Page 27

Gary came back in and played the track back. The break between, I got some shit on my chest and when Maximus began rapping was filled with Eden’s melodic voice. “Trae Way.”

Gary played it back in the headphones per Maximus’ instructions. He watched as Eden bobbed her head and picked up a pencil, scribbling some notes on the notepad on the stand in front of her.

By the time the song ended, she waved him in.

“Yo, you got real notes,” he said, shocked by Eden’s overall level of care.

“I take all of my jobs seriously. You want a hit or not?”

Again, Maximus minded his mouth and listened thoroughly to her notes.

Trading spots, Eden sat in the corner of the booth, headphones on, listening to him go over the record until each note was checked off and the overall product was flawless.

Eden assisted him through three more songs before Maximus hung up his headphones for the night.

“You hungry?” he asked, taking in how damn beautiful she was. Eden had kicked off her sneakers, taken his hoodie, letting the scent settled in the fabric entrance her senses, and made herself comfortable over the last few hours.

Eden yawned. “Ever had Midnight Munchies?”

“Is it any good?”

“Yeah, it’s like a food hall. Asian, Caribbean, Italian, a few fusion spots, too. There’s this place with some bomb cupcakes. It’s a smoker's dream.”

“You got jokes. Come on, we’ll grab something, and I'll take you home.”

“Being that you got me out of my house far after my bedtime,” she joked.

Eden pulled herself together and roamed out of the studio ahead of him.

Studio A had traffic in and out of it, music, weed smoke, and women pouring out of it.

As they walked past, Maximus pulled her close, keeping her shielded as they exited the building.

Midnight Munchies was a three-minute drive from Midtown Studios.

“What you feeling?” Eden asked over her shoulder.

“Might hit up the Asian spot.”

“You’ve got to stop trying to be me,” she sassed, heading in that direction. She ordered her food, and Maximus followed. As she attempted to pay for their late-night/early morning meal, Maximus handed the cashier money over her head.

“I told you your money ain’t no good over here. And I feel like you’re going to send me a hefty invoice for that studio shit.”

“Oh, twenty dollars is going to put a dent in that bill,” Eden spoke, as she rolled her eyes, earning a very soft, very subtle tap to her waist.

“All that eye rollin’ gon’ have you in some shit I might not let you out of,” he muttered.

Eden’s eyes doubled in size before carnal thoughts of him doing exactly that flooded her mind. Her recovery? Deflection. “I don’t like you. And yes, I'm sending you an invoice.”

“There’s ways to prove that statement wrong but we’re in public and I won’t have you caught on someone’s stupid ass camera like that.”

“Someone’s been on the blogs,” Eden hummed, welcoming the shift of conversation. She took their number from the counter and found a table where he could see the exits.

“I don’t sleep for real, so sometimes I mindlessly scroll cause ain’t shit else to do but write and scroll.”

“That sounds lonely.”

Maximus rubbed his durag-covered head. “It’s been lonely since I got locked up that last time.”

“How many times have you been locked up?”

“Shiiiittt,” he blew. “Let’s see, my momma put me out when I was like thirteen or fourteen.

Did some time in juvie, then got down with Trae Way.

.. in and out four of five times, all county shit.

That last bid was real time. I was looking at twenty, for real.

When you hear numbers like that, it’s like you’re in a fuckin’ vacuum.

All the shit that mattered before doesn’t. ”

“How many years did you end up doing? Four, right?”

“Yeah, four because the judge saw something in me I didn’t see in myself.”

“There’s always an angel somewhere. How’d you get through the four years? No family?”

Maximus’ twitch was bitter; he was layered, and Eden found herself intrigued. The same way he was enthralled with her. “Nah. No family. I really don’t have much of that. Keon looked out for me. Cellmate Brody was cool. But outside of that, it’s just me.”

Eden hummed. “I can relate. It’s just me and Staysha, and as of late, Staysha is busy and I’m not. So there are a lot of nights, well mornings, like this.”

“Next time you up with that blue shit on your face, being an old lady, hit me up.”

“Why? Are you going to be an old man or pick on me?”

Maximus chuckled as he picked up the drink and sipped from the straw, his eyes steady on her, fearing that if he blinked, he'd miss a curl of her lip, a twitch of her cheek, or a twinkle or roll of her eyes.

“What?”

“I can do both. Old man to your ol’ lady and pick on you so I can see your dimples poke holes in your cheeks.”

Eden propped her face in her hands. “Enough of that.”

“Mm, nah. You like it.”

“You know what you should do? All of that,” Eden circled her finger in the air around his being. “Put it in your music.”

“You’re trying to get a song written about you already?”

“Uh, no. I’m talking about those layers you got. Let it all out and leave it on the track. You’ve got a story to tell that someone needs to hear. And the judge was right; there is something special about you. It's completely up to you to see that. So, start acting like you’re him.”

“Heard you. So now the question is, you made moves to have that pretty face on everyone’s TV screen?”

“It’s a bit complicated right now.”

“It’s only as complicated as you let it get, E. I got a feeling you know how to make something out of nothing, and you make that shit look effortless.”

“I hear you. We’ll see.”

“I’ll be watching.” Maximus took a bite of food, and just like before, Eden popped his hand. “I told you about that.”

“I told you about just digging in. Plus, you’re not going to do anything to me,” she challenged.

Maximus’ devilish grin spread over his face. “I’ll let you think you safe.”

“Because I am,” she quipped back and crossed her thighs.

He caught it and nodded, making a mental note and fighting the images in his head and urges coursing through his body. “Yeah, keep it up and see.”

Eden let a little smug smirk cross her lips.

Like they’d been in this bubble together forever, the conversation flowed through the ebbs and flows until they reached her apartment building.

“You goin’ to sleep or are you going to keep sending me songs?” Eden asked as she reached for the door.

“You know better than to open that door. I’m going to sleep. Your bossy ass wore me out,” he joked. “What you doing Sunday night?”

“I’ll be busy,” Eden shared, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh yeah, doing what?”

“Rearranging my sock drawer. Counting my forks. Lacing some sneakers. I might even buy like five thousand pebbles just to count them and make sure they ain’t lying.”

He snickered. “Bullshit, E.”

“Oh, is it?" Eden feigned shock.

“Yeah, because you and I are going to be courtside for the Waves game.”

She chuckled. “Fuck actually asking me on a date, huh? You’re going to just tell me?”

“Indeed, because you like to act like you ain’t feelin’ me.”

“Boy, whatever,” she scoffed, waving him off and then continued. “What’s this about? Is because the internet seems to think I'm a good look for you, or are you really interested?”

Maximus leaned in. “Question.”

“You’ve got to answer mine first,” Eden huffed, making him smile.

“I show you something else? Other than interest? Like ulterior motives or some shit?”

She swayed her head. “No."

“So, you know the answer. But I’ll answer your question. They don’t know shit about what we got going on. I’m really interested. Considering all the shit I got going on, I shouldn’t be but I am. We just kicking it. Heard me?”

“Mmhmm, I hear you.”

“Still lookin’ like I need to make you a believer.”

“I’ve learned to only believe half of what I hear and everything that I see.”

“Then watch and see, E.”