Before I Let Go (3 page)

B
rendan walked into the house and dropped his keys on the counter of the breakfast bar. He didn’t bother turning on any lights on the first floor because, even though he had only moved into Renee’s townhouse two weeks earlier, he knew his way around in the dark as if he had lived there for years. He turned the corner and ran up the stairs. As he entered his bedroom he saw light coming from under Renee’s door. He didn’t bother to announce his presence, because if she had company he didn’t want to disturb her. Before Brendan had moved in, he and Renee had sat down at T.G.I. Friday’s over lunch and made a list of rules that would allow two old and dear friends to become roommates and still remain friends. Respecting the other’s privacy was somewhere near the top.

As Brendan was
showering he heard a knock on the door. “Yeah. What’s up?” He knew it was Renee. She spoke loudly through the door, but Brendan couldn’t hear her, so he told her to open the door.

She turned the knob and stuck her head in the door. Greeted with a burst of steam she asked, “Whew, is it hot enough for you in here, B?” She laughed at herself, and continued, “Your phone was ringing and the machine didn’t pick up, so I answered it. It was your silly-ass cousin. I told him you were in the shower getting pretty and that I would have you call him back in a few, okay?”

Brendan wanted to be sure he knew whom Renee was talking about. “It was Shue, right?”

She replied, “Yeah. Who else is going to be calling at prime time on a Saturday night tryin’ to find a party partner other than his crazy butt?” She was about to close the door but then opened it and asked, “So, are you all hanging out tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

Brendan exaggerated his tone, “Daaaamn, Mom, if it’s all right I’m going to a little get-together at one of Shue’s friend’s house up on Sixteenth Street.”

“Shue’s
friend
?” Her tone was curious and accusing at the same time. Shue, who was actually named Everson Shue, Jr., was Brendan’s first cousin, and he described himself as “bisexual in a transitional phase” to becoming completely gay. He said he loved men but was having trouble getting over his urge for women from time to time. Renee continued. “Is it one of thooose parties?” She giggled out her words.

“Actually, it will probably be a mixed crowd up in that camp. Why, would you like to come?”

“No, thanks,” she muttered. “Once I get Barry’s boring ass up out of here I’m going to get some rest so I can get up and go to church in the morning, where you should…”

He cut her off midsentence. “Don’t start, Mrs. Holy Roller, getting laid at midnight and in church by nine.”

“Ooohh, you are so trifling, Brendan. You didn’t even have to go there. But since you did…don’t you drink too much tonight and end up bringing home a nigga.” Renee burst into laughter and told Brendan to have a good time as she walked out of the door.

Brendan put on some navy blue wool slacks, a gray Donna Karan sweater, and a brand-new pair of black Ferragamos that he had spent a third of his weekly paycheck on earlier in the day, before leaving the store. As he looked for his keys on the bed and in his coat pocket, he called Shue to let him know he was on the way to pick him up. Before he hung up, Brendan asked if he thought the host would mind if he brought Nate along. Shue assured him that it would be no problem.

Brendan looked around the room for a second, and then remembered that his keys were on the breakfast bar. He slipped on his jacket and ran down the steps like a kid on Christmas morning, grabbed his keys, and was about to head out when his cell began to vibrate. He didn’t recognize the number, so he chose not to answer. He thought about not calling back, but feared that it might be Jaqueline Allen, the general manager at Nordstrom where he was the manager of the women’s shoe department. He decided to return the call from the car.

Brendan scanned the
radio in the car as he exited the parking lot of the townhouse development and turned onto Central Avenue. He heard Michelle Wright on WPGC advertising a party that they were hosting tonight at the VIP club downtown. He figured that if the party at Shue’s friend’s house wasn’t jumping, he might leave and go check out the party downtown. He turned the music down low enough to hear his cell clearly as he dialed.

