Authors: Darren Coleman
As Brendan flipped the page, a tear welled up in the corner of his eye. He was beginning to feel like shit. Who had he been to judge Laney, he thought, as he read on?
Brendan there is more to tell, but nothing worse than these things. Just more about my family. I hope that this helps you understand, if that is possible. I am in Philly now checking on my nephew. He has been sick lately, and I am concerned. I don’t know how long I will be gone. I just want you to know that I love you. I have never loved any man since my father, and he left. I guess that’s why I can accept it if you must go, too. I am learning that leaving is just something that men do. I have decided that I will not contact you again. I won’t make it hard for you. If you have a change of heart you can call me. If I don’t hear from you, then I wish you all the best. Loving you now and forever,
Laney
N
ate walked into the barbershop and greeted the owner, Mike, and his longtime barber, Dee. It was pretty tranquil in the shop for a Thursday. Although each of the barbers had a customer, except for the new one, who sat reading the sports page attempting to look busy, there were only a couple of customers waiting to be served. Even Dee, who usually had customers lined up four deep, was slow.
“Where’s everybody at, Dee?” Nate asked jokingly.
“Shit, they ain’t in my pocket. Check yours.” Dee laughed back. “If I don’t get some people in here quick, I might have to borrow a grand from you.”
“Yeah, right.” Nate stood and grabbed a magazine, then sat back down. “Is anybody in front of me?”
“Nope.” He turned to the older gentleman seated next to Nate. “Mr. Johnny, are you going to me or Mike today?”
Mr. Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “It don’t really matter. It looks like Mike is going to be finished sooner, so I’ll check him out today.”
“Okay, then,” Dee said. “Nate, you’re next.”
“Bet.”
Mr. Johnny looked
at Nate and said, “That’s a pretty ride you got out there.” Nate had parked directly in front of the window. “What is that? A Lexus?”
“Thanks. Yeah, it’s a LS 430.”
Mr. Johnny pulled out a piece of peppermint. “I prefer American models myself. I’m looking at that new DeVille.” Mr. Johnny’s eyes lit up when he mentioned the Caddy.
“Yeah, those are nice.”
“Yo, Nate, you should get you a Cadillac. Being as though you one of the last true pimps.” Dee laughed out. He was always on joke time. If he wasn’t talking about Mike’s big aunt, then he was talking about Clarence’s raggedy teeth. He kept everyone laughing. Mike was even more hilarious. He had to act more mature since he was the owner, but he was just as much a clown as Dee. Between the two of them, people came to the shop just as much to hear them crack on each other and argue as they did to get a haircut, it seemed.
“No, my brother. That’s you. You know you’re the Mack,” Nate said. Dee had just as many women as Nate. When the two of them spoke, it was always to compare notes and share stories. Since Nate had been dating Sahleen and India, though, he hadn’t been able to keep up with Dee, and Dee made a point of mentioning it every week.
Mr. Johnny stepped into Mike’s chair. “Mr. Johnny, do you hear these jokers?” Mike asked, as he put the cape over him. “Like they know anything about women.”
Dee smacked his lips and shook his head. “Maaannnn. Here he goes again, the king of the player haters.”
“Hell, you have to be a player first before I can hate on you,” Mike said, as he tapped Mr. Johnny’s shoulder.
“Heh, heh.” Mr. Johnny laughed.
“Mike, you know I got plenty of ladies. Nate might have slowed his roll, but I get more ass than you get air,” Dee said.
“You’re supposed to. I’m a married man now, but when I was out there kicking it…”
Dee cut him off. “You know that you weren’t running the broads like I do. I saw some of those raggedy chicks you used to go out with.”
“Who?” Mike said defensively.
“How about that one that you thought was so fine, you know that horse-head chick with the big feet.” Everyone in the shop burst into laughter. Dee went on. “And don’t ever forget about the one that pops by here now and then…that chick’s butt is shaped like a VCR, with her wide-backed self.”
“Oh man, I didn’t ever mess with her,” Mike stammered out. “She’s an old friend. I’ll tell you this, though…that horse-head bitch was fine back in the day.”
“C’mon Dee, ya’ll fools are crazy,” Nate said, laughing. He knew just who Dee was talking about, and her butt
was
shaped like a VCR.
Dee finished up with his customer and collected his money. Nate got into the chair, and Dee put the cape on his favorite customer and cleaned off his clippers.
“Man, the dude I just cut gets on my nerves,” Dee said. His tone had now dropped low enough so that he was talking loud enough for only Nate to hear.
