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Authors: Niobia Bryant

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BOOK: Mistress No More
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Renee looked over her shoulder at Jaime with a questioning look.
“I am Pleasure and please remember me, ladies, because I am here for all of your wants, desires, and of course,
pleasures
,” he said, reaching into his pocket for business cards to hand them.
Jaime’s mouth fell open.
No, he is not soliciting business in my face . . . from my friends!
She stepped between Aria and Renee, turning to snatch the cards from Aria and Renee’s grasp, tearing them in half. “Okay, you tripping,” she snapped, grabbing Pleasure’s strong arm and pulling him past Aria toward the door. “It’s my
pleasure
to show you the door,” she snapped.
Pleasure moved forward but turned to wave. “ ’Bye, ladies.”
Jaime moved behind him to push him to the door, motivated by anger, embarrassment, and jealousy. She hadn’t been that jealous when she’d thought Eric and Jessa Bell’s friendship was a cover for their affair—and that was way before that damn message.
What the . . . ?
Pleasure turned on the doorstep and bent down to kiss her cheek. Jaime leaned back like she was in
The Matrix
and tossed the torn pieces of his business cards against his face before she stepped back and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the doorframe.
Knowing their eyes were on her and their questions had long since formed in their heads, Jaime allowed herself a moment to compose herself—a trick from her days of being Mrs. Perfection.
When she turned to face them, she had a smile on her face. “Haven’t seen you two in a while. What’ve you been up to?”
Renee and Aria shared a long look before turning to face her again.
“What?” Jaime asked innocently, raising her hand to smooth her new shorter tresses.
“If he’s not a walking ‘fuck me’ sign I don’t know who is,” Renee drawled.
“And
soooo
. . . are y’all fucking?” Aria asked with a comic expression as she took in Jaime’s obvious nakedness under her clinging silk robe.
“Stay focused,” Renee cut in before Jaime could say yay or nay.
“Focused on what?” Jaime asked, her anger at Pleasure still nipping at her even as she tried to hide it.
Renee and Aria shared another look.
“What?” Jaime snapped in irritation.
“Aria saw Jessa today,” Renee began, biting her bottom lip.
Jaime arched a brow as she waved her hand dismissively. “I ignored it. I was . . . busy at the time and I’ve moved on from it. Calling divorce lawyers. Ending the marriage. Eric and I are done. . . .”
The rest of her words faded as she zoned in on the faces of her friends. Jaime’s heart felt like it dropped to her stomach. Jaime frowned so deeply she swore she could see her eyebrows lowered in front of her eyes. She felt like someone had kicked her square in the gut.
Oh. Hell. No.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Are you . . . are you . . . here to tell me . . .
me
. . . that it was Eric? Seriously ? Seriously.”
Aria stepped up and took Jaime’s hand in hers as she nodded. “I snatched her phone and his numbers—house, cell, all of them—were in her phone. There was a picture text from his cell number and I saw way more of Eric than I needed to see ever. E-
ver
. Okay?”
“Aria,” Renee snapped, stepping up to wrap an arm around Jaime’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Aria added.
Jaime shifted and freed herself of their touch and embrace. She closed her eyes as anger nearly consumed her like fire from the very gates of hell.
“Jaime, I know you loved Eric very much,” Renee began.
Jaime whirled on them. They both stepped back at the look on her face. “Love him? I used to, but having your husband treat you like a hired sex slave while calling you every disgusting and degrading name in the book killed that love a long time ago.”
“What?” Renee and Aria gasped in unison.
Jaime felt like she was standing deep in the midst of an emotional tornado. “I can’t care less that Eric carried his dead-ass fucking to Jessa or that he lied about their friendship. No, no, no, I am furious that he treated me like shit on his shoes for fucking Pleasure one time—”
“So y’all was fucking?” Aria asked.
Jaime ignored her. “One time. One time,” she stressed, tears filling her eyes, “Y’all don’t know what I went through. What he put me through. What I put myself through to make my marriage work and the whole time I was fighting and dealing and pretending for . . .
for nothing
?”
Jaime felt her entire body shake and tears of anger and frustration raced down her cheek. She’d thought she didn’t care. She’d thought it didn’t matter. “I fought hard, I begged, I pleaded, I felt so guilty, I let myself be degraded for his forgiveness and . . . and . . . and—and the whole time he’s fucking Jessa. Like, are you fucking kidding me right now?”
This was wrong. Seriously wrong.
Jaime grabbed her keys from the small table in the foyer and yanked the front door open wide with so much force it slammed against the adjacent wall. She flew down the walkway.
“Jaime, where are you going in your robe?” Renee called behind her.
Jaime didn’t answer them and barely noticed her next-door neighbor, Lucas Neal, waving from his front yard. She hopped into her car and had just one thing on her mind. To hell with everything and everyone else.
Chapter 6
A
s soon as the front door of the house opened, Jaime swung and landed a hard punch to Eric’s jaw. He stumbled back, more in surprise than from the actual weight of her blow. “After everything degrading and disgusting thing you put me through, punishing me for
my
affair, you were the bastard fucking Jessa Bell?” she roared.
