Page 1 of Jaeda

Isat across from this man, wondering why I ever agreed to letting him take me out.

DeWayne Thomas.

Online, he seemed like a nice guy who had it all together. He presented himself as a thirty-year-old entrepreneur with no kids who owned a tech store. Being the techy that I was, that piqued my interest, so I responded to his messages. We texted back and forth for three weeks before he asked to take me out on a date.

I agreed, and the moment we sat down at the table, I realized it was a mistake. Red flag number one, he put absolutely no effort into his appearance for this date. His shirt was wrinkled, and there was already a stain on it. His pants were two sizes too small, and he could have at least gotten a haircut.

Red flag number two, he ordered chicken tenders and fries off the kid’s menu at an upscale restaurant. I wouldn’t haveclocked his eating cheap habits had he not commented on me ordering the steak and lobster.

“I’m gonna have to taste yours.”

Negative.

Red flag number three was him continuously trying to touch me under the table. I’d slapped his hand away from my thigh several times. He insisted on sitting on the same side of the table with me, and it was very awkward. For the duration of dinner, conversation was lacking. He was nothing like his online persona, leading me to believe that he wasn’t the same guy I’d been talking to for the last couple of weeks. I felt like Julia onDaddy’s Little Girls. If he broke out into a song or yelled across this restaurant, I was going to lose my shit.

I was over it. Right before the check came, I excused myself to the bathroom. I had to get my head together so I could tell him this wasn’t going to work. The final red flag came when I returned to the table. Clearly, my desperation had hit an all-time high for me to be sitting here feeling disgusted as he tried to talk the manager into comping our bill.

He’d eaten everything on his plate, yet he was complaining about the food and the service. As a restaurant owner myself, the service and food were impeccable. I sat there for a moment, rubbing my temples. This was embarrassing as fuck. Growing tired of his antics, I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet. Fishing out enough bills to cover the tab and leave the waitress a nice tip, I stood.

“I sincerely apologize for this,” I said, stuffing the money into the checkbook. “Y’all have a nice night.”

Without another word, I left the table and the restaurant to head back to my car. As I was about to open the door, I felt a hand on my arm.

“Jaeda.”

I rolled my eyes at the sound of DeWayne calling my name. Snatching away, I turned to face him.

“What?”

“I didn’t ask you to pay for dinner.”

“Clearly, you weren’t trying to pay at all. That was embarrassing as hell. That food and the service were great, so I’m not understanding why you would try to get a free meal. They already look at people like us funny when we come to places like this. Why go through all of that?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“This isn’t going to work. I think we should cut our losses. Good night, DeWayne.”

I went to open my car door, but he pushed me up against it.

“Wait a minute now?—”

“You better get your fucking hands off of me,” I said firmly.

I didn’t like coming out of character, but if there were two things I wouldn’t be, it was disrespected and manhandled. He released me and took a step back.

“How are you just gonna end our date like that?” he asked.

“This was an unbearable experience, to say the least. You are nothing like you presented yourself to be, and I’m starting to wonder if anything on your profile was true. My best guess is you lied like a fucking rug to get this date, and it’s better if I remove myself from your presence.”

He frowned. “Well, fuck you then, bitch.”

“Bitch?”

“Yeah. Bitch. A stuck-up ass bitch at that. You came here looking all prissy and shit, ordering steak and fucking lobster with no regard for my pockets. I see why you’re on that site. Ain’t no nigga finna put up with an uppity, money-grubbing ass ho. The most we wanna do is fuck you.”

I nodded. “Uppity. Okay.”

Opening my purse, I pulled out my solid gold beretta and placed it under his chin.

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