Mistress, Inc. (16 page)

Read Mistress, Inc. Online

Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Mistress, Inc.
2.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
He pulled up to her home and Jessa spotted a black four-door Lexus sitting in her drive. She recognized the car. It was Eric’s parents. Jaime had to have let them into the subdivision unless they still had Eric’s security code. Either way, here they were waiting on her.
Without a doubt it was about the baby.
Jessa smoothed the edges of her skirt and arranged the layers of her jet-black hair behind her ears as the SUV slid to a stop. She placed her iPad back into her Louis Vuitton tote and gathered her pocketbook just as the passenger door opened and the driver extended his hand to help her out.
Determined to maintain her composure, Jessa smoothed her white linen dress over her curves and literally flexed her shoulders before making her way to her front door. She had barely passed the hood of the car when both front doors opened and the Halls climbed out. Jessa unlocked her door and pushed the door open wide just as the driver jogged up the steps with her luggage and set it in the foyer. She gave him a stiff smile and slid a fifty-dollar tip into his hand without a word of thanks.
“Jessa, I think it’s time we all talked. Don’t you?”
She turned on the doorstep to eye Eric’s father. She hadn’t seen him since the day of his son’s funeral when he escorted her out the church and proceeded to make a slick pass at her. He was an older, slightly shorter version of Eric with square features and deep-set eyes.
“If you think so,” Jessa said coolly as she shifted her eyes to Mrs. Hall, looking prim and proper in her peach coatdress, wide-brimmed church hat, and pearls.
She stepped back and allowed them to enter the house before her. She closed the front door and saw them headed into her living room. “No!” she shouted out in a knee-jerk reaction.
They both stopped and turned to eye her.
She couldn’t let them sit in the room where their son had killed himself. She just couldn’t.
“So is it okay if we talk in my den,” Jessa said, already turning to head down the hall leading to the rear of her house. They followed behind her.
Sunlight beamed through the entire room from the wall of ceiling-to-floor windows that showcased her beautifully landscaped backyard. Jessa waved her hand at one of the large oversized suede sofas as she took a seat in one of the two club chairs facing them across the large leather ottoman.
“How can I help you?” she asked as soon as they took their seat. Jessa wanted to gain and maintain control of the conversation.
“It has come to our attention that you claim to be pregnant with our son’s child,” Eric Sr. began, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.
“Make I ask your source?” Jessa asked as she crossed her leg and settled back against the comfort of the chair.
“Does it matter?” Mrs. Hall snapped.
Jessa curved the corner of her mouth into a smile. “I guess not, Mrs. Hall.”
The woman set up on the edge of the sofa and pointed her finger at Jessa as she gave her an Aunt Ester one-eyed stare. “Your attitude really disturbs me. You seem too cocky and damn cool for a woman who didn’t have the gall or the class to let us now that you
may be
pregnant with our dead son’s child,” she said coldly, even as her eyes filled with tears.
“If there are any doubts about the paternity, one or both of you can submit a DNA sample for a grandparentage test that would prove Eric is indeed the father,” Jessa told them.
“And you are considering suing the estate on behalf of the child?” Eric Sr. asked.
“Yes, I’m considering it. I’m sure you both know your son would want his child taken care of. I’m sure you want the same.”
“What I want is for my son to be alive and committed to his marriage,” Mrs. Hall snapped as her husband pressed his handkerchief into her hand. “And it’s your fault he is dead.”
Jessa looked at the woman as if she was crazy. “Excuse me—and I mean no disrespect—but no one is to blame for Eric’s death but Eric,” she stressed as she felt her entire body tense.
“We don’t know what
really
happened that night?”
Jessa sat up in her chair. “Then I’ll tell you since you obviously did not read the police report
or
the autopsy. Your son, after weeks of harassing and stalking me because I
ended
the affair, came to my home and attempted to kill me by strangulation, and when I passed out he shot himself,” she told the woman with ferocity in her eyes and her voice.
“Liar!” Mrs. Hall roared, jumping to her foot. “You lying whore!”
