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twenty-six

. . .

Eden stood in the doorway of the private dressing room and looked at the last fit Maximus put on for her approval. She bit her gloss-covered lip and mused. Something was missing.

“I’ll be right back,” she muttered, pulling herself away from his marvel over designer jeans and knit. The good thing about being an influencer was that Eden had access to people and things at the snap of her fingers. “Hey, Melissa.”

The softness of Eden’s voice grabbed the attention of the saleswoman, who Eden had called for her pieces for years.

MūSE was Eden’s best-kept secret. She and Natavia used to frequent a lot before Natavia threw a fit claiming Melissa wasn’t giving them her best things.

The truth was Melissa couldn’t stand Natavia and her entitled behavior.

When Natavia tried to cancel the exclusive boutique tucked in the heart of Midtown, Eden still showed up twice a month to support.

“What’s up?” Melissa asked, pulling her eyes from a display. “How’s everything going back there?”

“Good. I think that last one is a go, but do you still have any pieces from Diamond? A gold link chain?”

Melissa smirked and raised a brow. “Eden, be real with me, what are you doing with him? I’ve never seen you with a man, and definitely not anyone who has you grinning from ear to ear. I’ve been seeing the blogs too. Give me the tea.”

“The tea is ain’t no tea to give, girl,” Eden spoke, laughing it off while trying to disguise the glint in her eyes. “He’s a good guy, just spending time. That’s it. And we are about to run out of time, so the chain, please.”

“Fine, fine. You know I live my life vicariously through you. Speaking of which, guess who drug her ass in here the other day looking for something you had on,” Melissa strutted away to the velvet box.

“No one but Natavia. You know, now that I’m away from her, I see all the hater shit.”

“All of it. You could bake; she went and got a deal with Sweet Tooth Cookies and Cakes. Now she wants the Jesipi the Don shirt and boots you had on. I told her it came from online, and I never saw it.” Melissa smiled as she pulled the gold chain out. A Cuban link. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that, charge my card for the whole thing. He doesn’t have time to fight with me today,” Eden spoke, as she took the chain from her. Back in the dressing room, Eden detected the low rumble of Maximus’ voice.

“I don’t give a fuck where the nigga is, when you see him, you call me,” Maximus grumbled. “The very minute you see him, this phone better fuckin’ ring, nigga.”

Eden waited by the entrance, appearing to mind her business, pulling the brim of her fitted Waynesville Buccaneers hat lower. Maximus appeared from behind the curtain, spotting Eden, the scowl on his face softened.

“Put this on, we’ve got fifteen minutes to get you to the station. So, we should be going.”

Maximus took the chain and adorned his neck. “You got me spending money?”

“A little bit here and there won’t kill you. And you didn’t pay for this. And before you start talking your shit, we don’t have time. Let’s go.”

“I thought Staysha was bossy,” he muttered, watching Eden circle him, pulling the tags off the shirt and pants. “You something else.”

Eden’s dreamy-like eyes watched him in the mirror. “I’m not bossy.”

“Nah, you right, E. You the boss.”

At the radio station, Eden sat in the corner nearest Staysha, watching how Maximus worked the room. The cool, the swagger, the light he held; all a recipe to have her spinning in the palm of his hand.

Staysha nudged her with her elbow. “Y’all matching on purpose?”

Eden looked down at her black jersey knit dress that hugged the minimal curves of her body and sneaker-covered feet. The gold choker, anklet, bracelet, and glossy-painted lips only elevated the simple look. “No, I didn’t even think about it. I just threw something on.”

“I would say you were too busy riding dick to get dressed for real,” Staysha joked. “But that walk is the same, and you still look like you’re trying to avoid it.”

“I’m not trying to avoid anything. It’s all about place and time. Unlike you, sister.”

Staysha feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mm. Get over one by getting under another,” Eden mocked.

“I’m not in the public eye either. I can ride and slide whoever. You and him? Glued at the hip and a package. Be sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Ohhh, that is rich coming from you,” Eden softly spoke with a laugh. “I thought we established I don’t know what I'm doing.”

“We did,” Staysha snickered. “But you not knowing what to do for the first time in your life is going to give you exactly what you need. I think you're on the verge of the realest shit you’ll ever know.”

Eden turned her attention back to Maximus behind the microphone, a loaded glint in his eyes, and she couldn’t wait to pick away at it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got Trae Way MB in the studio today. He rolled in with a whole team, too. His manager, PR, and is that your girl?”

