Authors: Braya Spice
Dear Drama (7 page)
That was when Sierra walked back up to us. She had four different boxes of cereal. “Mommy, I couldn't decide.” One of them dropped out of her arms.
“Let me help you, sweetheart,” Lavante said gently.
She stared at him with mistrusting eyes, like she had done to the guy at the gas station. A cock blocker for real. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes still slits.
“No problem, pretty girl.”
“Mommy, can I look at the candy snacks?”
“Go ahead.”
She rolled her eyes at him and walked a few feet away from us.
“She acts just like you,” he joked.
“I don't want to be hurt, Lavante, so if that's what's up your sleeve, then you need to step off.”
He kissed me and chuckled afterward. “I'm not out to hurt you, Allure.”
I let him, like a dumb ass. I didn't want to be a dumb ass, but being anything other than that wasn't going to help my heart. Despite his lack of width, length, and girth, I liked Lavante. I had invested something in him that I was having a hard time getting over.
“I'll call you later, and answer this time.” He walked away.
When Sierra and I were at the register, I asked her, “Sierra, did you like the man you just met? His name is Lavante.” I hadn't planned on her meeting him. But it happened.
“No.”
“Why? Because he's not Daddy?”
“No. Mommy, I just don't like him.”
Was God trying to tell me something through my daughter? Maybe Lavante was just bad news all around and I should seriously be done with him, instead of giving him a second change.
Lavante stood me up again. We were supposed to have a dinner at my house, but it turned out that I enjoyed dinner with Sierra, and only Sierra.
Sierra and I enjoyed the gumbo, which I had packed with shrimp, chicken, and crab, and we both enjoyed pieces of cake and milk. Well, Sierra enjoyed hers. I ate mine out of misery and snuck another piece of cake before going to bed. Lavante didn't even have the audacity to call me and cancel. That shit really hurt. I wondered where he was and who he was with. Was it the woman I saw him with at El Torito? Did he take her out and spend the evening with her?
Probably,
I thought. I wondered if he told her the same shit he told me. Did he game her, or was he being a real gentleman toward her? More questions continued to ring in my head before I fell asleep.
Probably,
I thought. I wondered if he told her the same shit he told me. Did he game her, or was he being a real gentleman toward her? More questions continued to ring in my head before I fell asleep.
The next day, I took the pot of gumbo and prepared to toss it in the Dumpster, because looking at it reminded me of how I had been stood the fuck up.
When I opened my door, I saw Etta sitting on my porch, doing what else? Puffing on a cigarette. I wanted to snatch the shit out of her mouth. It was seven in the evening, and she had not finished delivering her mail.
“What's up, Etta?” I asked, slipping past her.
“Girl, slaving for these white folks. Nothing new.”
I offered a chuckle. “Don't work too hard,” I said sarcastically.
“Shit, I'm not.”
I dumped the entire pot in the Dumpster.
Lavante called me, but it wasn't until eleven that next night. By that time there wasn't shit I wanted to hear him say. He might as well not even have bothered to call at that point.
“Before you start tripping, just hear me out, baby. I'm on my way to see you. And if you start that shit, questioning my whereabouts, I won't bother to come. We clear?” he told me.
“No, we weren't fucking clear!” I wanted yell.
He stood me the fuck up, and I don't have a right to question him?
I thought.
He stood me the fuck up, and I don't have a right to question him?
I thought.
But the thought of being alone another night had me more submissive than a polygamist's wife.
So I said calmly, “Okay.”
Chapter 7
He came by thirty minutes later, acting cocky like a motherfucker, like I should be happy he was gracing me with his presence.
He probably took another woman out, wined and dined her, and left me hanging, I thought again. More than anything, I wanted him to say he was sorry for standing me up. I wanted him to show me that he felt bad for hurting my feelings that night. Then I realized I shouldn't have let him smooth talk me that day at the grocery store. I should have left his ass alone. But I couldn't go back to being alone again.
“So you wanna have sex?” he asked me.
It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted him to talk to me nice, hold me, and take away all the hurt he had caused by standing me up. And most of all, an explanation would be fucking nice. But I knew at this point he cared very little about my feelings, and if I wanted him to stick around that night, I would have to sleep with him.
So I nodded and watched him undress from my bed. He folded every stitch of his clothing, including his underwear, and neatly laid it on the dresser before going to lie on the bed, on his back. I followed by getting undressed and then sat next to him on the bed.
As he started rubbing my body, thoughts of him standing me up resurfaced, and I had to talk about it, or it would bother me for a minute. So I lay on his chest so I didn't seem confrontational and said what was on my mind.
