Faiyaz moved around with a new energy, bobbing along with the beat he was playing in his head. The rush was beginning to start and he was filled with a whole new motivation. The faster he got through this shift, the closer he was to recording his track. He knew the plan was absolutely nuts, but he didn’t see any holes in it.

Everything was going to look normal on the security cameras. It was going to be like any other night, except in just a little bit of time, a masked man would come in asking for money. Jimmy owned an airsoft gun and told Faiyaz he would spray paint it black, making it look like a real gun. He would come in, threatening Faiyaz with the toy, and then proceed to take the amount that was needed. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple, straightforward and it would be over quickly. He would ride up on a bike, leaving no trace of a car or license plate. It seemed like a solid plan.

Faiyaz couldn’t help but imagine what everyone would think about the track once they dropped it. In his mind, he pictured them in the studio, smoking blunts and drinking just like the rappers he listened to. He imagined the views he would get when he snapped it, or the likes that he was going to see when he posted a picture of him at the mic. He was hoping the song would go viral at his school, that maybe he would finally get recognition for his raps. He spent years with only the recognition of his close friends; never did he get the attention he wanted. Maybe, just maybe, once his parents heard it, they would respect his craft. That might be going a little too far, but Faiyaz was understandably excited. He couldn’t help but let his mind run.

Just then, Faiyaz’s phone started ringing, brining him back into reality. Jimmy was calling, most likely with an update. He decided to take the phone call outside really quickly.

“What’s up Jimmy?”

“Hey there, partner in crime! So I got the gun ready to go, and I’m currently cutting eyeholes in my favorite beanie. Well, it’s my only beanie, so you better kill this track. Also, I talked to the guy from the studio. We are all set up if we bring the cash. He said we could come as soon as tomorrow.”

“Damn, this shit is getting real! Jimmy, thanks for not giving up on me. Seriously. Thank you for seeing this through.”

“No problem man. Say… I was thinking. What if we took more? My money is tight as it is, and we could even use it for more studio time. I got more beats I’m working on too, it could really open a door for us.”

“I told you the plan, Jimmy. We are sticking to it; this is my parent’s business. We make our living off of this; this isn’t going to become a normal thing. Get a job if you want money. Sorry, but we shouldn’t even be taking what we are taking.”

“Dude there is so much more we could –“

“Jimmy, I’m not talking about it anymore. You know the plan; I’ll help you figure something out for money. We can find something for you; maybe even convince my parents for you to work here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, I’ll be by in like an hour.”

“Looking forward to it.” As Faiyaz hung up, a lowered Honda Civic pulled up. It looked pretty new and even had one of those neon lights underneath it. It was Faiyaz’s friends from school who had pulled up and were now hopping out to greet him. All three of them jumped out quickly, grabbing Faiyaz as if they were kidnapping him.

“Man, we hate that you have to work here! We just left a party over on Bishop Street. Shit was popping, dude. Bitches everywhere.” One of the friends said.

“Even that Lexy girl was there! They got her to start twerking! It was hilarious, any other girl would probably have been better than her.” The group of friends were laughing, enjoying the limited time they had with their friend.

“Damn, that’s dope! Trust me, I wish I could be there too, but I’m working towards something. Jimmy and I are about to hit the studio soon. We’ve been cooking something up for you guys.”

“No way! We’ve been waiting to hear that you were hitting the studio! Spit us something!”

Faiyaz’s friends genuinely cared about his skill and talent as a rapper. He loved when they asked him to rap, because, frankly, no one else really did. No one else really cared, and understandably so considering everyone wrote him off as a dreamer. Faiyaz held these moments special, and he knew they were only going to grow once he got into the studio. Maybe even the guy at the studio would like what he heard. Faiyaz looked at his friends in front of them, but pictured a crowd. He stood on the sidewalk, but imagined a stage. The 7-eleven store lights lit up the area, but he envisioned lights and cameras. He cleared his throat, bringing the mic to his mouth in his mind. Looking around at his surroundings and focusing his mind on his thoughts, he let the words flow out.

“spittin out here next to the notorious B. U. M.

next time you see me I'll be glorious, see you then

sick of being stuck in indecision

time to get out this fuckin prison

moving on to bigger things, studio time

ima stay me, be true to yo rhyme…”