The party was in full swing by the time the three of them arrived. Shue knew that Amir, the host of the party, had plenty of cash, but Brendan and Nate were impressed by the amount of money that obviously had been spent on this party. There was a forty-foot, plush, red carpet that came out of the double doors that led to the foyer of the huge brick colonial. There were two young men dressed in dark gray suits and leather gloves standing on the curb. They were offering to provide valet service to the guests if they wanted it. There were at least three hundred peach-colored balloons tied to the railing in front of the doorway and the gate running up into the driveway. Amir had an American flag made out of Christmas lights in the front yard to show his patriotism. Small white lights decorated the bushes and lined the insides of the twin fifteen-foot bay windows of the living room. As they moved toward the house, Brendan could see couples dancing and flashing lights coming from the inside. Just inside the door there was a study that was closed off by a desk in front of its door. A perky little white girl in a full-length dress stood behind the desk checking invitations and taking coats.

As the trio made their way through the foyer Nate looked to the left and noticed an ice sculpture depicting the statue of David in the dining room.

“Yo, B, check that shit out,” Nate said, as he nudged Brendan.

“Daaamn, that’s top flight, huh?” Brendan replied, as he turned back toward Nate.

“You ain’t lyin’. And look at all that champagne on that table.” Nate motioned his head for Brendan to look at the bottles of Moët and Cristal champagne in ice buckets lined up in rows of at least ten on the table behind the ice sculpture. “That’s where I’m about to be.”

Nate tapped Shue on the shoulder when he returned from checking his jacket. Shue had been reading the coat-check girl her rights and made her promise to take special care of it because it was a Dolce & Gabbana jacket that he claimed had to be ordered four months ago. “Yo, Shue baby, what’s up with the cupid ice figure? What is that, some type of gay symbol or something?”

“Negro, please. It’s a statue of David,” Shue replied.

“Oh, yeah. I knew that.”

Shue gave the room a quick glance, and then with his wrist suddenly limp stated to Nate and Brendan, “Look here, fellas, I’m going to find Amir and let him know I’m here. I believe he’s probably got something for me.” Shue continued, “You two go blend with the others and have some fun.” Shue grabbed Nate’s shoulder. “Nate, look at all of these scandalous women in here. Half of them probably aren’t gay or bi. They’re just scheming, trying to get all the B boys to switch-hit, for at least a night. And Brendan, he’s got two pool tables downstairs and another DJ down there if you’re not with this Top 40 stuff playing up here.” Shue leaned over and in a semiwhisper said, “Oh and Nate, please don’t let cuz drink too much champagne. You know he can’t handle his liquor.”

“That’s a bet. What’s up with the drinks?” Nate asked.

“Look around.”

Nate looked and saw people standing around with champagne bottles in their hands. He couldn’t believe that this guy had bought enough liquor for folks to be going out like that. Nearly every other person was taking a bottle of high-priced bubbly, or wine, straight to the head.

Shue waved his hands, directing Nate and Brendan toward the dining room, and said, “Grab a bottle of what you like, and do your thing. That’s how Amir carries things when he throws a shindig. Glasses and flutes are optional.”

Shue nudged Nate’s shoulder as if to say “go on,” and then spoke into Brendan’s ear, probably telling him the same thing, and then slithered off into the crowd.

“Shue said that Amir’s got pool tables in the basement.” Brendan spoke loudly.

The DJ had seemingly turned the volume up as he started playing some dancehall reggae.

“Yeah, he told me. But I’m going to get a drink and chill up here for a few,” Nate answered. “I need to check things out up inside of this camp and see if any of these honeys are down for the swerve. You know what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brendan replied. However, Brendan’s body language showed that he didn’t feel like staying upstairs, where it appeared to be the most crowded. After a few moments Nate handed him a half-empty bottle of bubbly and shot him a suggestion.

“Yo B, why don’t you go see what’s up downstairs. Try and get on one of the pool tables or something.” Brendan nodded his head approvingly and took a big swig of the champagne. Nate continued, “I’ll be down there in a few.”

“Bet,” Brendan belted out, before he made his way across the hard-wood living room floors that had been turned into a busy dance floor by the couples who were getting their swerve on. They were made up of all sorts of combinations. Men with women, men with men, and much to Brendan and Nate’s sexually aroused curiosity, women with women.

 

Nate was, of course, in his usual party mode. He was playing it cool, leaning up against the wall near the heavily padded white leather couch that had been pushed aside from the middle of the living room. He was watching the other guests walk past him into the kitchen as he eyeballed their outfits to see how they were dressed compared to him. Nate had said he was dressing down this evening. He sported a black shirt with bronze Moschino emblems all over it. He had the tails of the shirt hanging out of his tailored slacks, making his Mont Blanc belt barely visible, except for where his two-way pager and cellphone were clipped, with the shirt hung behind the antenna. He would have been both fly and comfortable, except that his boots fit a little too snug and made his corns hurt. He was going to have to do something about those damned corns.

