Page 28

twenty-one

. . .

“Nigga, this shit is doing numbers,” Keon cheered, as he strolled onto the patio where Maximus was smoking a newer strand of weed.

His eyes and ears were trained on the screen of his phone. He wasn’t looking at anyone’s reaction to his single dropping, but Eden’s ‘A Day in the Life’ content. From her facial routine to the gym, out to eat with her sister, and back in her apartment, which was rearranged.

“I got some shit on my chest...” The snippets of his new release played repeatedly as the video looped.

Eden: You know it shows me how many times you watch the video

Maximus: You need the views, don’t you?

Eden: It doesn’t count when it’s the same person, fool

Maximus: They better figure it out

Eden: Leave me alone, Max

Maximus: You text me first

Eden: Only to say congratulations. Have you seen the other videos? You're number one on JoyMusic

Maximus: Nah

Eden: Are you a stalker? Tell me now so I can block you

Maximus: You wouldn’t, and you like it

Eden: bye, Maximus

Maximus: got a JoyRide scooping you tomorrow at eight

Eden: I can get my own JoyRide. I'm not no Trae Way shorty

Maximus: Nah, you Poppi’s girl. That shit hit different

He smirked to himself, imagining the bite of her lip and the muffle of her giggle.

“MB!” Keon called, his voice held with laughter. “Nigga, just crawl in her skin.”

The entire time he’d been hunched over in his phone watching her text bubbles dance, he hadn’t heard a word Keon spoke to him, he hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. Once he’d forced his mind off Eden and the switch of her hips as she strutted on the treadmill, his surroundings returned.

The water from the pool, nature singing, the blowing wind sending the leaves and branches dancing in praise to their Maker. And then there was Keon, laughing.

“You didn’t hear shit I said?”

Maximus sat back in the patio chair and re-sparked his blunt. “Nah.”

He propped his slide-covered feet up on the table. “What’s up?”

Keon ran his hand over the hairs in his beard to settle his amusement. “I ain’t never seen you like this. Not even with Priya.”

Maximus scoffed and curled his lip slightly. “Fuck her. This shit is different. She’s different. Ain’t thirsty for nothing. But off that, what was you saying?”

“First day numbers are trending well, that and the announcement of you in the last three episodes of Get Richer, you’ve got motion right now.”

Maximus nodded, blew the smoke into the noon air, and asked, “How do we turn motion into capital? That’s the question. More than the music. Like this.”

Maximus held his hand up, holding the black paper-wrapped weed. “We need to invest in some farms, get one storefront. I’m looking into the future. Rap is the foundation. We’re building everything on top of that. One piece of Trae Way at a time.”

“So, you on some buy the block back type shit?”

“Somebody gotta do it,” Maximus stated. “If I don’t, I’m another nigga who got out, capitalized off of bangin’, and never reached back out to pull someone out.”

“Aight, what we doing? Weed spot, I heard about the tees, what else?”

“Give backs, school supplies, youth centers, turning Trayton Way Memorial Park into an actual park, but first, I need a security company.”

“You want to hire one?” Keon asked, making notes in the shared JoyNote app, Staysha had been syncing everything Trae Way MB to.

“Nah, I want my own shit.” Maximus shook his head. “I got a homeboy coming out of prison in a week. Big nigga. He'll head it up, hire people if we need it, but right now, I need something licensed and bonded.”

“Considering you ain’t the type to have friends, I'm assuming he’s good people.”

“My celly for four years. Ain’t never snaked me or no one else out. Was never on no real bullshit outside of his girl issues. He's solid.”

“What you doing as far as protection until then?” Keon quizzed. “Walking around with heat on you as a felon ain’t the move.”

“It’s going to have to be for the time being.”

Keon pecked on his phone and grunted. “I’ll have someone for tonight. You know how you get in crowds, and you can’t have no heat in the arena.”

“Fuck you mean how I get in crowds?” Maximus asked, cutting him a look. “Nigga, weren’t you the one that shot up Rodney’s block party ‘cause it was too thick?”

Keon chuckled, forgetting about that. He threw his hand up. “It was too many fuckin’ niggas out there, EWG’s was doing missions on our set, and I had to make sure wasn’t shit goin’ left.”

“You and I are remembering two completely different things. We had EWG in a corner. Back to back to back. They didn’t have the bodies to come back at us. You was just on that shit.”

