Page 49

thirty-five

. . .

Eleven o’clock on the dot, the shoot wrapped, and the platinum joyride was parked on the curb of the gallery, awaiting Eden.

Maximus had texted her throughout the night, but with the hustle and bustle of shots, she was unable to reply.

According to his texts, he had her food on standby and a few tracks for her to listen to.

She was equally excited about both, but she found herself more excited about being in his presence again.

Be it watching movies, listening to him breathe, or having him close enough to feel warmth, she needed it.

He claimed that she weaved herself into his side, but Maximus was coming after her heart, and no matter what she did to deflect the deed being taken out on it, he was going to be the owner.

Hell, he could already command her body with the glint of his eyes or the mere touch of her skin.

Inside the JoyRide, she texted him OTW and then checked her made-up face in the front camera of her phone.

A half an hour ride to the studio and she was trekking through the congested area of the lobby and Studio A.

Studio A was reserved for the label’s biggest artist – Pusha Peezy.

A mumble rapper who popped Percs, drank lean, and poisoned the minds of kids with his lyrics.

Glorifying drug use and collecting bad bitches, all while collecting and flashing money he made by pandering.

In Eden’s opinion, he was trash and didn’t deserve his platform or Studio A.

“Ay chocolate,” slurred from a nearby man as she attempted to weave in and out of the thickness of people.

She attempted to skirt by until he caught her by the arm. “Bitch, I’m talking to you.”

Pusha Peezy’s hand was wrapped around her arm. The liquor oozed out of his pores, layering over the staleness of his cologne. Eden curled her lip as she studied his glossy eyes and dirty nails. Unkempt, unclean, and had the audacity to step to her.

She yanked away from him. “Nigga, get the fuck off me.”

She didn’t feel the need to get loud. The only person that had ever made her raise her voice in anger was her mother, and Maximus in the throes of passion. Peezy and his dirty hands and funky grill didn’t deserve a large reaction from her.

She maneuvered through the remainder of the crowd, landing her at Studio B, where Maximus was actively working. Sliding inside, she spotted him in the booth, Brody seated in the corner, and Keon on the couch.

Keon threw her a head nod along with Brody. Maximus looked up from his phone, stopped his adlibs to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

Eden winced. “Sorry.”

“Them niggas fuck with you?” he asked, pointing toward the door. His eyes watching intently as she grabbed the hand sanitizer off the counter and vigorously rubbed it on her hands.

“I’m good. Keep doing your thing,” she shared, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

Maximus studied her through the thick glass. “You sure?”

“Positive,” she smiled. “I’m fine.”

The music started again, and Maximus picked up where he left off.

Everyone was so caught up in the way he flowed that the door opening and closing didn’t interrupt the experience.

But Brody was on high alert. Even in his seated position, he leaned up and watched Pusha Peezy stand by Eden and bop his head.

“Ahh, that’s the type of shit you like? Snitchin’ niggas. Word is he told on his set to get that time cut down,” Pusha Peezy muttered. “Nigga ain’t never caught a body for real.”

Eden chose to ignore him and attempted to ignore the stench associated with him.

Keon tapped her, gesturing her to move so he could serve as a buffer and to knock that nigga out his shoes if he tried her. He heard stories of how reckless Pusha Peezy could be. Recklessness involving anything Maximus stamped as his would result in another head being put through a wall.

Eden moved, and the gesture caused Peezy to react.

“What, you scared of dick or something? I was just comin’ in here to see what was good with your fine ass,” Peezy spoke. “Since you tried to play me out in the hall. Pussy that good you make niggas chase you?”

Eden, knowing his fate, didn’t bother saying a word.

Brody and Keon were now on their feet. That swift movement caught Maximus’s attention. Eden could’ve sworn he teleported out of the booth. Everything was happening like lightning. Peezy was live on JoyChat, and Maximus was pushing past his boys to see what the problem was.

“Oh, I see. You a stuck-up bitch with niggas who got papers on them,” Peezy said, baiting Maximus for a reaction.

Brody grabbed the phone from his small hand and stomped on it until it cracked and shattered into pieces on the floor.

Keon stood guard, apparently willing to serve as a voice of reason if Maximus went too far.

And Maximus, well, he had Peezy by the throat and glaring angrily into his eyes.

Too far was just the tip of the iceberg.

He was going to take it there and beyond for Eden.

“What you say, nigga?”