“Why?”
“That fool always comes in here with a bunch of grease in his hair. I told his ass like twenty times to wash that shit out before he comes in here.” The clippers went on, and Dee began to shave Nate’s head. “So, what’s been happening?”
“Nada. I’m about to roll up to the Rotten Apple in the morning.”
“New York. What you going up there for?” Dee asked, hands moving back and forth.
“My chick, the one that models, is shooting a video with Shawn Simmons.”
“Shawn Simmons. No shit?” Dee’s voice perked up. “Yo, that bitch is tight. She is so phat.”
“Yeah. I’m just gonna chill on the set of the shoot. Maybe I’ll sneak into her trailer or something.” Nate smiled.
“I know I would.” Dee cut some more, and then asked, “So that’s the chick Simone, right?”
“Sahleen.”
“Yeah. So she’s big into that modeling stuff, huh. I mean, like she’s making money doing that?”
“Hell, yeah,” Nate bragged. “She just directed her first shoot down in Barbados. She just got back last Thursday.”
Dee nodded his head. “Oh, yeah. And she’s going straight to NYC tomorrow.”
“Yeah. She stays on the road at least half of the month,” Nate said, as Dee pushed his head forward so that his chin was touching his chest.
Dee was getting the hair off Nate’s neck. When he finished he spun the chair to shape up Nate’s mustache. “Do you think she got any friends? I want me one of those damned models.”
Nate sat quietly until his mustache was finished. “I don’t know if she has any friends. She doesn’t talk about any of them much. I can ask for you, though,” Nate offered. He didn’t really plan on hooking Dee up, though. Dee was cool, but aside from cutting hair he was into some risky business out in the streets. The last thing that he needed was for Sahleen to think he was hanging out with drug dealers. Dee wasn’t hard core or anything. He only hustled enough to pay for his Dinali, his motorcycle, and to have money to spend on women and clothes.
Dee was a wild character. Nate enjoyed talking to him and hanging out with him from time to time. As a matter of fact, Dee was going to South Beach with Nate, Cory, Brendan, and a couple of other friends for the Soul Beach Music Festival at the end of the month. When neither Nate nor Dee had the change for Nate’s fifty to pay for the haircut, they walked next door to the carryout.
Nate ordered a gyro and offered Dee lunch.
“Just get me some fries, thanks.”
“You got it.” Nate ordered the fries.
They sat in a booth while they waited.
“So, have you seen Cory this week?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact he came through Tuesday. Brought his wife with him.”
Nate nodded.
“Your boy is in love, ain’t he?” Dee said, while chewing on a straw.
“Uhmm. I guess,” Nate said.
“I don’t blame him. She’s fine as shit. What is she, mixed or something?” Dee asked.
“Puerto Rican.”
“I knew she was something. She seems nice. He told me the other day that he’s going to let her move in with him, probably before the summer is out.”
Nate was shocked. Not about Cory letting Nina move in, but that he had confided in his barber before him. “He told you that for real?”
“Yeah. He said he’s been looking at rings and shit. He’s gone.” Dee smiled.
Damn
. Nate thought,
Cory is moving kind of fast. He’s only been dating Nina for four full months. I knew he was digging Nina, but I had no idea that it was so serious.
“Damn,” was all Nate said aloud.
“You didn’t know that?” Dee asked. Nate could tell that Dee was a little shocked, but as a barber he was used to hearing the life story of everyone who got in his chair. He sometimes felt more like a therapist than a barber. Dee kept on talking. “He told me that he used to go with her sister back in the day. What’s up with that?”
“That’s kind of wild, huh?” Nate offered.
“Yo, that shit is mad foul. What kind of sister does some shit like that?” Dee had a smile on his face.
“I guess they figured that it was a long time ago.” Nate had no answers. He was the last to judge. “Plus, her sister moved on like five years ago or something. I doubt if she would trip.”
“But I know most bitches wouldn’t want a man that their girlfriends had fucked, let alone their sister.” Dee thought about it, remembering that he had knocked off several women who traveled in the same circles. “At least he wouldn’t get into a relationship with them. But hell, if a player can get away with it…more power to him.”
The Korean lady behind the counter called the number on Nate’s ticket, and he jumped up to grab it. Dee didn’t move, so Nate assumed that he was going to sit there and eat his fries. Dee smothered them in ketchup and ripped open three packs of pepper and sprinkled them on what seemed to be one spot.
