Before I Let Go Read Online Free Page A

standing there in only a sexy silk robe, with her hair all over her head.
    A vicious argument ensued. For most of it Trina tried to deny that any actual intercourse had taken place. Finally she tried to explain that he was an old friend who had stopped by and that things had gotten out of hand and eventually…one thing had led to another. All the while she insisted that he had not penetrated her. Brendan was not buying it for one minute. He began tuning her out while she was explaining herself. Somewhere during their argument he sat down on the arm of her love seat and placed his hands on his forehead.
    His mind began to fill with thoughts ranging from choking her right then and there to wondering who was the dark-skinned brother who obviously had just finished body slamming his girl. Suddenly the image of the stranger’s face popped into Brendan’s mind, and it was the same face of the car salesman who had sold Trina her brand new Toyota Avalon just three weeks before. Then, all of a sudden, in the middle of the argument, Brendan jumped up and sped off toward the bedroom. Trina quickly caught onto the idea that he was going in for some concrete evidence. She gave chase, but it was too late. Before she could catch him he was inside her bedroom with the door locked. She began banging on the door. Brendan was oblivious to her screams and demands to be let into the bedroom. He looked into the trash can expecting to see a condom wrapper. When there wasn’t one he felt slightly relieved and thought for a second that she might be telling the truth. Then he moved to the bed. He stared for a second taking a quick inventory of it. He pulled back the sheets. Immediately his heart sank and his stomach felt as if it had shot up through his chest and was now lodged in his throat. She was busted. There was a wet spot on that bed that was the unmistakable result of some funky sex.
    Brendan’s blood began to boil as he walked to the window and slid it open and punched the screen out. Then he moved to the closet, which was already open. He could make out Trina’s muffled cries and banging on the other side of the door: “What are you doing, Brendan? What are you doing? Open the door.”
    Brendan began grabbing everything on a hanger that his money had paid for and began tossing it out of the window—and inadvertently a few things that he hadn’t paid for. By the time he had finished throwing a good two thousand dollars worth of clothes out of the window, Trina had gotten a butter knife and pried open the door. She came in crying and cursing. Brendan’s face showed a picture of hate as he pulled the plug of the twenty-seven-inch Sony flat-screen television from the wall and yanked the cable wires from the back of the set. He was so hot at that point that if it had been 20 degrees colder in the room steam would have risen from his head. She read his body language loud and clear, which is why she didn’t try to keep him from hauling the television set that he had bought her a month earlier out of the bedroom and through the front door.
    He loaded the television in the passenger seat of his car and walked around to the back of her building, retrieved the clothes that he had thrown out of the window, and tossed them through the open roof of his car. By that time, Trina had thrown something on but was barefoot as she ran down the walkway toward Brendan’s moving car. She was begging him, “Please don’t take all of my clothes…. What am I going to wear to work?”
    Brendan rolled down his window and attempted to throw the remains of a Slurpee on Trina, but he missed and hit the Hyundai behind her. As he pulled off and left Trina standing in the middle of the parking lot, there was the deafening sound of Brendan’s Pirellis squealing as he peeled out of the complex.
    Trina hadn’t realized that they had created a scene. She stood there in her cutoff jeans shorts and a Washington Mystics T-shirt that was turned inside out; her hair