SAMPLE CHAPTER FROM DAPPER CARTER'S 5 FATALE`FLAWS

‘Hiiii. This is Rain. Leave a message at the tone. Thanks.’
“Hey baby its me again. As I'm sure you know. Just sitting here thinking about you. I can’t wait to see you. I love you.”
After all of that I never hooked up with Shy. I was feeling guilty and I had done nothing wrong. Guilt was this new emotion that I was experiencing for the first time. The Grinch was just as confused when he accepted Christmas into his heart. Needless to say, I didn’t like young girls in the first place opting for a model with a little mileage on it and had already been broken in.
There were advantages to dating young girls, none of which had anything to do with intellectual pursuits or common interests. They were too young to have anything in common with except for sex. But as I got older I needed a little bit more than sex. Not much more, but nevertheless, more. I liked being able to discuss politics or cinema over dinner then take you home and blow your doors off.
Most of the women I was meeting had been born the 80’s and I was already halfway into my hell-raising career by then. I needed more conversation, more connection, and more life experience. All reasons why I didn’t want to lose Rain.
Even though I was disgusted with her and had my suspicions about her friendship with Teddy, I was whipped and couldn’t fathom being with any other woman besides her. I was intent on not doing the same things I had always done so I wouldn’t get what I always got. Rain was good for me, and made me a better person and more responsible. This was the steadiest employment I had ever sustained in my life and I actually managed to pay a bill or two.
I waited patiently for the love of my life to return from her two-week excursion to the Bay Area. I worked even harder than usual at Fitness Depot to keep my mind busy, finishing in the top three company wide in sales for the month and earning a trip to Las Vegas. I was busting my ass because I had my eye on a two and a half carat princess cut engagement ring worth $6,000 that I could get for $4,500, which would put the one carat to shame that I bought Kennedy with her money. Not to mention, Sin City would be the perfect place to pop the question and pledge my undying devotion.
She finally returned and I was as happy as Whoopi Goldberg when Sug Avery came rolling over the hill in The Color Purple. I was spontaneous to a fault, deciding to leave work early and hustled to JFK Airport to surprise her. In spite of that, I got there a few minutes late because of a signal fire on the A line. I called her maniacally as soon as I got above ground to tell her to wait for me, but it was not to avail.
‘Hiiii. This is Rain. Leave a message at the tone. Thanks.’
No answer. I was beginning to think that she was not answer-ing the phone on purpose.
She was probably on the train already I rationalized. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto my iPhone and my deodorant was not living up to its billing either, causing sweat spots to appear under my armpits.
So I turned around and went to Plan B, which was to surprise her at her brownstone. I had one of those queasy feeling in my stomach that tells you something is wrong, but we always ignore. I dialed her phone repeatedly from the moment I stepped from the train all the way up the subway steps and down six long blocks.
Her light was on. I sprinted up the red clay steps and pounded on her door psychotically. She finally answered after I kicked the door with my size twelve’s.
“What’s the fucking problem?”
“I went to the airport to surprise you.”
“I took a cab.”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“Because my phone was in the bag and I didn’t hear it.”
“That’s a convenient excuse. You knew that I would be calling you the second that you got off of the plane.” I screamed at her.
“I needed some space. Can’t I have five minutes to myself? I speak to you every day when I’m here and twice as much when I’m gone.”
I still didn’t believe her so I put the screws to her.
“Were you with Teddy?”
“DAPPER, I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! YOU’RE SMOTHERING ME!” she screamed and tried to slam the door in my face. That wasn’t going to happen as I defiantly barged in, not allowing her to simply dismiss me.
“What da bloodclot? You fuck put yankee haaands on me bumble clod,” she said in a thick Jamaican patois. Things had gotten deathly serious all of a sudden.
Her Jamaican heritage erupted like Mount Vesuvius and I was poor Pompeii. Normally when she got excited and went all Jamaican on me I would laugh. But this tirade was different than it was way too serious for me to take lightly.
She stepped back and slapped the shit out of me, halting my advance on the spot.
We both stood motionless, shocked, knowing the boundaries of our relationship had been breached in so many ways in the last few moments. You haven’t ever been in love until you’ve had a restraining order taken out against you was my theory and I was sticking to it. I was huffing hard, infuriated.
“Just tell me you’re seeing someone else and I’ll leave.”
“Fine. I’m seeing someone else, now leave.”

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