He sighed and slid the condom from his flaccid dick. He snatched the wrapper from the floor, where he’d hastily thrown it earlier, and took his time putting the condom back in.
“Now, I hope you got your money’s worth.”
The words punched her, and she had to shake her head to make sure she’d heard properly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, a smile forming on his lips. He began stepping into his pants. “I hope you got your money’s worth. I found that shit between you and my girl, Heather. Now, I hope I’ve given you something to write about in your little evaluation.”
Jayla’s mouth hung open, and she felt torn between embarrassment and anger. How the hell had she let that happen? That stupid bitch Heather.
“What’s the matter?” He was rubbing it in, looking so damn smug, so damn accomplished. “Don’t know what to write?” He yanked the shirt over his head. “I’ll tell you exactly what to write. You tell Heather I loved her. You tell Heather I am a faithful man, but you tell her I’m done with her trifling ass for being so hell-bent on setting me up with a . . . a prostitute to get me to cheat.”
The words stung and seemed to resonate in the room. Jayla shook her head. It was weak, she knew. Even while they were in a strip club VIP room that reeked of sex.
“You knew,” she whispered. “When . . . ? How?”
“Shortly after that night we kissed,” he said. “The idiot left the contract out on the dining-room table, with her notes and other shit from your meetings, her payments, everything. At first, I was so beyond pissed, I didn’t know what to do. Then I knew exactly what I needed to do to get back at her, and at you for setting me up. Baiting me.”
He rubbed Jayla’s leg, and she kicked his hand away. Hell, she didn’t even know how to take the news. She was angry at both of them. Mad at herself too.
His smile was victorious as he headed for the door. It made Jayla nauseated.
“I figured, well, since she paid for my prostitute,” he was saying, “I might as well get something out of the deal. Get her money’s worth, you know? So it seemed like a win-win-win for everyone involved. She got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, and you got what you wanted. Mission accomplished.” He blew Jayla a kiss and opened the door. “Pleasure meeting you, Slim,” he said and left her alone.
Jayla cringed. Never in the ten years she’d been in this business had she ever felt more degraded, disgusted, and downright pathetic. She stood to put on her clothes and whirled around when the door opened again. She’d thought it was Reggie returning, and she frowned when the bouncer entered the room.
“I’m leaving,” she said quickly, snatching her clothes off the floor.
The bouncer closed the door behind him, and Jayla’s heart stopped as he slid the lock into place. “What’s your hurry, Kitty Lick?” he asked, walking toward her.
Jayla backed up in a panic as he began undoing his pants. “Wait a minute.” She struggled to find her voice but could only manage a frantic whisper. “I don’t know what you think is going on here . . .”
“Oh, I know what’s going on here.” Bouncer man let his pants fall to his feet, his thick dick bouncing free like a springboard. “You’re the new girl here, right? Well, every new girl needs to be approved.” He lifted his hands to his dreads and pulled them back into a low ponytail with the rubber band around his wrist.
“No, I’m not.” Jayla was desperate as she backed into the wall. “I was just here for amateur night. I lied.”
“Did you now?” Bouncer man didn’t seem to care about the information as he stepped from his pants. “What about your friends Nikki and Lexi?”
“I’ve never met them before tonight. I swear.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” He crept closer. “Because those greedy bitches just offered you to me. Said I could fuck you rough, like you like it, if I gave them six hundred dollars.” He was towering over her now, but Jayla could barely make out his face through the haze of tears. “So now, let’s see how good your kitty is, bitch.”
Jayla didn’t have time to run before he backhanded her. His knuckles felt like rocks against her cheek, and she fell to the bed from the force. Her earlier orgasm with Reggie had left the sheets slick with cum, and now she lay face-first in her own juices as Bouncer man snatched her legs open and shoved it in raw.
The shit was painful, and Jayla could only cry into the bed as he power drove her, stabbing her swollen pussy until it was sore and throbbing. With one hand, he held her head against the bed and with the other, he clutched her ass so tight, she thought he was going to take a chunk of it off. Over and over, she felt like complete filth, even more so when he shot his seeds up in her with the force of a cannon. He pulled out, and his cum flowed from her like a waterfall, tinted pink from a bit of blood.
