25
25The usual suspects are at the meeting place—Rock, Strange-O, Mark, and Fredrick. Although Andre would never admit it, he’s starting to feel that the Realness quartet is okay. Of course, he would never let his guard down completely, especially with Fredrick.
He thinks of Hakeem and wonders how he would fit into this setting. Andre figures he could invite him, but quickly checks himself, for to invite Hakeem would mean two things: that he’s coming back and that he sees value in what takes place here.
Andre buries the thought and digs into steaming hot wings and green leaf salad peppered with shiny grape tomatoes.
Fredrick grabs a plate. “What’s happening, Andre? How’s things?”
Suspect, Andre says, “Everything’s alright.”
“Well . . . if you’re open to it, I wanted to offer my help.”
Andre speculates on what Sandra could have told him, and his heart hardens toward her. He’s tempted to get her on the phone this second. “Help me how?” he asks.
“I have an extra bedroom in my apartment, and if you need it, you’re welcome to it.”
Need and ego rattle between Andre’s ears like sabers, and the clash has him at odds with his own speech.
Fredrick gives Andre and his manhood space to breathe. “You don’t have to let me know right now. It’s just an offer.”
“I’ll think about it,” Andre says.
“Cool.”
Fredrick turns to leave and Andre says, “Fredrick.”
He turns around.
“Thanks.”
The five men gather at the table in the center of the room. “So what’s real tonight, fellas?” Rock says.
Andre speaks up immediately. “I’m assuming you guys are all Protestant, right?”
The quartet looks around at each other and nods.
“Protestantism is European and began in the sixteenth century,” Andre states confidently. “Coptic is from Africa and started in the first century. So wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be Coptic instead of Protestant since you’re all black?”
Strange-O says, “I’m not black. I’m like KRS-One—brown, from the Boogie Down.”
The table gives Strange-O the evil eye, but he responds with, “Don’t front. Y’all know y’all went crazy when that song came out just like I did.”
“That’s not the point,” Fredrick injects. “Andre asked a serious question and you bring up Boogie Down Productions.”
Strange-O slaps Fredrick on the back and grins. “You know that was funny! My timing was impeccable!”
“Anyway,” Fredrick says, directing his attention back to Andre, “I only know a little bit about Coptic, but I was never that interested because it seemed too much like Catholicism with all the candles and icons.”
“Actually, the Coptic Church preceded the Catholic Church by a couple hundred years,” Rock interjects. “And here’s an interesting black fact for you—Egypt used to be a Christian nation.”
“Word?” Mark chimes in. “Egypt was Christian? Isn’t Egypt the largest Muslim country in the world right now?”
“That would be Indonesia,” Rock says, “but Egypt was Christian three hundred years before Muhammad was born, and Ethiopia was Christian a hundred years before his first crusade.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” Andre asks.
“I was locked up in Sing Sing, and they had a degree program that was offered through New York Theological Seminary. My focus was religion in history.”
Andre tries not to look impressed. “How’d you wind up in prison in New York? Aren’t you from Jersey?”
Rock smiles. “Another example of God’s sovereignty, brother. The JCPD couldn’t get me on anything, so I got cocky and decided to expand my operation into Harlem and black Brooklyn. And that’s when I got caught. But if I would’ve gone to prison in Jersey, I wouldn’t have a degree because Jersey doesn’t offer degree programs in prison, thanks to Bill Clinton.”
When the meeting comes to a close, Fredrick gives Andre a pound and says, “Take care, man.”
As Fredrick heads for the door, Andre ponders his looming checkout from the White Horse, and the thought of sleeping on the train makes him blench.
“Fredrick.”
“What’s up?”
“I think I’d like to take you up on your offer.”
“No problem. I only ask that you participate in a jobs initiative that I do at the Salvation Army.”
Andre feels baited and switched upon. “So this is a package deal.”
“I just want to try to help you get a gig, man. You still interested?”
Andre recognizes that Frederick’s offer is infinitely better than the iron horse or the White Horse no matter how he dissects it. “Yeah, I’m interested.”
“Alright, I’ll pull my car around,” Fredrick says.
Andre waits on the curb in front of the meeting place. Fredrick cruises up in a black BMW 650i convertible, and instantly Andre is salty. He thinks back to his senior year in high school.
Andre and Roderick Teal were the best receivers in the city. They had the same number of touchdowns, but Andre had ten more catches. However, Roderick was five inches taller and twenty pounds heavier, and his school won the New Jersey State Championship that year. Roderick went on to star at Virginia Tech and signed a four-year, twenty-eight-million-dollar deal with the Detroit Lions, eighteen million guaranteed.
