DON’T EVEN GO THERE
BRENDA HAMPTON
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 1
As the saying goes, there are always two sides to every story. There was his side: “I’m sorry, she didn’t mean anything to me. Please forgive me.” My side, however, was the only one that mattered. If Plan A didn’t work, I was sure to have a Plan B.
I sat in my cubicle, filing my nails and thinking about what I had done last night. I would have given anything to see Drake’s face up close, but his yelling and screaming at me through the phone was enough to put a smile on my face. Why? Because Drake deserved it.
It all started after I had gone to Norfolk, Virginia to see my father. He has prostate cancer, but don’t feel sorry for him, because he has done things to me that a father should never do to his daughter. I returned home early from my trip. I decided to surprise Drake, who had been my beau for the past three years, and showed up at his house unexpectedly. I’d shown up unexpectedly plenty of times before, so not calling in advance wasn’t an issue. That, of course, changed last night, when I swerved into his driveway and spotted a gray Acura parked next to his car.
I paced to the door, then quietly inserted my key into the lock. The door squeaked just a little, but the soft music playing was sure to drown out any noise I’d make. The dining room was to my left, and I immediately noticed two tall cream candles that had already been burned. Leftover food was on two plates, and a half-empty bottle of wine was chilling in a glass bucket of melting ice. Drake was doing it big, but there was no doubt that I was anxious to see what was transpiring in his bedroom.
My eyes scanned the T-staircase that led to the upper level, and, one by one, I tackled the carpeted stairs. Midway, I took the tip of my burgundy stiletto to kick aside the lace black panties and bra. I guessed the woman could have been at least a size 11/12 like me, and after seeing “Victoria’s Secret” scripted on the tags, she obviously had good taste. To see her underwear dropped on the stairs, I knew there obviously had to have been much anticipation to get to the bedroom. I definitely knew how that was, as Drake was always a spontaneous and creative lover.
When I reached the door, I wasn’t nervous at all, simply because I’d warned Drake about something like this ever happening. He knew what kind of woman I was, and if he ever doubted what I was capable of, he’d soon find out.
The double white doors to his bedroom were closed. But from the outside, I could hear the loud moans and groans. You’d better believe he was giving it to her good, and to hear my man ask, “Who does this pussy belong to?” and her reply, “You baby. You know it’s you,” I was stunned. My perfectly arched brows went up, and as I listened to Maxwell set the mood for them with his lyrics, I cracked the door, peeking inside of the room. All I could see was her long chocolate legs poured over his broad shoulders, and his naked ass tightening with each thrust. The headboard was hitting the wall and the squeaky mattress that he and I had worn out was being put to work. I watched his lips give passionate kisses on her legs, and due to the exchange of loving words, this couldn’t be classified as a one-night stand.
With that in mind, instead of doing the obvious, I closed the door and backed away from it. I quickly moved down the steps, causing my long trench coat to blow open. I exited Drake’s house, and when I got to my car, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves that had started to rattle. I drove to the nearest gas station, and removed two red gasoline containers from my trunk. I never thought the containers would come in handy, but there was a purpose for everything I’d purchased. I filled the containers with gas, then drove back to Drake’s house, slamming my car into park. By then, I was pissed. I was upset because I had just spoken to Drake earlier, and he expressed how much he loved me. He said that he was so lonely while I was away, and asked me to hurry home. He seemed so concerned about my ailing father, and when I expressed my emotions to Drake over the phone, he wished like hell that he could be there to comfort me.
To make matters worse, just last week, he made mention of us getting married. He was so ready to settle down, and I was the woman he had waited a lifetime to find. No doubt, Drake was full of it, but he wasn’t the only one. Yeah, some people want you to believe that there are still good men out there, but that’s a bunch of bullshit. “A good woman can find a good man” is a lie, and if another person feeds me that crap, I have one suggestion: you’d better have a Plan B. To me, faithful men didn’t exist, but I was so willing to give Drake one last chance to prove me wrong. We’d dated for three years and had begun to talk marriage. Last night, though, he failed to prove to me that he was different from all the others, and for doing so, he’d have to pay.
I got out of my car and doused the front and side of his two-story house with gasoline. My trail led from the front door, and stopped when I reached the back door. The smell of petroleum made me feel high, but not as high as I was going to feel when I saw this baby go up in flames. I emptied both containers, then stood by his front door. I reached for my cell phone, and after redialing his number three times, he finally answered.
“Hello,” he said in a groggy tone, as if he were asleep.
“Are you asleep?” I teased.
“Yeah, baby, I was,” he softly replied. “I just got in not too long ago, and as soon as I hit the bed, I was out. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
I placed a cigarette in my mouth and dangled it around. “By then, it might be too late,” I said.
“What you say? Too late? Too late for what?”
I backed up a bit, lit the cigarette and flicked it in front of me. Within seconds the fire ignited and started to blaze around his house.
“Too late to apologize.”
His voice was now clear. “Apologize for what?”
“For setting your ass on fire. In a few seconds, that dick of yours that you can’t contain will melt, and so will your porcelain doll who’s in bed with you. Good luck with that, honey, and I guess I don’t have to tell you never to call me again.”
I leaned against my car that was now parked on the street. I saw Drake pull his curtain aside, and his hollering rang out through the phone.
“Hell, nah,” he yelled, looking out of the window at me and the growing flames around his house. “What in the fuck have you done? Are you
