Dear Drama 2

by Braya Spice

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction; Christian Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

Allure Jones is back with more drama than ever! Three years have passed since her breakup with James. Allure is now working as a high school English teacher, buying her own home, raising Sierra, and dating the man of her dreams. Just when Allure thinks her life can't get any better, confusion sets in. James insinuates his way back into Allure's life, causing her to question whether she is completely over him. She has to be careful, though, because his wife is desperate to hold on to what's hers by any means necessary. If this isn't enough trouble, another ex continues to cause disorder in Allure's life. Just as things start to heat up between Allure and her new love, she finds herself being pulled back into her past. How much drama can one woman stand?

Release date: February 25, 2014

Publisher: Urban Renaissance

Print pages: 304

Sample

Although Sierra was now nine years old, I didn’t want her at my sister’s funeral. My sister had always been like a best friend to me. I couldn’t imagine life without her. The days leading up to the funeral, I was sent back to the hospital and sedated so much, it was crazy. Coping with her death was not an easy feat. I knew people said that time healed all wounds, but for me a chunk of my heart was missing because I had lost her. The love of my daughter was what kept me going. I had always had to be strong for her. I knew this. But that shit was hard. Life was hard as hell, especially when you were trying to live it without the people you never thought you’d have to live it without.

I knew today would be so hard for me. She would finally be laid to rest.

During the service, my mother was completely out of it. I knew the doctor had given her something before the service, or else she wouldn’t be able to get through it. But still she struggled.

I struggled through the service as well. As several people talked, I cried silently and thought of happier times with my sister. I thought of how she was always there for me when I needed her and never offered me any type of judgment. How she was such a good aunt to little Sierra from day one. And all that did was make me feel worse. My sister would have no kids of her own. When it was time to go up to the casket, I freaked out, and instead I ran out of the funeral home, sobbing all the way to the limo. I sat in it by myself and continued to cry.

Once the service was over, I managed to make it over to the grave site, despite the fact that I wanted to go the other way. I knew this was a day I had to get through, although I didn’t want to. My mother didn’t make it, though. After I ran out of the church, my mother passed out. Poor mama. As they lowered my sister into the ground, and I watched from the chair I was seated in, I asked myself again, Why do I have to keep going through pain? First, I lose my dad, my son, and now I lose my sister. My lips trembled as they covered her casket with dirt. Tears continued to pour from my eyes.

Soon people began to leave. I glanced at the spot where my sister was now buried. I sobbed and covered my face with my hands.

Why do I have to keep going through shit? I demanded silently.

Suddenly, someone removed my hands from my face. My eyes shot open, and I spied James!

He knelt down in front of me. “Hey, Allure.” He used some tissue to wipe the tears and snot off of my face.

Too emotional, I didn’t stop him. In fact, I was so emotional that I threw myself in his arms and let him hold me.

“How are you holding up, baby?” He stroked my back.

It did feel good to have someone hold me. I hadn’t been held in so long. But still, after a few seconds I demanded calmly, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard your sister had passed. I couldn’t let you deal with this on your own. I had to come and be there for you, baby.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Our family and friends didn’t travel in the same circles. So how could he have known about my sister? I wondered.

“How did you know?” I asked him.

“I just did, baby.”

“How? And stop calling me baby please.”

“Your Facebook.”

My Facebook page was private. Only my friends could see my personal business. Yes, I had put info about my sister’s funeral on my page, but James wasn’t a friend of mine on Facebook. Or was he?

“To keep it all the way real, ba . . . Allure, I have a different name on there. I requested you a few years back. I just wanted to have a way to keep in contact with you. See how you were doing. And you seem to be doing well. I see you finished school. You are a teacher, which judging by your pictures, you seem to love. You bought your own home. . . . And Sierra. Man, she is a big girl now, and so pretty. I’m proud as hell of you, baby.” He paused before saying, “You’re not mad I did that, are you?”