Andre considers that even if he rode the bench in the NFL, he could have afforded a car like Fredrick’s.
“Hop in, it’s open,” Fredrick says.
Andre sinks into the plush leather interior and marvels at the dashboard that emits more snazzy brilliance than a Christmas tree. “Nice ride,” he says. He remembers hearing somewhere that the best way to combat jealousy is to compliment the object of your envy.
“Thanks. It’s a lease,” Fredrick says. “Good for the summer, but when it snows? Forget about it.”
Andre huffs in his head. Probably has no idea what it’s like to freeze to death at a bus stop or walk when you don’t have the fare.
“I grew up riding the bus,” Fredrick continues. “But most of the time, my family used Tom and Jerry.”
“Tom and Jerry?”
Fredrick looks at Andre. “Our own two feet.”
They crack up and the mood in the car lightens slightly. Andre settles into his seat as Fredrick zips toward downtown. He passes the Goldman Sachs tower and slows at 77 Hudson Street, a glimmering condominium whose upper floors vanish into the night sky. Andre knows the building well because Sandra’s restaurant, Torch & Basil, is on the ground floor.
Frederick disappears into an underground parking garage that’s like a clandestine car show. There are Benzes, Escalades, Bentleys, and an occasional Prius for the environmentally friendly.
Andre takes in Fredrick’s comfortable cool as they enter the building’s extravagant lobby. He feels like a kid tooling around in an older brother’s brave new world.
The man at the concierge desk is white and at least ten years older than Fredrick. “Good evening, Mr. Boyd,” he says.
“Rich, how are you, man? Cold out there, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is. You two gentlemen have a good night.”
Andre imagines how uncomfortable he would feel if he was there by himself. When he steps into Fredrick’s apartment, he is greeted by an unfettered panorama of the Manhattan skyline. The view through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows is breathtaking.
“Welcome,” Fredrick says. “I’ll give you a quick tour, and then please make yourself at home.”
“This place is off the meter,” Andre says.
Fredrick grins. “Thanks. Your room is down here.”
Fredrick leads Andre down the hallway and points out the kitchen with Italian cabinetry, white quartz countertops, and stainless-steel Viking appliances. Next is the bathroom, which is equally indulgent. It has a chiseled marble feature wall, double trough sink with signature faucets, and a limestone floor.
Andre has never been in a space so magnificent. He struggles to understand how Fredrick can afford something so lavish. He’s not a professional ball player and he certainly doesn’t look like he’s slinging. And even if he is, none of the dealers Andre knew had apartments like this, even kingpins who held down several neighborhoods.
“I don’t mean to pry, Fredrick. But what do you do?”
“I manage a hedge fund.” They stop in front of a room at the end of the hall. “To be honest with you, Dre, it’s not a day that goes by that I don’t marvel at my life.”
“If I lived here, I’d marvel too.”
“I don’t just mean the house. I went to Alfred E. Smith High School in the South Bronx and majored in automotive technology. I figured I’d learn about cars and then open a shop, maybe a few. I’d always been good with numbers. Most of my classmates just wanted a job fixing cars, so I was considered the ambitious one. But then I took the SAT.”
“What was your score?”
“Fifteen twelve.” Fredrick shakes his head. “I always knew I was smart, I just never knew I was that smart. But enough about me. Here’s your room.”
Andre steps in and is met with staggering views of the Statue of Liberty and the glistening lights of the Verrazano Bridge. Emotion tugs at the corners of Andre’s eyes, and his heart lightens at the notion of easement.
“Fredrick, why are you doing this?”
Fredrick rubs his chin and considers. “I just felt it would be selfish for me to be in this apartment by myself while you’re out there scrambling for a place to live.”
Andre points his fist to Fredrick and gives him a pound. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Fredrick says. “And since we’re roommates, we should probably chase the eight-hundred-pound gorilla out of the room.”
“What do you mean?” Andre says, playing ape.
“Can I be candid?”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s no denying Sandra’s beautiful, but ex-man drama is precisely why I’ve always steered clear of women with children.”
Andre is not sure if he should be offended or refreshed, but before he can muster a response, Fredrick finishes.
“And I know it’s none of my business, but I’d like to see the two of you get back together. You have that handsome little boy and it’s obvious he loves you. We need more nuclear families, because nowadays anything goes.”