Page 35

As the group of women scurried out of the room, Maximus, in two steps, quickened across the space and yanked Augustus from his seated position.

One slam and Maximus sent his head through the wall with an eerie reminder.

“You can smoke and shoot up whatever the fuck you want, leave momma out your shit, nigga. This is the last time I’m going to take it easy on you. ”

Maximus released him, stepping back and smirking bitterly at Augustus struggling to get his head out of the wall. A small crowd formed, and Maximus left him there in his embarrassment. Drug dealer turned junkie, what a sight.

Easing through the city, Maximus stopped by the twenty-four-hour car wash. In his designer suit, he scrubbed the leather seats and floor until the stench of trauma was out of the vehicle.

Maximus: You up?

Eden: Yeah, you okay?

Maximus: No, can I slide through?

Eden: Yeah, hit E45 on the call box

Back inside his truck without weed or anything else to settle his nerves, Maximus was left alone with his thoughts. Arriving at Eden’s midtown apartment, he followed her directions and landed at her door. A double tap and an exhale swayed his body before she pulled the door open.

Her pressed hair was wrapped and pinned, her face free of make-up, and the dress was long gone, replaced by a nightshirt. Eden studied the dirtied white oxford and pulled him inside.

“What do you need?"

“I don’t - I don't know," he uttered just above a whisper.

She nodded, wrapping her hand in his, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom.

Once inside, she removed the jacket, the shirt, and then knelt to remove his shoes.

“I had a designer send me the wrong size sweats. There’s a set of clean towels in the bathroom.

Do you need anything else? Food, a drink? A call to the weed man?”

His rumble was low. “Nah, just you. I just want to sleep this shit off.”

“Okay,” she spoke softly, roamed to the dresser drawers, and pulled out the sweats. “Here’s everything. I’ll be out here when you're done.”

Maximus moved into the bathroom and mindlessly showered, dried off, and dressed before returning to the bedroom with the sweats hanging off his waist and his chest bare.

Eden was in the middle of the bed, her knees to her chest as she swiped through the images from earlier in the day.

Spotting his half-dressed body, she locked her phone and waved him over.

Climbing into the bed, he pulled the covers back and crawled into her lap. His head cradled between her pillowy breasts and the flatness of her stomach. He took her leg and put it over him before pulling the covers over them.

“You want to talk about it or not?”

“Ain’t shit to say,” he grumbled, fighting his break.

Eden sank her hands into his damp hair. “You know, if I’m your sanctuary, you can release yourself here. Say or do what you need to.”

“My mother is a fuckin’ crackhead," he grumbled, releasing the hot tears against his will. “I keep wanting her to get off whatever it is. A man, my brother, the bottle, whatever the fuck it is and see me. She don’t and she fuckin’ won’t. I know it, but I keep wanting it.”

“We all want our mothers to love us. Our fathers, too. And I wish I knew what to tell you to find peace, that we probably won’t. I’m sorry, Max.”

“This ain’t on you to apologize for.”

“I know. But someone should apologize to you. So, I’m sorry they don't see in you what I see. What the world is going to see. You’re the one.”

“Don’t feel like it, E. It don’t fuckin’ feel like it.”

“Doesn’t have to. Not at least in here, you don’t. I’ll hold those fears.”

“Why?”

“Because I might need you to hold mine too.”

Maximus kissed her midsection and nestled in her warmth. Her scent, the soft massages to his scalp, and the rise and fall of her breathing did what it needed to do – put him to sleep.

Morning came, not violently like at his spot without proper window treatments but gently creeping over his bare back.

At some point in the night, he rolled over, holding a pillow that smelled like Eden.

He groaned, taking a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

He was in a somber haze last night and didn’t take in how clean everything was.

No piles of clothes, no clutter on the dresser, no takeout containers in the corners.

Warm neutral colors, hanging plants in crystal planters reflecting the dancing morning light around the room.

On the dresser, an essential oils diffuser providing the room with an aroma of amber.

For Eden to be in the world of high-fashion glitz and glam, her place was so down-to-earth, filled with peaceful energy. He liked that. He needed this touch in his place.

Pushing himself from the canopy bed, he trekked into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his hands, then roamed down the hall. His nose followed the wafting scent of butter, sugar, and vanilla into the kitchen.

The living area held the same theme as the bedroom, more plants, more natural light, and more peaceful. The furniture was arranged differently, but the vibe was the same.

“What you in here making?” his raspiness rumbled.

Eden was placing a pound cake into a cake dish.

“Well, I can’t cook, so making you eggs was out of the question.

There’s breakfast coming up from Sunrise, and this is Poppi’s famous pound cake.

I woke up this morning feeling like I needed something familiar after yesterday. Just a little taste of home.”

“The last time I had Poppi’s pound cake, I was freshly kicked out and she found my ass in a ditch.”

