It had not taken Nate long to secure at least a future conversation. Sahleen had seemed all to eager to write her number down and give it to Nate as soon as Trish walked off. She also seemed to be flirting a little more openly with him. Nate wondered to himself if Sahleen was lying about her sexuality, and that in fact she and Trish were lovers. He secretly hoped that maybe the three of them could hook up. Trish was nowhere in the same league as Sahleen, but she was still attractive. With her hair all over the place, she looked something like a young Chaka Khan.
Nate decided that he probably wouldn’t risk getting anymore phone numbers. He had no idea who was acquainted with who inside of the party, and since he was already set with the tightest thing in there, he figured he could only do worse. He decided to find a spot to chill out and see if Sahleen wanted to sit down with him.
Nate looked over toward a couple of folding chairs that were empty. “Sahleen, would you like to have a seat?”
“If you dance with me first,” she said. Then she continued, “That is, if you have any moves other than your playa-playa routine.”
Nate’s mouth dropped open as if he were shocked. “My dear, sweet lady…I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Sahleen placed her hands on her hips, which were perfect, then took one off to poke her index finger into Nate’s chest and say, “Boy, I can see right through you. I’ve seen the best of the best, and I know a playa when I see one.” She grabbed his arm and said, “Now, let’s dance.”
Nate was grooving, and Sahleen was getting down. The DJ was playing Jagged Edge’s “Where the Party At” and the crowd was getting pumped up. Sahleen turned her back to him, and Nate took it upon himself to get up on her behind. He placed his arms around her from behind and she clasped the two of his hands with hers. Then, as the beat got funkier, Nate began to gyrate his crotch up against her behind. She could feel him getting hard, as he held her closer. Normally she would have been offended, but for some reason she was feeling herself getting slightly aroused by his aggressive behavior.
The music switched, and as “A Woman’s Worth” by Alicia Keys played in the background, the two of them seemed to be forgetting themselves. Nate spun Sahleen around so that he could talk to her and look into her face at the same time. Nate wondered what Sahleen was thinking. He was glad that she couldn’t read his mind. She would have known that he was scheming about how to get her home with him that night.
Brendan had only been on the pool table for about twenty minutes, and had already swept some bald-headed guy wearing a pair of huge Alan Mikli eyeglasses off the table. The guy was demanding a rematch, offering to bet Brendan twenty dollars for it. “C’mon, my man. Come on,” he kept taunting. “Twenty, what, you want fifty? Huh, c’mon. I bet you can’t do that again.”
Brendan had only given the guy, who looked just like Planter’s Mr. Peanut, two shots before he ran the table. Brendan wasn’t a pool shark, but his experiences on the pool tables in the student union at Bowie State had made him a campus legend back in his college days. He could honestly say, though, that he had never suckered anyone into a bet. He’d learned his lessons about trying to hustle brothers on the rags long ago. One night at Guys and Dolls pool hall on Branch Avenue back in the day, he beat some pimps for close to nine hundred bucks one night. He was laughing and slapping five with them one minute; the next thing he knew he woke up wondering how he had gotten blood and curl activator all over his T-shirt.
“Look, man, other people are waiting for a chance to play. I would, but I ain’t really trying to gamble,” Did he say fifty dollars? he thought. “I mean, if they don’t mind, I might have fifty on me. Let me see.” Brendan counted up his ducats and turned to the people standing on the side. “Do y’all mind?”
“Nah, take that fool’s money,” one bystander said.
Another joined in, “Yeah, buddy, go on ahead and get that money.”
Finally, a woman dressed in a tight red dress sitting on a stool in the corner by the pool sticks on the wall added, “As long as the winner plays me next, it’s fine.” Brendan took one look at the woman and thought, I got to win just so I can play her sexy ass.
“Alright then, my man, let’s do it. Let’s do it,” Mr. Peanut said, as he racked the balls up. Then he continued, “You break, my man. Here’s my fifty.” He sat the fifty-dollar bill on the side of the marble table in the built-in cup holder.
