Free For the Sake of Love by Dwan Abrams Page A

growl. He accepted the wings and an individual basket full of crinkled fries with lots of ketchup. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he devoured the food.
    While licking his fingers he noticed a female walking into the studio. He didn’t like women in the studio because they were a distraction.
    Dressed in provocative attire, she said, “Hey, I’m Kola. I’m supposed to be singing some of your hooks.” Judging by her Coke-bottle shape, Spade figured that’s how she must’ve gotten her name.
    â€œOh, okay.”
    Some of the guys made catcalls and nearly all of them were eyeing her big boobs and fatty.
    Spade turned his attention to the producer and told him his vision for his CD and let him hear some of the new tracks he had already laid down. He knew he was fortunate to be able to give his creative input on his first CD. So many artists complained that the record labels created their sounds and crafted their images with little to no regard for who the artist really was or what the artist really wanted.
    Spade knew that he needed to get his head in the game. He was a professional, and he needed to place his personal problems on the back burner and handle the business at hand. If he didn’t, he risked losing everything he had worked so hard for. Asking the question, “What would Jesus do?” had become a mainstream slogan, more like a cliché, but his personal mantra when it came to business was, “What would Jay-Z do?” He figured Jay-Z would put his emotions in check and hustle harder, and that’s what he was determined to do.

Eight
    Bria perused the Sunday paper and felt a sense of accomplishment when she saw an article about The Spa Factory. She thought the picture of her and the mayor cutting the ribbon was a nice touch. She immediately called Nya to share the news.
    â€œWe made the Sunday paper,” Bria boasted.
    â€œThat’s exciting. I hardly slept a wink last night with Chance wanting a late-night rendezvous.” She yawned, and then apologized.
    Bria was so used to hearing about Nya and Chance’s love life that she turned a deaf ear. She read the entire write-up to Nya, and they agreed to meet in front of their church at their regular time.
    When Bria got off the phone she warmed up a bagel in the toaster and spread a generous amount of whipped strawberry cream cheese on top. She ate upstairs while getting dressed in a dark colored outfit as a TV evangelist sounded in the background, preaching about prosperity.
    She laughed when she saw her reflection in the mirror because she had a flashback to her college days. While in college, she favored the color black so much that her wardrobe was exclusively black, and people started calling her Elvira. It did not matter the season. Even her nail polish and lipstick were variations of black. It was not that she was depressed or morbid; she simply loved the hue. Eventually, her mom and Nya took her shopping and convinced her to add some color to her wardrobe. Hesitant at first, she eventually conceded. She stuck with it after Spade told her how vibrant she looked. His opinion meant a lot to her.
    She felt a tinge of sadness thinking about Spade but quickly did a paradigm shift. She thought about the successful opening of the spa and felt somewhat better. She figured that if she and Spade were meant to be, they would be. And she was not going to stress about it anymore.
    She grabbed her purse and keys and went to church. She prayed for a good parking spot because she didn’t want to mess up her shoes by parking on the unfinished overflow lot filled with dirt and gravel. Sure enough, someone from an earlier service had parked close to the door and was backing out. She mouthed the words “Thank you, Jesus” and whipped her Honda into the spot.
    An usher wearing a vest that read, “How may I serve you?” handed her a program at the door. She grabbed it and stood off to the side