“Kittie,” Mr. Hall said in warning, rising to his feet as well.
Jessa remained in her seat and forced herself to relax her body as she settled back in her seat. “I will excuse your bad manners because I can understand the delusions of a parent not willing to accept that the son they spoon-fed and raised was crazy,” she said calmly, her eyes locked with the stormy ones of his mother.
“If that is my son’s child you are carrying, we will sue you for custody and we will use any means to win. Do you understand me?” Mrs. Hall said, standing over Jessa.
Jessa rose to her feet and looked down into the woman’s face as they stood close enough to kiss or fight. “I see where Eric gets his crazy from, and if you think I am going to turn over my baby to you to be turned into a fruitcake like your son, then you are out of your motherfucking mind. Don’t
fuck
with me about my baby. Now, do
you
understand
me?
” Jessa told her in a cold and hard voice that still held nothing on the chill in her eyes.
Mr. Hall pressed his body in between them. “Jessa, you’ll be hearing from our attorneys,” he said, before guiding his crying wife out of the house.
As soon as Jessa heard the front door close behind them, she lost all of her strength. All of her fight. Her knees gave out beneath her and her body sank to the floor as she felt fear like nothing else she ever knew evoke wretched tears.
She couldn’t let them take this baby. She couldn’t.
But secrets long hidden shook Jessa’s very foundation, and she knew if they were discovered that she may very well lose.
Chapter 12
Two months later
 
J
essa looked in the mirror at the changes to her face now that her pregnancy was fully blossoming on her body. Her natural hair was fuller and thicker. Her face was glowing—she hardly needed bronzer. Even though she thought she had the cheeks of a chipmunk, the nose of a bulldog, and her neck was slightly darker than the rest of her caramel complexion. Her belly was swollen with life, her titties felt as heavy as punching bags, and sometimes her feet were too pudgy for her fabulous collection of designer shoes.
Still, she was loving every minute of it. She was glad to be in the moment and old enough to realize the gift of motherhood.
And that’s why she would move out of the country and stay on the run before she let ANYONE else raise this child.
She hadn’t heard anything from the Halls, and her attorney, Lincoln, assured her they were probably waiting for the birth of the child to confirm paternity. And because she had denied risking her pregnancy for a prenatal paternity test, she had, in turn, put her lawsuit against Eric’s estate on hold as well.
Everything was in limbo as they
all
waited for the birth of her baby.
“You ready?” Myra asked as she walked up to Jessa as she sat in the makeup chair.
“A little nervous about an inspirational talk show, but I think I’m ready,” Jessa said, splaying her fingers on her belly.
“Don’t be nervous. We talk all the time and you honestly have increased the presence of spirituality and religion in your life, and that’s what you’re here to speak about,” Myra crossed her arms over her shoulder as she leaned her buttocks back against the Formica counter.
“A friend of mine from the church has been really helping me to focus and see things different, and it’s been good. I feel more connected and aware of God’s presence, you know?”
That day after the Halls left her home with their threats still resting heavily on her mind, she had made her way to the church and Henry was there volunteering to help clean the church as a part of his tithing.
She had surprised herself when she confided in him about the threats of a custody battle from the Halls. That man had immediately set aside his broom and gathered her hands in his to seriously pray for her and then taught her how to pray.
And in the weeks following, Jessa called on him. To pray. To talk. To be counseled. To help her do physical things around the house. To laugh.
Henry had truly become her friend and she was grateful for him. Although many of the church members speculated that there was more between them, Henry had never stepped to her that way. And she was grateful for that.
If only I hadn’t crossed that line with Eric.
“They are ready for you on the set, Ms. Bell,” a stagehand said.
Jessa rose to her feet in her heels (three inches instead of four) and smoothed the peach metallic maternity trench coat she wore over a silk ivory cap sleeve sweater and wide-leg wool pants of the same color.
Once Jessa was seated in the leather club chair on the stage, she was glad that there was no studio audience and just lots of brilliant lights to make her sweat. Franklin Cash stepped his tall and wiry frame onto the stage and extended one of his large hands to her.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice surprisingly deep for his thin frame.