Maximus’s laugh rumbled as he looked over at Eden posted on the wall, arms folded across her chest. “Yeah, that’s my team. They’re keeping all my shit together. Keeping me together. How y’all feeling?”

“We’re feeling good,” DJ Block answered. “How you feeling? How long you been home?”

“Been home for almost a month and a half now. Been kicking it, studio type shit. Keeping my head down,” Maximus replied.

“You prepped him? Good job,” Staysha muttered.

Eden nodded. “You know Block and Sabrina are messy as fuck. Had to make sure he stayed clear of any of the traps.”

DJ Block continued. “What you go down for?”

“Which time?” Maximus asked. “I’ve been in and out since a teenager. That last one was on a violation. You ain’t know that?”

“Nah, all I heard was you had paperwork,” DJ Block’s co-host, Sabrina, spoke up.

Eden, Staysha, and Keon all tensed.

Maximus looked at her, slightly taken aback by the outlandish statement. “Yo, you for real?”

“Yeah, they said you were supposed to still be locked up and you came out early.”

“I want to know who they is and secondly, you from Trae Way?” Maximus asked.

“The people on the internet. They got it from Pusha Peezy. He said, and I have to edit this because we’re on the radio – don’t no ninja get out after four years on a murder charge if he wasn’t talkin’. He put it in a freestyle online. We played it right before you walked in. You ain’t hear it?”

Eden watched as Maximus curled his lip slightly in detest. In her study of his mannerisms, his hooded eyes lowered. People on the internet said crazy things about them both day in and day out, but calling him a snitch? A direct threat to his safety. Eden tensed, unsure of what to expect next.

“Pusha Peezy?” Maximus questioned with disgust. “Don’t talk to me about no nigga who ain’t like me.”

“MB, you live dawg,” DJ Block attempted to correct him.

“Y’all niggas live too. Turned these mics on to ask me some dumb shit about a dumb nigga. Next question,” Maximus stated, as a warning.

“I’m from Hasley, by the way,” Sabrina continued.

“Probably should’ve kept yo ass there,” Maximus stated boldly. With the glint in his eye, Block wasn’t going to correct him. “Why you playin’ these games? With a nigga like me? You think that shit safe?”

Sabrina, thinking it was all fun and games, continued.

The issue was, they weren’t used to someone as solid as Maximus walking through their doors.

They were culture vipers and agitators, and he was going to shake up their entire establishment.

“They also said you and Eden are in a paid relationship. Finding it convenient that she started posting your music right before your alleged unnegotiated release, she gets dropped like a bad habit from MRA, and then y’all are seen out. Seems very calculated.”

Maximus sat back in his seat, no longer interested in finishing the interview.

Maybe five years ago he’d have the radio station upside down, niggas hanging out of windows for the thought of disrespect.

Now, with too much riding on his freedom and his need to make it, he wasn’t going to touch a hair on their heads.

He’d put them, and anyone listening, on notice, though.

“Maybe you should keep her out of the interview,” Maximus’ tone dangerously cool. “You want to talk to me, let’s do it on some respectful shit. Anything else, I ain’t goin’ for it.”

Sabrina laughed nervously, realizing Block wasn’t going to back her up. “You brought her in here. Matching and whatnot. We just want to know if it’s real or fake.”

Maximus smirked. “How you get this job on hip hop radio? You realize you asking the realest nigga you’ll ever meet about some paperwork and personal shit?

I’m a Trae Way Gangsta, through and fuckin’ through.

Got that shit tatted on my body. Ain’t no snitch in my blood.

And whatever I do when the mic is off is what the fuck I do.

Ay, y’all do me a favor, don’t have me back up here.

Bullshit ass radio show,” Maximus grumbled, standing up and knocking the mic off the stand. “Let’s roll.”

“Damn, MB, you gon’ crash out like that?” Eden watched as DJ Block attempted to recover as if Sabrina hadn’t violated him.

“You didn’t see shit yet,” Staysha grumbled, knowing that Maximus expressed the highest level of self-control when it was so easy to reach across the mics and smack off both Sabrina’s bad wig and Block’s hair piece.

Keon was the first out the door behind Maximus. Staysha and Eden followed. Outside the station, Maximus sparked a blunt and groaned, more upset with himself than Block or Sabrina. He knew what he was walking into, all this shit with his mother had his head swimming.

“I think,” Eden was the first to speak. “You and Keon go to the studio. You got some shit on your chest and on your mind that you need to get off.”

He turned to her as if there weren’t a bustling street or people around them. “I’m cool, we got plans.”