Page 120 of Are You Going to Love Me

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.

“Yeah she’s a fuckin’ fucked up individual. I’m just holding my breath. If everything works out, then it works out. If it doesn’t, then I just brace for it.”

“I think we’ll be bracing for it. I think I should tell Eden, so she’s not blindsided. I haven’t held shit back from her yet, I don’t want to start doing it.”

“I get it. But maybe I should be the one to tell her. She can be mad at me. Her being mad at you will probably kill you,” Staysha said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You ain’t lying. Crazy how that shit works. How you two come in and change the hearts of known gangstas?”

“Y’all don’t give yourselves enough credit for your role in all this either,” Staysha commented.

The vibrating of Maximus’ phone pulled his focus from Staysha to the device. He anticipated it being Eden for their midday check-in in but like a shock to his system, it was a number that he memorized. A number that pulled him out of his sleep, ordered him, his gun, and worn black Air Force Ones to whatever task or mission was at him.

“Give me a second.” Maximus stood, roamed out of the rehearsal space, and put the answered phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

“You know when you had your scrawny ass in my club and I was feeding you, I expected that be returned. What’s this I hear about you buying the burger spot and not paying what you owe me?” Mama’s cigarette-torn voice rasped in his ear.

He frowned. Her voice was associated with the memory of her hot breath and the stench of Midnight.

Maximus scoffed in amusement. “Fuck you taxing me for? That’s for niggas who need protection.”

---