Dear Drama (10 page)

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Authors: Braya Spice

BOOK: Dear Drama
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Chapter 11
I was too hurt, too disappointed. Disappointed in myself. Someone had harmed my child. Something I swore would never happen. Greg had been calling my phone nonstop, but I refused to answer. It was just as much his fault as it was mine and hers. He should have known what type of woman was around his daughter.
I just looked at my sister blankly at my mother's house. For over an hour we had drilled Sierra on what went down with Angel, asking her if anyone else had harmed her. She told us no. According to Sierra, her daddy wasn't there when Angel whipped her.
Sierra didn't have her mind on it anymore after my mother asked her to help her make some candles. My mother was always making different types of crafts since she had retired from working in housekeeping at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Long Beach.
I was pretty much quiet.
My sister had brought some fried catfish and shrimp. I had no appetite, but Sierra, my mother, and Crystal grubbed down. Sierra loved her some shrimp. I was just happy that she was in good spirits and was no longer upset about what had happened.
Afterward, my mother set up her easel, and Sierra did some water painting. She was so played out after that, she ended up falling asleep on my mother's bed.
My sister took one look at me and said, “Come on, littele sister, you need a drink.”
We went to Market Street Bar And Grill in Inglewood. Over a rum and Coke, 'cause I needed something strong, I reflected on my fucked-up situation. The family I wanted for my daughter, I didn't have. In fact, my family was just as dysfunctional as the one I grew up in before my daddy died. Scratch that. It was more dysfunctional than my mother and father's. My father used to beat the shit out of my mother and cheat on her like hoes were going out of style. So she left him. A year later he died in a bus accident. Not the traditional way. My dad was a loser. He used to break into parked buses and sleep in them. Someway he managed to set himself on fire inside a bus.
My situation continued to be dysfunctional because Greg was still in my life, wreaking havoc. The worst thing about it was the fact that Sierra was from a broken home, and it bothered me because I had done my best to avoid this from happening by trying to make it work with Greg. But it was healthier to leave him. I didn't want to say I regretted having Sierra, because I didn't. I just wished that I had chosen a better partner than Greg. But the things he subjected me to, he'd promised me he never would. Then I thought about Lavante. Another man I had wasted my time on, because he didn't really want me. He just wanted pussy. He probably messed around with me to make his old ass feel young. And now I was alone yet again.
“I know you bothered by what you going through. But it wasn't your fault, so you need to forgive yourself.”
I instantly started crying. “I made the wrong choice in men, Crystal, and I feel like I'm going to spend the next fifteen years paying for it. I never wanted things to be like this. I'm alone, a single parent struggling to make it. I'm literally living from paycheck to paycheck. I'm lonely, horny! I could go on and on.”
Crystal started laughing at the horny part.
“No. Serious. I'm a fucking mess!”
“Girl, if you don't knock it off ... You got a beautiful, smart daughter, your own place, a job, car, and you in college. It could be worse, so shut the fuck up and count your blessings. I know Greg is a piece of shit, but you can't worry about him, because you can't change him and you can't change the fact that you had a baby by him. That's the only good things that came out of that nightmare relationship. You just focus on you and your daughter. Don't worry about him and what he don't do. One way or another, Sierra is going to have what she needs. And stop being so hard on yourself. You are a good mother.”
I wiped my tears and nodded. She reached over and hugged me. I hugged her back.
I was still bothered by the fact that I was still alone. Crystal's words of wisdom couldn't do away with those feelings. Or the void. Lavante's words always floated back into my head, scaring me. He'd said I would never have a man offer me more than what he'd offered. Part of me felt that would always be true.
After three more drinks I was feeling tipsy and good.
“Girl, I broke up with Troy's ass.” Troy was Crystal's boyfriend of the past two years.
“Why?” I asked.
“Oh, you thought this was just about you? That motherfucker was messing around with a chick with a hellish weave and some fucked-up-ass implants.”
I busted up laughing.
“And the ho was a stripper.”
“You lying!”
“If I am, may God burn a hole in my ass! We all go through stuff with these sorry-ass men.”
I busted up laughing again. Everything was making me laugh because I was super tipsy. “Let me use the restroom.”
“Okay. I'll be on the dance floor.”
I laughed at that too.
After I made it to the restroom, I took a quick piss, came out to wash my hands, and splashed water on my face. I grabbed a paper towel and patted my face.