“Hello,” the voice on the other line blurted. The voice repeated itself. “Hello.” Brendan replied, “Sorry, I’m on a cellphone and you blinked out momentarily. Did someone there call Brendan?”

“Yeah. Don’t be funny, motherfucker, you know who this is.” He recognized the voice on the other end. It was Trina.

“Trina?”

“Yeah, you know it.” She was as sassy as ever. She went on. “Look, negro, we have a couple of things to discuss. And I think you know what they are.” He started to hang up on her, but he knew that she would just keep calling him all night.

“Look…,” Brendan said, not wanting to get into it with Trina and ruin the good mood he was in. “I’ll give you a ring tomorrow and…”

She cut him off. “No, I want you to come over here tonight. This is important.”

“I don’t even know where you are,” he shot back.

“I’m at home. I had the number changed last week. This is my new number. I suggest that you write it down and use it.” She added, “And don’t think that I’m scheming by asking you to come over here. What we need to talk about really is important.”

“Well, I’m on the way out now. It’ll be late when I finish…maybe two or three. I’ll call you when I’m on the way…that is, if I decide to come.”

Trina sucked her teeth. “Just call me when you get here so I can get up to answer the door.”

Brendan already had guessed that she was up to something. What could she possibly want him to come over so late for? Part of him was hoping that he might get laid if he went over there, but he feared going over and wasting his time arguing with her about the past.

Brendan had a feeling that all she wanted to do was ask him about his moving in with Renee, which he had intended to keep silent about. He had lied and told her that he was moving in with a coworker whom she didn’t know in order to avoid the drama.

He definitely didn’t want to listen to Trina tripping off his new living arrangements tonight. He had managed to keep it from her for three months, but Nate had slipped up one evening earlier in the week and mentioned to Trina’s best friend, Kim, that he’d be busy helping Brendan move his new bed into Renee’s house. Nate dated Kim from time to time, but usually only when he had absolutely nothing else to do. He had only volunteered the info on Brendan’s move in order to get out of a date he had promised Kim.

Kim, of course, immediately relayed the information to Trina, and here was the drama. Brendan’s only wonder was why it took Trina nearly a week to bring it to him. He was unsure of what other business Trina needed to discuss that was so important, but he was in no particular hurry to hear it.

As Brendan sped around the Beltway, he listened to Usher singing “You Got It Bad” and wondered if stars actually went through the things they sang about. If they didn’t, then how come the lyrics to the songs they recorded always seemed to be so true to life? He made a note to ask a singer the next time he bumped into one.

As he neared the College Park exit, Brendan reached into his dashboard compartment to get a stick of Trident. He passed Home Depot, whipped into the Seven Springs apartment complex, and double-parked in front of Shue’s building. He jumped out and walked to the front-door buzzer. He knew the gray-haired security guard seated just inside of the lobby could see him standing there, but he didn’t bother to come and open the door. He pushed in the code to ring Shue’s apartment.

“Hello.” The muffled voice came through the speaker.

“Yo, it’s me. Come on down. I don’t feel like parking, and hurry up.”

“All right already, B, hold your horses, I’m coming.” Shue hung up the phone.

Brendan mumbled to himself as he walked back to the car, “I know this fool ain’t ready.”

Brendan turned around to see the security guard coming out of the door. “Hey there, son. You can’t park there.”

“I’m not gonna park here. My cousin is on the way down.”

“Well, I’m just warning you, son. Deez summabitches is quick to give out a ticket. Two hundred bucks at a time, too.”

Brendan replied, “Well, I definitely don’t want to get one of those bad boys. I just buzzed up, though, and my cousin is on the way down.” Brendan had no idea how long that would take.

The security guard walked a little closer, as if he was investigating. “With a nice ride like this, I’m sure you can afford a ticket. Heh, heh.” When he laughed he showed his raggedy set of gold teeth. They were only gold because of the amount of plaque on them. The guard continued, “It sho’ is a pretty one. What is it? One of them Japanese models?” Brendan laughed to himself as he noticed that the guard looked like the character Otis from Martin Lawrence’s show.

