Antebellum Read Online Free PDF Page A

you sleep with, in the end, I still see the little boy rapping offbeat in seventh grade.”
    Her words raped me. I couldn’t have been more penetrated in a jailhouse shower.
    â€œI may be the last person on earth who knows who you really are,” she added.
    Men (urban men especially) have a whole repertoire of things we do to keep from crying. I pulled out an old favorite and bit down hard on my bottom lip.
    â€œExcuse me, sir? Is everything okay?”
    The driver had gotten out from his seat behind the wheel. He was younger than I expected. In another time he would have been called a half-breed or a mulatto. As it stood now, he was a pretty boy with good hair. He was obviously nervous about confronting me, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him.
    I turned Da Nigga back on instinctively.
    â€œYeah, we good, man! Lil’ bit a privacy’d be cool, though.”
    His embarrassment began to show through his cheeks and perspiration. Most of the time I never saw the full faces of my limo drivers, just the shot of their eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror when they were paying too much attention to the party in back.
    I was known for giving my chauffeurs a story to tell the next morning.
    â€œI’m sorry, sir...I...thought I heard you choking or crying or something...”
    â€œNaw, youngin, you heard wrong. You musta smoked more than me dis mornin’. Go ’head and get back behind the wheel so we can roll out—we getting up right now.”
    â€œYes, sir!”
    The driver jogged back over to the driver’s-side door and leaped in. SaTia looked at me and shook her head slightly. She debated in her mind for a half-second before she threw caution to the wind.
    â€œI want to tell you something, but after I say it, you have to pretend like you never heard it. You can’t ask any questions about it or anything. It was never said.”
    â€œLike we used to do in high school?”
    â€œYeah, just like that. Deal?”
    I acted as if I was thinking about it, but I’d have given up a hit record to hear what she was going to say.
    â€œUmm...yeah, sure. What’s up?”
    SaTia surveyed her surroundings again, and then turned her head and looked straight at me.
    â€œAt some point, you’re going to have to decide whether you’re Da Nigga or Moses Jenkins. When that day comes, I’ll either marry you or quit.”
    She was back in the limo tapping away on her laptop before I closed my mouth. I had more questions than an insecure spouse, but I knew the rules all too well. She’d never said it. The words had never come out of her mouth. That’s how we got away with telling other people’s secrets in high school, and that’s how she was getting away with torturing me now.
    By the time I stood back up, I could see the driver getting antsy again. I didn’t care. I slowly walked up to the door of the limo and climbed in like a sore tennis player.
    â€œI hate you,” I said.
    â€œI know.”
    She gave me a quick glance, hit the intercom button, and put her focus back on her e-mail. The enthusiastic driver responded in record time.
    â€œYes, sir?”
    â€œHi...this is SaTia. I’m Da Nigga’s manager. Can you get us to The Marbury restaurant as quickly as possible, please? We’re late for a very important meeting.”
    â€œRight away, ma’am!”
    As our chauffeur pretended he was behind the wheel of an ambulance, I pretended I wasn’t sitting beside a person who could turn my world like a nauseous stomach.

    I had thought a lot of things before SaTia and I walked into that restaurant, but there were two things I thought I was sure of. First, I thought I had been to some of the best restaurants anyone had ever seen. I figured that was one of the perks of being rich.
    Ironically, that was the second. I thought I was rich.
    I had never seen anything like The Marbury. It looked like a place out of one of