“Jaime, no, don’t,” Renee said from behind her, running up the stairs to try and catch her.
Jaime whirled on Renee as Aria parked the car and raced up the driveway to rush up onto the porch. “Thanks for the backup, but I got this. I’ll be with you in just a second,” she said, before stepping back and firmly closing the door in their faces.
Her eyes blazed like the fiery bowels of hell as she turned to face him. “After all the shit you put me through you were the bastard cheating with Jessa? After all of your lies that you two were just friends? After your bullshit that you would never fuck your dead friend’s widow?” she roared. “You were the low-down, deceiving, conniving, underhanded son of a bitch?”
Eric shook his head calmly as he watched her closely. “That’s a lie, Jaime, and you know it.”
“No, our bullshit marriage was a lie. From the beginning it was a lie. Everything about it was a lie.” Jaime crossed her arms over her chest to keep from striking out at him again as she eyed this man she’d once thought she loved.
Eric slid his hands into the pocket of his tailored slacks. “There’s no way Jessa told you that and if she did she’s a liar,” he said, his voice and stance hardening. “I don’t have time for this foolishness. Our marriage doesn’t have time for it. Why are you running around the city in a damn robe anyway? It’s not appropriate.”
Jaime’s chest began to fill with hysterical laughter that she couldn’t hold back. As it spilled from her mouth she began to wonder if she was losing her mind. The way he strangely eyed her, she knew he wondered the same thing. “Inappropriate?
I’m
inappropriate? No, motherfucker. No. I’m not a damn thing but free of your ass.”
“You knew I didn’t believe in divorce going in and nothing has changed. I’m not getting a divorce. I don’t want one. My faith does not allow for one. If it did I would have divorced you after your affair . . . but I didn’t,” Eric said plainly, turning to walk out of the living room and toward the kitchen.
Jaime’s anger soared. “If I knew the sex was going to be as dry as dust I wouldn’t have married you,” she yelled behind him. “And I wouldn’t have cheated on your ass.”
He froze.
She steeled herself. She wanted to hurt him, anger him, and get more of the truth from him.
He turned to look at her. His square and handsome face was cold and hard, cloaked by that hate-filled mask that she had come to find familiar in the days after her affair. “Don’t make excuses for being a slut, Jaime.”
Jaime felt that familiar uneasiness in her soul whenever she was alone with him and all semblance of their charade gone. She pushed it aside. That Jaime was gone and like a caterpillar turned butterfly or phoenix rising from the ashes, someone new stood before him. “And don’t make excuses for the sadistic sex freak that you are, pervert.”
Eric nodded as if they dueled and he acknowledged her strike. “Our marital bed was not your problem, it was your fault.”
That stung, but Jaime literally shrugged off the insult. “I was a virgin. A clean slate for you to teach and to mold. You failed. You didn’t step up to the challenge. You didn’t get the job done.”
Jaime arched a brow, chuckling as she thought of the passion Pleasure gave and received. “I thought it was my fault, too . . . until another man with more skill made me come . . . for the
very
first time in my life.”
Eric nodded again. Another acknowledgement. “It’s funny, but the pussy didn’t get interesting
until
I fucked you like the whore you are.”
The gloves were off.
“I think I owe Jessa thanks actually because I thought your ass was a closet homosexual looking for a woman to be your mustache as your cover.” Jaime arched her brow and eyed him from head to toe. “Maybe one of them high and holy Catholic priests brought the little fag out of you.”
Quicker than the snap of a finger, Eric took two large steps and grabbed Jaime by the throat, slamming her back against the door so hard that it jarred the mirror from the adjacent wall, sending it crashing to the floor. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
As she struggled to kick at him and free his hands from her neck, Jaime flashed back to the night she’d left him. Same shit. Different day.
Boom-boom-boom.
“Jaime, open this door. What’s going on in there?” Jaime brought her hands up and scratched at his face as she fought to get out the words, “Let me go, bitch.”
“Take it back,” he demanded, not even flinching from the long scratch down the side of his face. “Take it back.”
Boom-boom-boom.
“Open this damn door or I’m calling the police.”
Suddenly she was free and she shoved his chest hard. “If you ever put your hands on me again I will have you thrown in jail,” she told him, her throat hoarse from the pressure of his hands.
Eric sneered. “I gave as good as I got.”
“And so Jessa got better?” she snapped at him.
“She gave better!” he shot back, instantly looking like he regretted his words.
Jaime clapped sarcastically. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said, opening the door. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”
He grabbed at her arm. “Jaime.”
Renee and Aria turned to look at them.
“Jaime, are you okay?” Renee asked, her eyes dropping down to Eric’s hand tightly grasping her upper arm and then up to the dark bruises already forming on her throat.
“Let her arm go, Eric,” Aria warned, her eyes hardening.
Jaime whirled on him, pulling her arm free and slapping him across the cheek in one fluid, anger-filled motion.
WHAP!
Aria and Renee both gasped sharply.
“How long, huh? How long were you screwing Jessa Bell behind my back? Huh? How long?” she asked him coldly, her eyes blazing as her fists clenched and unclenched.