“’Preciate that,” he said, laughing. “You’re hired.”
Jayla didn’t bother opening her eyes. Just cried softly into the folds of the sheets while she listened to him put on his clothes and leave.
Fear had her not wasting any time once he’d closed the door behind him. For all she knew, those grimy twins could’ve been racking up downstairs, auctioning off her pussy to the highest bidder.
She threw on her clothes, ran down the hallway, and nearly stumbled as she flew down the stairs and headed toward the exit. Embarrassment had her keeping her head down as the music blared and the lights swept the stage and the audience. Everything was a blur, but she did notice Tara’s husband, Kevin, perched at the bar, grinning into a glass of cognac.
What the hell was he doing there? she wondered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jayla’s ass and pussy were still on fire the next morning, but she quickly turned over, snatched the cell phone from her nightstand, and punched in Heather’s number. She was surprised when the girl picked up almost immediately.
“Denise, I—”
“You stupid-ass bitch!” Jayla didn’t even bother thinking, just let loose, her rage fueled by last night’s combination of embarrassment and anger and today’s shooting daggers of pain from the waist down. “I ought to come over there and choke the shit out of you for that stupid shit you did!”
“I’m sorry . . .”
“Reggie played me because of you! How the hell do you leave the papers out on the table for him to see? What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry,” Heather said through muffled sobs. “I don’t want to lose him. Please don’t let him leave me.”
Jayla scoffed. The girl was sick. “Look, I don’t give a damn about you and Reggie.” Her tone was deadly calm. “But I know you better pay me the rest of my money, bitch.”
Heather’s response was indistinct as dramatic cries resonated through the phone. Jayla heard only snippets, like “I love him!” and “What have I done!” between labored breaths. She shook her head, unfazed.
“My money,” she said and rattled off the address to her studio apartment. “Mail me the rest of my money, because I’m afraid if I see you, I would try to kill you.” She stabbed the OFF button on her phone and, exasperated, pushed her hair back from her face.
She needed painkillers.
She figured Jocelyn was still asleep. It was pretty early. So when she made her way to the kitchen, she was shocked and surprised to find, not Jocelyn, but Jackie making herself busy over some pots and pans on the stove.
“Good morning,” Jackie greeted. “I hope you don’t mind, but I figured you wouldn’t think to make anything for my sister and nephew except cereal.”
“Probably,” Jayla agreed as she slid onto a barstool. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Girl, she let me in and took her ass back to sleep.” Jackie laughed as she put some pancakes on a plate and started cracking eggs for an omelet. “You slept late,” she said, tossing a look over her shoulder. “Late night?”
“Something like that.” Jayla couldn’t care less about a damn conversation. She was pissed. Not to mention sore.
“N
ow you’re starting to sound like Jasmine.”
Jayla rolled her eyes in response.
After a moment of silence, Jackie turned to face her, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about her.”
“What about her?” Jayla’s voice reflected her lack of concern. She shrugged. “You said she was grown and doing her own thing.”
“Yeah, but I figured you would know what’s going on. You two were talking damn near every day at one point.”
Jayla shrugged again. “Well, I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t talked to her in a while. I thought I told you that.”
Jackie nodded and reached over to turn the eye on the stove down a few notches. “Well, do you think you can talk to her for me?”
“Jack, leave that girl alone.” The thought of Jasmine’s behavior was irritating Jayla to no end. The bitch needed a leash. “Damn. Stop babying her and stay out of her damn business.”
“Excuse me?” Jackie whirled around, her eyes blazing from her own attitude about the comment. “The least you can do is care, Jaye. She is your family. What if something happened to her?”
Jayla smacked her lips. “Fuck her,” she mumbled in the worst attitude she could muster.
Jackie charged forward so fast, Jayla was prepping herself for a punch. She shrank back as Jackie leaned forward across the counter, her face coming so close, Jayla felt the anger like a bolt of electricity between them.