Brendan replied, “No, it’s a Chevrolet, sir,” and cleared his throat, wishing Shue would hurry down so that he could leave before Otis asked to take it for a spin.

After a few more moments of chitchat with the old rent-a-cop, Shue finally came through the lobby door.

“What’s up, cuz? Hey, Mr. Ennis.” He patted the old man on the shoulder as he headed out of the building.

“Hey there, son,” Mr. Ennis shot back.

“Man, get in the car so we can go before it starts to rain.”

“Is it supposed to rain? Lord, I didn’t see anything about rain,” Shue said, looking up toward the sky. “I might need to change.”

“Man, whatever. I will pull off and leave your ass right here.” Brendan checked out Shue’s attire. Shue had on some snug-fitting Versace jeans, a maroon V-neck sweater, and a pair of V2 boots. He was carrying a suede jacket in his hand.

“B, don’t act like that. I cannot ruin this jacket in the rain.” He held it out. “It’s brand-new, baby boy, and of course you know it is brand name. Shoot, on top of that I might have to take it back tomorrow.” He snapped his fingers as he laughed at himself, and he slid into the passenger seat of the car.

“Look, I don’t know if it’s gonna rain for sure. What you wanna do?” Brendan was on the verge of cursing Shue out, and they hadn’t even left the parking lot.

Shue smacked his lips together. “Just drive.”

As they got back onto the Beltway Brendan asked Shue to call Nate to make sure he would be at the meeting spot up on the Avenue.

“Nobody answered at his house.”

“Hit him on the cell.”

“What’s the num…”

Brendan cut him off. “777-1848, that’s 301.”

Nate answered, “What’s up?”

“Yo, B, where y’all at.”

Brendan turned the radio down. “I’m at New Hampshire Avenue. Where are you?”

“I’m here at the Amoco waitin’ on y’all niggas.”

“All right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Later.” Nate hung up and reclined the seat back in his brand-new Lexus SC 430.

N
ate was becoming a little impatient. He had only been waiting at the Amoco gas station for about five minutes, but he hated to wait for anything or anyone longer than
he
deemed necessary. He was tapping his finger on the bottom of the steering wheel and bobbing his freshly shaved bald head to the sounds of Jay-Z that were pumping loudly through the ten speakers in his car. He was beginning to feel a slight buzz from the weed he was smoking as he leaned back in the slightly reclined seat of his car watching the smoke drift out of his windows. He sat up, flipped down the visor, and opened the vanity mirror on it so that he could stare at himself while he lip-synched to the song “Girls.” He thought about how sexy the women in the video were and hoped he would run up on something like that tonight.

Nate could stare at himself all night, especially when he was looking as good as he knew he was tonight. “Pretty chocolate nigga, you are. Mmmph,” he whispered.

Nathan Montgomery was indeed his own biggest fan. He had to be, though. Who else would have been devoted enough to run “Big Nate’s Fan Club,” as he liked to call the ever-changing group of nine to ten women who comprised his social group of special friends. He called himself “Big Nate” in recognition of the reputation that he’d earned for being such an extraordinary player. He also figured that the size of his penis warranted some special recognition, since it obviously did its share of the work keeping him on top (literally and figuratively speaking).

There was no denying that the brother had big game. Though he was only six feet one and 190 pounds, well defined but by no means a bodybuilder, his slightly bowed legs, slender frame, and dark Hershey’s chocolate brown complexion were all hot attributes after the dark-skinned brothers made a comeback in the nineties. It had become “in” to be a dark-skinned brother again. Women had long grown tired of giving all the play to pretty, light-skinned niggas who dogged them. Now they wanted to give it to pretty, dark-skinned niggas who dogged them instead. Nate didn’t buy into the philosophy of color preference among women, though. He believed that women will go for any man they find attractive, and on top of that, he deduced that what makes a man attractive to a woman had to be much more complex than his skin complexion. A handsome brother was a handsome brother—point-blank.

