Page 30 of Maxwell

“If you change your mind, let me know. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, well... I’m gonna head out.”

“I’ll see you next week, or tomorrow.”

She should walk away right now, but her feet wouldn’t move. “Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “And like I said, call me... if you want to have some fun while Nicholas is out of town.”

He was definitely messing with her, but she finally left, without any legitimate excuse for hanging around. Walking through the foyer, her heels clicking on the tile, there was a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, she thought about Maxwell’s number in her purse. She didn’t plan to use it, but if she did feel like partying this weekend, maybe she’d give him a call and see what he was up to. Maybe.

His friend Jayson had hooked up with her friend Myra. They went on one date and then he ghosted her. Myra had been hurt and angry, and Jasmine had spent a couple of hours helping her work through her devastation.

“Birds of a feather flock together,” she muttered. She had no doubt Maxwell moved in the same ways as his friend.

Although, he had his moments when he surprised her. As she eased into traffic, she recalled what a great job he’d done during the New Year, Healthy Youth program.

He had also been considerate tonight, insisting that she come down off the ladder so he could switch out the lightbulb. A small act, but thoughtful. Chivalrous.

Nice.

Chapter Twelve

Jayson’s townhouse announced itself from half a block away with thumping music before Maxwell saw the three-story building. Jayson was no stranger to noise complaints, and Maxwell fully expected him to generate several during the night’s festivities.

The street outside was lined with cars, some of them blocking in other vehicles. Maxwell didn’t go inside right away. He stood on the other side of the door, hesitating. A year ago, maybe six months ago, this party would have excited him. He used to look forward to the crowd, the noise, the electricity of meeting new people, and having a good time while he did.

Instead, coming here tonight felt more like an obligation than an event to look forward to. Maybe he was just tired.

He knew better than to ring the doorbell because no one would hear him. He and Jayson had keys to each other’s homes in case of emergency, but he didn’t need to use his key because when he turned the knob, the door gave and he let himself inside.

Exactly as he had expected, the house was filled with people standing wall to wall, dancing, leaning into each other as they talked at close range because talking at a normal range wasn’t an option when the music was so loud. The lights were low and red tinged, and the room decorated with a Valentine’s Day theme.

Foil hearts were strung across the ceiling, and tables along the wall were draped with red and pink and practically overflowing with enough food to feed the entire neighborhood. Bartenders worked a bar in the corner, and a DJ was set up in front of one of the windows. The floor in front of him was packed with bodies that moved to a track Maxwell recognized right away—”F**kin’ Problems” by A$AP Rocky, featuring Drake, 2 Chainz, and Kendrick Lamar.

Jayson’s theme song.

In front of the DJ stand, drink raised and wearing a pink feather boa over a red smoking jacket like the one his hero Hugh Hefner used to wear, was none other than Jayson rapping word for word at the top of his lungs. No, he wasn’t merely rapping. He was belting out the lyrics and performing, with both arms extended and his drink sloshing to the floor with complete disregard for the mess he was making.

In the middle of yelling about how much he loved bad bitches, Jayson spotted him, his face brightened, and he pointed with his drink hand. He yelled something that couldn’t be heard above the music and the crowd, and then he was moving through the bodies with the ease of a man in his natural habitat, arriving in front of Maxwell with his arm already extended.

“Where you been? I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” Jayson pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“I said I’d be here,” Maxwell told him with a laugh, clapping him on the back.

Jayson stepped back and examined his appearance. “You look too serious. We need to get a drink in your hand.”

“I just got here.”

“Late. You need to catch up, bro.” With one hand on Maxwell’s shoulder, he steered him toward the bar. “A dark ‘n’ stormy for my man.”

“Not tonight. I’ll have a Heineken, if you have it,” Maxwell said to the woman behind the counter. Seconds later, he was holding a green bottle in his hand.

“Look at this turnout,” Jayson said, sounding excited. “People came out of the woodwork looking for a good time.”