Mistress

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Urban Books, LLC
97 N 18th Street
Wyandanch, NY 11798

 

Mistress Copyright © 2006 Meisha Camm

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-6016-2074-3

 

 

 

 

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I want to thank Jesus Christ for giving me this gift of writing. With the power of prayer and determination, anything is possible.

The easiest part of a book is actually writing it. I have learned struggle, hard work, and patience are three vital elements in the process of becoming successful.

Thank you to Carl Weber, Roy Glenn, Arvita Glenn, and the Urban Books family for believing in my work, once again.

Most importantly, a special thanks goes out to all of the fans. Thank you for the feedback and encouragement.

Thank you to my parents, Rodney and Shelly Camm, and my sister Melanie for the encouragement and support. To Jessica Tilles and Niko Hamm, thank you for critiquing my work and pushing me to write to the best of my ability.

To my friends and family, Mr. and Mrs. Ballinger, Chunichi Knott, Tiffany Ballinger, Lachele Edmonds, Chrissy Smith, Sara Schiable, Linda Potts, Pat Howell, Calvin Hatcher, Kisha Powell, the entire Wade family, and Renee Bobbs, thank you for your kind words of encouragement.

To the online writing groups, RealSistaWriters and Writers’ Rx, thank you for always sending me important information pertaining to the book world. A special thanks to Gevell Wagner for taking the time out to read my work.

To Nikki Turner, Tobias Fox, Edwin and Earnest McNair, Michael Baisden, Shannon Holmes, Zane, and Mary Monroe, thank you for steering me in the right direction.

My name is Alexis Kayla Gibbs and I have an addiction. His name is Jarrad Simmons, and for the past three years, I’ve struggled to insert the key to unlock the undeserving hold he has on my heart. Through thick and thin, I’ve been by his side and tolerated his shit, but all I receive are fruitless promises and commitments, and countless trips to the abortion clinic, because he doesn’t like to use condoms. He says he can’t feel anything. Well, Jarrad, guess what? I feel the killing of a life each time my legs are hoisted in the air and strapped down in stirrups, you bastard! I wised up and got on birth control after the third tormenting abortion.

Mercedes Benz, Lexus, diamond and platinum jewelry, enough bling to brighten up a black hole. Summers in the Hamptons, winters in Miami, and in between, vacations in Brazil, Paris, Jamaica, Tobago, and any place the urge strikes to temporarily plant my feet. Women would give their first-born to walk in Jimmy Choo’s. But, trust me, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.

* * *

The material things mean nothing to me. I stopped being materialistic a long time ago. What matters to me is that I have Jarrad by my side. Cravings for him run deep, sometimes to the point where I feel suffocated.

You want to know what’s funny? I truly believed in my heart and soul Jarrad was going to leave his wife for me. I watch Oprah and Maury daily. I should’ve known better. Each time he says, “Baby, I’m going to ask her for the divorce soon,” I roll my eyes and mumble to myself, “I’ll believe that shit when I see it.”

I had my opportunities to burst his bubble and spill my guts to the
fake
Mrs. Simmons. However, I remained quiet. Besides, there was no need to rock the boat and fuck up my lifestyle. But I do make sure he feels the rapture of my anger and frustration every chance I get. Believe me, he suffers. Only, not like I suffer being the mistress to a married man. I loved him so much, it hurt, and deep down in my heart, I knew he loved me too, but not enough to change my last name.

As the years went on, I began to realize that Jarrad was the problem and not wifey. He kept me tucked away, like a precious fourteen-karat diamond that’s worth millions. And, thanks to my father, I’d known this life far too well. I didn’t know any other way to live.

The door slammed so hard that I thought for sure it would put a crack in the wall and all of the pictures on the shelves would come tumbling down. An ice-cold chill went down my spine as I lay down scared in the bed. Something wasn’t right. I decided to tiptoe down the stairs to see what the commotion was. I got to the sixth step and stopped because I didn’t want anyone to see me lurking in the shadows of the darkness. Everyone stopped in the kitchen.

Ma was fuming as she rubbed her round, firm, pregnant belly. “Robert, you no-good bastard, I’ve had enough! I want you and your shit out of my house!” Ma commanded.

It had been at least three months since my parents stopped fighting. Now this . . . just when the house was starting to get back to normal. All Ma ever wanted was for us to be a family.

“I’m carrying your baby and you have the nerve to cheat on me for the fifth time,” she barked, slamming her fist on the table.

“Baby, please you’ve got it all wrong. Just listen to me.” Pop tried to hold her hand.

“Cut the bullshit! How dare you insult my fucking intelligence. I shouldn’t have to track your sorry ass down at some bar at four in the damn morning.”

