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twenty-three

. . .

“Ah shit,” Rudy winced as Maximus walked out the booth and reclaimed his seat. “That’s twenty in two days. Fuck goin’ on?”

“Shorty left him in the middle of the night and is ignoring all his calls and texts,” Keon grumbled. “Them fresh out relationships be putting niggas through it. Look at him, sick.”

Maximus cut his eyes at Keon. “I should kick yo ass, nigga, tellin’ my business.”

“Considering your business is the business I manage, it was my fucking business to tell. And you ain’t doin’ shit. You ain’t slept in two days.”

Maximus groaned and swiped a hand down his face and gripped the hairs of his beard.

Sleepless nights weren’t foreign to him.

Up until Eden ghosted him, he’d had something to occupy his insomnia.

If Eden was trying to test him, he was unraveling.

There was a lot he could do. Take a bid, a body, and his respect.

Doing forced time without her wasn’t something he could do.

“Fuck you,” Maximus blew out, making Keon respond with the bird.

“You trippin’ on me when you should’ve pulled up on her days ago. You better get your shit together. Big Paper Magazine got you on schedule for a photo shoot and interview tomorrow. We got the gang on notice, security hired. Female lead for it booked.”

Maximus curled his lip up.

“Oh, he is gone,” Rudy joked.

“Ain’t even sniffed the pussy yet and he sitting in here curling his lip up at me like I told him Priya was going to be the lead.”

“The way he looked at you, you would have thought that you told him you were going to slap his momma with a bag of nickels,” Rudy added.

“Like I kicked his fuckin’ dog or some shit. He sleepy, don’t mind him.”

“Both you niggas need to leave me the fuck alone,” Maximus grumbled, texting Eden again.

Keon was right, and Maximus hated it. No taste, no whiff, not even a peek and Eden had him spiraling. If he were like this now, the moment they crossed that line, he would be coming off his cool every time the opportunity presented itself.

Maximus: You wanted the stalker, aight

That was the last text he was willing to send without action. Crazy? Irrefutable. Necessary for Eden to get it through her head that there was no longer a space in time that existed with him without her. It was like the moment he saw her on the prison-issued tablet, she had him hooked.

“Let’s run this shit back. I gotta have shit to the label in a month,” Maximus stated standing back to his feet and heading back in the booth. “Rudy, give me some smooth shit.”

After two days locked in the studio, no sleep and surviving on take-out and an Eden-shaped void, Maximus was pushing his truck toward the corner of Prince Avenue and 36 th Street.

His hair was undone, his afro big, free, and floppy, his half-tattooed torso on display, blunt hanging out the corner of his mouth, and double-parked in the middle of the street.

In true Trae Way fashion, he swaggered across the street to the awaiting representatives of Big Paper Magazine.

Maximus scanned the area and spotted two wardrobe trailers. Turning his body to Keon, who was two steps behind him. “Whoever they hired, send them home.”

“You su-”

“Send them home, we doing this shit solo,” he responded, the lack of sleep turning his otherwise cool demeanor into sharp and on edge.

“You not even going to see who this-”

“Send her the fuck home,” Maximus stated again and for the final time as he approached the group.

Keon palmed the top of his head and started over to the wardrobe trailer, where Eden was prepping for first looks. Had Maximus checked her social media this morning, he would’ve seen the street sign she posted over an hour ago.

Per the schedule, Maximus was set to interview first. With the pleasantries out of the way, he sat in the chair set up underneath the tent at the corner of Prince Avenue and 36 th Street.

The interviewer, Miranda Smart, of Big Paper magazine, sat across from him with a flirtatious smile plastered on her face.

For a second, Maximus scolded himself for being this gone off of a woman who could ghost him on a whim when there were so many willing to throw themselves at him.

A weaker man would’ve hit all of them while waiting for Eden to come around.

He wasn’t that man, regardless of his street credibility and budding superstar status.

Why run the streets with fifty when he had the one?

“Trae Way MB, it's so nice to finally sit down with you and talk about your humble beginnings. Coming from Trae Way to the rapper to watch is big.”

Composed but still that curly-headed gangsta from Trae Way, Maximus gave just enough cool to the camera, making it clear that he wasn’t going to be playing the game. He was going to answer the questions and go about his day.

“‘Preciate it,” he responded. “Trae Way molded a lot of us. My whole team is from the neighborhood. Either Trae Way or the north side.”

“Tell me how Trae Way molded you into this icon you are now?”

“Icon?” Maximus smirked harshly, looking away from the interview to the block shut down for this moment.

“I wouldn’t call myself an icon. That’s a setup because the moment I fall from what y’all think I am, it’s the axe.

What I am is a man that believes in honor and respect and reaching back to pull up the young niggas coming up behind me.

I don’t want to be an icon. I want to be the light. ”

Miranda blew an impressed breath as if she expected Maximus to be anything other than him. “How do you want to be the light in a place that sometimes doesn’t see it?”

“Someone told me that everyone has light in them and sometimes it takes the right person or the right circumstance to find the light.”

“I’m curious, who was that someone? They seem to be very influential to you. Was it your mother or father? Brother?”

Maximus leaned up. “You ain’t from around here, are you?

Big Paper? Is it owned by anyone in Waynesville?

Do y’all know who kept the lights on so politicians could be who they are?

Who made sure the roads stayed paved, families kept food on the tables, women and children were safe, and men had jobs?

If there was a problem, you didn’t call the police, you called Poppi.

Poppi Sage. She was the light, and everything she touched, nurtured, and loved had light.

Some still to this day. Poppi was family when my own family wasn’t.

So, Trae Way is more than me. I just put it on my back because that’s what I was supposed to do.

I put it in my music so it can live on. You can’t talk about me, or Trae Way, or Waynesville without talking about Poppi. ”

Keon appeared from the wardrobe trailer to the edge of the tent behind Miranda with an amused smirk on his face.

“Wow, I didn’t know Waynesville had such a rich history,” Miranda gushed, still fishing for something Maximus wasn’t going to give him.

“My suggestion, on some professional shit, before you step to a nigga like me in the heart of my hood, do your homework.” Standing to his feet, he looked at the cameraman. “Let’s get these photos done.”

Maximus roamed over to Keon. “What’s that look on your face, nigga?”

“That model? Yeah, she ain’t leavin’,” Keon shared with a hefty chuckle.

“Who said that?” Maximus asked with a frown, inching closer and closer to coming out of himself.

“Her rep, they said, if you want them gone, go tell them.” Before Keon was halfway through his sentence, Maximus was headed over to the trailer, banging his fist on the door.

When the door swung open, exposing Staysha and a grin, he grunted.

“What kinda shit you on?” Maximus gritted. “She in there?”

Staysha floated down the few steps and patted his arm. “Say thank you, Stay. And fix your face.”