Dear Drama

by Braya Spice

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

Have you ever had a friend who just seems to attract trouble, no matter what she does? That's Allure. Just 21, she barely made it out alive from an abusive relationship with her psycho baby daddy, Greg. Poor girl just wants to be loved, but the harder she tries to find the right man, the more wrong her life gets. Whether it's Lavante, who has to stuff socks in his pants to make himself feel manly; or Derek, who would be a fine catch if his bipolar disorder didn't almost get Allure killed; or Bryce, a sweet and sexy cop whose first love is the crack pipe; Allure bounces from one drama to another. Then there's James, strong and stable--until he knocks her up and hits the road. Get ready to laugh--and cry--at Allure's crazy love life.

Release date: April 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

Before I start running over my life any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Allure Jones. I’m about to be twenty-one. I have slanted eyes, could pass for a mix of Chinese and black if I were a little lighter, but I’m not. I have brown skin. I have shoulder-length hair but wear braids 90 percent of the time, because I have a lot on my plate and don’t have time to be constantly going to my older sister’s beauty salon to get my hair done, although when I do, my hair stay looking fly. I have nice teeth for someone who used to have a massive overbite, and my mama didn’t take the time to get me braces, because she was too busy trying to raise my sister, I, and my two brothers—(who both live in Spokane, Washington)—alone. I reside in Long Beach, CA.

I have full lips, which I am just now embracing, because before I was constantly made fun of for having full lips and was even called a monkey when I was a kid. I have a splash of beauty marks on my face and body that I inherited from my grandmother. Now the body ... big breasts, D cups to be exact; a small, slight curve, which I call my ass; pretty calves. That about describes me. My older sister, who is twenty-four, is identical to me, except she is only five-one and her hairstyles, from weaves to lace fronts, change with the weather.

I have been told I am pretty, cute, sexy, and even fine. I have a beautiful baby girl named Sierra and a crazy-ass baby daddy named Greg. I gave him my virginity, he in turn got me knocked up, and a few months after my daughter was born. He gave me a very unpleasant surprise: chlamydia. And more ass whippings than Ike gave Tina. I managed to break free of his crazy ass and was now trying to make it on my own, if I could, which was hard as hell. We managed to elude him, keep him from figuring out where were for staying, for two months, but he found out. It was like he was the FBI. After the incident where he tried to strangle me, Sierra and I packed our shit and moved again.

It wasn’t the home of my dreams. But it sure as hell was better than where I had come from as a kid. It didn’t have any rats or roaches. Sierra could have her own room, due to my Section 8 voucher, and she had a yard to play in. The only problem was that it was smack-dab in the hood, on the eastside Long Beach on Magnolia and Pacific Coast Highway. But, when you were living on minimum wage and financial aid, it was the best that you could do. And I, indeed, was doing my best. I was going to college full-time at Long Beach City College and I, worked in their child development center as a child care worker about twenty-five hours a week. It wasn’t a lot of hours or money, but the schedule allowed me to study and go to class and not neglect Sierra. The job also gave me the opportunity to get the hell off of welfare before I became dependent on that shit. But I never had much luck getting Greg to give me child support. He would quit his job just so he didn’t have to pay me, and he worked under the table because he was just trifling. I had hoped my hard work in college would eventually land me a position teaching high school English. That was my goal.

I smiled when the phone rang. I rushed to the living room to answer it.

When a male’s voice said hello, I recognized it as Greg’s. I hadn’t heard from him since the day he tried to strangle me and tear my arm from my socket. One month had passed since then, marking our third month of separation.

“Hey,” I said dryly. I started to ask him how he got my number, but I figured he probably called 411. I couldn’t afford to get it blocked. And it made no sense to avoid him any longer, anyway. He was, after all, Sierra’s father, and I had to deal with him. I just wished he would accept that it was over between us and would act like he had some sense.

Over the two years of our relationship, he not only cheated on me with numerous women, but also beat the hell out of me for things even he couldn’t explain. If I went outside our apartment in a dress he claimed was too little, smack! Or if I argued back at him when he accused me of sleeping around and called me every bad word known to mankind, smack! Sometimes I wondered how I got away from his crazy ass alive. He threatened to kill me so many times, it got to the point where I was just waiting for it to happen. And that day he showed up at my apartment two months before, I thought he was going to kill me.

His gruff voice brought me back to the present. “Since I figured it’s your birthday, I thought I’d take Si Si for the whole week and give you a break.”

I hesitated. I didn’t feel comfortable dealing with Greg since our leaving him, because I didn’t know what he would do next. But at the same time I did not want to keep him from his daughter. I went back and forth with myself, not knowing the proper choice to make.