Ma was angrier than I’d ever seen, and Pop was like a dirty dog with his tail between his legs, begging for forgiveness, and trying to drum up the best excuse he could muster.

“And you had the audacity to have your fucking tongue down her throat for all the world to see. The last time I checked, you don’t tongue-kiss a friend. What kind of fool do you take me for?” Ma had tears in her eyes.

Pop continued to plead for Ma’s forgiveness. “It was nothing. It meant nothing. I mean, I do admit I did get a li’l tipsy . . . But it won’t ever happen again. I give you my word, hon’. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Pop sulked and shook his head.

Ma raised her palms in the air and yelled to top of her lungs. “Shut up, shut up. Just shut the hell up!” She turned back to Pop and leaned over the counter. Ma lowered her head, as if in prayer. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“I knew you were with her. Since I slapped your tasteful lust out of her mouth, maybe she’ll leave your sorry ass alone. Robert! I don’t want to hear any more of your lame excuses.” She spoke between clenched teeth, her jaws tight.

I moved in closer to the kitchen and leaned in the doorway. I’d never seen Ma like this before. She was scaring me. This whole mess was scaring me. Pop’s messing around had finally come back around to bite him in the butt. Ma opened her eyes and glared at the knife laying on the counter. She inched her fingers closer to the knife. “You can’t keep your dick inside your pants.” She wrapped her fingers around it.

“Pussy is on your mind twenty-four/seven.” Ma quickly turned around and began wailing the knife in the air at Pop.

He jumped to his feet and stepped back toward the door, getting out of her way. “Okay, honey. This is getting out of hand. Put the knife down!”

“Fuck you! I’ll put this knife down when I’m done cutting your throat!”

I darted in the kitchen past Pop and dropped down to Ma’s feet, wrapping myself around her legs. “Ma, Ma, please stop crying!”

She looked down at me and lowered her shoulders. She looked at Pop and gazed angrily into his eyes.

“Look at what you’re doing to your own daughter, let alone this family.” Ma began to weep hysterically, the knife still affixed to the palm of her hand and held high above her head.

Uncle Freddy and Aunt Cecily had made their way out of slumber and into the kitchen, due to all of Ma’s screaming at the top of her lungs. They were staying with us for a little while just till their new house was built. Both stood in the doorway, alarmed at what was taking place before them.

Aunt Cecily called out to Ma, “Viv, don’t do this. He’s not worth it.” She began to walk toward Ma slowly and with extreme caution.

Uncle Freddy slowly followed on Aunt Cecily’s heels, mimicking her every move. “Cecily is right, Viv. No man is worth all of this. Think about Alexis and your baby.”

Aunt Cecily recognized that Ma was a time bomb that could explode any minute. “Viv, give me the knife, honey.” She extended her hand toward Ma.

“Please, Viv,” she whispered, “give me the knife.”

Uncle Freddy walked behind Ma as if he were walking on thin ice. He looked mortified at an angry woman wailing around a butcher’s knife. He slowly grabbed her by the arms and whispered in her ear. “He ain’t worth it.”

Ma stared off into space as she surrendered, gently placing the knife into Aunt Cecily’s hand and shaking her head repeatedly.

Aunt Cecily placed the knife in the drawer. She turned to Ma and kissed her on the cheek before embracing her. “It’s going to be all right.” She looked down at me and pulled me up to my feet. “Baby, your momma is going to be all right. Go to your room, sweetheart.”

I looked up at Ma. I always obeyed Aunt Cecily, but this time I had to get permission from Ma. I had to know it was all right for me to leave her. “Ma?”

“Go to your room, Alexis. Pack a few outfits and come right back, baby,” Ma instructed.

Aunt Cecily and Uncle Freddie were more of a stable couple. I never saw them fight. If things got too rough, Ma would send me over to their house, where I was treated like a true princess. Ice cream, candy, cookies galore, and all for me.

I got my clothes and ran back downstairs and into the kitchen with my bag and my favorite teddy bear, Jelly Bean, in my hands.

Ma did get one good lick at Pop, grazing his arm. I saw tiny drops of blood trickling down.

“I hate you.” She spat in his face.

“Don’t go. I love you. I’ll make it up to you.” Pop got on his hands and knees. “I told you, those other women don’t mean anything to me. You will always have my heart,” Pop proclaimed, pointing to it.

“Your heart got you home this morning and not last night. I’m tired of this, Robert. I can’t do it anymore. You’re driving me crazy. We have a child, and another on the way.”

I knew this song and dance all too well. Still every time, I cried. I didn’t want the most two important people of my life at each other’s throats.

“In the morning, you better be out of my damn house. Let me remind you that knife in the drawer is my new best friend,” Ma devilishly smirked, walking to the door with my aunt, uncle, and myself following behind her.

Next stop, my Uncle Leroy’s house.