As Nate checked the time on the clock on his radio, his radar began to go off. Nate’s eyes zoomed in toward the cashier’s island as he saw a well-filled, short, black skirt standing at the window paying for gas. As he saw the skirt turn around and strut toward the pump where the black Honda Prelude was parked, the preliminary verdict was in. The face didn’t look too bad from this distance, but he definitely needed to get a closer look. Nate started the engine of his car and slowly pulled up to the rear of her car. He wanted to make sure she was unaccompanied by man or child.

He pulled up closer. It wasn’t that he discriminated against kids, but the less distractions a woman had in her life, the better for Nate to work his magic. He could almost see inside her car. No man in the car. Closer. No kids. Closer. No car seat. Bingo. It was on.

Nate’s window rolled down and he looked clearly into the woman’s face. He was able to get a perfect glimpse before she looked his way. He saw a head of freshly done light-brown hair with blonde highlights, full lips, and a clear cinnamon-colored complexion. Nate backed his car up to the island behind hers and got out of the car. He pretended to need something from the cashier’s booth so he would have an excuse to walk past her car.

“Damn. This bitch is tight,” Nate thought, as he breezed past her.

As the numbers on the gas pump began to race, she looked up and noticed Nate staring in her face. Nate smiled at her, and his expression yelled to her that she was about to come under the attack of his uninvited advances. She looked back toward the pump and acted as though she was really interested in watching the numbers move.

“Excuse me, sweetheart, you got a second?” Nate delivered the serve.

Her eyebrows showed a hint of annoyance, as if to say, “Nigga, puhleeze. I don’t feel like it.” Her mouth said nothing, but her thoughts were clear:
Here comes another weak-assed brother who thinks he’s gonna work his mack routine
.

“I know you must’ve been rushing: you didn’t give a brother a chance to pump your gas for you.” He paused and waited a second, and then saw she was about to comment.

As she moved the strands of hair away from her mouth with her finger she returned. “First of all, you didn’t offer. Second of all, I can pump my own gas, thank you.” The gas stopped pumping. She turned as she was putting the nozzle back.

“Well, Miss Lady, I appreciate your independence, but chivalry does still exist occasionally. You ought to take advantage of it when you see it.” He was still grinning.

“Oh yeah, that’s what you are, chivalrous? Am I correct?” She looked annoyed as she opened the door to her car.

Nate knew he was about to lose this one.

“Yeah, that’s me. Something like the Black Knight in the Martin Lawrence flick. This is my chariot right here. So why don’t you let me come pick you up one evening soon so that I can take you out and make you feel like the queen that you are.” He saw her crack a half smile as she slid into her car. He was still alive. He walked over to her window and motioned for her to roll it down.

She obliged him.

“Look here, I…” Nate was cut off by the sound of a honking horn behind him. They both looked to the rear of her car. It was Brendan.

He waved Brendan off and held up a finger to say, hold up a minute. “Look, I’m not going to waste your time at this gas station, but you look damn good. If you are even half as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, then I
need
to get to know you. I’m not going to go into the whole spiel about whether or not you got a man, but let me get your number and we’ll get into the details tomorrow.”

She smiled and said, “What’s your name?”

“Nathan, but you can call me Nate. All my friends do.”

“Well, Nate, why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll call you.”

Nate giggled to himself. Why the hell did women always say that same thing? They knew good and well if they liked you or not. Who did they think they were to decide when and if they would call? Nate never went for that. As far as he was concerned, plenty of women had shot him that same dumb-ass line, and he in turn had called their bluff. If they weren’t giving up their digits, he damned sure wasn’t giving up his. Sometimes when women tried that he’d shoot them a blank. It served them right for playing themselves. Nate figured that any honey in D.C. should be glad to have a nigga on his level trying to make their acquaintance, anyway.