“So what’s the deal with the other honey that you’ve been seeing?” Dee asked, referring to India. India had come to the shop with Nate a couple of times to get her eyebrows arched.
Nate was chewing a mouthful of his gyro. “Nuttin’. She was tripping on me last weekend, but we’ve been straight this week.”
“She reminds me of my son’s mom before she got all fat and shit.”
Nate ignored his last comment, and added, “Last night I took her up to the Bombay Club. It’s a real upscale spot on Connecticut Avenue. You ought to take a honey up there one night. You have to wear a suit jacket up in that piece, though. The night before that we went to the Café Atlantico on Eighth Street. As long as I’m putting in major time and funds, she’s happy.”
“Man, you don’t mind spending major dollars on those honeys, do ya?”
Nate leaned back and wiped the corners of his mouth. “As long as I get what I want, I’ll spoil from time to time. But shit; I don’t take them all out, though. Some of them don’t get shit but Blockbuster and Domino’s.” Nate laughed.
“You got that right.”
While they finished eating they rapped about Dee’s love life, which was off the hook as usual. Between tying women up, using vibrators on them, and having them lick whipped cream off his body, he said that he had met a nice girl that he was spending a lot of time with. Nate confided in Dee the feelings he had been having lately about being ready to slow down a bit. Nate had just wanted a reaction from Dee. Nate had already slowed down. Between the two women in his life, Nate hadn’t had time to run the streets like his old self. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t spent time with another woman the entire year. It was getting harder for him to lie to himself every day. He was in love for the first time in a long time, if not ever, with Sahleen. Meanwhile, he really enjoyed India. He even cared about her, but she was more of an insurance policy. The feelings that he held for her served as a safety net in case Sahleen messed up. Plus, he enjoyed having sex with her as much as she did with him. Sahleen wasn’t always available, and why should he be forced to jerk off, he rationalized.
Nate and Dee walked out of the carryout and gave each other a handshake, and Nate slipped Dee a twenty for the baldy.
“Thanks,” Dee said, as he walked back into the shop. “Hit me when you get back from up top.”
Nate nodded his head and said, “Alright then,” as he slid into the seat of his car and drove off.
I tapped my
steering wheel while I sat in traffic on I-270. I was in the slow lane, and it seemed to be moving the fastest of the four. Unfortunately, I had been forced to get used to the stop-and-go traffic whenever I drove this route. Today, though, it was especially bad. It had begun to rain around four-thirty, and the usual rush-hour gridlock had been compounded. You would think that people could drive in a little rain, but it seemed like everyone except for me had lost their minds.
Boney James’s version of “Sweet Thing” was playing on 105.9, the all-jazz station, as I reached for a pack of Starburst that Kyle had left in my car the previous weekend. I thought about calling Nina to let her know I was running late, but I decided to just keep pushing on when I saw the flares up ahead. Realizing that there was an accident gave me hope that the pace would pick up as soon as I cleared it.
It was a quarter to six, and I was supposed to pick up Nina at her apartment at six. If I had left work early, as I had planned, I would have made it. I’d had some problems with a distribution company that had been under contract before I came to HE. This company had been guilty not only of overcharging us but was late on picking up from the manufacturers on a regular basis. After speaking with our legal department, I called the owner and threatened legal actions. If we did not receive a retroactive reimbursement for the overcharging, which had been documented in our logbooks for the previous eight and a half months, I promised to have them in court for breach of contract. I also cited thousands in damages for the late pickups, which had resulted in late deliveries of our products.
What had kept me at the office even later was Jamison Hakito’s return phone call. After he thanked me over and over again, he said, “Cory, you are the best thing to happen to this company since me.” At first I thought that he was attempting to be funny. But he was serious. He added, “When I hired you I had no idea that you would be so proficient. This is the third time in six months that you have found mismanagement by your predecessor, Herbert Richman, and by myself as well. I am going to have accounting here in Manhattan do a cost-benefit survey of just how much you have earned and saved for this company. I already know that it is substantial. Therefore, if I have anything to do with it, you will be able to look for some type of bonus. Of course, it has to go through the board of directors, but you can rest assured we will show our appreciation for your dedication.” When I told him that I was merely doing my job, he replied, “Nonsense. You have more than enough to do just running your divisions. I haven’t a clue how you find time to check up on things like that, which aren’t even your responsibility.” Before he hung up he described some problems he was having in the New York–New Jersey area. I guess he wanted my spin on them. As the clock ticked, I started watching my chances of meeting Nina on time dwindle.