Eden’s brow fused. “Why were you in a ditch?”

“I didn’t have nowhere to go and sleeping in the ditch seemed better than sleeping on a bench in Trae Way Park.”

“Damn,” Eden blew.

“Yeah, I think it was like three days. Poppi just so happened to be riding by, handling her business, when she spotted me, cleaned me up. Pound cake, water, and put on.”

“Sooo maybe I shouldn’t offer you a piece...”

“Hell nah,” Maximus rumbled, walking up behind her to box her in. “I need a piece of that cake.”

“We’re still talking about that, right?” Eden hummed, pointing to her labor of love.

Maximus’s smirk could be felt against her ear. He kissed her shoulder. “For now.”

“That sounds eerily dangerous.”

“Don’t have to be if you don’t run off. But now I know how to get up in this muthafucka, so won’t be too much more of that runnin’.”

“Mm,” Eden buzzed again, remembering how he felt coming alive underneath her. “Maybe just a little bit. Anyway...”

Maximus felt the spike of heat and reluctantly pulled away, but not before slightly rubbing her hips. He leaned on the opposite counter and watched as she hopped up on the counter, crossing her legs and taking him in. “The shots are back from the shoot. Keon started a group chat.”

“They look good?”

Eden nodded. “You do. Like that nigga.”

Maximus pressed his palms on the counter. “And what you look like?”

Eden shrugged. “The iPad is behind you, see for yourself.”

He twisted around, grabbed the iPad, and closed the space between them again. It was inevitable; at some point, they were going to be tied together. And he wasn’t going to come up off of her. “What’s the code?”

“050695.”

“What’s that, your birthday? Taurus?”

“Mmhmm, you?”

“July 7 th .”

“Ohhh, Cancer. Are you going to put me through it?”

“Not any more than you’re going to put me through it,” he responded, unlocking the iPad and roaming to the text messages, finding the new group chat.

He swiped through them, not offering her much until he was finished.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.

But if I look like that nigga, you look like that bitch. ”

Eden smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Placing the iPad down, he lifted her chin and pecked her lips. “You should.”

His eyes bounced over her face, hair still wrapped up, and he kissed her again and again until their mouths fused, tongues wrestled, and hands slid down torsos and up thighs.

From her lips, he found her neck, the pads of his fingers dancing toward the heat of her apex.

Then, a simultaneous knock on the door and ringing from the iPad provided them a sobering shock.

Eden pulled back, crossed her legs back and covered her protruding nipples. “That’s breakfast.”

“And that’s Staysha calling you. Damn.”

Maximus trekked to the door, and Eden answered the incoming call. Staysha’s voice rang out. “Where is MB?”

Eden’s eyes shot to the door, taking in Maximus’s tattooed back as he gathered the food. “Uh, here.”

“Whatever you two are doing, make it quick. He has to be at the radio station in an hour and a half.”

“Ah damn, that was today?” Maximus huffed.

“If you answered your phone, you’d know they moved it up. So, hurry up. Love you, bye,” Staysha finalized, hanging up.

“She always been bossy like that?”

Eden swayed her head and slid off the counter. “No, up until recently she was a pain in my ass. I’d rather her bossy over getting our asses into trouble I had to get us out of.”

“Oh yeah?” Maximus asked amusedly.

“Maybe if this goes somewhere, I’ll tell you one day.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Maximus weighed his attention between her and the trays of food. “Want to kick it with me today? Radio, studio, and an actual date?”

Eden feigned shock. “Me? You want to take me on a date?”

“You funny. Yeah, that’s how you do this shit right? I date you, show you off, bag and tag it so when other niggas step to you, they know you mine type shit?”

“Mine? What language is that?” Eden joked. “Hypothetically, what if I said yes, where are you taking me, and what am I wearing?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Probably a private dinner situation because you seem like the lowkey type. Seafood, because according to your social media, you like that.”

“Stalker,” she snorted.

“You knew that. Don't act new now. After dinner, whatever the vibe is.”

Eden nodded. “And then you take me home, and I don’t hear from you for a couple of days?”

Maximus swayed his head. “Nah, I’ll wake up to you.”

Eden nipped her cheek. “Oh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is say yes.”

“So, if I'm with you all day, when am I supposed to change and get cute?”

“I mean, you don’t need to, but if that’s a requirement, I can wait on the couch. I just need to know what time I’m making a reservation for.”

“Bluefin’s accepts the last private dining reservation for 8:30, and you have to have your items preselected.”

“Heard you, what you want?”

“Oh no, Max, you’re the stalker. That’s your job to figure out. Eat up, Stay has you on the clock, and you can’t go to the radio station like that?”

“And why can’t I?”

“Pressure 107.3 records every interview for their JoyTube.”

“Damn we’re not going to make it to Cashmere Lakes and back.”

“I know a spot.”