Before I Let Go by Darren Coleman Page B

way off, though.
    “I went up there to secure a buyout for my company. I was supposed to scare the owners and boardmembers of this smaller company into selling a division of their company to us. But they weren’t scared at all. As a matter of fact, they didn’t like the proposal I made to them at the meeting we had. They did, however, like the way I presented it to them.”
    “And…?”
    “They made me a job offer. A sweet one, too.”
    Nate was silent for a second. Then asked. “So you took it?”
    I replied, “Not yet. But I’m going to.”
    “So that’s why she went ballistic…because you’re moving to New York?”
    “Something like that.” I left out the detail that I was moving to D.C. and not New York.
    “You see, Cory,” Nate said. “Bitches are so jealous. They don’t want to see a nigga get ahead for real. But they talk all that crap about how black men don’t have any ambition or goals. That’s the shit that pisses me off. I hope you put her ass in her place. What can she do for you, anyway? She’s married and been screwing around on her husband for the last two years. It isn’t like you could ever trust her ass. Did she think that you were supposed to sit around and wait for her ass to leave her husband?”
    “That’s what I’m saying.”
    “I don’t know what these broads be thinking about. But hey, you must like that shit. You love all your women. You are a playa with sensitivity. Couldn’t be me, bro,” Nate said, sarcastically.
    “Yeah, that’s me. Call it what you want, but you need to learn to show a little respect for these sisters out here. You keep it up and you are gonna wind up a dirty old man, sitting outside the high schools chasing young girls while everyone else is home with a family.”
    Nate roared with laughter. “Fuck you,” he bellowed. Then he went on to ask, “Did you tell your moms that you are going to take a job in New York? I can hear Mrs. Dandridge now. She’s going to be mad worried about you living up there after the terrorist attack.” He switched his voice into a Mother Jefferson–style impersonation, imitating my mother: “Cory, baby, you know New York is so dangerous, honey bunch.” He laughed more, and loudly. I had to move the receiver slightly away from my ear.
    I broke his laughter to answer his question. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t tell Moms that I was moving to New York because the job isn’t in New York.”
    “Oh, yeah. Well, where is it?” he asked, suspiciously.
    I paused, then asked. “Do you know how to keep a sucker in suspense?”
    He replied. “No, how?”
    I just paused, and there was silence on the line.
    “Nigga, forget you. Where is the job?”
    “It’s there,” I stated.
    “Straight up? In D.C.?”
    “Yeah, not downtown, though. It’s right off of Rockville Pike.”
    “Aww, shit.” I heard excitement in his voice. “That’s good, man. That is real good. So when you moving back?”
    “Probably the day before Thanksgiving. Let’s see. Today is the twelfth, and I’m giving my notice tomorrow. We’re off for Thanksgiving anyway, so I’ll just let that Tuesday be my last day. My boss is going to be pissed anyway, but hey, what can you do. He knows that I’ve been throwing the idea of transferring back up north for a few months.”
    “Yeah, but he probably thought you’d be working for him, not the competition. But like you said, what can you do? Is the money the same?” Nate asked, getting all up in my business.
    “Nope, it’s better. Much better,” I said, in a harmless brag.
    “Good. Now you can trade that old-assed Maxima in.”
    “My car still runs good. I don’t have to show how much money I have by buying a big old fancy ride. That’s what’s wrong with brothers today. Instead of putting some money in the bank, or even buying a house, the first thing a nigga does is go out and buy a BMW, a Benz, or a Lexus. Why? Just so he can get a piece of ass.”
    “What’s wrong with that? Money