“Fuck her!” Jackie was yelling, even though her nose was pressed against Jayla’s. “No, fuck you, Jayla! I figured you would’ve grown the fuck up by now, but you’re the same selfish, nonchalant bitch you were when you gave her up for adoption!”
Jayla blinked, knowing she hadn’t heard what she thought she had heard.
“Yeah, you heard me,” Jackie affirmed, nodding her head. “Jasmine is your daughter. I adopted her.”
When the shock wore off, it was instantly replaced by denial. “That’s not possible.” Jayla jumped to her feet, needing space between herself and the apparent truth. “You were pregnant with your own baby when you came home that summer from college, and I placed my baby up for adoption.”
“I had a miscarriage.” Jackie’s words had tears seeping from her eyes. “No one knew but Mama. I called her, crying, and it was Mama who suggested I adopt your baby. Ya know, the one she was raising? Hell, you were only fourteen. Everyone knew damn well you weren’t in no mind to raise no baby. And me, well, I was in school, but Quentin and I were planning our wedding, and I was talking suicide. The miscarriage put me in a depression.”
Jayla shut her eyes as the pieces clicked together. No, the pregnancy hadn’t been planned, and she’d wanted an abortion. It was, indeed, her mother who had encouraged her to have the baby and later give it up for the adoption. It all made sense now. Jasmine was her mini me.
Feeling dizzy, she lowered herself onto a dining-room chair. She tried to wrap her mind around all of it, searching, wishing for something that didn’t line up.
“I’m sorry, Jaye,” Jackie said. “I didn’t plan on telling you. I can’t imagine how this must feel, finding this out after all this time. Quentin, Mama, and I swore we’d keep it a secret. Jasmine doesn’t even know.”
Jayla sucked in a greedy breath as she remembered how she’d turned Jasmine out. Damn, she hadn’t wanted that for her daughter. What the fuck had she done?
Jackie stood in the kitchen, not sure how to handle Jayla’s tense silence. “Do you know who the father is?” she asked.
Jayla squeezed her eyes shut. “No,” she lied. She didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry, but she suddenly felt sick.
Without another word, she ran back upstairs and into her bedroom, slammed the door, and buried herself under her covers. She didn’t know she was crying until her pillow was completely drenched.
Jayla’s phone rang a few hours later. She didn’t budge. The ringing stopped; then it started once more.
Jayla turned to lie on her back and covered her ears with her hands to drown out the incessant ringing for the second, then the third time. Her tears had long since stopped, replaced by a sharp headache and a heart that felt as heavy as lead. How could she not have known? How was that even possible?
The phone stopped ringing, and then it started up a fourth time.
Jayla pictured Jasmine’s face and had to admit they favored one another. But hell, Jasmine favored her sister, too, so Jayla had had no reason to think Jasmine was hers. Nothing as wild as the shit she’d just heard downstairs had ever crossed her mind.
The phone had fallen silent, but now the ringing began again, for the fifth time, and Jayla found the noise almost deafening in the silent room. Groaning, she picked up the phone and answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID. She heard a slight whimper, then hesitant sobs.
“Auntie . . .” Jasmine’s voice was dripping with fear, and tears had reduced her speech to a mere whisper.
Jayla bolted upright in the bed. “Jasmine? What’s wrong?” Oh God, please don’t tell me something has happened to this child! My child. Not over some foolishness I have gotten her into.
Jasmine’s voice hitched, so Jayla could barely make out her words. “Can you come pick me up, please?”
“Baby, what’s wrong? Come pick you up?”
“I . . . I’m sorry,” Jasmine said, pleading. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.” Jayla strained to hear the soft words. She swung her legs over her bed and grabbed some shorts from her dresser.
* * *
“Jasmine, baby, where are you?” Jayla slipped on the shorts and ran to the closet for some flip-flops.
Shit, shit, shit.
Jasmine managed to relay the address, and Jayla felt the color drain from her face.
“The abortion clinic? You’re pregnant?”
“I’m scared,” Jasmine said through sobs. “I came to do it, but I’m too scared. I don’t want to kill my baby. Please come get me.”
