Dear Drama (18 page)

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Authors: Braya Spice

BOOK: Dear Drama
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He just stared at me for a long time. It looked like his eyes got a little watery.
“Allure, let that love find you and you can't go wrong.”
“But in the meantime I'm lonely, and when I want to be held, kissed, and comforted, what do I do? And if it never comes, then what?”
He chuckled like he was on to something that I was not. “Baby girl, it already has. You just don't know it, and, girl, now that I found you, I'm not letting you go, that for sure.”
I smiled, thinking,
I'm tainted. I don't fall for that shit no more. Promises. Go on with that shit.
But part of me still believed in all that romance shit, still believed that there were decent men out there looking for good women. That made me believe him, and it overpowered that tainted side of me.
I allowed him to hold me tight, and when I pulled away, I let him kiss me softly.
Chapter 23
Andre invited me over for dinner. I was flattered, but then warning signs went off in my head about going to his home. So far all the times we had hung out, we'd been in public places. Truthfully, I trusted Andre, but I still felt like I needed to be cautious. But he told me that his sister would be there, along with his friend and his friend's wife. So I thought,
Cool.
It made me feel a little important that he had invited me over to mingle with his sister and his friends. He had to be really serious about me if he wanted me to meet people in his world.
“Why don't you bring your daughter?” he suggested after our movie date. The dinner party was the next day.
“I haven't known you long enough for you to meet Sierra. Sorry. But she did say to tell you thank you for the Barbie doll you bought her.”
I gave him a peck and slipped out of his patrol car. He always took me on dates in it. I didn't mind. In fact, it was exciting. He even did the sirens for me one day, and we ripped down the street. The only thing I didn't like about Andre was that he always tasted like cigarettes. He said he didn't smoke, but I knew he was lying. Because he always had this cigarette taste when he kissed me or I kissed him.
So the next day I got myself all pretty in preparation for dinner. To be honest, I was a little worried that he was already established and I wasn't. I was a twenty-four-year-old single parent. But I had goals I wanted to accomplish. I hoped the fact that I was in college and working was enough for his sister and his friends.
The dinner was on a weekday, so Crystal agreed to watch Sierra. The dinner didn't start until eight, and by that time Sierra would be in bed. I took my braids out, and my sister brought her gear to my home so she could wash, press, and flatiron my hair before putting a bunch of curls in it. It looked really nice.
My sister stood on my porch as I was leaving.
“Now, if anything goes down you not cool with, call me, Allure.”
I nodded my head. Ever since that Bryce situation, my sister has been hella paranoid.
“You got my Taser gun, too, right?”
I laughed. “Yes, I do. But like I said, his sister, his friend, and his friend's wife will be there.”
“All right, well, if anything goes down ...”
“Crystal, I will be fine. Andre is a po-po.”
“That don't mean shit! He could have a secret life.”
“He's a cop, girl. I'll be okay.”
“All right.”
I walked out the gate and slipped into my car. She watched me from my porch steps.
When I got to Andre's house on the west side of Long Beach, before I could even knock, the door was thrust open and Andre gave me a bear hug. “Hey, baby!”
“Hey.”
He looked me up and down. “You look nice. Come on in.”
He grabbed me by my hand and led me into his living room. And to be honest, it was the most primitive-looking living room I had ever seen. It didn't make sense since he was a cop. I thought cops made a good salary.
There was one black suede couch, and a boom box sat in a corner of the room. A small TV sat on a plastic crate, and a picture of a bowl of fruit hung on the living room wall.
But hell, he was a bachelor, so maybe that was why it looked the way it did. Maybe it simply needed a woman's touch.
There was a woman sitting on his couch.
“Allure, this is my sister Wanda.”
I walked closer to her. I held out my hand. “Hello.”
She gave me a blank nod and rolled her eyes. She didn't shake my hand.
Half-dead-looking bitch,
I wanted to say, but I kept my smile pasted on and turned away, but not before I inspected her. The bitch looked tacky, anyway. She had on a faded red, oversized Nike shirt and a pair of pink leggings. Her hair was thin and greasy looking and had a pick comb in it.
“Where is your friend and his wife?” I asked.
“They haven't arrived yet.” He ushered me into the dining room, which had a small table, the type you folded and took to picnics, and there were only two chairs. The dining room was attached to the kitchen, and only carpet divided it from the kitchen.
“Sit down, baby.”
I sat and laid my purse on the table. I saw that his sister was still sitting in the living room, with the same expression on her face.
“I hope you like spaghetti.”
“I do.” I stood and walked in the kitchen. “You need some help?”
“Yeah, stir the spaghetti sauce. It's simmering. I'll be back.” He rushed away.
I stirred the spoon in the little pan, which contained what looked like mostly sauce. I hoped he had some chicken to go with this shit, because it wasn't enough for five people.
Ten minutes later, when he came back into the kitchen, his face was wet with sweat. And his eyes were super dilated.
I was used to the sweat but not to his wide-ass pupils. My eyes narrowed. “Andre, you okay?”
“Yeah.” He walked out of the kitchen past the dining room. I followed after him into the living room.
His sister sucked her teeth and marched out of the living room.
“What wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. You ready to eat?”
“I guess. But shouldn't we wait for your other guests?”
“They said they'd be running a little behind and to start without them. Come on. Sit down and I'll serve you.”
We walked back into the kitchen.
I wondered why he didn't wait for them to arrive. But since I was probably going to feel shy in front of them and his sister, anyway, maybe it was better to eat before they came.
I sat down at the table in the dining room, and a few moments later he placed a plastic bowl in front of me with the spaghetti in it and a plastic fork.
What the fuck indeed?
He sat across from me and winked. Then he hopped up again and left the dining room.
I dug in, expecting to taste ground beef, noodles, and a marinara sauce, but chewed on noodles, tomato sauce, and wieners instead.
This shit is nasty,
I thought. I was struggling to eat it when Andre came back again and took his seat. His sister followed behind him.
She went straight to the stove and fixed herself some of that shit. But instead of joining us, she went into the living room.
He pierced her with a long and hard look for what seemed like five minute but was probably only one.
“Are you gonna eat?” I asked as he continued to mean mug her.
She tossed her eyes his way and munched on that spaghetti like it was filet mignon.
Then Andre hopped up again. “I'll be back, Allure.”
Now, I didn't know what the problem was between him and her, why they kept tossing each other looks. But I wondered why he kept going from room to room. I assumed Andre had diarrhea. Poor thing, he must be embarrassed to have that on a date. Why else would he keep running back to the bathroom? And as far as the sweat was concerned, he always sweated. As for his sister and them looks he was casting her, maybe it was because she was being so damn rude. She wouldn't talk to me, and she wouldn't sit with us to eat. If Crystal had behaved that way when I had a dinner guest, I would be giving her mean looks too.
I watched her turn the bowl up and suck the remaining liquid from it into her mouth before rising to her feet and heading past me into the kitchen, up to the stove. She gave herself another helping.
I tried to stir up a conversation with her. “The weather has been crazy, hasn't it?” I asked.
“Terrible.” She pierced me with the same look her brother had given her.
I put my head down and stirred my food with my fork, wishing the nasty shit would vanish off of my plate. I didn't want to eat it, but I didn't want to be rude.
“Well, they said it was gonna rain tomorrow.”
“Humph.” She didn't even bother sitting down. She scarfed the spaghetti down as she stood.
Noodles, cut-up wieners, and sauce dripped from the bowl as she ate. The food dripped on her Nike shirt, her pink leggings, and her dirty-ass feet, which I just now noticed, and onto the floor.
I kept a smile on my face.
Then suddenly she shoved her bowl down on the counter and rushed off again, mumbling, “Muthafucka.”
Five more minutes went by, and I didn't see either one of them.
What in the hell is going on, and where in the hell are his other guests?
I thought.
The doorbell rang.
“Andre? Wanda?”
I rose to answer the door. His other “guests” were a weird-looking white dude with a cigarette in his mouth and an even trashier-looking black chick.
What the fuck?
I stepped back and closed the door, uncomfortable about letting them inside. They opened it right back up and came inside. My heart started beating. This shit was not right.
I went to go find Andre.
I stomped to the back of the house, yelling, “Andre? Andre?” I turned a corner and saw a set of bedrooms. I went inside both of them. Both were empty,
empty
meaning they didn't have no damn furniture in them or Andre or Wanda. I turned another corner. “Andre?” I jumped when I spied his sister leaning against a wall, her eyes closed. “Where Andre?” I demanded.
She pointed an ugly-ass finger at a half-closed door. A sly smile curved on her lips.
I ignored her and raised my fist to knock but dropped it when she said, “He dressed. You can go in. You are his girl, aren't you?” I could have sworn I heard her chuckle.
I cut my eye at her and shoved the door open, and when I saw what I saw, I screamed, more horrified than I had ever been in my life, like I saw a ghost. I backed up and bumped into her. She stumbled but regained her balance, muttering, “Damn.”
I backed away, my heart beating faster by the second, and then ran from the hallway to the dining room to snatch up my purse. Then I continued to run! Run! Run!
But I couldn't get the image of what I saw out of my head. Andre was sitting on his toilet, had a crack pipe in his mouth, and was sucking on it. It wasn't a cigarette flavor I had been tasting when I kissed him. It was a crack flavor. And all the sweating was from the crack! Why the fuck hadn't I figured it out? Stupid! Stupid Stupid! This was why he didn't have much furniture, and come to think of it, this was why he always drove his patrol car. He probably didn't have a car.
My feet wouldn't stop moving. I ran out the front door. Just in case he came outside, I jogged in place at my vehicle until my shaking hands were able to unlock it. At least my legs and feet would still be in motion.
But he didn't.
The sister did, though. After I had hopped in, closed and locked my door—I didn't bother with my seat belt—and started my ignition. I busted a quick U-turn and looked in my rearview mirror. She waved at my car and smiled as I sped down the street. It was the first smile I had gotten out of her ass all night.
 
