Up with Lo by Roman Dee Hellwigi

It’s one thing to be down, but to be lonely, alienated and surrounded by inferior, but enviable, peers is something else. Lo’s is a unique world, built on infinite time and finite friendships. Elusive kindred spirits; some gracefully feminine, some haphazardly masculine- all are temporary by design- coming and going from his so called playground until they’re swept away by the endless sea of time to drift safely on the warm, calm waters in his heart.

Jack, Lo’s best friend in 21st century New York City, recommends a change of scenery. “Look big guy– All of this endless eternity shit is a real buzz kill… Find yourself a new zip code!”

Feeling melancholy and too disillusioned with his remarkable situation to resist Jack’s advice, Lo reluctantly moves his favorite barcalounger into a penthouse apartment in Harlem, half past it’s prime, but a quarter ’til his unforeseeable future.

A future that scrutinizes the blood and guts of second chances.

Lo befriends his curious downstairs neighbor, young Antoine, along with three different women; women distinctly shaped by their culture, generation, and uniquely personal experiences, but complete in their dedication to the adolescent black boy with a deformed hand and a fearless soul that smells distinctly of warm popcorn.

Lo’s bond with Antoine and his mother, Clementine- a woman who’s innate female essence reminds Lo of “Sin mixed with Sunday morning”- quickly begins to tear down and rebuild his obsolete, monotonous existence, mentally and physically, from the ground up, in an unimaginable way.

A way that sends Lo pin-balling back and forth through time and place on a violent, sensual, sentimental trip. In search of answers to a mysterious antiquated object, found purely by accident, while mindlessly going through the motions of just-another-day-at-the-office at Sotheby’s.

The discovery forces Lo to revisit people and places long gone from his past.

Some loved and cherished.

Others stone cold dead by his own hand, and buried unmercifully in the vast graveyard of his subconscious.

Retracing events and reluctantly taking accountability for who he once was, who he still is, and the sacrifices he’s willing to make for the taste of a life admired from afar, a life that so many men take for granted.

Full of gnarly passion, brazen human emotion, raw awkwardness, chummy dynamics, quirky hope, deep seeded secrets, and plain old fashioned embarrassment, devotion and homegrown redemption.

Lo’s journey through a modern day present to reflect on his increasingly relevant but ancient past takes on a life of it’s own, reminding the reader that the devil’s in the details, and escorts us, bourbon in hand, to a scintillating place that any decent, hard working mortal man would gladly give what’s left of their 401k to visit.

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About the author:

For the most part, I get off hard on the process of writing and believe internal censorship perpetuates taboos- none of which are ever provocative. As long as I keep waking up and things keeps getting funnier, I’ll stick with it.

What inspired you to write your book?

I’ve always had a wildly vivid imagination. It’s full of all sorts of characters and situations, be it campy and clever, deep or macabre. I’m overly emotional by nature and have a hair pin trigger. This leads me down the path less taken every time. Mostly, by luck and with the help of complete strangers, I find my way back, take a shower, regroup, and do it all over again the very next chance I get. Then I write a story about it.

Here is a short sample from the book:

They laid together in a quiet truce on the bed.
Lo was on top of the covers with his tail relaxed and off to the side.
Tiny was underneath the sheet with her hands crossed over her chest in defiance, but listening to his every word as she stared up at the ceiling.
It felt like the little amount of time they’d spent together; an hour of tension, an hour of fun, an hour of wanting- had come to this one very moment. Now stopped dead in its tracks. Waiting.
Lo reached his arm over and turned on the vintage metal oscillating fan that was sitting on his nightstand. The air moved around the room in small, precise pieces, like some sort of a silent treaty was being cut out by the fan’s sharp blades and rationed.
Tiny sat up on the side of the bed with her back towards Lo. She sniffled again, and Lo watched as she pulled her shiny ebony hair to one side of her shoulders. The skin on her back reminded him of cocoa beans. He gazed at it, thinking about the tangible meaning of the adjectives- smooth and flawless, and how just minutes before, he’d been touching the two words.
“Don’t go.” Said Lo, exhaling and staring back up at the ceiling. “Let me fix this– I can you know.”
She turned, sniffed, and looked straight at him.
“Let me do it my way.” Said Lo.
Tiny bit her lower lip, like she was thinking about every possible outcome.
“I’d burn a city down for one lousy chance.”
She raised an eyebrow and he knew he was pushing it.
“What do you mean by let you fix it?” She asked, squinting at him like he was some sort of a deviant. “It sounds like some’m freaky… Like you use that magic Momma was talking about, and somehow make me forget everything that just happened up in here, and then surprise, surprise- You’re all golden boy in the morning.”
“No! God, no.” Said Lo, thinking about how awesome a power like that would be. “Just let me do my thing. Please Clementine… It’s nothing freaky, I swear. Just let me try.”
He never begged for anything.
A couple of minutes passed before she turned around again.
“You really hurt my feelings.” Said Tiny, and her face looked like a little girl.
“I know.”
“I was trying to please you, Lo.”
“I know.”
“Now I feel funny.”
“I know.”
“I feel totally dumb.”
“Don’t.”
They sat staring at each other, and she let the sheet fall like a surrender flag exposing her breasts.
He reached out and put his hand on her soft, brown knee.
“I might have been workin’ you, just a little bit.” Said Tiny, making a smidgen gesture with her fingers. “But just because I wanted to make you crazy.”
“I know– And you do, believe me, Tiny. We hit a learning curve dead on. That’s all it was.”
She gave him a you-so-silly look and laid down next to him on the bed, shimmying back up beside him.
“I think we should just lay here and chill. Let’s spoon for awhile.” She said.
In all of his years, he’d never heard it called “spoon” before.
Lo closed his eyes and pulled her in close.
He smelled her hair and her skin.
He felt her back against his chest, and thought again about the words smooth and flawless. He forked his tongue and let it touch the back of her neck, so he could taste her essence.
Everything about this woman made Lo crazy. Proper crazy.
Lo felt his cock start to get hard, because her warm ass felt too good pushed up against it.
“I’m guessing that spoon time’s over.” Tiny said, giggling, obviously back to her confident self.
Lo told her that he was an asshole, and that it’d go away in a minute, just as soon as he thought about baseball or an upcoming auction.
“You know what.” Said Tiny. “I’m good– Let’s go– You show me your way now. I want you to.”
“You know what.” Said Lo, leaning up. “You’re really fucking cool.”
“You have no idea, baby.” Said Tiny.
Lo rubbed her ass gently, feeling pretty sure that he knew.