Before I Let Go

by Darren Coleman

  “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.

  Finally, he closed with, “Expect a call from my uncle tomorrow.” I hadn’t heard from his uncle, the founder of Hakito Electronics, since I was hired, and I had to admit I instantly became anxious.

  As I finally cleared the accident my phone began to vibrate. It was Nina. I flipped open my cell.

  “Hello,” I said calmly.

  “Where are you?” Nina shrilled through the line. “I am hungry, and we have reservations for six-thirty. It’s close to six now. There’s no way you’ll make it here in time.”

  “Calm down, baby. There’s been an accident on 270. I’m just clearing it now.”

  She interjected, “Why did you come that way anyway? Why didn’t you take Old Georgetown Road? I swear, Cory, I’m going to call and cancel the reservations. You don’t listen.”

  “Hold on. Who in the hell do you think you’re talking to? You can cancel the reservations if you want to. I’ll turn my car around and go on home.”

  Silence.

  “Is that what you want?” I asked.

  More silence.

  “Hurry up,” was her way of apologizing, then she hung up.

  I had learned that occasionally I needed to keep Nina in line. Letting her come out of her mouth any kind of way she wanted was out of the question. That was how women operated. It seemed odd that they still had to try to wrestle with a man for control. If they won that control, the man no longer seemed like a man to them. Once a woman loses respect for a man, he can hang it up. Wasn’t happening here.

  The restaurant was located on Columbia Road in northwest D.C. a section of town known as Adams Morgan. We arrived half an hour late for our reservations but were still able to be seated. It was a Brazilian restaurant called The Grill from Ipanema. It was my first time there. Shelly had told me about it many years ago. She had tried to get me to come there with her and her parents the summer before we broke up, but an argument had sent us our separate ways that night. I nearly slipped into a trance thinking about that summer night, probably six or seven years ago. I was trying to remember what we had fussed about.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Nina asked, “Cory, what are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I said, realizing that I had been staring into space instead of at the menu.

  “Yeah, you are.” Nina pinched my arm. “What?”

  I knew she wouldn’t be satisfied unless I told her something. So I went into a whole spiel about Jamison telling me that Mr. Hakito would be calling me tomorrow. Then I asked, “So, have you been here before?”

  “Yeah, plenty of times. This is my mother’s favorite restaurant. We used to come here a lot back in the day, as a family.” She wiped her silverware. “Why, you don’t like it?”

  “No, it’s nice, and the whole color scheme thing…I’m feeling it. It has a real tropical feel to it. It’s a real nice atmosphere, and being here with you makes it even better.” I meant that.

  “As opposed to being here with whom?” she said slyly.

  “As opposed to being here without you.” I smiled back.

  Nina squinted her eyes and then bit her bottom lip slightly before saying, “Good answer. As a matter of fact, that is the only answer, Mister Dandridge.” Then we both laughed.

  The waiter came to the table, and Nina greeted him in Spanish. His eyes brightened some, and he asked what were we drinking. I let Nina do all of the ordering while I played the silent, non–Spanish speaking boyfriend. When he left I said to her, “I am going to have to brush up on my Spanish. For all I kn
ow you two could have been talking about me.”

  “Don’t worry. He just asked me what I was doing with such a stupid-looking American. And then he asked if he could take me out this weekend. I, of course, told him that I would have to ask my stupid-looking boyfriend.”

  I didn’t laugh. I just cracked my knuckles as if I was ready to do some damage.

  “So, boyfriend, am I free this weekend?”

  “No, sweetheart. You won’t be free this weekend or any weekend after,” I said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you belong to me.” And I meant that. It was just a matter of making it official.

  The food was off the hook. I had a spiced shrimp and black bean stew filled with sausages and spooned over rice. I also ate off Nina’s plate until she finally had to smack my hand away from her marinated grilled fish, shredded collards, and something grainy called farofa. She really enjoyed her food, and it was fun trying something new with her. I would have never thought to come here for dinner, nor had the creativity to suggest it to a date. Women are different. They know how to come up with ideas to keep a relationship going. I was thankful for Nina’s creativity. I was going to have to come up with something creative real soon, though, because I had something planned for Nina. I was far from a McDonald’s kind of guy, but like most other men I could use a little help in the romance department.

  I read in a magazine, Essence, I believe, that women say that a lack of romance is one of the top five complaints they have with their men. I wouldn’t fall victim to that trap. I was reading in my spare time. My mother told me a long time ago that if I wanted to be able to relate to a woman I needed to be able to see things the way she does sometimes, because a woman will never see them the way that men do. She said that I should read the same things that women read, which I do—Essence, Honey, and on occasion I’ll grab Sister 2 Sister. Jamie Brown always gets the scoop like she’s the black Barbara Walters. Moms also had told me that I need to watch Oprah every chance I get, and of course I do that.

  We went back to her place after dinner. I didn’t have any work clothes at her apartment, so I would have to get up at about seven in order to make it to my crib to get dressed properly. We got back to her place in time to catch Soul Food on Showtime. I loved that show.

  Nina turned the television set off as soon as the show went off and told me to come to bed. I thanked my lucky stars to have found myself such a hot-blooded woman.

  When I told her that I needed a quick shower before getting into bed, she joined me. While we did start making love in the shower, we finished in her bed. Our lovemaking had been just as delicious as the food we had eaten earlier, and even more satisfying. While I lay there next to her in the afterglow I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I wanted to be tied to this girl forever. If only God could help me find a way to tell her sister.

