MAX

I tilt my head at a familiar looking woman standing with her two kids.

“Yes?”

“I’m Eleanor, Wren’s friend. I met you at their wedding.”

A friendly smile spreads on my face as I walk to greet her properly. “Oh right, hey. Good to see you again. These yours?”

“This is Tia and Antoine. Guys this is Eric’s cousin.”

Her son gazes at me with awe, “Are you a football player, too?”

“Nah,” I grin, “I leave that for him to handle. How ‘bout you guys? You like to throw a ball around?”

They shake their heads like kids do, kinda shy around a new person. Eleanor touches her daughter’s dark hair with a sweet smile in her eyes. “Are you a Minister, Max?”

“Me? No, I got ordained to officiate the wedding. Anybody can do it, doesn’t mean anything. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing it for all my cousins’ weddings from now on.”

“I’m sure they’ll take full advantage of that!”

“No doubt.”

“What do you do?”

“Not much of anything,” I shrug, not wanting to get into it.

She makes a face. “You just sit back with your millions?”

Bristling, I keep my voice even. “Don’t have millions, Eleanor. I’m just some guy living his life, that’s all.”

Her eyebrows knit, “I’m sorry, but aren’t you a Cocker?”

“And that means what?”

We stare at each other as her children glance from me to her. “I just thought, I mean…” An uncomfortable laugh drifts out. “Your dad is a huge music producer, isn’t he? I mean all the albums he works on with your cousin Gabriel are enormous hits.”

“You think he pays my rent?”

“No, I…well, yeah, I guess I did think that.”

Raking my fingers through my unruly hair I laugh, “At least you admit it.”

“I’m sorry, but I thought it was a given. It’s pretty well known ‘round Atlanta that y’all don’t lack for money.”

“Oh it is, huh?” Switching my empty shopping basket to my other hand I explain, “The problem with gossip is that nobody knows the real story unless they’re on the inside. You’re Wren’s best friend. I know you’re a good egg so, because you’re curious, I’ll let you in on a fact most people forget. My dad worked hard for everything he has, and he passed that work ethic down to us. I won’t be taking hand-outs for anything, ever. No matter what.”

She eyes me with respect. “Hmm.”

Lifting an eyebrow I smile, “What?”

“I might have a friend you should meet.”

A grin flashes. “Oh I just passed muster, did I?”

“Well, Max Cocker,” Eleanor begins with an amused glint in her chocolate-brown eyes. “I’m just a cocktail waitress who also works for everything she has, and up until two minutes ago I thought the rumors about the ‘Cocky Family’ were all true. So yes, you have passed muster to this working class single mother, and I just might have a friend you’d like!”

“The Cocky Family? That’s hilarious.” Glancing to her kids I ask them, “What do you think? Should I give your mom’s friend a try?”

Her daughter quizzically looks up. “Who?”

“Natalie.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“With that enthusiastic endorsement how can I decline?” I thumb in the number Eleanor reads from her phone, even though I’m not interested in a set up. Wren’s friend, as straight forward and free-speaking as she is, knows nothing about me. A fact made very obvious by this weird conversation.

“You’ll call?”

“Sure, I’ll give her a ring.”

“I’ll warn her.”

Chuckling I glance to the kids, “Nice meeting you.”

They say bye, and I give a wink to their opinionated mother as I stroll over to the bread section. With that over, my obsession over my movie returns. It’s all I think about these days. Mom’s right, time to place some ads for my crew.

But I’m right, too.

Eleanor just cemented the belief that my name comes with a stigma, good or bad. If I said who I was I might get a larger response, but I really want to find out who will submit their reels and resumes based on the desire to make a film. I want that to be enough. Stubbornness was handed down by my mother and I have to try this.

I’ll tell the people I’m a Cocker after I hire them, but not until I’m confident they’re gung-ho for the right reasons. That’ll ensure I’m surrounded with passionate, indie-minded people who care about storytelling so much, they’re willing to come in on the ground floor if the project is interesting enough.

And that’s what I’ll put in my ad.

Whistling to myself, I do my shopping with an optimistic bounce in my step.