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she said politely, when in truth she had never heard of the man.
Myra assured her that he was the minister of a mega-church of more than ten thousand members in New York, and his talk show was one of the highest rated shows on The Christian Network.
According to Myra, this interview could possibly be just as major as the ones she did on
Kerry Kay
and other national talk shows.
Jessa let Myra adjust her hair as Reverend Cash was equipped with his mic pac. “Thanks,” she told her, as she shifted her body to a comfortable position in the chair that was not as comfortable as it looked, especially for a six months’ pregnant woman.
Suddenly everyone cleared the stage as the director counted them down.
“And welcome to back to
Total Insight,
” Reverend Cash said.
Jessa fixed her face into neutrality as she faced the camera and prepared herself to tell her story—and relive it—all over again.
Over the next twenty minutes Jessa felt herself relax as the minister not only interviewed her but delivered words of encouragement.
“I think it’s a wonderful testimony of God’s ever increasing presence in your life that you survived and used that terrible act to attend church and study the Bible,” Reverend Cash said. “To me, I think God was in your life before then and you just didn’t recognize it.”
Jessa nodded in understanding even though she thought,
How much longer is this interview?
She was feeling tired and had woken early to get to the station for hair and makeup.
“Jessa, when I was thinking about your story and the path you traveled during your journey and in researching you a little bit ...”
Jessa tensed and fought to keep her face neutral.
“We learned you were raised by your grandmother,” he said.
Jessa felt her left eye twitch. “Yes, I was, and she made sure I was in church every Sunday, and I’m grateful for that foundation even though I strayed away from it once I was on my own and in college. It feels good to be back in touch with my spirituality,” she said.
“And you were raised by your grandmother because ...”
Jessa crossed her hands in her lap as she flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “No disrespect, but it’s not relevant to my story. That’s very personal and I prefer not to discuss my mother,” she said with what she hoped was finality in her tone.
“I can understand that ... and her absence may very well be a part of some of the decisions you have made, and so we thought the best way to strengthen your walk with God would be to correct the lack of a mother-daughter relationship.” Reverend Cash rose to his feet.
Jessa hated everything about that moment. Everything.
I know they did not ...
Her heart was pounding as she leaned past the minister’s frame to see an older and overweight version of herself walking out onstage. Jessa gasped as her façade broke. Her usual perfectly placed control was shot as she rose to her feet as her mother, Darla, pulled her into a tight embrace.
“My baby,” she sighed with tears in her eyes.
For a moment, Jessa was transported back to a time when she was six and her mother was her world. She pressed her nose into her mother’s now fleshy neck and inhaled. She was hoping that familiar scent of her flowery perfume was nestled there. But it wasn’t.
Instead, she faintly smelled alcohol.
“I missed my little girl,” Darla whispered.
The scent of alcohol doubled.
And that brought all the warm and yummy feelings crashing to an end.
Jessa leaned back to look into her mother’s eyes, and she found them to be yellowed and aged and glassy. As a little girl she didn’t know that the clear liquid that looked like water but burned her throat was alcohol. And she didn’t know that the little pills her mother swallowed were drugs.
She was all grown now and Jessa knew that standing before her was an addict. And she wasn’t having that fact exposed on television.
“Revered Cash, I thank you for this moment and this reconnection with my mother, but this is definitely a private moment that I do not want to happen on television,” Jessa said as she removed both her and her mother’s audio.
“What? Why?” Darla whined dramatically as Jessa guided her off the stage.
“Cut!”
someone barked over the loud speaker.
“Ms. Bell, we still have one more segment to record,” Reverend Cash called behind her. Myra scrambled to catch up with Jessa’s long strides. Several producers followed them down the hall leading to her dressing room. Her mother jerked away from her in anger.
“You been all over television!” Darla screeched, her eyes wild and big as she pointed her finger in Jessa’s face. “Why can’t I be on TV just like you? Huh? Are you ashamed of me? Or ... or ... are you afraid that they’ll like me more than you? Or is being some man’s mistress a bigger deal than your mother?”
