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seven

. . .

Maximus roamed into the visitation room, stopping at the entrance so the correction officer could unshackle him.

These chains were enough to drive a weaker man crazy, but Maximus had taken his time on the chin.

Keon kept the money on his books, Trae Way Gangstas on the inside looked out for him, and the members outside of the prison back home knew what it was.

Unchained, Maximus roamed in, spotting Keon, who sat at a table in the corner. As he got closer, he rumbled. “What up, nigga?”

Keon popped up and pounded Maximus’ fist. “You look good, nigga, but you skipping leg day?”

Maximus rumbled in laughter and took a seat. “Fuck you, nigga.”

“You been good? Holdin’ your head?”

“Yeah, it’s been what it is. Ain’t heard nothing about an early release, so I guess we coastin’ through this shit.”

Keon nodded. “Well, I got some good news for you. I know you’ve been locked up in here, mindin’ your business, writing your shit and you have no idea what your social media following looks like.”

“Nah, don’t even give a fuck about it for real,” Maximus shared.

“Well, this influencer by the name of @GardenofEden used Get Right Back on a video she posted. It went viral, and now the whole mixtape is number one on the JoyBeats app. I got a call when I landed from Urban Views Entertainment about a deal. The thing is, you got to be out to record.”

“So, I can’t take the deal. Aight then, we find something else.”

Keon allowed Maximus to settle with the idea that the judge, his lawyer, or him were fighting on his behalf. All Maximus had to do was his day-to-day assignments and stay out of trouble.

“Damn, you let this shit strip you of your optimism huh? Apparently, the CEO of Urban Views knows your judge, so in a couple weeks, you’re going to be back in Waynesville.

“I ain’t steppin’ foot back in Trae Way. I ain’t dealing with Gus or Ma. Nothing.”

“Aight, then we won’t. I’ll make sure shit is straight for you when you get home so keep doing your shit; don’t say shit, don’t do shit you ain’t been doing.”

Maximus didn’t let his excitement show outwardly.

That’d been something he’d done since the iron gate slid closed behind him.

Light, joy, and happiness was something the darkness in this place would snuff out – even kill.

He’d seen it on repeat for four years. One inmate would get release papers, a day later, shanked, hung, or mysteriously dead in a cell.

The equation was simple. Niggas got braggadocious about getting out of prison whether it was early or on time, flaunted that to niggas who were serving life sentences, and then those niggas snatched their souls.

“I intend on it. I’m not giving them an inkling of nothing. How’s my momma? I ain’t heard from her in a minute.”

Keon palmed his face and groaned. “I took her some groceries last week. She got a house guest.”

Maximus frowned his face. “A house guest? She got another nigga in there or something?”

Keon chuckled dryly. “It’s another nigga but she ain’t fucking him, trust me.”

“Don’t tell me nothing else,” Maximus gritted. His mother never made good choices when it came to men, and the thought of her falling victim to another man who would exploit her goodness and desire to be loved made him sick.

“You asked me.”

“I know you just ain’t walk in, see a nigga laid up in her shit and let it go,” Maximus grumbled, sitting back in his seat.

Keon kissed his teeth. “Hell nah, I told that nigga to get his ass up and contribute. But she also ain’t my momma, so I’m going to let you handle that when you get back.”

Maximus looked at Keon. Not flashy or upgrading himself on Maximus’ dime. At least not how Augustus did. “I appreciate you.”

“Bro, chill. Trae Way Gangstas. That shit is family, we family. I said I got you and I meant that shit. The only thing I need for you to do is make it through these next couple of weeks. That’s it, aight?”

They dapped. “Aight.”

Once Maximus was in his cell, he nodded toward his cellmate. “Ay, what you need?”

The man known as Brody looked up from his tablet in frustration. “Outside of getting my girl to answer a fucking email? Some snacks or something. What you got?”

“A box of noodles and Pop-Tarts. Help yourself, but I need something.”

“What’s that? These niggas bothering you?”

Maximus curled his lip slightly. “Nigga, I look like I need you to protect me?”

Brody chuckled. “Nah but two niggas kickin’ ass is always better than one.”

Maximus waved his finger and moved deeper into the small cell. “Heard you. Listen, you good with that social media shit?”

“I’m decent. I only use it to see who my girl is fucking.,” Brody stated with a shrug.

“Why you even with her?”

“‘Cause she keep my books straight most of the time. And any woman who sticks with you through a bid is asking to get used. Especially without a ring. She dumb as fuck, so I keep her around.”

Maximus shook his head. Four years locked up had changed his point of view. Although love and finding someone wasn’t anywhere on his radar, he knew that if he ever stumbled upon it, she couldn’t be stupid, or loud, or dirty, or wanting popularity more than she wanted her sanity and her soul.

“Nigga,” Maximus huffed with a slight chuckle. “I need you to look up some girl by the name of Gardens of Eden.”

“You know we can’t look at porn nigga. You trying to get me flagged?” Brody questioned.

“No fool,” Maximus grumbled, swaying his head. “It’s her name on social media or some shit.”

Brody tapped the screen with his fat fingers and found the woman Maximus was referring to. “This bitch bad as fuck! You trying to get you some eye candy or something?”

Maximus took the tablet and scoffed. “Fuck no. I need to see something.”

He scrolled down her feed until he found the video with over a million views.

It was of her showing a few pieces of art and hanging them around her home.

The living room was inviting, full of plants, crystals, natural tones, and a lot of natural light.

Maximus must’ve watched the video seven times, feeling like he’d seen her somewhere.

Those eyes. That barely there smile. Finding himself scrolling back up, he caught a video of her with the physical mixtape vinyl being placed on a shelf.

The caption read, “I’m not telling you to buy it, but it’s dope.

And it’s a Waynesville native. #SupportLocalArt. #TraeWayMB.”

That was the same hashtag she used on the art unboxing video.

“Brody, you know who this is?” Maximus asked, handing the tablet back.

“Uh, Eden Sage. She’s like the bitch of the moment. Everyone got her in their designs and shit. She a model, influencer, bad bitch. I’d be trying to holla. What you trying to do, put her in your basket for release?”

“Nah, just wanted to see something.”

Maximus hopped onto his bunk, tucked his hands behind his head, and daydreamed about freedom and what it would look like for him to never have to touch a brick again.

To never look over his shoulder for scheming ass bitches or bitch ass niggas.

He was so close to stepping into his manifestation that he could taste it.

But for now – until then – he’d let those full, almond-cut eyes peer at him with a knowing.