“You know, Lavante, I appreciate you coming by, but you seem to be overlooking the fact that we had plans and you just stood me up andâ”
“Allure, shut the fuck up.”
I sat up to look in his face. “What?”
“Listen. You have no influence in my life either way. You not mine, not my woman, and I sure as hell am not your man. So I'll do what the fuck I want,” he snapped.
He was stating the obvious, but the shit still cut me. He was talking to me like I wasn't shit. Like I didn't mean anything to him. And basically I didn't. He was shrinking my self-esteem by the second. Well, what was left of it after dealing with Greg. “Why are you talking to me like that?”
“Because I can.”
“No, you can't.” I stood, and so did he. He proceeded to dress himself.
“I don't need this shit on my day off. You want to argue all the time. That's why your ass is alone. I could be doing better things.”
I tried to look unfazed by his words, when inside I wanted to crumble. “Cool!” was all I was able to get out, because I feared my voice would tremble and I would start crying. I had learned long ago that tears meant nothing to a man. There had been so many times in the past when I had cried after Greg had put his hands on me or had talked about me so bad, the emotional pain matched the physical.
He looked me up and down like I wasn't shit. “There's too many women out here for me to be dealing with your childish ass! For every chick that's not willing, there's about five that are. Your pussy may be good, but it ain't that good. Oh, and there's a whole lot more I can say about you.”
A voice rang out in my head.
Apologize. Tell him you're sorry, or you'll end up alone again tonight!
But I couldn't. I couldn't let him talk to me like thatâlike I didn't mean a damn thing to him and it was so easy for him to walk out on me. I watched him dress in silence.
Apologize. Tell him you're sorry, or you'll end up alone again tonight!
But I couldn't. I couldn't let him talk to me like thatâlike I didn't mean a damn thing to him and it was so easy for him to walk out on me. I watched him dress in silence.
“May I look in your mirror, make sure I'm straight?”
I ignored him and put my clothes back on.
“Fuck it, then.”
He left my house without another word. I walked behind him and almost begged him to come back. Almost.
That night I felt horribleâloneliness grabbed me and I couldn't shake it. My fingers itched to call Lavante, but I fought hard and didn't do it. I would just have to get over him. The next day, after going to work and school and picking up Sierra, I cooked a meal of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and string beans for Sierra and myself. I read her a book before I put her to bed, and I went to bed shortly after she did.
Later that night my phone started ringing, waking me out of my sleep. I snatched it off my nightstand and answered.
“I'm at your door. Let me in.”
It was Lavante. Although this might sound dumb, despite the fact that he had blatantly disrespected me and put me down, I was happy he was at my door, because it would kill the void that had been present in me since he left. To me that void took precedence over the bad things he had said about me.
I went to the door and let him in.
He strolled inside and searched for me in the dark. “Baby, why are all the lights out?”
I ignored him. “I thought you had several other women to choose from. Why are you at my fucking house?”
He ignored me and searched for the light switch in the dark. When he found it, he flicked it on. “I know you not still tripping off earlier today.”
“Should I not? Look how you came at me!”
“Listen, I didn't come over here to argue.”
“Butâ”
He kissed my lips and grabbed my right breast, shutting me up. “I don't care what you say. Come here with all that fussing.” He chuckled. “These breasts are mine, and that ass is mine, so I'm not tripping.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but he was too busy kissing my neck, so he didn't see. “Nothing on me is yours, remember? You're my friend. And why you rubbing on good but not that good pussy?”
To tell the truth, I was a damn fool for accepting what he offered. But despite his funky-ass attitude and arrogance, he alleviated this pang, this pang I felt when I was real with myself and faced the fact that I had no man to love me or appreciate me. Lavante was a momentary fill-in. Not because I wanted him to be, but because I could have him no other way. There was a void in my life that Oprah, self-help books, and chocolate just could not fill. This was why I accepted Lavante into my bed. He filled the void when he walked in my door, and he drained it when he left.
He grabbed my hand in his, gently helped me to my feet, and led me into the bedroom, saying, “I was just messing with you on that part, and as for the friendship thing, maybe that will change.”
I grimaced inside as he kissed me all over like a pimply-faced fifteen-year-old about to lose his virginity.
“Baby, wanna try something new?” He went between my legs.
My eyes narrowed as he gnawed at my pussy. “What?”
He swatted one of my booty cheeks. “That back door.”
No, he didn't! “Are you talking about anal sex?”
“Yeah. But I'll take off the condom.”
“No. My ass is reserved for my future husband.”
And you damn sure ain't that!
