Page 1 of If I Had More Time

The Red Zone…

TRISTAN MALORE

Being a contractor was never easy, and this client was proving my point. “I’m aware of the time frame. If it was something I couldn’t handle, I would’ve let you know ahead of time. Sit back and expect a call from us within the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Have a good evening.” Hanging up the phone, I sat back in my chair and rubbed my temples.

Malore’s Current was all me. A company built from the ground up of Black electricians taking on contracts from the city and private clients. Black and successful. I was a walking meal ticket and Eastlake new it. You didn’t get too many African American men with their own or holding their weight in a world molded for palms.

Knock, knock.Looking up, my assistant Lauren entered my office with her purse on her shoulders. I checked the watch that sat comfortably on my wrist and noticed it was past six in the evening. Our workday ended thirty minutes ago. I got tied up on the call and aloud time to slip right on by.

“I’m headed out. Do you need anything from me before doing so?” she questioned.

“Not at all. I’m right behind you.”

I stood, grabbing my belongings and followed behind her out the door. I planned on meeting up with my brother before going home. We hadn’t kicked it in a few weeks and were well overdue for a drink. After all, this weekend was special for me. I needed to get my mind right before my time was dedicated to someone else.

We rode the elevators down to the main floor, strolled through the lobby, and went our separate ways once we hit the parking lot. I appreciated her staying every day until I was ready to go. Her letting me know she was leaving was her way of telling me it was time to go. Without her, I would lose track of my head if it wasn’t attached.

Hopping in my ride, I waited until her car drove passed mine before I pulled out. The White Rabbit was where we usually found ourselves whenever a link up was scheduled. A cigar lounge he threw his money into, making it one of the most upscaled ones in the Lake. The vibe was one many enjoyed. I had no problem going to him and chilling for the time being.

The drive was no more than twenty minutes with traffic picking up along the way. Pulling into the lot, the many cars filled it. This was normal traffic for The White Rabbit. I parked and made my way inside. Cigars, drinks, and beautiful women. It was a place a man could unwind in peace.

I quickly grabbed one of the women passing by and asked, “Where’s Hakeem?” She pointed to the left corner where he was located. I spotted him immediately and nodded.

“And Tristan, say hello first next time. Swear you and Hakeem are the rudest men I know,” she stated before walking off.

I offered a light chuckle before heading in my brother’s direction. I didn’t know who shorty was but knowing of me was a must. When I stepped in here, the treatment was nothing less than a king’s. The rules were very transparent, and the ladiesfollowed them with ease. Business was good, I had to give it to him.

Keem played about a lot of shit, but I wasn’t one of them. Being the only Malores left made our bond that much stronger. I was his keeper and would where that charge proudly when it came to him. I practically raised him so putting my life and freedom on the line for him wasn’t something I had to think twice on.

Stepping into his section, I dapped him up and took a seat next to him. Unbuttoning my blazer, I opened it getting comfortable. He extended a gar in my direction along with a box of matches. He then poured me up a drink of Macallan and set it in front of me. Keem tried to return the gesture of taking care of me whenever I visited. He didn’t owe me shit, but it was nice to see his appreciation.

“Life?” he questioned scanning the room.

“Still blessed. Yours?”

“Still highly favored. You been missed, nigga. Where you been?” Keem might’ve been a grown ass man, but he became that twelve-year-old boy whenever I was around looking for his brother’s attention. We were seven years apart, so I understood.

“Settling contracts and keeping my wife happy. Same drill, nigga, just a different day.”

“Same drill, huh? That shit still in the mix, too? It’s ‘bout that time, ain’t it?”

“What shit, Keem?” I took a sip of my drink and puffed on my gar. I knew what he was hinting at, but I was a man that made you say what was on your mind. All that beating around the bush was for kids.

“You know what I’m talking ‘bout, bro’.”

He was my brother after all and keeping secrets wasn’t how we did things. When he asked what we did for our tenthanniversary, I kept it real. He was still as confused back then as he was today.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking. Now, would I?” Another long pull was administered to my gar as smoke filled my lungs. I was in a very calm and content state.

The answer Hakeem wanted would be a truthful one. I prided myself on honesty and it tended to work in my favor. The respect I gained from others, especially my wife, instilled a confidence that couldn’t be easily broken. When you walked in your truth, it really wasn’t shit anyone could say or do to you to offend you.

“What y’all call it… the anniversary gift?”

Before responding, I took another sip of my drink. This wasn’t an uncomfortable topic for me, I just didn’t like discussing my marriage and the dynamics of it with nobody but my wife. Whatever we did as a unit, didn’t bring nobody else happiness. Muthafuckas were nosy and that included Hakeem.

“The best one I could give her, and yeah, it’s still in the mix.”

“I don’t see how you sit back and let Naomi do that weird ass shit then turn around and spend another year with her ass. That’s foul, bruh. I don’t give a fuck how you put it. She crossing the line.”

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