Page 29

Maximus was greeted by a few more younger players before they trekked off to the locker room. The veteran players like Rico and a few others lingered, shared a few comments amongst themselves before they exited the gym. Maximus took notice but didn’t pay any real attention to it.

“MB!” DJ Rudy, born Rudy Mackey, greeted in his Southside Waynesville drawl. Dapping him up, he asked, “What’s up, gang?”

“Can’t call it,” Maximus shared. “How you feelin’?"

Rudy caught on to Maximus’s freshness to his celebrity status. “I’m cool, nigga. That shit is setting in huh? Four years down, you had no clue how the city was standing up for you.”

“Hell nah,” Maximus rumbled, feeling that ache in his chest. There was only one touch that could calm that. Until then, he’d have to move through this. Let the anxiety remind him that he was alive, he was free, and God hadn’t forgotten him.

“Tomorrow is going to go crazy. Fans are already flooding social media, and the Waves are expecting your halftime show to up the viewership. It’s up, nigga, stand in your light.”

Maximus chuckled nervously as Rudy tapped his chest with the back of his hand.

“Let's run through this shit, I know you got bangers to make.”

“That album is going to go crazy,” Keon added.

“I know that. Ay, save some room for a Rudy feature,” Rudy stated.

The trio of men walked in stride out of the practice gym, leaving Staysha and Fatima behind.

Maximus and Keon shared a twin, “hell yeah!”

“Shit, you free tonight? I got some shit I need to lay down immediately.”

Rudy agreed without thought. Anyone who looked at Maximus knew he was going to be holding one of the crowns for rap king for a long time. Rudy wanted to be a part of history, but more than that, he wanted to see Maximus win up close.

“I got you. Let’s get this sound check handled and get to work.”

Maximus sat in the studio, weed smoke thick as he bobbed his head to the track they finalized minutes ago. Muttering the lyrics to himself, confidence poured over him.

“Lost in the lights, in a fuckin’ daze. Been down for the count, but that’s the cost of the game.

Million-dollar body, but my mood stay the same.

A protected nigga with the cross on the chain.

Kush in the wrapper, she wanna fuck the rapper.

Put her to sleep and hit the streets right after.

Lost in my thoughts, in a fuckin’ haze. Do I deserve all these memories to be made?

All the bodies that I caught still haunt me from the grave.

Trae Way nigga just trying to change the game. ”

Maximus: You up?

Eden: I don’t really sleep...you okay?

Maximus: Can I have your ear?

Eden: Is it trash? Am I going to have to come up there and fix it?

Maximus: You funny

Eden: Always...but is it trash though

Maximus: [audio file attached]

Eden: If it’s trash, I'm charging you for wasting my time

Maximus: Put it on my tab, I'll pay up

Eden: Doubt it

Maximus: Wanna see

Eden: Do you want me to listen or not

Maximus: Do your thing

Maximus waited anxiously, trying not to show it. Not to the room at least. On the outside, he remained stoic, unfazed. What could Eden be privy to? Him. All of him. Exactly three minutes later, her text bubbles were dancing. They’d start, then stop and repeat.

Eden: 4+4!

Maximus: What addition got to do with this?

Eden: Eight fool! You ate!

Maximus smirked, hid his full smile before settling his expression. “Aight, let’s hit the next one.”

He could hear his heart pounding against his eardrums. The green room was full of water, liquor he wasn’t going to drink, snacks, and fresh fruit.

What he needed wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Blunts were burned throughout the day, and a lingering text on his phone was the only thing keeping him from feeling like he didn’t deserve this moment.

Eden: Big day, you got this.

A simple text kept him level. She didn’t understand the weight that held, especially since very few people believed in him.

Respect as a gangsta, a given. Respect as an artist, laughable from the same niggas he caught bodies by.

All that discouragement was being swiped away, and she didn’t even know it.

A knock sounded at the door before it opened just enough. Maximus briefly lifted his eyes from the phone to Eden’s made-up face peeking in. “You got clothes on, or am I going to have to sue you for blinding me?”

Detecting the playfulness in her voice, he locked the phone and sat back. “You gotta come see for yourself.

Eden scoffed as she walked in and closed the door behind her. “You play too much. Where is everyone?”

“You’re the one that mentioned my clothes.

Thought you was trying to see somethin’,” Maximus cooly said, taking her in.

Large curls framed her face and swept over her back.

White crop top, skinny jeans hugging her hips, off-the-shoulder denim jacket, and her pretty toes on display.

The notes of amber and jasmine graced his nose, turning his body temperature up a few degrees.

“Uh uh. Don’t get carried away. I didn’t know what I was walking into. Fatima directed me here instead of courtside.” Eden looked at him, looking at her. “What?”

“You look nice. Smell good as fuck.”

A soft smile crossed Eden’s face. “Thanks. You okay?”

His eyes lifted as she got closer and then lowered her body into the seat next to him. “Better now. Thanks.”

Eden’s perfectly-shaded brows pinched the middle of her face. “For what?”

“Being you. Being real, I guess,” he shared.

“You make it easy. You’re special, Max. Don’t let those voices in your head tell you anything different. Don’t let anxiety make you feel like an imposter.”