“Excuse me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at the image in the mirror. I didn't need to turn around, 'cause I could see him perfectly. Tall as hell, stocky, too, with waves, dark brown eyes, wide-bridged nose. A younger version of Denzel. He had to be in his late twenties. I gave my face one final pat and offered a half smile. That was all I could manage.
“Yes?”
“I noticed that you were crying earlier. I wanted to come by then, but I didn't know if it would be cool. But when I saw you get up, I followed you, thinking it would be my chance. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe buy you a drink?”
“As you can see, I'm too tipsy for any more drinks.”
He laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the sides. He was cute. And all I needed tonight was to get laid. So I switched off out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and he was close on my heels.
Once downstairs I saw my sister on the dance floor. I noticed the guy was still standing near me. He was cute, and I didn't mind the attention. And all the alcohol had me a little loosey-goosey.
“I'm James.”
“Allure.”
“You come here a lot?” he asked me.
“Naw. I've never been here before.”
“Really?” he asked. “You must not be a party girl.”
“God, no!”
His eyes slid over me. He muttered, “Hell, yeah. I need a good girl in my life.”
I was a good girl. But it hadn't helped me in my life. And it seemed that the two men I did give myself to had preyed on that, instead of embracing it.
Out of nowhere he asked, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Please.”
“No, honestly. No one ever told you that before?”
“Yes,” I said. I left out, “But they were bullshitting, 'cause they were after something from me.”
“How long is your hair?”
I used to be annoyed by this question. But I had been asked it so many times, I was used to it.
Brothers, a word of advice,
I thought to myself.
Because a woman wears braids or ponytails, or even weaves, for that matter, doesn't mean she's bald! Beyoncé, Tyra Banks, Ciara, Lisa Raye, and all those other broads on TV that men lusted over have all worn weaves. Yet when you see a sista wearing anything other than her real hair, you want to get disdainful. Just sayin'.
“My hair reaches to my shoulders, but I prefer to wear braids.”
“And they look good as fuck on you! I don't mind that mother earth shit. Natural.”
I was far from mother earth. That was more like Afros and dreads. But I told him, “Thanks!”
“Do you know what I do for a living?”
“What do you do?”
“I'm an accountant for a Fortune Five Hundred company, and I do taxes on the side. I'm twenty-nine.”
“Nice.”
I wasn't divulging what I did, because I wasn't established yet. And it didn't seem like he cared. In fact, it seemed like all he wanted to do was talk about himself.
“I also live in Baldwin Hills.”
I knew the area was where wealthy blacks lived. “How old are you, and what type of work do you do?”
“I'm twenty-three, and I will be twenty-four next month. I work in the child-care center at Long Beach City College.”
“Where do you live?”
“Okay. What do you want ? You didn't come over here to talk about geography and careers.” Really tickled, I laughed at my own joke.
He laughed too. He had to be as tipsy as I was.
“I like you already. And I feel this connection with you, this chemistry, which I don't often find. I know you feel it, too, even if you don't want to admit it. You trying to play hard to get.”
I shook my head. “I don't know about all of that.” However, I did feel something, but I didn't care to admit it. I was probably never going to see this damn man again, so why not play along with it for one night?
James reached over, grabbed me by my waist, and pulled me toward him. I had no choice but to hold on to his upper arms to steady myself.
“When can I see you again?”
“For what?”
“For starters, I want to suck your pussy. Then I want fuck the shit out of you. You look like you need to be fucked right.”
His words had me salivating. I did need to get fucked right.
I stared at his pants, focusing on his package. Then I casually rested my hand there, feeling for socks. All I felt was dick, and a nice-sized one at that.
“That's all dick, baby. All man, and it can be in you all night.”
I didn't answer, just pulled back.
“Come on,” he said. “Can I see you again?”
And you know what? I needed to get Lavante's punk ass out of my system. And relieve some stress from what had happened with Sierra.
I leaned over and kissed his sexy-ass, plump-ass lips. “You can see me now. Let's get out of here.”
I didn't even take the time to tell Crystal. I merely sent her a text telling her I was bouncing for a minute.
Chapter 12
I kept on kissing those lips and didn't stop kissing them until we got to the hotel up the street from the club. All I wanted was to lose myself in him, like in this poem I read. I chanted the lines in my head as ole boy groped my ass and kept sliding his tongue in my mouth. I wanted to feel real love, but I hadn't felt real love from a man in ages, since my daddy. I remembered the time when I was four years old and I was on the toilet, taking a shit, and I was scared to get off the toilet because I saw a spider in the corner. I ended up falling asleep on the toilet. Then my daddy came and got me off, even wiped my ass for me.