Does this man ever change? James was my ex, and boy, was it a bad breakup. Talk about breaking my heart. He smashed it, then lit it on fire. It had been three years since I had seen him last. I could never forget how he slept with me and then went and married the same girl who he had cheated on me with while I was carrying his child. Nor could I forget how he had left me after our son died. The list of how foul he had been to Sierra and me went on and on.

“I am. But right now I don’t have the time to be concerned about you’re stalking, because that’s what it is, James.” I glanced over at my sister’s grave site again. I moaned and felt more tears slide down my face.

“Baby, I know this is hard for you. You loved your sister. I just came to make sure you—”

My older brother, Bobby, walked up. He had brown skin and was tall and lanky like my father. We actually looked a lot alike. He gave James a friendly nod before saying, “Allure, the limo is about to leave. You need to come on so we can go back to Mama’s house.”

I stood to my feet and took steps toward my brother. I didn’t turn and look at James. He was the least of my concerns right now. I needed to focus on getting through this day.

I heard James calling my name, but I ignored him and kept walking.

“Who is that?” my brother asked.

“No one important.”

During the wake, I sat in a corner and watched as food was passed around. I had no appetite for any of it. Although the wake was held at my mother’s house, she wasn’t there. Both my brothers were and a few family members who lived in California. A lot of my sister’s friends were present, and her clients from her hair salon as well. Everyone looked somber. When people came up to me and offered me a hug, I took it, but when they tried to talk to me, I politely told them I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to lie down. I went to my mother’s room and lay on her bed. Sad thoughts filled me yet again. I couldn’t believe that my sister was gone. That was the crazy part about life. Each day there was no guarantee you’d live another day. But once you died, you were guaranteed not to walk the earth again. Life wasn’t permanent. Death was.

Thing was, I could sit in denial, because the situation was crazy as hell and so cliché that it couldn’t possibly be true. Could a young, drunk-ass driver really have crashed into my sister’s truck and instantly killed her? Come the fuck on. The drunk driver was in a car, and my sister was in a truck? And the drunk-ass driver suffered only a broken arm, while my sister was the casualty? I could entertain denial just based on how crazy the shit sounded. As crazy as it was . . . it was reality. My big sis was gone. All the crying and the sad thoughts I had had my head pounding and my throat dry.

I got up and left the room to get some water. When I stepped into the living room, I saw my mother had come back. She was in the kitchen, sobbing. I saw one of my brother hugging her. I couldn’t take any more crying if I was going to control my own tears, so I snuck out of the living room, grabbed my purse and keys, and left my mother’s house.

I drove past my mother’s house and headed toward Long Beach Boulevard, heading to Tobo’s, a local hole-in-the-wall bar. I parked quickly, jumped out of my car, walked inside, and slipped onto a bar stool. As soon as the bartender came up to me, I said, “Send me four vodkas and cranberry juices.” I slid him my credit card so he could start a tab for me. He gave me an odd look while doing so.

A few minutes later, he slid all four glasses in front of me. I picked up one glass and downed it, ignoring the burning of the alcohol as it slipped down my throat. I went to the next glass and did the same. Then I went to the third drink. I swallowed that one down as well. I started feeling loose and tingly. My racing thoughts were dissipating. I was feeling warm and fuzzy.

“Allure.”

I turned around slowly and saw James. What the fuck did he want now? I stared him down as he sat on the stool next to me.

“Why are you here again? I left you at the funeral home for a reason. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“What are you doing here, baby?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here, James?”

“You’re drinking, baby. But—”

“Exactly. I’m drinking. I’m getting fucked up. I’m trying to feel numb. Not feel a damn thing. And I’m almost there, and then here you come. Fuck!”

“Well, I followed you over to the wake. I started to come in but didn’t know if it would be okay, since you left me at the cemetery. So I waited outside, just to make sure that you were okay. Then I saw you drive away, so I followed you.”

I hadn’t been at my mother’s house that long. But still . . . James was acting weird as hell.

