Page 54

thirty-eight

. . .

“Did you know BlackArtCo. was going to be out here?” Maximus asked, strolling through the sidewalk covered block of black local artists.

Each side of the street was filled with vendors – some live painting, digital art, food art, music, handmade clothing, and décor for the house.

Maximus was sure to have Brody tag along and control the crowd from the back.

Instead, Brody was flanked to Eden’s right, devouring an oat milk ice cream sundae she talked him into and balancing the bags of things she’d purchased.

“Maybe,” Eden hummed, popping a honey and ginger cough drop into her mouth. “Want to see what they have?”

Maximus looked down his nose at her. “What you up to?’

“I’m not up to anything,” she coolly responded, before walking ahead of him.

Brody smirked, keeping his eye on her as she waltzed off.

“What she put you up to?” Maximus pressed.

“I know you pay me, but she feeds me, and I’m not going against the lady of the house. I don’t know shit, nigga,” Brody replied, trailing him to the art tent.

Maximus ducked his head under the black marking tent and examined the area. Eden was standing with the owner, grinning from ear to ear as he held up two large, covered canvases, and she held the other.

He approached the two, introduced himself to the owner, and peered down at Eden. “What you got?”

“You know how you told me to make the house mine, too? Well, I had some pieces commissioned. There’s like twelve total, but these are the ones I wanted you to see.”

“Tonight was to celebrate you, though,” Maximus stated, enjoying how she showed her affection but wanting to be clear that her moments were her moments.

“And we are. Look at all those bags Brody is holding,” Eden pointed.

Brody, in fact, was no longer holding the bags.

They were placed in front of him and to the side as he recorded the moment with Eden’s bright pink phone.

Maximus observed him, a floppy hat atop his head because it wouldn’t fit in the bag, a scarf around his neck, Eden’s bright phone, and all her bags. He chuckled.

“How is it you have all of us whipped?” he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “Focus. These three are for your soon-to-be in-home studio.”

Maximus turned to see the oil paintings. One of his mixtape cover and two shots of him from the Trae Way photoshoot. “Yo, these are dope as hell.”

“I wanted you to see you how I see you. Larger than life.”

“You got to stop filling that nigga’s head up,” Brody joked. “Whew, these are some fly ass paintings. His ugly ass looks half-way decent.”

“You got to figure out the balance, nigga,” Maximus stated. “I’m pretty or ugly?”

Brody cocked his head to the side and squinted. “Pretty to your momma and your lady probably, uglass nigga to everyone else. E, you sure you want to keep waking up to him every day?”

“Sure, as the air I breathe,” Eden responded, not missing a beat.

Maximus’ chest swelled. “You heard her, muhfucka, step off.”

Brody gave Eden a silly look before stepping away.

“You play too much, Brody,” she laughed and turned her attention back to Maximus. “You like ‘em?”

“Love ‘em. Where’s the rest?”

“In the back in the crates,” the owner spoke up. “Considering you’re a private man and you cherish your lady here, I think it’s better if you view them at home.”

Maximus’s thick brow raised. “Oh, that type shit? Aight, we’ll bring the truck around.”

Eden stood nearby, chatting it up with a few patrons who came under the tent to express to her how happy they posted up on their own side bar until Brody appeared with the truck to load everything up. After a round of photos, they were on their way back home.

“Aight, three for the studio, living room, entryway, and three for the bedroom. These gotta be the ones you had that man sign the NDA for,” Maximus muttered.

“Mhmm,” Eden buzzed from her rested position on the love seat. Maximus was sure to give her tea and medicine before trailing up the stairs behind her.

On the bed, Maximus slowly pulled the craft paper off the first painting. His tattooed hand around her throat. The second, her foot over his shoulder as he kissed her ankle. The third, his head between her thighs, and her pink toes pointed to the ceiling.

He studied each one. The ones in the living room were from their first date, the TV show and the Trae Way photoshoot. It showed the progression and layers of their relationship thus far. He balanced his attention between the gifts and her. “You trying to fuck my head up more than you have already?”

“I have not,” she defended, sipping her tea.

“Nah, you have,” Maximus stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How?” she pressed, watching as he stood and moved the paintings to the wall and then picked up the paper.

“‘Cause,” Maximus started, putting the trash in a bag he brought to reduce the mess and clutter.