That was the last time I ever felt real, genuine love from a man, the type you instantly recognized by the way they looked at you—like they adored you. I knew that love was damn sure not in this room! But I didn't care. Being a good girl hadn't got me no damn where, and it wasn't getting me nowhere tonight, either. I didn't want to be a good girl, no way. I wanted to be bad.
So I pushed him off of me and stripped out of my clothes. Then I flung my ass to the side and posed naked in front of him, as if this little experience and the pain I had under my belt made me a big girl. I wasn't no big girl. I was more like a grown-ass woman that was lost. Looking for love from a man. Thinking it was all I needed. Naw, fuck that. I knew it was all I needed. Minus the drama that came with it.
He licked his lips as I split my legs open and gave him a view of my pussy. What the fuck was I descending into by giving myself away like this? But oh well. I lay on my back, spread my legs in the air.
“You are so beautiful.” That was what he said before his head dipped down into my pussy and he started licking it like a kitty cat longing for some warm milk and finally getting it. Slow, light strokes, inserting his tongue into the folds of my flesh like it was a small penis. Making me bite on my lips and causing my legs to tremble. Tossing that finger of his up into me and chasing his finger with his tongue, mumbling as I was moaning. He was mumbling, “Uh-huh, baby, your pussy is so sweet.”
I knew why my pussy tasted sweet. I hadn't tasted it or anything. But on a daily basis I drank juice, mostly apple and grape, and pineapple and guava juice, too. I never had soda, coffee, or tea, or too much alcohol. I was sweet up in my heart too. But I doubted he gave a damn about that, and he probably wouldn't even get to know me. Listen to me. Damn. I was about to be burned. But he sure fucked the shit out of me.
 
 
The next day I was sitting on my porch steps, wanting nothing more than to watch my child ride her jeep in the courtyard. But James was bugging me.
I should have never given this fool my number,
I thought as I listened to his bullshit. Before I'd slipped out of his car after our intense sex session at the hotel, I'd given him my cell digits. Since it was a one-night stand, I didn't think he would call. I thought he'd asked for my number just to be polite. And I gave it to him to be polite. He'd dropped me off right back at the club, where Crystal was waiting for me. I had texted her again on the way to the hotel and had told her I would be back. When I made it back to the club, she popped me on one of my arms and exclaimed, “You little slut!”
“Why are you being so cold to me?” he asked.
“Because I can.”
“Don't be a smart-ass.”
“I can be whatever I want to be. You ain't my damn man.”
He tried to get sexy and lowered his voice, saying, “But I want to be, baby.”
“So? Everybody wants something.”
What in the hell was this? We had had a night of sex, and he was tripping. I was smart enough to know that only one thing could come from a one-night stand. From that point forward it would be only about sex. He had already sucked me and stuck his dick in my birth canal, so at this point he couldn't possibly want to hear about my dreams or aspirations, my likes or dislikes. I had sought only a night of pleasure, wanting to drown myself in someone. So at this point James and I had nothing further to discuss.
“Why won't you give me a chance?”
“I'm not giving you a chance for shit.”
“It will be the best choice you could ever make, Allure.”
“Why?”
“I just know it will.”
“Whatever, James. The other night I was just lonely. And we were both after something. I needed sex and gave sex to get it, and you wanted sex, so you gave sex to get it. Fair trade.”
“So you
used
me?” He sounded really offended. Then I remember he was the same man who had said boldly that he wanted eat my pussy and fuck me. And he did it all just right. Now, why was he tripping? He should be happy I wasn't calling or stalking him.
I took a deep breath and said, “We used each other.”
“I don't want to use you, Allure. I want to be with you. Let me get you tonight.”
“Nope.” Who was he fooling? I thought. He didn't know shit about me. So how could he possibly want to be with me? Men killed me softly.
“Baby, don't make me beg.”
“No, I don't want nothing else to do with you. We ... we just fucked. That's it. A one-nighter. We were each other's jump-off.” I was impressing myself with the lingo I was throwing at this man.
“You don't mean all of that.”
“Why don't I?”