“Listen, I know I fucked up in the past and I fucked off our relationship, and I accept that you don’t want me back. But I’m not fucking off my kid. I love you and Sierra, and now I’m going to focus on being the best father I can be to her and help take some of the stress off of you.”

“Greg, the last time you popped up at my house, you put your hands on me.”

“And I’m sorry about that. Allure, listen. That kind of shit is wrong, and if I don’t learn to control my temper, I’m going to end up in jail for really hurting someone. You have my word. I’m done with that. I promise you.”

He sounded sincere, but I had learned to question his words because they were not always sincere. He had promised me time and time again that he would keep his hands to himself and stop disrespecting me, but he always reneged. Still, I wanted Sierra to have her father in her life. I had lost mine when I was six in a bus accident. So I never knew what it was like to have a father. It had to be different for my daughter. But I didn’t want Greg to know where I lived, by any means, so coming to my house was out. I figured out a safer alternative.

“Okay. I’ll drop her off at your mother’s house.” I almost expected him to argue. But it was his mother’s house or nothing. He wasn’t going to get another chance to act stupid in my home.

“That’s fair enough. I know I acted a—”

I cut him off. “What time do you want me to drop her off?”

“Is ten o’clock okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Allure?”

“What?” I snapped.

“I love you.”

I hung up before I made a smart comment that would have us arguing. I no longer loved Greg. I no longer had the desire to be with him. He had done too much to me for me to feel that sentiment toward him. Part of me hated him. Another part feared him. Which was why I hung up before ugly things spilled from my mouth.

Next thing I knew, I was wearing my version of Beyoncé’s “freakum” dress, which was pink and tight fitting, and backing my ass up on the dance floor to Kanye West’s “Good Life.” I was more tipsy than a little bit, and next to me, taking it all the way down, was my sister, Crystal, who had hooked up my hair and makeup, and my friend Creole, who was on the stage with her head tossed back and her thonged ass being exposed. Kendra had passed on coming.

“You look like you having fun over there!” my sister said while doing the two-step.

I laughed, closed my eyes, and took my body all the way to the floor and slowly brought it up. I didn’t have to hold myself back from anything any damn more. I didn’t have to stay cooped up in the house while my friends enjoyed their early twenties. I was fucking free. I wasn’t Greg’s punching bag anymore. I didn’t have to hear him curse at me or call me out of my name.

A dude slipped into our circle and curled an arm around my waist so I was grinding on him. He was rubbing his hands up and down my waist and calling me sexy. I was having a ball, and I would have continued dancing if I didn’t damn near scream when I caught sight of Poo. That was Greg’s boy. He was right across from me, freaking on a chick, and yeah, his hands were all over her but his eyes were all over me. His look was clear. It said, “I’m going to tell.”

Now, I knew I wasn’t with Greg anymore, so I was doing no wrong and had no reason to trip, but there was something about the way he was looking at me and something about how he slipped away from the girl he was dancing with. Then he was on a cell phone, which had me scared. I knew if he were to call Greg, Greg would be here with quickness. So I was now no longer feeling any confidence, and my steps were now awkward and stiff. I couldn’t help but feel apprehension. Which pissed me off, because I shouldn’t have to feel this way. I was single, trying to have a good time! I wasn’t neglecting my child. I handled my business in school and at work, yet the problems were still present because of Greg.

The next thing I knew, Poo was walking up to me. He paused one feet away, looked at me, smirked, and shook his head. Then he twisted the hat on his head. The dude dancing with me moved in closer on me and was gripping my hips. Poo shook his head one more time and walked away. When the song ended, I hugged the guy and rushed away.

From that point on I couldn’t seem to break away from Poo’s ass, either. Every song I danced to, alone or with a guy, was under his eyes, and the shit made me so uncomfortable, I could no longer enjoy myself. At one point he was even talking on his cell phone as I danced with a guy, and I was scared he was talking to Greg. I was so focused on him and what he was saying that I ended up tripping into the girl behind me.

“Watch where the fuck you going,” she snarled in my ear.

“Shut up, bitch,” I said, calmly walking away.

She continued to wolf, but I ignored her and walked off the floor.

My sister followed after me. “Where you going?”

“Can we go now?” I didn’t want to tell her why, so I lied. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Okay, we can go to Denny’s and get something.”

I led the way because I wanted to get the hell out of there just in case Greg popped up in and started some shit. ’Cause if he did pop up, it would be some shit. I knew that for sure.

“Damn, Allure, slow down. Damn, you act like you starving! And we were having fun,” Creole yelled.

I instantly felt bad for stopping short our fun because of the possibility of an encounter with Greg. But I laughed nervously and didn’t slow down until I was in my sister’s Pathfinder. They hopped in and the car started, and then, and only then, was I able to breathe right.

