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Authors: Niobia Bryant

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BOOK: Mistress, Inc.
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Chapter 4
“I
think you are going to love it, Ms. Bell.”
Jessa gave Keegan Connor, her red-haired interior decorator, a Texas transplant who refused to let go of her Texas roots or accent, a smile as she continued down the stairs with an ease that was as fake as Keegan’s hair color. Giving the banister one last firm clutch, Jessa stepped down off of the final step.
“You are really going to be amazed about what my team accomplished in two weeks, darling,” Keegan said, lightly placing her hand on Jessa’s back to steer her toward the living room.
Jessa fought the urge to touch her throat. The bruises were gone, but the memories remained. Wanting to be stronger, she took a deep breath and took long strides to walk into the living room. As she looked about the room, she didn’t recognize it. Everything had changed as promised. The décor was now warm and inviting instead of her usual cool sophistication. Gone was Eric’s blood staining her floors to be replaced by all new hardwoods that were nearly ebony in color. Even the windows were different, with metal bars arranged in large diamond shapes.
Jessa felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Some, but not all.
See, even with the room being flipped around with her new plush leather furnishings separated into two seating areas, Jessa still knew the spot where Eric choked her and then shot himself. Her eyes went to the set of four armless chairs situated around a huge tufted ottoman.
That was the spot. She would never forget it.
Keegan came to stand beside her. “Taking it all in?” she asked.
Jessa cleared her throat as she crossed her arms over her chest in the sheer ivory blouse she wore. It took her a moment to realize that her fingertips were lightly stroking her slender throat. She eased her hand down.
“Yes, it is
amazing.
Thank you, Keegan,” Jessa said warmly, turning her face to smile at the woman.
She was surprised when the woman lightly grabbed her arm. “I been where you’re at. Keep your head up, sugar,” Keegan told her softly, with a wink.
Jessa stiffened a little bit as she side-eyed the woman.
Keegan held up her hands and leaned back. “Not trying to offend—”
Jessa shook her head. “No, no, I’m sorry for trying to ignore the elephant in the room,” she said.
Keegan nodded in understanding. “I understand it’s not something you want to shout from the rooftop. Everyone hates the mistress, and the husband buys his wife some jewelry and kisses her butt for a few months and all is forgiven while they spend the rest of their life wishing the other woman to hell.”
“Exactly,” Jessa agreed as she watched Keegan move over to the sofa to make deeper dimples in the throw pillows with the sides of her hands.
“The man I was involved with took his wife on a month-long cruise around the world and I got blackballed out of Texas. No business. No friends. Nothing,” Keegan said, shrugging as she walked back over to Jessa.
“Is that why you moved to the East Coast?” Jessa asked, intrigued by the conversation.
“Oh, yes, it was either move and start fresh or sit there like a crocodile about to be skinned for those bitch’s shoes, darling,” she said dryly.
Jessa shook her head. “Would you ever date a married man again?”
“No, no. I’m the
Mrs.
now, so I spend all my free time making sure karma doesn’t bite me in the ass,” Keegan said, her eyes taking on a serious turn before she looked away.
Jessa’s eyebrows dipped as the moment became a little strained. She knew that Keegan truly did feel like her happiness had a time limit on it because of the wrongs of her past. “Tell me about this rug,” she said, surprised when she eased her arm around Keegan’s and tugged her forward wanting to distract her from her fears.
Keegan gave her a little smile before launching into a Vanna White description of the silk woven rug.
Jessa barely heard her, her thoughts were too occupied. Full. Ripe. Being bred with her own growing fear.
Were the sins of a mistress
ever
forgotten ... or forgiven?
 
Jessa took a deep, steadying breath before she climbed the stairs to the house. She pressed a red-tipped finger to the bell and then stepped back to wait. She crossed her arms over her chest as she saw the peephole darken.
It took a full ten seconds or better before the door opened.
“What are you up to now, Jessa?” Renee asked, her face more tired and agitated than angry.
“Can I come in?” Jessa asked, pressing her hands into the pockets of the ivory slacks she wore.
Renee’s square and pretty face became incredulous before she suddenly stepped back and waved her in.
Jessa couldn’t deny that she was surprised as she entered the home of her ex-friend for the first time in months. Nothing about the stylishly country décor had changed except the lack of any alcohol on the bar that held little more than a glass holder now.
“What do you want, Jessa?”
She turned. “To apologize for sending that text. It was childish and spiteful and ... and ... I was wrong,” Jessa said, leveling her eyes with the other woman to find them to be filled with suspicion.
“Why
did
you do it, Jessa?” Renee asked, finally stepping away from the closed front door. “Forget the affair. That’s for you and Jaime to deal with. Why on earth would you send that text to all of us like this was a dumb-ass game and we were your pawns. We were friends.
Good
friends.”
Jessa hated that she felt the weight of the guilt Renee was stacking on her shoulders. “Look, I’m not here to rehash it or be best friends again. I’m just apologizing for the text. That’s it.”
Renee tilted her head back and wiped her face with both of her hands. “Okay, you know what, I have so many other things on my plate. Um ... yeah ... so ... good night, Jessa.”
Dismissed.
Jessa had to press her lips together to keep from putting Renee in her place. She came looking for absolution from her sins, not to absolutely cuss Renee the fuck out.
Stay with me God, I’m trying ...
“Okay,” Jessa said, walking past Renee to open the front door.
“Jessa.”
She stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn.
“Aria told me that you thought we all turned and distrusted you and your motives with our husbands once Marc died,” Rene said from behind. “But you were wrong. I never questioned you until the day you sent the text.”
