Read Online Nice Guys Don't Finish Last by Chavez Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chavez Brown
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cell, so I can put my number in there,” I laughed as I read the relief on his face, while he eagerly passed me his Blackberry.
“Boy, you need a new phone. This shit is busted,” I referred to the scratches on his phone.
“I know. You gon’ buy me a new one, baby,” he said as I scrunched my face and laughed. We stood in front of the soda machine and the remainder of the atmosphere disappeared.
“Excuse me, are y’all done,” a hefty girl asked while her track pieces hung by threads with an excessive glitch of craters on her face. Why do girls wear the silkiest weave with knotty roots?
“Yeah we are,” he said.
“Good, because a bitch is thirsty,” she said grabbing her throat as we walked away in hilarity.
“You better buy your girlfriend a sprite to quench her thirst,” I laughed.
“Oh, so you have jokes? How do your pronounce your name, it sounds Spanish,” he asked looking at my name in his phone.
“My name is Delmar, but you sure didn’t tell me yours.”
“I am Jeremy, let me hold your phone real quick,” he reached his hand out for my Blackberry and typed his information into the phone. “Now, I’m looking forward to talking to you, shorty.”
“We will see if I like you enough.”
“Oh you will! Trust me, you won’t be disappointed,” he licked his lips & walked out of the main door. He is not the typical guy I date, but it seems he can hold a good conversation & his swagger reminds me of Jay-Z. Not the most attractive person, but their personality turns you the hell on.
“ Stay in touch, baby face. I’d really like to get to know you, on some serious shit ,” Jeremy said in a text message.
“Like I said, we will see. But I’m about to record a song, hit you later,” I responded through text.
“Sing My Song! Featuring Nico”
I met with Roger to blow steam from the devastating date I had with the doctor. I figured a listening session involving Ms. Delmar would be an enjoyment, especially to hear him pop & crackle.
“Are you ready,” Roger asked Delmar before he inserted the headphones on top of his head in the recording booth.
“Yes sir! You can start the track,” Delmar insisted as I looked at Roger irritably.
“Be a good boy, Nicolas,” Roger whispered.
“I am a good boy,” I placed my finger across my lip swearing as Roger played the instrumental and Delmar read the music sheet.
“Memories fade away like the cotton skies that are gray. Hidden by the memories,” Delmar crooned as I listened with my eyes shut. His velvety voice complimented the scales of the song, and he sung the melody the way I “heard” it whilst writing.
“He sounds really good,” Roger whispered in my ear.
“Yeah he does,” I admitted.
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refused to see the base of the true colors. The colors of an ill-fated guy,” he belted the bridge and the goose-bumps appeared on my arms, but something was not right.
“Wait stop! Stop the track,” I yelled as Roger looked confusingly.
“What’s wrong,” Delmar asked.
“Nothing! Can you take it back to the line ‘refused’ for me please? I want you to go a little higher, it was kind of flat,” I said.
“I was flat? I’m never flat,” he said.
“Yes, Delmar. You were a little flat, I just want to hear you sing it higher with more vibrato. That’s all,” I explained.
“Ok, whatever you say… boss,” he said.
“Roger, can you start the bridge over again please,” I asked. “I told you he was going to be a pain in the ass.”
“I think he was fine, he didn’t sound flat to me,” Roger whispered.
“Well, I wrote the song a certain way and I know how I hear it in my head,” I responded. “If he is going to record my song, then I want the best from him.”
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refu-u-u-s-se-d,” Delmar cracked as he attempted to climb higher. Usually, I would laugh at the mistake someone as arrogant as he would make, but I wanted this to be right.
“Stop the track,”
“Boy, you need a new phone. This shit is busted,” I referred to the scratches on his phone.
“I know. You gon’ buy me a new one, baby,” he said as I scrunched my face and laughed. We stood in front of the soda machine and the remainder of the atmosphere disappeared.
“Excuse me, are y’all done,” a hefty girl asked while her track pieces hung by threads with an excessive glitch of craters on her face. Why do girls wear the silkiest weave with knotty roots?
“Yeah we are,” he said.
“Good, because a bitch is thirsty,” she said grabbing her throat as we walked away in hilarity.
“You better buy your girlfriend a sprite to quench her thirst,” I laughed.
“Oh, so you have jokes? How do your pronounce your name, it sounds Spanish,” he asked looking at my name in his phone.
“My name is Delmar, but you sure didn’t tell me yours.”
“I am Jeremy, let me hold your phone real quick,” he reached his hand out for my Blackberry and typed his information into the phone. “Now, I’m looking forward to talking to you, shorty.”
“We will see if I like you enough.”
“Oh you will! Trust me, you won’t be disappointed,” he licked his lips & walked out of the main door. He is not the typical guy I date, but it seems he can hold a good conversation & his swagger reminds me of Jay-Z. Not the most attractive person, but their personality turns you the hell on.
“ Stay in touch, baby face. I’d really like to get to know you, on some serious shit ,” Jeremy said in a text message.
“Like I said, we will see. But I’m about to record a song, hit you later,” I responded through text.
“Sing My Song! Featuring Nico”
I met with Roger to blow steam from the devastating date I had with the doctor. I figured a listening session involving Ms. Delmar would be an enjoyment, especially to hear him pop & crackle.
“Are you ready,” Roger asked Delmar before he inserted the headphones on top of his head in the recording booth.
“Yes sir! You can start the track,” Delmar insisted as I looked at Roger irritably.
“Be a good boy, Nicolas,” Roger whispered.
“I am a good boy,” I placed my finger across my lip swearing as Roger played the instrumental and Delmar read the music sheet.
“Memories fade away like the cotton skies that are gray. Hidden by the memories,” Delmar crooned as I listened with my eyes shut. His velvety voice complimented the scales of the song, and he sung the melody the way I “heard” it whilst writing.
“He sounds really good,” Roger whispered in my ear.
“Yeah he does,” I admitted.
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refused to see the base of the true colors. The colors of an ill-fated guy,” he belted the bridge and the goose-bumps appeared on my arms, but something was not right.
“Wait stop! Stop the track,” I yelled as Roger looked confusingly.
“What’s wrong,” Delmar asked.
“Nothing! Can you take it back to the line ‘refused’ for me please? I want you to go a little higher, it was kind of flat,” I said.
“I was flat? I’m never flat,” he said.
“Yes, Delmar. You were a little flat, I just want to hear you sing it higher with more vibrato. That’s all,” I explained.
“Ok, whatever you say… boss,” he said.
“Roger, can you start the bridge over again please,” I asked. “I told you he was going to be a pain in the ass.”
“I think he was fine, he didn’t sound flat to me,” Roger whispered.
“Well, I wrote the song a certain way and I know how I hear it in my head,” I responded. “If he is going to record my song, then I want the best from him.”
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refu-u-u-s-se-d,” Delmar cracked as he attempted to climb higher. Usually, I would laugh at the mistake someone as arrogant as he would make, but I wanted this to be right.
“Stop the track,”
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