Jessa stiffened from the attack. “Mother?” she said snidely.
“Jessa, don’t,” Myra said in gentle warning.
“A mother doesn’t leave their child behind for a life of men, liquor, and drugs,” Jessa said coldly, all the years of pain, disappointment, and rejection surfacing in a rush that made her heart pound and her head spin. “How dare you question me when I haven’t seen you in over twenty-five years?”
Darla pushed up off the wall of the hallway and swung, slapping Jessa harshly.
Everyone gathered in the hall gasped as Jessa’s head swung to the left as she pressed her hand to her cheek where it stung.
“I am your mother and you will respect MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Darla screamed at the top of her lungs, drawing the word out for what seemed all eternity, before she suddenly broke into a maniacal laughter that was eerie.
Jessa stepped back from the craziness she saw in her mother’s eyes. She felt weak and confused and a little a dazed from the slap.
Everyone watched Darla with their mouths slightly ajar and the area around them was library quiet.
“I see now the best thing you did for me was stay the hell away,” Jessa said in a soft voice that was still loud with her pain.
With one last look, Jessa turned to walk away. Everyone pressed their bodies against the walls of the halls to let Jessa through the melee.
“No, Jessa. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Jessa paused at her mother sounding like a five-year-old child. She turned and her eyes widened as Darla’s eyes flittered wildly from left to right as she dropped to her knees with tears already in her eyes and flowing down her cheeks.
“Jessa, please don’t leave me,” Darla begged, moving forward on her knees to pull at Jessa’s legs.
What the hell?
Darla’s sobs echoed in the hall.
Jessa reached for her mother’s pudgy hands and motioned for her to rise to her feet. “Stop crying, Mama. I won’t leave you. I won’t,” she said, the switch in her mother’s affect and demeanor completely shaking her. This was more than the emotional swings of a drunk.
Darla continued to sob as she rose to her feet. Jessa wrapped her arm around her mother’s broad shoulders and hugged her close. “Come on, Mama. Let’s go home,” she said softly, motioning for Myra to get her things from the dressing room.
“This, Jessa. My baby Jessa. See. I told you I had a daughter,” Darla said, patting her daughter’s hand. “Y’all thought I was lying about my Jessa.”
Jessa led her mother out the studio, the bite of early winter nipping at them.
Who in the hell is she talking to?
After motioning for her driver to pull up and help her mother into the rear of the SUV, Jessa turned to find Myra on her cell phone.
“If I see one word of this in print, your ass is mine, Myra,” Jessa warned her.
Myra ended her call. “Jessa, please don’t question my integrity. Your mother is obviously in need of care.”
“Were you in on this?” Jessa asked, taking her tote and a rolling carry-on she assumed was her mother’s from the publicist.
“No, definitely not. I would have prescreened everything before,” Myra said. “I honestly think they were trying to do something nice for you.”
Jessa arched a brow. “And no one saw she was drunk?”
“They claim she wasn’t when they escorted her to the green room. They’re thinking she must have brought it with her.”
Jessa nodded in understanding.
“Well, I asked them to give you whatever info they found on her,” Myra said, reaching in her briefcase for a thin green folder that she handed over to Jessa.
She pursed her lips and breathed deeply, pressing a hand to her lower back before she reached for the folder.
“Not the reunion you dreamed of, huh?” Myra asked gingerly.
Jessa opened the folder and looked down at its contents. “I can’t say that because I never thought I would see my mother again,” she admitted. “I better go.”
Myra opened her mouth to say something and then seemed to change her mind. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Jessa closed the folder and tucked it under her arm before she turned and climbed into the back of the SUV before the driver even had a chance to leave the driver’s seat to help her.
The heat was on and the interior was toasty. Jessa was glad for that. Her mother was slumped in the corner and her head was tilted back with her mouth ajar as she snored.
“You ready, Ms. Bell?” he asked.

Other books

Road to Paradise by Paullina Simons
Nightfall by David Goodis
Flirting with Disaster by Sherryl Woods
The Crow Eaters by Bapsi Sidhwa