain’t my business but you need to stay here and asking for stamps…girl get over yo’self.”

“Probably get that from you,” Butta whispered, falling back when Sheena swung at her.

“You get on my nerves, Porsha.” Sheena rolled her eyes laughing.

“Why you gave us all these ghetto ass names? Well not Ahvi.”

“Girl, you know Ish swore he was Muslim. Nigga changed his name from Thomas to Ishmel.” They all fell out because Ish swore he converted—had changed his name and made sure to give his daughter a Muslim-ish name too.

Ahvi loved her name though. Even if she knew it probably wasn’t as Muslim as Ish claimed.

“Don’t worry about nothing right now. Just chill out and relax with your family for a few days, Ahvi.” Sheena got serious.

Smiling, Ahvi stood to hug her mama. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you too, baby.”