Read Online Dear Drama by Braya Spice - Free Book Online Page A

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.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy? Because he’s not Daddy?”
    â€œNo. 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.
    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.
    â€œWhat’s up, Etta?” I asked, slipping past her.
    â€œGirl, slaving for these white folks. Nothing new.”
    I offered a chuckle. “Don’t work too hard,” I said sarcastically.
    â€œShit, 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.
    â€œBefore 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.
    â€œNo, 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.
    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.
    â€œSo 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