Jayla held her breath, afraid to ask the next question. “Is it by Alex?”
“I don’t know,” Jasmine wailed. “Shit, I don’t know. Maybe. I just . . . Auntie, I’m sorry. I fucked up so bad.”
“I’m on the way,” Jayla said and hung up. She’d refrained from saying what she had wanted to say. That’s what your grown ass gets.
She flew down the stairs and nearly collided with Jocelyn. Jayla pulled up short and frowned as her sister intentionally blocked her way. Damn, had she heard the conversation? she wondered.
“Joce, what is it? I have an emergency,” Jayla said, attempting to sidestep the woman.
Jocelyn moved into her path once more.
Jayla let out an exasperated sigh. “What is it? Where is Jackie?” Her eyes swept the empty living room.
“Gone.” Jocelyn’s clipped tone was a chilly twenty degrees. “What kind of shit are you into, Jaye?”
Jayla narrowed her eyes at her sister, who stood with her feet shoulder width apart, like a heavyweight boxer, but with a stomach and all. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t ‘What are you talking about?’ me, like I’m crazy!” Jocelyn snapped back. “What kind of business are you into? What do you do?”
Jayla frowned, still unsure what her sister was getting at or how she had deduced that something was off. “You know what I do . . . Chill out.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Jocelyn’s eyes were nearly piercing hers, and Jayla froze, unsure how to react. “I’m your sister. I thought you could come to me with anything, and you hide shit from me like we’re strangers.”
The fuck was she talking about? Jasmine being her daughter? Jasmine at the abortion clinic? Hell, the shorter list was what Jayla wasn’t hiding.
Jayla paused, taking her time to respond. “Listen.” Her voice was calm. “Can you please tell me what’s going on? Because I’m really confused right now.”
Jocelyn turned and stomped over to the coffee table. She swiped at a magazine, sending the glossy pages flyi
ng across the room. Remaining on the table, where it had obviously been hidden under the magazine, was a card. The last card Jayla had received. Just seeing the eerie teddy bear and the sharp red lettering sent a shiver up Jayla’s spine once more.
“Who sent you this?” Jocelyn pointed at the evidence, her head whipping back. She stared her sister dead in the face. “Someone is threatening you. Someone wants to kill you.”
Jayla tore her eyes from the teddy bear’s menacing snarl, once again envisioning the harsh words inside. This much. Someone wanted to kill her. This much. She remained silent, hoping the fear wasn’t transparent.
“Jaye.” Jocelyn’s voice had softened as she took a step forward. “Please, talk to me. Who sent you this?”
Jayla let out a shaky breath and shut her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. That was partially true. She had some inkling. That crazy bitch Tracy came to mind. But she couldn’t very well tell her sister that.
“All right,” Jocelyn said after a pause. “Let me ask you this. Do you know why?”
Jayla debated answering the question truthfully. She couldn’t very well tell her baby sister it was probably some vindictive ex-client who had paid her to sleep with her husband or boyfriend. “I have some idea,” she said evasively. “But I don’t want you to be worried. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?”
“Joce.” Jayla crossed to Jocelyn and gently sat her hands on her shoulders. Hopefully, she could convince her sister everything was fine, even if she didn’t believe it herself. “Please don’t worry about me. This is the only one I’ve received,” she lied. “And that was months ago. I had forgotten all about it.”
Jocelyn cast a doubtful look at the card. “Yeah. I still think you should get the police involved.” She was upset and had every right to be.
Jayla leaned over and snatched the card from the table. “And tell them what? ‘Oh, excuse me. There’s some psycho out there who sent me a strange note. Oh no, I don’t know who it could be. Oh no, I don’t know what the person looks like.’ Really, Joce, what are they going to do?” Jayla ripped the card in half, then placed the two halves together and ripped them again. She let the shredded pieces flutter to the floor and pulled her sister into a comforting hug. “Listen, if I felt I had something to worry about, I would do something. But I’m not worried. I’m fine. Okay?”
The Appraisal Page 14