Jessa looked over her shoulder and arched her brow. “And so none of you ever said I was a walking ‘fuck me’ sign?” she asked, her voice low and challenging.
Renee’s eyes widened a bit.
“You three have to be careful of your little conversations when you think no one is around,” Jessa said with a fake smile. Jessa paused and let that sink in before she said softly, “Good night, Renee.”
She closed the door firmly, thinking back to the day she walked to Aria’s house and decided to come up the driveway and around to the patio doors. Her friends were sitting around the island and her steps paused when she overheard Jaime say:
“
We need to set Jessa up on a blind date so she’s not alone during our couples’ excursions looking like a walking ‘fuck me’ sign.”
“Jessa would never do that. Would she?” Renee said.
“Especially to me ... she knows I would whup that ass and good,” Aria said.
Jessa had stood there in the shadows and listened to her three friends laugh. She waited a few minutes and then entered with a fake smile on her face and all the while thinking that her best friends in the world didn’t even trust her.
Pushing the memory away as she felt her anger stir, Jessa made her way to Aria’s house. Honestly, Jessa didn’t trust that Newark-bred bitch as far as she could throw her. Ever since they met in college, Jessa had noticed that Aria was smart and studious, but she definitely had an edge like she was always two seconds from either cursing someone out or slapping them.
Opening Aria and Kingston’s mailbox, she took the folded envelope from her pocket and slid it inside before closing it. The front door opened and Kingston walked out on the porch. He said nothing as he jogged down the stairs, brushed past her, and snatched open the mailbox.
Jessa stepped back from him. “It’s just a note apologizing to Aria for sending that text,” she said calmly, as he turned to her with the letter balled in his hand.
Kingston shook his head as he eyed her. “If that’s what this really is—and not you starting some more shit in my marriage—then it’s still not enough,” he said, his dark and handsome face tight with some emotion.
Jessa figured it to be anger. She understood that. “If you could just give the letter to Aria,” she said before turning to walk away.
“No, Jessa. You owe me an apology as well and I want it.”
She paused and turned. “What?” Jessa asked, her face showing the surprise she felt.
Kingston pointed his finger at her accusingly. “You lied on me and you caused major trouble in my marriage, Jessa. Hell, Eric was the one fucking you, and I’m sorry to say, but Jackson messed up his own marriage. Aria and I were just fine until you played your childish games.”
Jessa arched her brow. “Are you talking about the text or the truth about your wife’s past?” she asked. “You can’t claim perfection when it’s based on secrets and lies.”
Kingston’s jaw tightened.
Jessa dropped her head wishing she had swallowed back the snide remark alluding to his wife’s tawdry teenaged past of sleeping with strange men and stealing their money as they slept. Less than a month ago, in anger, Jessa had shared with Kingston the secret her best friend had once shared with her.
“Look, Kingston, I apologize. Okay? I am regretting the things that I have done. Please, give Aria the letter,” she finished before turning to cross the street to Jaime’s house.
“You’re not wanted here, Jessa. Can’t you see that?” he called behind her.
She stepped up on the sidewalk and turned. “That is my home and I’m not leaving it. The only thing I have to offer any of you are my apologies and you can take it or leave it. I really don’t give a damn.”
Kingston waved his hand at her dismissively before turning to jog back up the stairs and into his home to slam the front door.
Wham!
Her patience was wearing thin. Truly, she wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, and lounge on her deck toasting her second chance at life and saying a huge Cee Lo Green “Fuck You” to everyone.
Turning, she looked up at Jaime’s home briefly before she continued up the stairs and rang the doorbell.
Last one,
she thought as she waited, hating the nerves she felt. Jessa had
never
been one to let anyone see her sweat.
The door swung open and Jaime stood there in a white all-in-one bodysuit with a white towel around her neck. Her face instantly filled with venom. “You have got to be the craziest bitch I have ever laid eyes on,” she spat, her eyes flashing.
Jesse’s back stiffened.
Be with me, Lord, for she knows not what she does ... or what I want to do. Amen.
“I wanted to apologize for my role in all this, Jaime. I wanted—”
“You wanted to get your ass whipped is what you must want, having the audacity to walk your scandalous, trifling, no-good, backstabbing ass up on my porch. Just who do you think you are, Jessa?” Jaime’s newly cropped chin-length hair moved about her face as she did a full-on sistah-girl head bob.
Jessa sighed because she was bored. “Save the reality TV bad-girl crap for Aria. The role suits her better.”
“You need your head checked, Jessa. Seriously. You need to have your oblivious ass on someone’s couch,” Jaime said.
Humph, I’ve had my ass up on your couch ... while your husband ate my pussy.
Jessa looked up to the heavens.
Sorry, Lord, it slipped. I’m sorry. At least I thought it and didn’t say it.
“You were wrong for fucking Eric and stabbing me
—and Marc—
in the back. That was trifling enough in itself.”
Jessa stiffened and her anger came in a flash. “Don’t bring Marc into this, Jaime. And I am dead damn serious. I came to apologize to you, but don’t cross the line.”
Jaime stepped out onto the porch and pressed her nose to Jessa’s. “Cross the line like you did fucking my husband, Jessa. Huh? And then sending that stupid text and planning to run away with him. Huh? And then telling that motherfucker about the money. Huh? How many lines did you cross?”
Jessa didn’t back down. In fact, she arched a brow and tilted her head to the side to look at Jaime from head to toe. “If you think I am going to stand here like a classless hooligan and argue with you, you’re mistaken. My shit is too together for that,” she told the woman in a low voice that had to bounce off her face since they were so close.
BOOK: Mistress, Inc.
12.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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