 
“You're back early,” my sister commented when I arrived home.
I didn't say shit, just asked, “Where is Sierra?”
“Still asleep. Why?” She inspected my face. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.” I tossed my purse next to her on the couch. Then I slid down to the carpet, staring off into space.
My sister was silent.
How could I have been so blind as not to see that I had been dating a crackhead? I started laughing. At first it was a quick chuckle; then it got louder, came from my belly. I clutched it and tossed my head back, slapped my thighs with my free hand.
“Allure?”
My laughter got louder. I rolled on my belly and continued to clutch it. Then my fists pounded on the carpet, because I was no longer laughing. Now I was screaming. “Allure!”
Then, when my hands became sore, I covered my face and bawled like a baby, worse than Sierra when she thought she was Tony Hawk and tried to ride her skateboard off the porch and landed on her leg, sustaining a superlong gash that left a scar.
I felt my sister's arms around me. I was so tired of getting my hopes up and finding out that each man was a fucking train wreck. Something was clearly wrong. Maybe I was meant to be alone and I needed to take a break from dating. Each guy I had gotten involved with, I should not have. I also thought that because of my situation with James, I was vulnerable. For one, I was not completely over him and the breakup was only a few months ago and I was still hurt. I had known from the beginning, before I started seeing Andre or Bryce, that I should stay my ass alone. And it didn't work with either of them. I should have listened to my mama and that logical voice in my head.

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