Man Curse Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Smart. But don’t let him hit you. Or I’ma beat him.”
    I’d never had that problem, I thought, sitting alone on my couch, staring through the blinds. The sun dipped behind clouds casting shadows across the horizon that opened up to torrential rain showers. I picked up the phone to dial, pausing to look at the numbers, before throwing the cordless back on the couch. Glancing out the window for signs of a green Hyundai, I grabbed the phone again and dialed Dexter’s number. Once. Twice. Voice mail a third time. The anxiety strangled my stomach, tightening muscles into gassy contortions. I decided, as I tossed the phone down a fourth time, I was ready to do something about this situation.

Chapter 6
    D uring moments of idle time, when the store was slow, when seconds felt like hours, I could see Dexter’s cute face. His smooth, caramel skin and shiny bald head bopping down the hallway. Those lips I loved to kiss, whimpering and shaking as he rubbed them up and down my body. His licking and sticking his tongue down my neck, onto my nipples, inside my belly button, and around my clit. I throbbed at the thought of him ripping through my underwear, pushing inside, stabbing me there. I was addicted. A week seemed to be our peace record. Accord and love and calm till the seven-day mark hit.
    We had actually gone over the limit by the next Sunday, when he announced, “I’m going to get gas.” We were lounging on the couch, preparing to watch basketball. “And I’ma pick up some chips.”
    I didn’t want him to go, and he didn’t need to. “We have Doritos in the cabinet,” I said, pulling him back down to the seat. “Why do you have to go get gas now? The game is about to come on.”
    â€œBecause I probably won’t have time in the morning before work.”
    That triggered a memory, and I asked, puzzled, “Didn’t you just get gas yesterday?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI didn’t see the tank half-full?”
    â€œMaybe, but that was yesterday.”
    This was getting weird. “Well, where have you been driving? This isn’t a big town.”
    â€œWhy the hell are you asking so many questions?”
    â€œWhy do you have a problem with that?”
    â€œBecause I feel like you’re accusing me of something.”
    A light began flashing inside my mind. “Well, why do you feel like that?” I stood up, looking down at him. “Is it guilt?”
    â€œI’ll be right back, Meena.”
    â€œHow are you gonna leave in the middle of me talking to you?”
    â€œWhy do you always want to beef? Damn, I’m getting sick of that shit.”
    â€œI’m going with you.”
    â€œNo, you’re not, Meena. You take too long to get ready.”
    Now we were getting to tired old excuses. “Whatever. I’m going.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.”
    â€œHow come? What are you hiding?”
    â€œI’m not getting into this. I’ll be back.”
    He walked out the door and drove off.
    The liar vibe made my intuitive sixth-sense antenna shake. I ran into the bedroom to check his pants pockets, thinking I might find a phone number scribbled across a tiny piece of paper. At the same time I was praying my thoughts of his deception and cheating were simply ludicrous mind tricks of an abandoned girl gone cuckoo from lusty love. I almost believed it was all in my head when I heard a buzz across the room and turned to see his pager vibrating on the bed.
    My heart palpitated as I walked slowly over to it. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I sat down, picked up the black pager, and looked at the digits lighting up the screen.
    I didn’t recognize the number. Holding the pager in hand, I wondered whether I should return the call. Wondered whether he’d walk in the door and catch me in the act of snooping. I looked out the front window. No sign of Dexter. So I grabbed the cordless and