It was a tad bit ironic to Brendan that just as he lined up to break, one of his all-time favorite songs, Maxwell’s “Ascension,” started to blare through the speakers. This only pumped him up more. This and the fact that he knew that he was about to make an easy fifty dollars. Just as he leaned over the table to unleash a killer break, he felt a hand grab him firmly on the ass, and then heard a voice say, “If you win it, I’ll help you spend it.”
Brendan was startled, but not too startled to look around coolly at the freak in the red dress standing behind him.
In a matter of minutes Mr. Peanut was yelling double or nothing. Since there were two tables, no one minded that the two of them seemed destined to monopolize the one they were using. As a matter of fact, the people waiting for a game were enjoying the whipping that Brendan was putting on the annoying, peanut-headed nerd. They went at it for three more games, and three more times Brendan took his money, until finally the stranger grew tired of getting whipped—or ran out of money.
Brendan turned to watch his opponent storm off. He hoped the guy was not a sore loser and wouldn’t want to try anything stupid. As he was stuffing the money in his pocket, he turned around to see the sexy chick who had approached him earlier heading back toward him.
“I thought you were going to play with Franco all night,” she stated, as she walked right up to him and placed her hand on his forearm.
“Oh no, I guess taking his money just started getting good to me,” Brendan stated, with a proud grin.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“I’m Brendan. And what’s yours?”
She paused for a moment. “My name is Candice, but my friends call me Candy, and, you know, for a while there I was starting to think that you didn’t want to talk to me,” she said, pouring on heavy doses of sex appeal.
“C’mon now, I know you weren’t thinking that. Let’s go sit over there and talk,” Brendan said, pointing to the leather couch up against the wall.
“It’s so loud out here. Why don’t you follow me, handsome? I know where we can talk,” she said, taking his hand.
“Sahleen,” The peanut-headed stranger yelled out, as he approached Nate and Sahleen while they were dancing. “Sahleen. I need some cash, baby.”
“What?” she responded. She and Nate stopped dancing. “What do you need money for, Franco? You came in here with over six hundred dollars.”
Nate stood adjacent to the two of them, trying to make sense of their debate. The puzzled look on his face that he was trying to disguise prompted Sahleen to explain.
“Nate, this is my photographer and good friend, Franco. And I don’t have any idea why he’s tripping. Franco, can’t you see that I’m busy right now?”
“Look, Sahleen, I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll give it right back to you. I just need a couple hundred,” Franco retorted. “I just lost six hundred bucks to some clown on the pool table. I want to go back and play him before he leaves the party.”
Sahleen’s face blasted a look of disapproval. She was about to rip into Franco when Nate interrupted. “Say, my man. Did the guy you lost to have on a gray sweater, caramel complexion, and curly hair?”
Franco’s nostrils flared as he nodded his head yes. “Yeah, that’s him. How did you know?”
Nate paused momentarily. He didn’t want to blurt out that it was his partner who had just schooled him and taken his money. Nate said, “I played him a little earlier. He was pretty good.”
“He took your money, too, huh?” Franco smiled. Though Nate didn’t answer, it appeared that Franco felt better
believing he wasn’t the only sucker of the night.
Sahleen chimed in, “Well, that settles it. I’m not giving you any money to throw away.” Then, she added, “I hope that you’ve both learned a lesson. You should have known better than to gamble with a stranger, especially at one of Amir’s parties. You never know who he’s going to have in here.”
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Franco asked.
“It means that for all you know that guy could be a pool shark working the party and splitting the money with Amir.” She pointed toward a fellow in the corner with a bright red blazer on and dread-locks pulled into a ponytail. “Take that fool, for instance. A girlfriend of mine told me that he makes a fortune at all of the top-flight parties selling coke and Extacy to all of the hosts’ friends and gives a cut to the host for the invite. You can just imagine how much he’s made up in here. Half the folks in here are higher than a kite.”