Eden lowly watched him move around and clean as she wrapped herself in a blanket. Maximus ordered in her ‘Sorry, you caught a cold basket’. “‘Cause what?”

“You make me do shit I haven’t done. You do shit no one has done.”

“Go deeper,” Eden pushed, her words making him chuckle carnally.

“You might be catching a cold but your pussy ain’t so watch your mouth,” he responded, before taking a seat by her.

True to his routine, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m praying. And I ain’t been the type of nigga to talk to God unless I was in a jam and needed him to get me out.

Now I'm praying in the morning with gratefulness because I’m awake, or that I slept, for food I didn’t have to hustle for or steal.

A girl that ain’t trying to snake me out, piss in my face and tell me it’s raining.

Even when it’s rocky, you know? You jump started that, and it’s rearranged parts of me I thought were broken or dead.

You fucked up my head and you keep pushing me to believe in myself and my vision, so you did this. I fear you gon’ keep going.”

Eden hummed tiredly, the cold medicine kicking in. “If you let me.”

“Are you going to love me?”

“Mmhmm. You going to love me?”

“Ain’t a damn question. Come on, let me get you in the bed. I’ll lay with you until it’s time for me to leave.”

“You don’t have to, I don’t want you sick too.”

“I probably already got it. I’ve been all up and through you,” he joked, kissing her face then her lips. “Them my cooties.”

“You’re silly. You better know if I make you chicken noodle soup, it’s going to taste like socks. Old sweaty jail socks.”

“We’ll just order out. Don’t worry about it.”

Maximus laughed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed.

The moment Eden was under the covers, she snuggled against his body.

He held her, his lids heavy with sleep. By the time he woke up, Keon, Rudy, and the engineer had called him three times each.

He groaned and texted back a collective “I’m on my way damn. ”

DJ Rudy: You got to give shorty a break

Maximus: Fuck you nigga

DJ Rudy: You so damn hostile, nigga

Maximus kissed her face. Eden slightly snored, now holding his pillow in his absence. “I’ll be back by the time you get up.”

“Mm kay,” she hummed into the pillow. “Be safe. Be good.”

“Nah, baby. I’m gon’ give ‘em hell,” he grumbled, covering her up with a weighted comforter and heading out of the room.

As the days progressed, Maximus recorded at night, spent his days laid up with Eden, keeping her dosed up while she kept him fed, medicated, and his throat coated with honey and tea. By the end of the week, Maximus was back on his feet and in rehearsals for his moment on a national stage.

With the towel draped over his head, he watched Keon run down the logistics of what to expect with Brody. Staysha plopped down by him and started rambling off the hundreds of things that needed to be done from now until the time they left.

“We need to talk about what you have in mind for your red carpet look, stage look, looks for two events outside of the main event. Everything is going to be outside, outside of the award show, so you need to be cool. We know how you get when you get hot.”

Maximus fused his brows. “And how’s that?”

“Shirtless and a flag hanging off your body. Aggravated and ready to fight. We’re not going to have that.”

Maximus waved her off. “Who don’t know I’m Trae Way?”

“Everyone knows your Trae Way, we don’t want to draw attention to one facet of you, so when the stylist comes by, pick something that you can breathe in. We also need to go over your interview points, so you don’t storm off like you like to do.”

“I think you’re inflating this. I walked away from the two interviews I did because they were on some bullshit.”

“Touché.”

“Thank you. What else? We flying or driving?”

“Flying, you can thank a potential endorsement for that.”

“Who is the potential endorsement?”

“JoyCloud. Rolani James. He’s cool with Lucci, Indigo, Zaim, DJ Eli, and a few others in the business.

Ro owns every damn thing though and his story is similar to yours and Lucci’s and Zaim’s.

Started in the streets and found a way out.

Now the man is a billionaire with his own tech empire and a private island.

” Staysha snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. Lucci and Daysha have invited us to the welcome dinner at their spot down there. Everyone I just mentioned is going to be there, and it’s good for you to rub elbows, considering we don’t know when the bottom is going to fall out of this ship,” Staysha stated the last part bitterly.

Maximus wasn’t quick to reply. “You good?”

Staysha bounced her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. Part of me wants to blow up her spot, the other part hates that Eden doesn’t know. And then there’s a small part that wants everything to fall apart so I can show I’m smart and I can do shit that doesn’t require laying on my back.”

“Damn,” Maximus blew.