Nate was noticing that the party had a nice selection of well-dressed people who included both women and gay men. Nate knew that gays as a rule were some of the best-dressed brothers around, and if he could hold his own with them in fashion, he was definitely making some noise.

 

“Excuse me, honey,” the voice said, as her body brushed up against Nate’s.

“No problem.” Nate grinned as he held his bottle and glass up over his head to prevent the little lady from hitting his fresh bottle of Cristal.

The night was looking oh so good, Nate thought to himself. He would have tested the waters with the chick who had walked by moments earlier, but he figured he would hold off a little longer and make sure he didn’t play himself out too soon. He knew that once he approached a honey and started hitting her with his rap, they usually tried to latch onto him and keep him tied up all night. He wasn’t having it tonight. He already had his eye on a couple of potential victims. He never really thought of the women he dealt with as victims. But judging by the trademark chant that he had memorized from a rap song, which also described how he treated the ladies—:

—they were indeed victims.

 

Nate spotted the woman he wanted across the room sipping a glass of wine and laughing with a girlfriend. He had made his choice for the night. She was tall, about five-feet-ten-inches or so, and was beautiful, to say the least. He would later find out that she was of Nigerian and French descent. She looked like something out of a magazine, with a short leather skirt and calf-high boots. She was giving up just enough cleavage in the fitted, low-cut blouse she was wearing. Nate had taken one look at her and knew that he was going to try his hand with that.

Whenever Nate saw a woman he was interested in come into a club, party, or bar where the atmosphere was predetermined for mingling, he had a strategy that he almost never wavered from. He would wait for at least one guy to make an approach. His purpose for this was twofold. First, Nate knew that women liked to be approached a couple of times when they go out. It was simple to Nate. He knew that they did not go through the trouble of making themselves look so gorgeous so that they could be ignored all night. Nate also reasoned that just as a good batter doesn’t swing at his first pitch, even if it is a good one, any woman worth anything rejects the first offer for a drink, dance, or romance. It just sends the wrong signal, Nate would say “Desperate broads always take the first offer, and then wonder why they get dogged out,” Nate’s mentor, Uncle Miles, used to say.

Second, Nate would make an assessment of what kind of mood a woman was in by checking out the body language that she used while rejecting her first offer. Most women sent signals on purpose, he believed. The problem was that most men weren’t paying attention. Men hardly ever pay attention to the obvious, and that blows women’s minds. Nate always said that if you really pay attention to a woman whom you have just met, and ask the right questions, you would have all the necessary information you need for success. As far as Nate was concerned the only things he needed to know was, first off, how long would it take to get into the panties; second, whether or not it was going to be worth it; third, and most important, did the woman show any signs of being a psycho or just more trouble than she was worth.

The woman who’d become the object of Nate’s interest had just shaken her head “no,” and smiled graciously, as she sent some muscle-bound cat with a tight shirt on packing. She had resumed laughing with her girlfriend when Nate walked up and joined their conversation without being invited. It didn’t phase the ladies one bit, as they both eyeballed Nate and kept right on talking about people, what they had on, and laughing at two brothers who were dancing together in the corner to their own music. Nate, trying his best to be charming, had added a nice male perspective and a few comedic observations of his own.

“By the way, ladies, my name is Nathan Montgomery. I would prefer you both call me Nate, as all my friends do.”

“I’m Sahleen,” she said, extending her hand and smiling widely. Nate was pleased that she seemed welcoming. “This is Trish.” Trish simply nodded.

Nate couldn’t have cared less about Trish’s reaction; he couldn’t take his eyes off Sahleen. He was on a mission to exude just the perfect amount of charm and wit. He was fitting into their circle nicely when he brought the flow of the conversation to a screeching halt by asking, “So are you ladies gay or what?”

“Excuse me,” Sahleen replied. “That’s absolutely none of your damn business, if we are or not. But for the record, no, I’m not. Why? Are you?” Her counterpart just stood there in disbelief at Nate’s arrogance.

“Hell, no,” Nate shot back.