Peezy, thinking this was just another hostile encounter by a faux gangster, chuckled. “You heard me. I came to spit some game to that black bitch. She too stuck up to see a real nigga. She wants a snitch bitch.”

“Who the fuck you calling black bitch?” Eden popped off, prompting Keon to hold his hand up.

“Be cool, sis,” Keon urged. “Stay over there.”

There was nowhere for her to go. All she could do was stand behind the wall of men and listen to Maximus defend her honor and his name.

The comments earned Peezy a series of punches to the face and one to the body, knocking him out of his shoes.

The final punch caused him to slump, but for added effect, Maximus dragged him out of the studio like a ragdoll.

His voice bellowing over the noise of the crowd, Peezy acquired every time Maximus came to work.

“Aye! Studio A is mine now,” Maximus called out, as he dropped Peezy’s slumped, battered body in the middle of the crowded lobby. Aware of the phone’s recording his every move, he found one and continued. “Come pick your nigga up and clean my muhfuckin’ studio out.”

The action alone struck fear into the crowd, who’d never witnessed a day in Trae Way.

“Got me fucked up. Ain’t no papers on MB, bitch ass nigga. Touch or talk to my lady crazy, I’ll turn your fuckin’ head around.” Maximus stepped over him and went back to Studio B, finding Eden in the spot Keon told her to stay in. “You good?”

Eden, like Maximus, had seen her share of violence. She had always chosen to rise above it because she wanted to be respected more than she was feared. But in this instance, she understood and was relieved that she had a man who was going to stand in front of her without a second thought.

“Are you?” she questioned, studying that fury in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m okay. Finish what you were doing,” she responded, watching him retrieve her food from the built-in microwave on the island.

He opened up the plate, handed her the cutlery, and kissed the top of her head. “Eat. I’ll be wrapping this up in a minute.”

Softly, she replied, “Okay.”

Maximus stopped his motion to observe her, sensing there was more. “You need anything else?”

She swayed her head and pointed to the booth. “You know what I want. He shouldn’t have been talkin’ shit.”

Maximus bit a grin and obliged her with a grunt. “Brody, don’t let nobody walk through that fuckin’ door.”

“What you gon’ do with Studio A?” Keon asked, amused that Eden and Maximus were on the same wave of crazy.

“Not a fuckin’ thing. I want niggas to know I’m not playing games with them.”

As turned on as Eden was, she couldn’t help but sense something was off with him. There was something he wasn’t telling her. But she wouldn’t pry, sure that when he was ready to tell her, he would.

One o’clock rolled around, and Maximus finished what he needed to for the night.

Brody roamed out and pulled his truck around.

Keon had already headed out almost an hour ago.

While Maximus worked, Brody introduced himself and assured Eden that Maximus was cool when away from her.

She appreciated that. Though she hadn’t put it into words, she wasn’t ready to be without him.

She didn’t see any space in the future where she wanted to be, either.

“You ready to go home?” Maximus asked, helping her to her feet.

“I’ve never been so ready to lay down,” she shared. “I didn’t pack a bag, though.”

“You’ll be cool, I got something for you to put on. Not that I think you’ll need it,” he joked in her ear, checking her temperature.

“You get on my nerves, Max.”

The ride to Cashmere Lakes was quiet. Getting ready for bed was quiet until Eden huffed. “Dammit, I need a bonnet.”

She’d managed to wrap her silkened tresses with a fine-tooth comb he had lying around for his beard.

“This is why you need to go ahead and move in.”

“I got six months left on my lease. I will not pay those people a titty and a kneecap to break it,” she replied, holding her hands against her wrapped hair. “I don’t care how much money I have.”

Maximus finished rubbing the oil from Eden’s gift basket into his beard and roamed into his closet. Returning with a ski mask, he directed her to turn around.

“You’re not putting a shiesty on my head. Why do you even have this?”

“Why not? Your hair looks good, and I know it took them forever, all that hair you got. Just trust me,” he said. “Turn around, E.”

She spun on the balls of her feet and allowed him to pull the mask down over her face and fold it back up to securely rest around the dome of her head. She slid her hands out and smirked.

“Okay, you might’ve been right about that.”

“Ain’t too bad being with a street nigga, huh?” Maximus asked, cupping her chin. “I keep that shit on standby just in case a nigga wants to see the doors slide on a minivan.”

“Reformed,” she corrected. “You’re a reformed street nigga. And no, it isn’t. Although…”