I thought. He had a lot of nerve. He didn't want to commit, but he wanted to fuck me in my ass. It wasn't going to happen.
And you damn sure ain't that!
I thought. He had a lot of nerve. He didn't want to commit, but he wanted to fuck me in my ass. It wasn't going to happen.
So he sighed and slipped his pretzel stick in my pussy. I moaned like I always did to make him feel good. I even grabbed my titties for effect, and shit that was the only thing that aroused my ass any damn way. I counted in my head. I got to fifty-four, and he was lying across my chest, breathing hard like he had asthma. What shocked me even more was when he stretched out across my bed and slept. I felt like pouring a pitcher of ice water on his sorry ass. He had busted his nut and was super pleased, whereas I had felt no pleasure at all. And he was cool with that.
Again, the voice in my head, which I often tried to tune out with my punk-ass justifications for why I needed Lavante in my life, reminded me that I didn't. As the hours passed that night and he snored, my mind raced. When I added logic to it and not the weakness of my heart, I knew I deserved better than the bullshit he was subjecting me to. The only thing he was giving me was a squirmy dick that I didn't even enjoy. I wasn't getting anything else out of it, certainly not the things I, as a young woman, deserved from the man to whom I was giving myself, like romance and dates and intimacy, without it always being about sex. I also deserved a man who would listen to whatever came out of my mouth, no matter how relevant or irrelevant it was to his life, because it was coming from me.
But he was getting a whole lot out of itâa young woman with a young body and a mind. He got to drop by whenever he wanted, and he got sex out of me whenever he felt like dealing with me, with no strings attached, so he could do his dirt on the side without having to lie about it. He was winning, and I was losing. I needed to be strong and get his ass out of my house and out of my life.
I shook him awake.
“Oh, you wanna go another round, baby?”
“No. This ain't right. I'm not with this shit anymore. Get up, get dressed, and get the fuck out of my house.”
“What?”
I stood and threw his clothes at him. “You heard me. Get up and get out. You got five minutes to get your ass out of my house.”
He angrily jumped from the bed. “Fine. I don't need shit from you. I can go to one of my other bitches right now.”
“Then go!” I tried not to yell so I wouldn't wake Sierra up. And despite how much his words were hurting me, I fought back. “I don't give a fuck what you do. Just get out of my crib with your trife ass!”
He pulled his clothes on and strutted out of my room.
“And close my door!” I shouted.
When he got to the living room, I followed after him. He opened the front door, walked out, and stood on my steps, to talk more shit, I assumed. “By the way, you are a stupid-ass broad. I was trying to be in your life and be there for your daughter.”
I was taken aback by him calling me stupid and bringing up my daughter. So I fought fire with fire.
“By the way, don't call me. We're done. I don't want you, don't need you and your shit. I'm going out tomorrow, maybe to Shotz, to find me a real man, you punk bitch!”
His head jerked up as if he had been slapped. His mouth was moving, as if he was searching for a reply but couldn't find one.
And I wasn't waiting. I slammed the door in his face.
It wasn't long before he called me, but I refused to take his call.
Throughout the night he continued to call me. Finally, when he wouldn't stop calling, I snatched up the phone and yelled, “What the hell you want?”
“Don't even think of going to Shotz!” he fired back. “Or us ... this is over.”
“What
us?
We're just friends, remember? I can go wherever the fuck I want. You don't own Shotz, and you don't fucking own me.”
us?
We're just friends, remember? I can go wherever the fuck I want. You don't own Shotz, and you don't fucking own me.”
“No one is going to want to fool with you. You'll never get more than what I'm giving you, so be grateful. You're a single woman with a child. Baggage all the way.”
I didn't respond. I knew he was trying to hurt my feelings. I hung up the phone. Then I cried, because maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth. I did come with baggage. I was a young single parent. And Lavante didn't even know how crazy my baby's father was or the problems he could potentially cause. It scared me because I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I wanted a mate to love me. The thing that bothered me the most was, despite what Lavante had said and done to me, despite all the hurt and disrespect, I still didn't feel like I was completely done ... with him. I knew I had some serious issues.
Other books
Blackwater: The Complete Caskey Family Saga by McDowell, Michael
The Vampire of Ropraz by Jacques Chessex
Ten Grand by George G. Gilman
Madness by Sorcha MacMurrough
Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2) by Eloise J. Knapp
The Escape (Detective Jane Sparrow Book 2) by Claire Merrington
Invisible by Jeff Erno
The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) by Sam Sisavath
Waking in Dreamland by Jody Lynne Nye
Bond of Fate by Jane Corrie