So we escaped to Denny’s and had breakfast there. I thought back to all the fun I was having before I saw Poo, and was disappointed that we had to cut it short, but I needed no drama from Greg.

Although I had had a good time at the club before seeing Poo, I couldn’t see myself in there every weekend. Still, I had a wad of phone numbers, which I stuffed in my purse as my sister’s truck pulled up to my apartment.

“Bye!” I told Crystal and Creole. My sister was going to drop Creole off at home.

They both chorused, “Bye.”

I hopped out of the truck and walked toward my apartment gate. I pulled my key to the gate out of my purse then pulled out my keys to get into the house. I opened the gate and walked through it. My smile dropped as I got closer to my apartment. I saw a figure sitting on my porch.

Shit.

Although it was dark, my eyes were able to make out Greg’s figure. When I saw it was him, I jumped and prayed to God my sister would not drive away until she saw I had made it into my apartment.

He stood calmly and flicked his cigarette on the grass. “You look like a fucking rat.”

“It would be a waste of time to ask how you found me, wouldn’t it?” I asked calmly. But inside I wasn’t calm. This bastard should get a job being a private investigator. Or a bounty hunter. I was filled with fear and dread, because I liked my place and did not want to have to move again.

He chuckled. “Hey, you know me.”

“Where’s Sierra?”

“My mom’s.” He eyed me up and down.

I glanced back to see if my sister and Creole were still parked there. Luckily, they were. Since Greg had moved underneath a tree, their view of him was probably blocked. They parked on the other side of the street and probably could see only me. I didn’t know whether to run or scream; I was too scared to do anything, so I stood there, frozen.

“Yeah, Poo told me what’s up, but I had to see the shit for myself. Shot up to the club. Your ashy black ass was a ghost. What makes you think you can run the streets, looking and acting like a ho? I should haul your slutty ass to Watts and let them project niggas run a train on you. But I don’t want to funk up my car with that stank box of yours.”

I ignored his insults. I wanted to stay calm. I didn’t need any commotion at three o’clock in the morning. I didn’t want my neighbors to hear us arguing. “I didn’t invite you to my house, so go home and don’t come back,” I said.

Before I could say anything else, Greg stepped away from the tree and raised a hand.

I screamed and backed up a little, knowing he was going to hit me.

“Shut up!” He slapped me across my face with all his might. I held the side of my face as the pain rushed to it. I cowered, hoping that would stop him, but he instead landed a punch to my mouth.

“Oh, hell no!” someone yelled.

I glanced up and saw my sister hop over the fence of my apartment and Creole run through the gate in a flash.

Praise God, I thought.

They both lunged at Greg, pounding him with their fists. I started attacking him also. I slapped him, kicked him, and spit in his face as Creole and Crystal continued pummeling him. Crystal had even snatched off one of her heels and was beating him over the head with it.

“How you like it?” she raged.

He swung blindly and yelled, “You fucking bitches!”

“Ho-ass nigga!” Crystal yelled, pounding him in his back.

We continued to hit him until he knocked Crystal down and escaped to a spot a few feet away from us.

All of us were breathing deeply.

“If I had my hammer, I’d blow all y’all bitches’ heads off!” he threatened.

By now all my neighbors had come out of their apartments to watch. I stood there, embarrassed, with my head down. All the times in the past when Greg had assaulted me, my neighbors had come outside to watch but had never helped. Then they had looked down and told me how dumb I was for staying with this man. I had wanted to escape all of that drama. And I had, but now I was back there, looking like an idiot again in front of my new neighbors.

“You just made a terrorist threat,” Crystal pointed out, standing to her feet.

Creole laughed loudly. “Yeah, you bitch ass!”

This all made him angrier. He never took his eyes off of me, though. His face held an evil scowl. Silently, he was telling me that if it weren’t for my sister and Creole, I’d be on a stretcher right about now. “Bitch,” he muttered. Then he turned to walk away.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” Crystal warned.

He flicked her off and kept walking.

“That muthafucka! We were wondering what was taking you so long to go into your place. Then we saw someone come out of the shadows like the night stalker, and you screamed. We figured it had to be Greg’s crazy ass,” Creole said.

Crystal turned to me, lifted my chin with her hand, and examined my face. I heard her sigh as her eyes passed over my cheek that was swollen and my bottom lip, which was busted. There was blood gushing out.

I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe some of it away. My whole mouth burned. But I was used to the feeling. I was just glad he didn’t knock any of my teeth out.

“I hate that bastard,” she whispered.

One of my neighbors must have called the police, because the next thing we knew, their sirens were blaring and they were pulling up on my street.

March 2008

It was a Saturday. I was reliving all the good about my birthday from the year before and trying to block out the bad. Now I was twenty-two, and Sierra was three.

Although I had the time of my life . . .