“Sahleen, get a grip. You believe everything you hear.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one out six bills while your counterpart is enjoying your money—and calling you a sucker.”
Franco grimaced. “Oh no, my dear. He’s the sucker. He won’t have the money very long.”
Nate wondered what he was insinuating, and asked, “What makes you say that?”
“Well…,” Franco stated, “when I came upstairs…some transvestite was getting him all worked up down by the table.”
“Say what!” Nate shouted.
“You know, a chick with a dick.” Franco laughed at the thought of the guy leaving the party with the transvestite. “She looked good, though. I almost couldn’t tell myself. By the time she, or should I say he, finishes with him, he’ll be sucked dry, in more ways than one. If you get my drift.”
Nate knew that his buddy could be gullible at times, but he hoped that Brendan wasn’t that gullible. Nate didn’t wait for a comfortable break in the conversation before he shouted out over the music, “Excuse me, Sahleen, I’ll be right back,” while walking hurriedly toward the steps leading to the basement. He sped off before she could even reply.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he approached the first person he saw.
“Excuse me, brother.” Nate tapped a gentlemen sitting on a bar stool watching a white guy teaching his boyfriend how to play eight ball.
“Yeess,” the stranger replied, hoping that the chocolate dream standing before him was going to ask him to dance.
“Did you see a guy down here playing pool about five or ten minutes ago? He has on a gray sweater and dark slacks?” Nate asked, sounding a little worried.
The stranger rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. “You walk up to me and ask me about some other man who I don’t even know? I mean, really. How tacky is that?”
Nate took a deep breath. Trying to remain calm, he stated, “Nah, my man, it’s not even like that. I’m just looking for a friend.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Did you see him or not?”
“Not.” The stranger said, and returned his focus to the pool table.
“Hey.” The voice from behind the bar came. “You talking about the black guy with the curly hair?”
Nate turned around and looked at the bartender. He was muscular with a thick mustache. He was wiping a glass container out as he told Nate, “I saw him, but I don’t think he’s going to want to be disturbed right about now.”
Nate swallowed hard, because if this guy’s innuendo proved to be accurate that would mean Brendan could be getting turned out like a two-dollar ho right about now.
“Believe me, he’ll want me to interrupt,” Nate replied. “Which way did he go?”
“Check the laundry room around the corner,” the bartender said, smiling.
“Thanks, man.”
Nate headed across the basement floor and walked in front of the big-screen television, which was showing MTV Cribs without any volume. He turned the corner to see two doors, the first of which had light coming from under it. He knocked on it. There was no answer, so he turned the knob. It was locked. As he pulled his hand away from the knob the door swung open.
Smoke surged out of the door, and a voice that was not Brendan’s yelled out, “Hey nordenus, don’t you know what a locked door means.” Then the door slammed shut.
Under normal circumstances the person in that bathroom would’ve received a beat down, but right now Nate didn’t have the time, plus he had no idea who or what a nordenus was. He had to find Brendan. Nate walked to the end of the hallway and approached the other door. He placed his head, which was now glistening with sweat, against it. He listened for a moment, but heard nothing at first. Then there was an “mmmm” immediately followed by an “ooooohhh.”
As his adrenaline reached its peak, Nate rushed into the laundry room and hit the light switch on the wall. Brendan was leaning back up against the dryer on the far side of the room, his pants down to his ankles, and his mouth now dropped wide open. He couldn’t believe that Nate had barged in on him. Candy was on both knees in front of Brendan, clothing still in tact, dick still in hand when she turned around.
“Who the hell told you to come in here? Get out, you pervert,” Candy said, looking angrily at Nate.
Brendan chimed in, “Come on, man, what’s up? I’m a little busy right now, bro. I’ll see you in a few.”