“How’d you know?”

“It’s been my constant state of being for a while. A little higher tonight.”

“Why? You okay?” He sat up to look at her straight on.

Eden smiled, masking the fear of being anywhere near Rico or Natavia. She bobbed her head.

“Max, I’m good. Tonight is about you. And you’re...” She paused to check her wristwatch. “Five minutes from your first show. National stage.”

He grunted. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” Eden hummed, turning to face him and holding her hands out. “Give me your hands.”

Without thought, he placed his clammy hands in hers.

“You gon’ pray?”

“We can. I’m not a preacher, but Poppi taught me a prayer or two. Crazy, huh?”

“Poppi had layers, so does her girl.”

“Ehh, not really,” Eden hummed, holding his hands. “All you have to do is whisper it. Dear God, I believe, help my unbelief. Bless my path. Clear my mind. Amen.”

“Amen,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes from hers. “Mark 9:24?”

“Yep, how’d you know?”

“Locked up, gotta pass time.”

“So, you know how to do this. You didn’t need me.”

For the first time, Maximus let his intrusive thoughts win. “Nah, I do, E.”

Eden bit her lip, her cheeks warming. No inhibitions present as he leaned in further to press his lips against hers. The motion cut short with a knock sounding against the door and Staysha’s voice calling out.

“Show time!”

Eden retracted her hands from his and stood. “Ready?”

He stood, swiped his hand over his face, and nodded.

Eden gave him a once over, brushed his shoulders off, and returned the nod. “Go kill it, then. I'll be watching.”

Maximus’ eyes glinted with thankfulness before he placed a tender kiss on her cheek and stepped toward the door.

Leading his way to the court was the security team Keon hired for the night, behind them was Keon and a videographer he hired.

To Maximus’ right was the sound man handing him his inner ears, to his left was Eden, and behind the caravan of people was Staysha, snapping images.

Being sure to capture the way everyone disappeared, and he locked into his zone.

He couldn’t hear or see anything other than the woman to his left. The team came to their stopping point, and Eden squeezed his hand before releasing it.

“Go show the world Trae Way,” she mouthed, knowing with his inner ears in and the music booming throughout the arena, he couldn’t hear her. He hooked his pinky in hers before stepping away.

Once Eden walked away, Maximus had tunnel vision. When DJ Rudy dropped the beat, everything else felt like an out-of-body experience.

“Heavy, heavy is the head. Hold that steady. They want my soul, they don’t know I’m protected already. Swaggin’ through Trae Way target on my back. Head of a g gon’ cost them more than a rack!”

From Heavy is the Head, to Trae Way Swervin’, Eden’s voice echoed through the state-of-the-art audio system, introducing his newest hit, Trae Way Magic, to No Church, the crowd hadn’t sat down or missed a lyric rapped.

Once the show was over, Maximus was changed and sitting courtside between Keon and Eden. Once he was comfortable, Eden patted his knee and whispered, “You did so good.”

He could still detect her nervousness and her avoidant eyes on the court. She wasn’t good, and there was no need to ask. He positioned himself toward her, just enough to offer her comfort she wouldn’t ask for and to watch. Maximus was determined to find the source of her angst.

“How many games you been to?” he asked, balancing his attention between her and that game.

“A few, but I have no idea what’s going on," she admitted, leaning into him.

“Geraldo is the truth, he’s about to hit that three.” Maximus watched as the Geraldo hit the three and jogged backwards down court. “If Rico wants more time, he’ll actually ball out.”

There went her tense posture again. He’d found the source. Keon was keen on Maximus’ posture and prepared himself for what was next.

Rico attempted to rebound a ball but couldn’t keep up with the younger players from Majestic Falls. As he jogged past Eden, he grumbled, “dick hopping bitch.”

Like lightning, Maximus popped to his feet, adjusting his pants as he glared at Rico, who’d stopped running, getting the attention he sought.

“Fuck you want, nigga? My sloppy seconds?”

Maximus feet were prepping to slide across the court and beat Rico’s ass where he stood. Eden, with haste, clasped her hand around his.

“Max, no. Don’t give him no attention,” Eden’s voice broke through the boo’s namely for Rico and his poor behavior.

She pulled him back off the edge.

“Listen to your bitch, muthafucka,” Rico taunted as a handful of teammates pushed him back toward the bench.

“Bet.” The gritted, one-syllable word was a promise that when Maximus saw Rico outside of this arena, it was on sight. He turned and looked at Eden, whose chest was heaving up and down. “What you need?”

“I want to go home,” Eden shared.

“Girl, fuck, him. Enjoy the game,” Staysha tried to liven her sister back up, but there was no use.

Eden swayed her head. “No, y’all enjoy the night. I’m going home.”

“Fuck that nigga, Eden,” Keon fussed, knowing what Maximus didn’t and was trying to piece together. “Mark ass nigga.”

“You want to go, we can roll,” Maximus stated, only concerned about her well-being as much as she’d been concerned about his.

“Please,” her mouth and eyes pleaded.

Maximus didn’t waste another minute as he led her out of the arena to the ClearPath area where the exclusive JoyRides awaited potential customers. “Your place or mine?”