He stood there for a minute and gave her the low down on how he’d ended up at Amir’s party. However, he failed to mention that he had been hoping to roll up on a bisexual honey before the night was through. Sahleen was so sexy, though, Nate didn’t mind that she was straight. He was willing to put his hopes for a ménage à trois on the back burner for a dish like her. Nate had rolled up on a lot of fine ladies in his day, but during the conversation with his two new acquaintances, he wondered to himself if he was indeed looking at the finest ever. This was no joke. Sahleen was flawless. As a matter of fact, you could put Sahleen in a room with Halle, J. Lo, or Beyoncé and smart money says that she could turn the three of them into world-class “player haters.” Nate didn’t even want to ask her what she did for a living. He knew she was going to tell him she was a model, an actress, or something in that field. Ideally, he wanted to get those panties off her shapely ass before she began expecting him to treat her special simply because she had the status to go with that beauty.

Nate had been talking to Sahleen for about twenty minutes about nothing much. He was sensing that she was digging him, because when her girlfriend walked off to go to the bathroom, she elected to stay and continue her conversation with him. And when Trish hadn’t returned in fifteen minutes, she never mentioned going to look for her.

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.

“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.”

The idea was more than a little appealing to Nate, who replied, “Yeah, c’mon, let’s roll.”

The two of them sped out of the room and up the steps. When Nate and Brendan reentered the living room, Shue was in the corner talking to a couple of guys. One of them looked strangely familiar to Brendan for some reason. Shue saw them and signaled for them come over. Brendan was about to walk over there when Nate grabbed his arm. “Nigga, what you gonna do? You know we’ve got to leave up outta here.”

“Well, man, I can’t just leave Shue up in here without telling him I’m leaving first.”

“Look, hurry the hell up. I’m headed toward the car. Give him your keys if you got to. I’ll drop you off at your crib. But don’t stay up here until we get an assault charge.”

“Okay, alright already.”

“Dude, I’m not playing with you. I’ll knock your ass out, too.”

Brendan laughed, “Who are you supposed to be, Debo or somebody?”

“Just hurry up. Oh, and ask Shue if he knows what a nordenus is.”

“A what?”

“Never mind, just do what you got to do so we can bounce.”

 

Shue nodded at Brendan and asked, “Where’s Nate going? I wanted to introduce both of you to my friends here.” Then he turned back to the group he was standing with. “Anyway, guys, this here is my cousin, Brendan.” Shue then placed his hand on the shoulder of the guy who was standing closest to him. “Brendan, this is Stuart Hall, and this here is his partner, Glenn.”

It dawned on Brendan who Stuart Hall was. He was the sportscaster from Channel 6 news. Brendan thought, What was the world coming to? A sportscaster packing fudge. Who would’ve thought? Brendan exchanged pleasantries with Stuart and his partner. What was a trip to Brendan was that Stuart Hall seemed pretty comfortable with people knowing he was gay, judging from the way his friend was all up under him.

After less than a minute Brendan pulled Shue to the side and told him what had happened in the basement. Shue had responded with an “Oh dear, that’s ugly.” And quickly told Brendan to go ahead, and that he’d catch a ride with someone else or catch a cab if need be.

Brendan started to turn away, then grabbed Shue’s arm. “Hey, cuz.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Nate said to ask you what a nordenus was.” Brendan asked with a puzzled looked, wondering if he had pronounced it correctly.

Shue burst out laughing. “Why, did someone call him that?” He was still laughing.

“I don’t know. Why? What is it?”

Still grinning, Shue leaned over to his cousin and said, “It’s a cock-sucker that has no lips.” Shue tapped Brendan as if to say “get on” and walked back to his friends.

The visual image of that brought a smile to Brendan’s face, but he figured he’d keep it to himself and maybe use it on Nate one day down the road.

 

Brendan saw Nate sitting out in front of the house waiting impatiently with a gorgeous woman sitting next to him in the car.

“Ain’t this a bitch?” Brendan said to Nate as he walked around to Nate’s side of the car and looked inside the window.

“Don’t act like that, B. You know I was only looking out for you. I would hope that you would do the same for me.” Nate smiled at Brendan. He knew Brendan was pissed off about Nate screwing up his action and now getting himself a prize for the night. Nate knew it wasn’t fair, but the sooner people learned that life wasn’t always fair the better, he believed. “B, hop in. I’ll give you a ride up the street to your car.”

Just as Brendan opened the door to get in, a voice yelled out from the steps in front of the house, “There he is. That’s one of them right there.” There were two very big men standing next to Candy at the top of the steps as she pointed toward Brendan, who was at least forty yards away. In an instant, Brendan was in the back seat of the car, and Nate’s foot had slammed on the gas pedal. They were up the block, lights turned off so that no tag number could be seen, and around the corner before Candy and her rescuers could make it to the street.

Nate barely came to a complete stop at Brendan’s car. Brendan wondered if he was expected to jump out of a rolling vehicle. The two said their good-byes as Brendan quickly climbed out of the back seat.

“You gonna be alright.” “I’m straight.” “I’m out, then.” “Me, too.”

Nate sped off again. Brendan did the same.