“Because underneath all that hardness you putting up is a loving woman. You can pretend all you want that you're not, but you are, and I'm sorry to say this, but any man can see that. The way you put it on me was different. You weren't fucking me. You were making love to me. Looking into my eyes and shit. Clenching your shit on me like you done fucked me before. And that voice! When you yelled out, it gave me goose bumps, because you sounded so sweet. And your shit was supertight, so I know you don't sleep around. I was some type of rebound. You had your heart on your sleeve. And as much as you talk all that other shit, I see through it, and you can't do anything about that. If I see it in one night, other men sure as hell see it. And you know niggas are vultures. Let me save you from the drag and the bull they gonna send you through.”
My lips trembled, because what he'd said was fucking true, unfortunately.
“So what you're saying is that I'll have a lifetime of pain and heartache, huh? 'Cause men will prey on my weak-ass heart?”
“They won't appreciate the type of woman you are. They'll prey on your sweetness and your vulnerabilities. But I won't. I'd love to be with a woman like you. Sweet, innocent, without the games, and most importantly, you won't cheat. You seem too damn loyal.”
He was right. All of the above. But was I gonna let him know this? Hell to the no.
“You expect me to believe that shit? That you're different from the others? Please.”
“I am, baby. Let me show you.”
I took a deep breath and said, “You have a nice life.” Then I hung up in his face. I should have never given his ass my number!
Then I focused my attention on my child as she rode around the courtyard on her jeep. I got up and started chasing her. My thoughts were still wrapped around what he had said. I had no game, and I was a softy all the way when it came to men. I needed to harden myself up, or every man I encountered would eat me alive.
 
 
Roses were nice. They were even nicer when they arrived five days a week at my job. Each bouquet had a gift card in it, for such places as John's Incredible Pizza, Disneyland, Bath & Body Works, and Chili's. This was James's way of courting me. He had done all of this for me. I wished he'd go a little further and traded in my little bucket, which was gonna give out any day now, for a new ride. But that was pushing it a little too far. He did all these things without me even so much as spotting him.
At the start of each day he would text me, saying Good morning. He would also text me poems from poets like Jack Gilbert, Octavio Paz, and Pablo Neruda. They were super-romantic poems. He was wooing me. And truth be told, I enjoyed it. I'd never been spoiled like that before. It made me want to reconsider seeing him. On Friday, with the last bouquet of flowers, I was shocked as hell to find concert tickets. I didn't care who they were for. I just thought it was sweet as hell that he had sent them, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were to a Trey Songz concert. Who didn't love Trey Songz?
So I asked Creole to do her godmother duties and watch Sierra, and I went to see him with my sister. We backed it up to all them songs, having a ball. My sister was dressed in a pair of leggings, stilettos, and a slinky top, and I wore a wraparound dress and some boots, which I tossed off as soon as the music came on and I ran to the stage.
It was at the concert that James finally made an appearance. When the concert was over, I waited for my sister outside the restroom. My cell phone started ringing. I recognized James's number. I smiled and answered. After all the trouble he had gone to, I felt I should.
“I see you,” he said.
I laughed and looked around. “Yeah.” But I doubted he was there. “What am I wearing, then?”
“A cute little black wraparound dress and a pair of boots. You looking sexy as hell too.”
I blushed. He was there.
“What am I doing, then?”
“Standing by the restroom. Now it's your turn to chase after me.”
My sister came out of the restroom and walked over to me. “That was a good-ass concert. I just want to lick Trey Songz.”
I beckoned my sister to me and pressed a finger to my lips. Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded.
“Walk,” James said.
“Which way?”
“Straight ahead.”
I did. My sister followed behind me.
“Now turn right.”
I did. And I scanned the crowd for him and saw nothing.
“Are you playing games with me?” I asked him, but I was still thinking it was cute.
“Yep.”
I laughed.
“Keep going, baby. Hang a left at the corner.”
I did and still didn't find his ass.
I could hear his laughter through the phone. “Guess I'm not gonna make this any easier than you made it for me, huh, Allure?”
I huffed out an impatient breath. “Bye!” I hung up my cell phone.
“Girl, who is that fool who is playing?” Crystal asked.
“James,” I said, smiling the whole while.
I followed my sister out to the parking lot, to her truck. My smile turned into a laugh because as soon as we stepped outside, I saw him leaning against a black Mercedes-Benz truck, looking fine as hell.
At that moment I ceased worrying about him hurting me, about my past, and about the risk of giving this man too much of myself. I ceased comparing him to my two past relationships. I smiled graciously and stepped into James's outstretched arms and let him hold me tight. I was willing to take a chance on him, hoping that it worked out and there would be no drama.

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