What a stalker, I thought. As he continued to talk, saying how nice I looked, I blocked out his words and downed half of my fourth drink. I was getting seriously fucked up.

“Besides all the things you have accomplished, Allure, how are you doing in the love department?” I heard him say.

I pierced him with a glare. I could not believe he was asking me about my personal life after all the foul stuff he had done to me.

“My bad, baby. Maybe I’m taking this a bit too far. Let me show you something.” He pulled out his iPhone, put in a code, and started showing me pictures of two adorable little boys. Boys that looked just like him. “Ryder is three, and JJ is a year old.”

I looked away and nodded. “Congratulations.” I wondered if he ever thought about Jeremiah.

Suddenly, I felt one of his hands on my face and his other hand over my hand that was holding my fourth drink.

“Let me help you. You don’t need to be in this bar alone. There are too many crazy and dirty muthafuckas here that could hurt you. You are not in your right mind right now. You are vulnerable, hurt. Look, you don’t need to be around nobody but me. Let me take you home, make you some tea, and put you to bed, baby. I’m not trying to get anything from you. Despite all the fucked-up stuff that happened between you and me, I still care about you.” His eyes locked with mine. “Deeply. I just want to make sure you are okay. Then, once I get you in bed, safe, baby, I’ll bounce.” He gestured toward all the glasses. “You are in no condition to drive. And Sierra needs you. And I know this has to be hard. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost my brother.”

The good feelings the liquor had imparted stopped when I was once again reminded of what had gone on earlier that day. . . . I had buried my big sister. I took one look at him, and I broke down crying again, not caring at the moment if he saw me as weak and not caring that I had a lot of hatred for him. I was hurting too badly.

“Awww, baby. Let it out. That’s the only way you are going to heal from this.” He started hugging me and ran his hands up and down my back. I was hurting so bad that I welcomed his embrace.

When he helped me to my feet, I didn’t protest, as much as I detested him. But he was right. I was in no condition to drive home.

Once we arrived at my house, James helped me inside. He was right about one thing. I had had entirely too much to drink. He helped me out of my shoes, stockings, and my dress. He found my nightgown and helped me into it. He brought me a mug of tea.

“Sit up, baby.”

I did, and he handed me the mug of tea. I blew on the top of the mug, waited a few seconds, and then I sipped the tea.

“You feeling a little better, babe?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded. I placed the mug on the nightstand near me.

He pulled out his cell phone, glanced at it, and said, “Well, let me get going.”

A feeling of alarm hit me. I didn’t want to spend this night alone. I figured I was entitled to using whatever diversions I could get my hands on just to get through the night.

He leaned over and kissed me on my cheek. As he pulled away, he said, “If you or Sierra needs anything, give me a—”

I grabbed his hand and caused him to halt his speech. I broke down crying again. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this. You’re a married man with two kids, but . . .”

“Just say it, baby,” he urged gently.

“Please stay with me tonight, James. Please.”

He did not hesitate. He yanked off his shoes and crawled into the bed. “Of course I will, Allure.” He spooned me from behind. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on my neck. Then he started humming Beyoncé’s song I Miss You.

I knew the song very well, and whenever I heard it, it brought me back to him. And every time the song ended, I was in tears, wishing that things had ended differently between us. Wishing that he would magically appear on my doorstep without a wedding band on. That day had never come. And I remembered always feeling so horrible that I wouldn’t want to get out of bed. I had no energy and often just wanted to collapse. What he had done had put me into a deep depression, one that I had to fight my way out of.

Yet, after all of this, it was funny that, even though I hadn’t lain with this man in three years, I felt as though no real time had passed between us. Most of the pain had left. Not all of it, but most of it. But the love was still there. I felt like I was back at my old apartment and he was holding me and he was mine.

But we weren’t there anymore. Yet my heart still was. Which was exactly why when he said his next words, I should have said no. But I didn’t.

He kissed me on my cheek, and his lips and teeth bumped a. . .