  Nate was neatly placing his clothes into the garment bag. He checked and then double-checked to make sure he had some fly gear packed. It looked more like he was the one making a video, with all of the outfits that he had packed. He was only staying for three or four days, but he had seven pairs of pants and a couple of sweat suits. Nate had spent the morning shopping in Georgetown and Tyson’s Corner. He’d purchased a couple of linen shirts from Armani Exchange, some Iceberg gear, and two Hobo sweat suits. He was ready for his trip to the city. Someone would have thought it was his first trip to New York, as excited as he was.

  It didn’t take an expert to figure out that all of Nate’s excitement was due to his impending contact with the one and only Shawn Simmons. Shawn was only the hottest R&B female singer for nearly four years running. The fact that she was a raving beauty with the body and sex appeal of a goddess was only half of the secret to her success. Her voice was a cross between Anita Baker and Kelly Price, plus she had the hip-hop flavor of Mary J. Blige and the stage presence of Patti La-Belle. When she performed women cried and men breathed heavily. She had seduced a nation in her videos, one of which she had shot entirely nude. Of course the viewers never saw her private parts, but it was just the suggestiveness that had driven people wild. On top of everything else, the girl had class. What seemed risqué for other folks seemed chic when Shawn did it.

  Her star had shined just a bit brighter than the rest from day one. She recorded one album as part of a girl group out of Los Angeles called Plain Jane. Plain Jane’s album made it to the top the charts, and the group was poised to do well.

  What happened after that was the same thing that had happened to so many other groups. It seemed that all of the Plain Jane videos put Shawn on the map without doing anything for the other members. It wasn’t long before dissension and jealousy set in. Two of the three other members of the group, including her sister Sharon, began plotting against Shawn. Terrible rumors about Shawn’s private life were leaked to the press, sending her into a rage. Needless to say, Shawn left the group, leaving a fierce legal suit in her wake. The rest of the group disbanded to pursue solo careers, none of which succeeded.

  Four years and two multiplatinum selling albums later, and Shawn was the hottest R&B voice around. All of the key record executives were saying that Shawn’s next album was a lock to be even bigger than the first two. Accomplishing that goal would be no small feat, though. She’d sold nearly twenty million units worldwide in four years. In order to live up to such high expectations, she was following in the footsteps of icons such as Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson. She went out and got the best producers to work with her in the studio. Everyone from Dr. Dre, Timbaland, and the Neptunes had worked on songs for her CD. Even after his scandal, Shawn voiced her support for R. Kelly and insisted that he do a song with her. “Innocent until proven guilty,” she said, when asked in a Vibe interview about her decision to work with him. She had been through scandals, and she felt as though the brother needed somebody to ride out the storm with him. Plus, it had people talking about her CD before it hit the shelves. There were also duets with Maxwell and Lil’Kim. People in her camp were predicting a clean sweep at the Grammy, Soul Train, and MTV awards shows in the coming year.

  Nate had just dropped three goldfish into the tank with his piranha when the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was Sahleen.

  “What’s up, baby?” Nate asked.

  “Are you on the way?” Sahleen asked. “’Cause I want you to pick up some Chinese food for me.”

  “Why don’t you just have them deliver it?” Nate didn’t feel like stopping, but he would do it for her.

  “I don’t have any cash in the house at all. If you’re going to be here within the hour or so, I can just order it when you get here.” She paused, then said, “But I am famished.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you what,” Nate spoke, while carrying his bags to the door. “I’ll call you when I get on 395. Then you can call in your order; that way it won’t get cold before I pick it up.”

  “Sounds good, baby, thanks.” Sahleen sounded as though she was in a really good mood. Nate figured that maybe she was looking forward to their getaway as well. They hung up, and Nate turned on the clock radio in his bedroom. He turned on the timer on the TV so that it would be on each day from nine at night until six in the morning. He put his bags on his shoulders and headed out the door. He was sleeping at Sahleen’s apartment so they could get an early start in the morning, and he wanted to make sure that his place would not welcome any break-ins during the subsequent four nights.

  When he got into his car he called India’s house, but there was no answer. He needed her to be there. He had come up with a nice alibi for the long weekend. He was going to tell her that he was taking his grandmother to her sister’s house in Newport News. His grandmother actually had gone down to her sister’s home, but she had taken the train. He could have left a message, but Nate preferred to lie to a woman directly. A lying message was so tacky and impersonal. Plus, a message gave no way of judging one’s delivery and the reception of the message. Then he would have to spend energy ov
er the weekend wondering if she had bought his story or not. No, he wanted her home. He called her cell.

  When India’s cell rang she caught her hand midair. She had been just about to honk at Nate, who was driving in the next lane, but he hadn’t yet noticed her. She decided to have some fun and humor him. She sucked on her chocolate shake and placed it back into the cup holder.

  “Hey, silly,” India said when she answered.

  Nate had no idea why she was calling him silly, but it didn’t matter. She was in a good mood, and he hoped that she would stay that way after he told her that he was going out of town. He had known for two weeks that he would be leaving this weekend, but it would have been foolish to announce it to India any time before tonight. It would only have given her ideas about wanting to go with him, or time to come to the realization that she should be offended about not being invited. Nate knew that women always wanted to come along, or at least to be asked. He could have been going to an all-nude mud-wrestling tournament and she still would have wanted to come. Some women would want to come just because they weren’t invited. Just like the Million Man March, when Minister Farrakhan had told women for nearly two months to stay their butts at home, lo and behold if there weren’t at least twenty thousand sisters down there with their club gear on. I guess sistahs just liked those odds.

  “Hey, baby,” Nate said, trying to sound loving. “You on the road?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am,” she said. Nate could tell that India had a grin on her face while she was talking.

  “You sure sound like you’re in a good mood, girl,” Nate said, turning down the radio. He was missing the Rane and Flex countdown on WPGC.