Maybe, Maybe Not

3. The Sweeter The Juice

The interesting thing about Nikko was that he was not out there in the streets like some of his friends. He preferred keeping to himself and not sampling all the flavors of St. Louis. Never was his style even when he was younger.

Outside of work, he preferred to stay home and work on his art. That was his passion, not working for the post office for the rest of his life.

"I don't understand how you expect to meet the one by staying holed up in your crib," his cousin Rafaello, said to him when he dropped over to share some smoke with him.

He did not indulge in marijuana often, only on occasion, while his cousin was a straight-up weed head, which is why he called him Smokey. He was only on one Philly while his cousin lit up a second one. He said it helped with his depression. He often told his cousin to seek therapy, but he said all he needed was his smoke.

"I am not trying to meet the one, just chilling."

"I want to meet the one for today, tomorrow, and every other Saturday," his cousin said, finishing off his Philly.

They drug tested on a regular at the post office, although marijuana for medicinal purposes was on the approved list. He held no card for it, at least not a legal one. He had a fake card if he were questioned.

He started working at the post office seven years ago when he was twenty-two after dropping out of college and living couch-to-couch at friends' and family's places. It was a rough few years before he had to figure out what he wanted in life. His art did not pay bills, as his mother told him when she kicked him out at age twenty.

He loved his mother, so he did not blame her for doing what she did. He probably would have never focused and found a good job if he continued to live off of her. He had to make his way and he was proud that he now had his own place, a good job, enough money, and even some money in savings.

"Let's hit the club tonight!" Rafaello's eyes were half closed as if he was about to fall asleep, yet he wanted to go clubbing. "Now that we faded good."

"Bruh, I have work tomorrow."

"Man fuck that job. Who sends mail still anyway?"

Quite a few people he wanted to say. Before his route covering parts of downtown, he was covering the area around Harris Stowe University and St. Louis University. He liked that route, plenty of young people he somewhat got to know. Mostly people saw the carriers as invisible people. They never sparked a conversation with him, but they were always polite.

Before he started on that route he worked sorting through mail for three years. It was hard work, but he was young, so he did not mind it so much.

Now, he loved his new route carrying the southern corner of downtown which included The Arch and everything from Market Street and south of it, including the new Busch Stadium and Ballpark Village. It was the dream area to cover because of all of the businesses. Not delivering to residential areas was also a plus.

"You can't meet any honies dressed like a buster wearing that silly uniform."

He thought he wore the uniform well. At six feet tall, slim but muscular build, he looked darn good in it. He had to keep his locs pulled back while he worked as per guidelines, but other than that he was okay with the uniform.

"Cuz, you're wrong for that. Happens to be a lot of fine women on my route."

He was thinking about the one at the Gateway Tower across from The Arch. When he first saw her he thought, nice and attractive, and that he never had a chance with a woman like her. But she caught his attention and he wanted to catch her attention. The next day he made sure he looked his best, clean-shaven, extra moisturized face, and tossed a smile her way.