Nate observed that Brendan was a little tipsy and that there were two empty glasses on the washing machine next to them. He also noticed that the transvestite had a very attractive face. Nate saw how Brendan could have been fooled by his good looks. Nate was staring at his gullible friend, who was still leaning against the dryer and still on cloud nine. Nate felt both bad and ashamed for his partner, and he was mad as hell at the freak who had taken advantage of his boy. On top of it all, Nate was feeling guilty for suggesting that Brendan go downstairs alone, anyway. Nate knew the only reason he wanted Brendan to go downstairs was so that he could work the party alone. Looking at this pitiful sight, Nate wondered if Brendan would ever get on the ball with the ladies or would he always be a seal among sharks.
Nate walked right up on the two of them and stated, “B, pull your pants up. This isn’t what you think it is. Let’s go.”
“Man, what are you talking about?” Brendan asked. “Are you drunk or something?”
“Obviously, not as drunk as you. Now get your shit together and let’s go.” Nate was fuming at Brendan’s ignorance.
“Man, you’re tripping,” he looked down at Candy, who was still holding his dick through all of this. “Look baby, I’m sorry about this. My partner here gets a little drunk sometimes.”
Nate roughly grabbed Brendan’s arm. “Hey man, don’t be explaining shit to this freak.”
Candy shouted out, “You go to hell, you black bastard.” She released Brendan and attempted to stand up. She had just said the wrong thing to Nate. He was hoping to pull Brendan out of this situation, get him out of the party, and maybe make up some story about his new friend that would explain his actions. Maybe he was going to say her boyfriend was upstairs looking for her. Hopefully, something that would make sense. Whatever he was going to come up with before she decided to disrespect him didn’t matter anymore. “What did you just call me?” Nate asked, with a piercing glance.
Brendan sensed the impending doom and was paralyzed at the thought of what was about to happen.
“You heard me,” Candy yelled out, as she jumped up into Nate’s face. “I called you a black…” were the words that made it out of her mouth before Nate landed a right cross on her cheek.
Her eyes closed as she fell back onto the laundry room floor. She lay there with her arms spread out, looking like a kid in the snow who is about to make an angel, except she wasn’t moving. She was out cold.
Brendan knew why Nate had punched her. But what he didn’t know was why he had come in there and screwed up his play in the first place. He looked at Nate, who was rubbing his knuckles, and burst out laughing.
&n
bsp; “What the hell is so funny?” Nate asked.
“I can’t believe you just hit a woman like that. You are absolutely bananas. I just can’t believe it. One minute I’m in here getting my jimmy blown, quite skillfully I might add. The next minute, you’re in here knocking her out like you’re Ike Turner or somebody.”
“Damn, B. You still don’t get it, do you?”
Brendan just stood there and shrugged his shoulders.
“That ain’t a woman right there. That’s a nigga,” Nate said, pointing at the still body.
“Whatever.”
“I’m telling you. The guy you beat for the money came upstairs and told the chick I was talking to that you had just whipped him for some dough on the pool tables. Then he said that you were getting all worked up by a transvestite who was going to suck you off and hit you for your money.”
“And you believed that I couldn’t tell a woman from a man? You believed that bull?”
“Watch this.” Nate said, as he bent down and pulled Candy’s dress up to reveal a pair of snug-fitting panties. Nate grabbed her underwear and pulled it to the side and revealed nothing but bush and booty. “Oh, snap,” he screamed out loud, as he staggered backward. “B, this is a woman. Oh, damn, damn, damn.” Nate shouted and clenched his fist while doing his best imitation of Florida Evans on the episode of Good Times when James died. “That fool didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I ought to go back upstairs and kick his ass.” Nate paused and looked down at Candy sleeping like a baby. “She still ain’t moving…damn.”
Brendan stood there waiting to see what the champ was going to do next. After a few seconds of watching the expression of perplexed anguish put a stranglehold on Nate’s face, Brendan broke the short silence. “Look, man, let’s get up out of here before somebody comes in here and accuses us of trying to rape this chick or something.”
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