#max-b

#max-b

The burnt-rubber scent of Pelle Pelle jackets in the air can mean only one thing: Max B is free. Inside of his welcome home party at Harbor, one of those Midtown Manhattan money-suck nightclubs that tries to get you and your friends to pony up your rent money on a section, I was surrounded by so many Uptown dudes draped in heavy leather that I flashed back to the black-and-red joint Max rocked in a classic interview he did with Mazi O.