Page 26 of Are You Going to Love Me

“You right. Just look at it this way, after today, you’ll have enough money not to fucking care.”

That was false. The more money he had, the more he’d care. Especially about his mom. Regardless of whether she was a stellar parent or not, she was his mother. After the smoke session and grabbing some food from Rodney’s, the pair headed into Downtown Waynesville, to the Urban View Entertainment building.

Standing in the lobby were Maximus’s criminal lawyer and another woman.

“Maximus, it’s good to see you on this side,” Randell spoke as they got closer. He greeted him with a pat to the back before turning to the woman to his left. “This is Rita, she’s anentertainment lawyer. She knows more about contracts than I do, so she’s on board with helping us navigate through today’s meeting and if you move forward, everything thereafter.”

“How do the contracts look?” Maximus questioned.

“Y’all put that clause in there about his royalties and owning his shit once his portfolio is built up?” Keon questioned.

Rita nodded. “The contract looks good. One of the best recording contracts I’ve seen in a long time. Four albums, an opportunity for masters returns. A hefty advance on the first two albums and a review of sales. A marketing package and everything.”

Maximus nodded. “Aight, well if y’all trust it, I can too.”

He felt out of place. A fish out of water as he led his long legs through the lobby. When they made it to the official office, they were greeted by a busty receptionist. Maximus observed her – pretentious. He wasn’t going to end his prison-forced celibacy with a woman who looked at him with dollar signs in her eyes.

“Water, tea, muffin?” she offered, her eyes trained on Maximus while Keon helped himself to the spread.

“Nah, I’m good. ‘Preciate it,” Maximus rumbled, taking a seat. His attention was back on his phone again, aimlessly scrolling through what the algorithm thought he wanted to see. Oddly enough, though, no posts from Eden. That had been the only reason he joined this shit. Well, that and to see what buzz his name was making.

Minutes later, another woman appeared, waving the men back. Keon, Rita, and Randell floated into the space behind him. They roamed into a sizable glass-encased conference room. Images of their successes and AI-generated images of Maximus on stage and world tours, selling out arenas. They were trying to play to his ego. While part of it was working, Maximus saw the bigger picture.

“Trae Way MB,” an older woman’s voice called out, as she and a team of executives filled the space.

Maximus and his team stood to their feet to greet them.

“Anzel Ellis,” she greeted, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard many great things from you and about you.”

Again, he didn’t show his excitement. He smiled kindly. “Appreciate it.”

“I hope you had time to review the contract,” Anzel said, as she took her seat at the head of the table and looked at him. She exuded power. It wasn’t easy to obtain, nor had it been easy to keep. She had her own set of grievances weighing on her shoulders and eating at her spirit. Hopefully, if her plan worked, she’d have less guilt following her through what was left of her life.

“Yeah, it seems cool. I’m just curious about my creative control,” Maximus shared with the room. “I’m Trae Way through and through. I’m a Trae Way Gangsta, I’m a known drug dealer, a convicted felon. I’m all of those things but I don’t plan on rapping about that shit all the time.”

“We don’t expect you to. We expect you to make good art. Timeless art. We expect you to be great. So, if you’re willing to be great, then this is the home for you,” Anzel spoke.

Maximus looked at his team, and they gave him the nod of approval. “Aight then, let’s move forward.”

The contracts were handed out, and Rita compared each one to the copy she was provided. After the contracts were signed, Anzel approved the release of funds into the account Keon had set up for him.

“A few things as a requirement just to generate buzz online. Get you a nice house, rent it, lease it, buy it, whatever. Host a party. Not too big or wild but fill it with the who’s who. If you don’t know who that is, contact Staysha Sage. She’ll assist.”

Maximus took in Anzel’s words, shook her hand, and walked out of her conference room five million dollars richer. Once he was alone with Keon, riding down the street, he spoke.

“No more hustling. I transferred something to get you started. Every deal I cut from here on out, you get twenty off the top.”

“Hell nah, nigga. I ain’t going for it.”

“You are. Let’s hit up a realtor office or something, your couch is hard as fuck.”

twelve

. . .

“I don’t knowwhy you couldn’t just come over here and get your own latte,” Staysha huffed as she strolled into Got Drip Coffeehouse. “Two blocks and a few pesky paps. You would’ve been fine.”

“Two turns into four, four into eight, eight into sixteen, and then I’m hiding out again for the next two years.”

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