Eric just slid his hands into the pocket of his slacks, his expression blank. “I love you, Jaime. I am going to prove that to you.”
Jaime’s anger dissipated and her confusion and disbelief reigned at how quickly he’d slipped into the charade in front of Renee and Aria. Standing there like a stream of blood wasn’t running down the side of his face and dripping onto his Polo shirt. Who was this man she’d married? Tears filled her eyes. “You are crazy and I thank God that I am free of you.”
She turned and welcomed the arms of her friends as they walked her off the porch and away from a man that she knew was a stranger to her.
Renee accepted the glass of red sangria Aria handed her and Jaime. Truly she wanted—needed—something more. Something stronger that would numb the pain and not just serve as a cute summer refreshment for three friends reconnecting.
“Aria, do you have a mirror?” Jaime asked, gently touching the tender bruises on her neck with her fingertips.
“Sure do. I’ll go get it.” Aria walked into the kitchen from where they sat on the deck at the rear of the house.
Renee eyed Jaime over the rim of her wine goblet. “Why didn’t you tell us the truth?”
Jaime shrugged. “Pride. Stupidity. Trying to please everybody but myself,” she admitted, smoothing the cotton maxi dress Aria had given her to wear.
“I thought you and Eric had the perfect marriage,” Renee said.
Jaime shook her head. “We gave the perfect performance.”
Aria walked out onto the deck with the mirror in one hand and the pitcher of sangria in the other. She handed Jaime the mirror and refreshed Renee’s glass. “I’ve been trying to call Kingston, but his phone is off,” she said.
“No worries now, huh?” Jaime said.
Aria did a double take. “I will never sleep, trust and believe that, but I do owe him an apology for this Jessa bullshit. Hell, I’m still not sure he’ll forgive me when he believes I should have trusted him.”
“That is lightweight compared to me and Eric,” Jaime said, studying the bruises on her neck in the mirror.
Renee took the whole goblet to the head in one gulp, drawing Aria’s and Jaime’s questioning stares. “What? Walk in these size tens and then judge me,” she drawled, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wicker chaise lounge.
“Jackson still bitching about you working?” Jamie asked.
Renee opened one eye. “I wish. Hmph, I spent that whole day worrying about Jessa Bell only to have my husband come home to tell me he’d had a one night-stand—”
Jaime grimaced.
“And she’s pregnant,” Renee added.
“Oooh.” Jaime looked to Aria, who solemnly nodded in confirmation.
Renee shook her head as she tapped a fingernail against her empty goblet, signaling she needed a refill. “And she’s white. Blond hair, blue-eyed white.”
Aria shook her head. “Not the olive-skinned brunette who might pass for a mixed sistah or a Latina?”
Renee scoffed. “
Hell
to the no.”
“Wow. I know it’s 2011 and it shouldn’t matter and the world should be color-blind and all that good shit, but that is insult on top of injury right there.” Aria sat up in her chair.
“Why? Pussy is pussy,” Jaime said. “The fact is Jackson had an affair with another woman and who cares if she’s blue, black, green, or white. It doesn’t make it more wrong because she’s white. It’s just wrong period.”
“Yes, but I would feel like is she offering him something he’s always coveted and how can you compete with this myth of the freaky white chicks who swallow, butt fuck, and the whole nine.”
“So there are no freaky
black
women?” Jaime asked in disbelief.
“Listen, there’s not a damn thing me and Kingston haven’t done and I mean nothing, even down to golden showers . . . but there is this idea white chicks are complacent and giving and serving and we’re just the angry black bitches who don’t let a man be a man and ya-ya-ya and all that dumb shit. It’s more than another woman, it’s competing with a myth. That’s all I’m saying.”
Renee sighed. “So maybe I was that stereotypical strong black woman who pushed my husband into the arms of this white woman?”
Aria just held up her hands. “But that’s not your fault or your issue, it’s Jackson’s. You did nothing wrong and he shoulda dealt with whatever issues y’all had better and gotten to the root of why he is so afraid of you having a career.”
Renee smiled. “That therapy is something, huh?”
Aria shrugged. “Now that the mystery is solved I’m ready to throw up a deuce to the therapy, but I did learn that there’s a reason for everything.”
Renee looked off into the distance. “Sometimes I feel like my life is a movie and I’m just somebody waiting along with all the moviegoers to see how it all turns out.”
She thought about the bottle of tequila stashed away under her mattress. She licked her lips as she craved a drink. The sangria just wasn’t cutting it. “My life went from this romantic love story to a fucking horror show.”
“Are
you
going to file for divorce?” Jaime asked.
Renee shrugged. “Honestly, my mind hasn’t gotten that far yet.”
Aria sat up in the chair and looked at Renee like she was crazy. “You’re thinking about taking Jackson back, Renee? Hell to the no.”
The thirst for the tequila grew.
“You’re wrong, Aria. Don’t ever say what you will or will not take or do or say because you never know until you’re in the position to decide.” Jaime reached over and patted Renee’s hand. “It’s your marriage, your pain, your decision.”
“Wow. I know you are not coming with the holier-than-thou, forgive-and-forget, marriage-is-’til-death crap?”
BOOK: Mistress No More
9.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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