“Had to keep your head on a swivel in the middle of the hood with that flag hanging out your pocket, or wrapped around your neck, head, arm, whatever else.”

“Gang shit is like the jungle. We know there are snakes slithering all around. This business shit? The Wild Wild West. Everyone blends in. Everyone got a smile, everyone wants to be next to you. Try you on for size. The minute you’re no good for them, they toss your ass.”

Keon grunted. “Your girl ever told you anything about what she got going on?”

Maximus blew the smoke and looked over at Keon. “You supposed to be telling me what you and your girl pillow talkin’ about?”

“Ain’t really pillow talkin’ when it's a known fact. Which is why social media is jumpin’ the way it is around y’all.

This ain’t on gossiping shit, this is just to put you in the head space.

You steppin’ out publicly with her. All this shit is happening fast and how you react is key.

You got attention on you. A lot of fuckin’ attention.

Capitalize. Pivot. Don’t let these weird ass muthafuckas try and put you back in Trae Way. ”

“Heard you,” Maximus responded, his mind floating back to Eden and the layers that she’d shielded herself in. She’d offered him just enough to keep him on the hook, but exposing herself hadn’t happened.

Then he wondered about his ability to handle the full exposure of her when it happened. Was this something he was just occupying his time with, or could the weight of each other be held without worry of getting weak and dropping the other?

The stylist had come and gone. Final looks were chosen.

The chauffeur-driven car arrived with security.

Keon’s mission was to keep Maximus in his bubble of peace, even if his ears were still to the streets.

Even if he couldn’t keep him thriving in that bubble of creativity, he could ensure that he was protected.

That alone was why Maximus viewed Keon more like family.

Trae Way was supposed to be family. They took him in when his own mother put him out.

The dirty streets were home. He ate betrayal, found comfort in bullets ringing out, serving corners, and ducking police.

Now, as he looked back on it all from the window of the sprinter, the smells, the sounds, and the feeling of being uncomfortable fueled his fire.

And there was Eden’s voice like a melody in the back of his head that calmed his overthinking and anxiety.

Neither of which he had to come out openly and say, she just knew and spoke to that.

“Why are you doubting yourself”

The men climbed out of the van and moved in stride to the arena for a sound check ahead of tomorrow’s half-time show.

“You cool?” Keon questioned as they strolled through the designated doors of the arena.

Maximus was in a tunnel. It all felt surreal.

When he used to daydream of this moment, Augustus was in the image, excited to see his baby brother live out the dreams he whispered about.

No doubt the wound Augustus placed in his back was still there and ached, and at times, it burned just as it did then.

His head bobbed to a melody in his mind, not really to Keon. The fog was lifting, and he attributed it to one entity.

“I’m cool,” Maximus finally rumbled.

“Oh, there they go,” Staysha’s voice penetrated the silence of the arena. She pivoted on the balls of her feet.

Maximus made sure to commit everything to his memory in the event he never had this opportunity again. He even caught the small glint Staysha shared with Keon. Why they were hiding was beyond him. Keon deserved someone by his side who was going to speak to the king in him.

“Fatima, this is Trae Way MB, and his manager, Keon. Trae, Keon, this is Fatima. She’s the event and talent liaison for the Waves.”

Fatima professionally extended her hand to both men.

Once greetings were exchanged, she started off giving them the tour around the arena and what he was to expect.

Where his performance was to take place, his green room to get ready, and then into the practice facility that was connected to the arena through an underground tunnel.

“DJ Rudy is our house DJ,” Fatima shared with the trio as she stopped on the sidelines of the court.

Maximus turned his attention to a cluster of players and DJ Rudy. A few players recognized Maximus and headed over in his direction.

“Ayo,” Geraldo Bryce whooped, approaching with his hand out.

Maximus met him halfway, and Geraldo engaged him in a Trae Way shake. “You from the neighborhood?”

“Yeah, I came up on the North Side. Been on your shit since I tore my ACL in college. You really helped me get through that shit man. I put the whole team and my people on your shit. Congrats on your deal. I know that album is about to be fire.”

“Heard that,” Maximus shared as he patted his hand over his chest. “I caught a few of your college games locked up, you got that dawg in you.”

Geraldo’s face filled with glee. Maximus’ presence and words had an influence on more than just Geraldo. “‘Preciate that.”