Nate shot back, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“India,” she said, not sounding if she was sure she wanted to give it to him.

“Andy?”

“No. I said, ‘India,’ like India. Arie.”

“Oh.” Nate nodded. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl,” Nate offered. “Well, India, a fair exchange ain’t no robbery. I value my number, and I’m sure you value yours, too. So go ahead and write yours down right quick for me, and here’s mine.”

It was as if he had used the Jedi mind trick on her. She scrambled for a pen and wrote the number down. Confidence will get you there when nothing else will.

As Nate leaned on the door of her passenger seat, he caught her eyes scanning his finger for a wedding ring. But then again, he thought she may have been admiring the diamond-encrusted Rolex he had dangling loosely on his wrist. Eye candy is what he called the flashy material things he owned, such as the watch, the cars, and even the expensive Italian furniture in his crib. Nate reached out to take the number from her hand, and as he removed the card he gently stroked her hand.

She had a puzzled look on her face. “What was that for?” she asked.

“I just wanted to make sure that I got underneath your skin before you left.” He paused. “It’s an old trick my uncle taught me when I was young. Watch, you’ll be thinking about me until we talk.”

“All of that from you brushing my hand. What are you supposed to have, some magical touch or something?” she chuckled as she spoke. “You might change my mind about this.”

“You just wait and see,” Nate said, as he reentered his still open car.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” India said, as she rolled her car window up.

“The pleasure will be all yours, baby. All yours,” Nate mumbled once she pulled off.

He waved for Brendan to pull up beside him. Shue’s window went down as Brendan’s car paralleled Nate’s.

“What’s up, baby boy?” Shue chimed.

“What’s up, nigga?” Brendan added.

Nate huffed. “What’s up is, it took y’all fools forever to get here.”

Shue smacked his lips. “Mmmph, it looks like you kept yourself busy with that girlie, though.”

“Yeah, what was up with that? You just got those digits, huh,” Brendan asked.

“Oh man, shit yeah. She was vicious, too,” Nate answered.

“Vicious? Why in the world would you want to call her if she was vicious?” Shue asked, with a hand on his chest as if he was choking.

“Vicious just means she was all of it, Shue. Do I have to explain everything to you, fool? Since you decided to be gay, you are sooo late.” Nate laughed.

“Excuse the hell out of me, smart-ass. And I did not decide to be gay. Gay is a state of being for me, okay. I’ve just decided not to fight it anymore. I always have been gay.”

Nate cut Shue off. “Please shut this nigga up, B.”

Brendan nudged Shue. “Yeah, be quiet man. I’m sure you’ll have a big chance to express your gayness at this party. You ready, Nate?”

“I’m following you, dog.” Brendan pulled off, and Nate whipped out onto Georgia Avenue right behind him.

As Nate followed closely behind, his mind raced with thoughts about the type of scene he would encounter when they arrived at the party. Would everyone there be gay except for him and Brendan? If it turned out to be like that, he would just have to jet out. He had faith that Shue wouldn’t set him and Brendan up like that. Shue had mentioned to Nate on a couple of occasions that there were always freaky women who showed up at Amir’s parties. It wasn’t like Nate was homophobic or anything. He had no problems with gays as long as they didn’t come on to him. As for tonight’s action, though, Shue had Brendan and Nate convinced that the party would be full of lesbian and bisexual women who would be down for all types of wild adventures. That was good enough for Nate to at least give it a try.

Brendan had suspected that his cousin was gay from the age of thirteen, because Shue would never play any rough sports or sneak into the triple-X movie theaters down on Fourteenth Street on Saturday afternoons with him and Cory when they were kids. His sexual preference stayed up for debate, however, because Shue was always in the company of the prettiest and flyest honeys at H.D. Woodson High. But when Shue announced that he was going to the Rhode Island Avenue Beauty Academy right after graduation, it all but let the cat out of the bag.