Just Keep Driving

Chapter 1 What Do You Bring to the Table?

Lydea

“Hmm. That ass is fatter than I thought!” Frank stands as I approach the table. He doesn’t pull out my chair. Instead, he gives me the up and down in a way that makes me look down at myself to make sure everything is all right. Then he steps closer and pulls me into a hug.

My arms stay stiffly at my side, and his arms and body linger way too long against me. He smells weird. I’m going to breathe him in to figure out what it is, but not really. I really want to not be hugging him.

I pull away, sniffing lightly. It’s definitely not cologne. Or a hair product. My eyes dart to his jagged hairline. He doesn’t look like he knows shampoo exists. My lip curls in a frown.

It’s mildew. This man is mildewy.

I rub at my nose and turn to sit down. How far away can I get from him without walking out of this restaurant?

Although I could just leave.

He sits down and grins at me. He had all his teeth in his profile picture, didn’t he?

“How’s it going?” he asks me.

“Um, not bad, you?” I return as I unlock my phone in my lap.

“Good enough, but man, this job got me messed up.”

I tune him out and scroll through his now obviously Facetuned photos. Skin tone is different. Hairline is crispy. This has to be a fresh out of high school photo.

God damn it. I’ve been catfished.

Our server approaches and before he can open his mouth, Frank greets him.

“Hey boss man, we’ll both have waters to drink. Y’all prices for everything is out of control.”

I open my mouth to tell him I actually wanted sweet tea, but then I close it. I must be in a simulation or something right now or a dream. I’m dreaming because this date isn’t turning into a Reddit thread right before my eyes.

“You see this shit?” he says, pointing to an entree on the menu. “Ten dollars for a burger and you gotta order fries separately.”

Telling him that he chose this restaurant won’t make this any better. I tisk and shake my head. I’m definitely ordering a big ass steak.

“I got investments, and I’m smart with my money. I don’t like to waste money on shitty food and a lot of females are out here trying to get a free meal on my dime.”

Females, of course.

“I don’t need to eat out. Mama cooks every day. We eat good.”

He pats his belly.

Yeah, he sure does.

Wait. Did he say Mama cooks every day?

“You stay with your mom?”

I try to keep all judgment out of my voice, but trust, I’m full of indignant judgment.

“Yeah. The basement is all mine. Nine hundred square feet. My own door and everything. I just said I’m smart with my money. I need the right woman in my life. Someone who can do more for me than my mama.”

Does she wipe your ass too? No one’s gonna live up to that.

He leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

“So, what do you bring to the table?”

I think I blacked out.

He’s snapping in my face. The people at the table next to us gawk.

This is definitely going on someone’s social media account.

He snaps again.

I wish I was a biter because I would bite the tip of his thumb off. I do my best impersonation of LeBron and grab my purse, look in any direction but his, and head towards the door. I didn't even get to take a sip of my water.

Damn.

“Lydia, where you going?” He yells out.

I almost stop in my tracks to correct him on how to say my name. I know I’ve told him how to in quite a few of our messages. This man couldn’t be paid to pay attention though. Why the hell did I stay in there as long as I did?

The fresh air hits me when I step outside. It’s brisk. The jolt energizes me. I had the rideshare app open, but I can walk for a little bit. I move slowly, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the plaza.

There needs to be a club for shitty first dates.

Love feels more and more hopeless, and Frank and his jagged-edged hairline has me feeling even lower.

I’ve been on too many first days and exactly zero second dates because the dating pool isn’t full of piss.

It’s full of shit. Just sewage floating around.

I’m this close to adopting several cats and falling in love with book baes instead of trying with real men. True love is a far-off fantasy.

In front of Cafe Le Fleur, a couple sits with their heads together as they read from the same menu. The man twirls one of the woman’s curls around his finger.

Gag.

It’s official. I’m a love hater. Frank was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I have everything I ever wanted: a nice house, a job I love, good friends, my family. But I don’t have love.

I guess you really can’t have it all. And I’m just going to have to be all right with that.

I’m ready to go home. I didn’t wear my run-out-on-your-date shoes. I tap on my phone to get a ride back home. According to the app, Champ is three minutes from me. I pull in a deep breath, and tell myself to release this. I just need to let it go and go home to sleep it off.

A black car pulls up right in front of me. I check the rideshare app and the man in the car matches the driver in the app. He steps out of the car. I take a step back.

What’s this man doing?

“Hey, Lydea? I’m Champ. Let me help you into the car.” He offers his hand, and I hold back a laugh. I was going to tip him anyway. All of this isn’t necessary.

I take his hand anyway. It’s soft and warm.

He opens the door for me and closes it after I’m seated.

He looks at me through the rear view mirror once he's inside. There’s something soft in his gaze. He doesn’t say a word, only clicks my address in his phone, and puts the car in drive.