by Braya Spice
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.
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 and—”
“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 that—like 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 horrible—loneliness 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.”
“But—”
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.
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 h
ad 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 it—a 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.”
“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.
Chapter 8
I had told myself that things were over between Lavante and me. Shit, people and things changed. I felt that that was just what Lavante did, and I wanted to have no parts of him now.
After I ignored his calls for two weeks, he showed up at my doorstep with roses—twelve of them—some chocolate-covered strawberries, and a sad face. He held a poster-board sign with his home phone number on it and the message, CALL ME ANYTIME.
“I’m sorry for everything. I have a habit of being an ass. If you take me back, I’ll work on that and even offer you a commitment,” he said.
Sierra was with Greg for the weekend. I paused, a part of me wanting to tell him to kiss my black ass, well, after I took the strawberries. But there was something about his words. Well, they felt sincere, and what else did I have to look forward to? I had chitchatted with a couple guys in that two weeks’ time, but none of them quite did it for me. I still had strong feelings for Lavante. I knew what it was. My mom had told me that when a woman shared her body with a man, her body released a chemical that emotionally attached her to him. That was the reason I struggled with letting go of Lavante.
I stepped back and let him enter my home, and bless his heart, he tried to make love to me the best he could. But I still didn’t feel shit.
Yes, I had a commitment. Wow. But there weren’t no fireworks, just more horrible sex. Although he was offering me what I had wanted those past five and a half months, the shit just didn’t feel right.
He begrudgingly invited me out to lunch. He took me to Denny’s. Denny’s was cool, but I wanted to go somewhere special. Like the Cheesecake Factory. Or P.F. Chang’s. He complained the whole time we were there, like he was getting his teeth pulled, instead of enjoying the company of his “girlfriend.”
After lunch we came back home and had more bad, boring sex. I dozed off with his arms wrapped around my waist. When I felt the bed being jerked back and forth, first I thought it was Sierra, but I remembered she was with her daddy.
Then I thought maybe I was just dreaming. But when I opened my eyes, I was shocked to find a big-titty woman in my bedroom, staring down at me with this weird look in her eyes. And she was naked!
“Hi, Allure. What’s happening, baby? My name Satin.” She flicked on the lights in my bedroom. She had stripped down right in my bedroom, and I had been so knocked out that I hadn’t noticed. I knew this because her clothes and shoes were on the floor near her feet.
I scrambled to my feet and stood on top of the bed, screaming, “What the fuck you doing in my house?” at the top of my lungs.
She looked confused. “Your dude gave me the address, said he’d leave the door unlocked. It’s a surprise for you. Your man said it was okay. He said you was down for this.”
“Down for what?”
“The get down.” Her hands slid down her naked body. I could see she had so many stretch marks, it looked like body art. “I met him at Shotz a few weeks back.”
I looked at that snoring bastard. “Lavante! Lavante!” I kicked his ass until his eyes fluttered open.
“What?”
“Why in the hell did you invite this bitch to my damn house? Where I stay with my child.”
He blinked a couple times, looked at Satin, and smiled.
“What’s up, Daddy?”
My mouth dropped open, and I looked from her to him.
Lavante reached for one of my feet. “Baby.”
I took a step back and almost lost my balance.
“Did you invite her into my home?” I demanded.
“Allure.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, baby. It was a surprise to make our sex life more exciting.”
“Lavante, the only thing that could make out sex life exciting is if you grew a bigger dick. That ain’t going to happen, and believe me when I say I’m tired of you and this shit right here. I have put up with so much bullshit from you, but this is it. You threatened the safety of me and my child by giving this stranger my address and access to my house. Just to let you both know, I’d rather fuck Flavor Flav while
Shabba Ranks cums in my mouth than do a threesome with you and her. Take Cotton and get the fuck up out my house.”
I think he was still reeling from me calling his dick small. It had to be an ego blow for him. But, oh well. I had had enough of his shit.
“What?” he said.
“You heard me. Get the fuck out, or I’m calling the police.”
“I got a warrant, Lavante. I’m gone.” Satin bent her big stretch-marked ass over and slid a dress on and stuffed her feet in some flip-flops. Then she left the room and, hopefully, my house.
Lavante stood next. “Allure.”
“Leave. I have never felt so disrespected in my life. Come to think of it, all you have ever done is disrespect me, from giving me a fake home number, tricking me into having this friends-with-benefits bullshit, to being verbally an asshole to me. Like I ain’t got no emotions. But this here takes the cake. I live here with my child, and you would ... Just get out.” I knew after this we had to be done for good. No backsliding or trying to reconcile this bullshit.
“I’m not going to beg your ass, ’cause you not all that.”
He was still going ? After all he had done to me? It was like insult to injury. I hated when you rejected a man and he tried to put you down. I wanted to say, “If I wasn’t all that, why did you fuck with me in the first place?” He was a trifling-ass man that would never stop. I knew I didn’t need someone like him in my life and I should have stopped fucking with him. I knew this, but I had kept being weak and taking him back, and each time the only difference in the outcome was that it was a worse hurt than the previous one. I should have taken more time to get to know him—so the real him could have come out—and not just fallen feet first into this shit. I felt so dumb at that moment.
“Get out!” I raged at the top of my lungs. “Get the fuck out!”
Chapter 9
Two months later ...
I was so happy to have my car back out of the shop. Sierra and I had been on the bus for three weeks, while I scrambled to come up with the money to pay for the repairs on my car. It was forever breaking down. But I couldn’t afford another car. With all the bills I had to pay, and without ever getting child support, there was no way.