“I know what I saw.” He leaned over, lowered his voice. “I know you were up there fucking some other nigga, and you supposed to be with Derrick. I know you let that bouncer nigga fuck you too. And I know Tara don’t know nothing about your little alternative lifestyle, because you know as well as I do that she would have a problem with it.” When she remained quiet, he added, “I do know this little . . . fiasco can remain between us. For a price.”
“Price?” Jayla scoffed. “The hell kind of price? And how the hell do you know what I was doing in VIP?”
She watched his eyes trail down her body, linger on her heaving breasts, before returning to meet her gaze.
“I can’t believe you!” Jayla felt numb. “Tara is my friend—no, my best friend—and you’re supposed to be cool with Derrick. How can you ask me to do something like that?”
When he leaned forward to rub his fingers on her arm, she snatched her arm away.
“Don’t worry about how I know. You, well, you seem to enjoy giving it away, so I figure, why the hell not?” He grinned, and Jayla turned away in disgust. “Or would you rather I pay you, like the others?”
“I’m pregnant, and what you think you saw is not what really went down.” Jayla said it like a plea, hopeful that the lie would untangle her from this mess. It didn’t.
Kevin smirked. “I actually was kind of turned on by that,” he said. “Just picture my dick stroking Derrick’s fetus. Like rocking it to sleep.”
Jayla gagged. This man was a fucking sick lunatic. She glanced over her shoulder, caught Tara making her way back to the table. “It’s not like either one of them will care,” she insisted, trying to convince herself. “Tara damn sure won’t, and it’s not like me and Derrick are a couple. So this blackmail shit won’t work.” She watched his nonchalant shrug.
“Do you want to find out?” he taunted.
Tara eased back into her seat, tossing a casual glance from Kevin to Jayla. “Everything okay?” she asked, and Jayla frowned when Kevin put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“Just fine,” he assured her before kissing her cheek.
They ate in awkward silence, and Jayla was grateful when Tara called for the check afterward. She needed to get home. To get away from this bastard and figure out what the hell she was going to do. Shit, what to do? What to do? Tara would probably look at her like she was some prostitute if she found out, and Derrick . . . he wouldn’t go for that kind of lifestyle. Jayla’s heart felt heavy from just thinking about Derrick. If he ever found out . . . No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t find out.
“You gone be okay, girl?” Tara asked once they had pulled back up in Jayla’s driveway.
Jayla didn’t bother looking back, but she could tell Kevin’s eyes were on her as she opened the car door.
“Yeah,” she lied. “I just have a headache. Just need to get some rest.”
“Okay. Call me tomorrow if you’re not feeling better,” Tara said.
Jayla could only nod and lift a weak hand to wave as the car pulled away. Maybe, just maybe, Kevin would chicken out on his own fucked-up deal. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it.
All the wishful thinking flew out of her mind as soon as she heard the muffled jingle of her phone. A text message. Jayla took her time going inside, and she sat her Coach purse on the table. She just looked at the purse, already dreading the text message.
Finally, Jayla pulled her cell phone out and swiped the touch screen to view the text.
I’ll be back in an hour.
Jayla shut her eyes on the simple statement. He knew. He knew as well as she did that he had put her between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Derrick. Not now. Not when she’d found a little sliver of happiness. Hell, her life was in shambles, and he was the only thing keeping her sane right now. She needed him. She sighed, realizing she had no other choice.
Okay, Jayla responded.
Jayla felt the tears sting her eyes as she lay on the bed, not bothering to move as her best friend’s husband rammed himself inside her. His dick was small, so his efforts to overcompensate translated into load moans and a consistent knocking of her headboard against the wall. She wasn’t even wet. Hell, she wasn’t even fully naked. But he didn’t seem to care, and she didn’t stop him as he gripped her thighs and dirty talked himself into an orgasm.
When he was done, she still didn’t move as he shuffled about, putting on his clothes and putting his barely filled condom and wrapper in her bathroom trash can.
“Damn, girl.” He blew out a breath as he reentered the bedroom. “You got some good pussy. I see why you got niggas crawling all up and through there. You know you sitting on premium.”
Jayla turned over, pulling the sheets with her. “Get the fuck out of my house,” she mumbled. This was the second time she felt low, used, and soiled. The griminess had her skin crawling.
“So, if I need you again, I’ll call.”
Horror had Jayla sitting up. “Oh no. One time. That is it. I’m not doing it again.” She struggled to make her voice firm, even though she felt completely weak and vulnerable.
Kevin grinned and blew her a kiss. “Well, let me get home to Tara,” he said, making sure to dig the knife in further. “I told her I had to run out to the store. Say hi to Derrick for me, will you?”
Jayla cringed as he left, and she held her breath until she heard the front door slam shut. She saw the indicator light on her cell phone blinking, and already dreading who it could be, she picked up the phone from the nightstand.
Derrick had called. Twice. She put the phone to her ear and felt the disgusting sting of tears as she listened to his message.
Hey, sexy. Sorry I missed your call. I was actually trying to surprise you. I just touched down back in Atlanta. I was worried about you and the baby, so I arranged to come back a little early. Hope you’re doing okay. I want to see you if you feel up to hanging out, so call me back. Miss you.
She caught her reflection in the mirror: her hair was disheveled from sex, and her body was still sore from Kevin’s rough grip.
Jayla couldn’t stop the flow of tears as she dragged herself to the kitchen. She needed something. Some sort of relief. Something to take her mind off the hurt. It wasn’t even her body. Her heart was aching. Bad. She had fucked up. She knew, even as she had allowed her best friend’s husband to fuck her dry, she knew she had fucked up.
Her numb fingers pushed through snacks in the cabinet until they landed on the popcorn. She wasn’t even hungry, but she just needed to keep moving. So she ripped open the packaging and put the popcorn in the microwave. She even willed herself to come up with some sort of song to the hum of the microwave motor as it filled the tiny kitchen. Maybe this was what insanity felt like. Jayla allowed a laugh to bubble up and spill out at the thought. The delirious noise seemed to confirm just that.
When the timer went off, Jayla pulled the bag from the microwave. Not caring that the heat stung the tips of her fingers, she opened the bag quickly with bare hands. She poured the popcorn into a bowl and just concentrated on the inviting smell as it permeated the kitchen.
Bowl in hand, she headed into the living room and plopped on the couch. Flicking on the TV with one hand, she shoveled a handful of popcorn into her mouth with the other. She jabbed at the channel button until a familiar scene from Sex and the City filled on the screen. Perfect. She could get lost in the appealing sexual lives of other women.
So Jayla sat in the dark, eating popcorn, illuminated by the show, for a moment allowing herself to forget. Forget everything for a second. Her daughter, Jasmine; her unborn child; her sister’s dead child; her sexcapades for cash; and her sexcapade with her best friend’s husband. It was all too much. Sure she had built an empire. But the shit was crashing, and she was sure there wouldn’t be anyone left when the dust settled.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jayla lifted the slender stick to read the results. “Fuck!” she screamed and flung the pregn
ancy test across the bathroom. It landed against the wall, results side up, displaying the clearly visible words not pregnant. Ninth one in four days, and nothing had come of it but a waste of damn money. She leaned against the counter and eyed her reflection. Maybe she should just fake a miscarriage at this point to save face.
Derrick was starting to ask a shitload of questions that had her panicking. “When is your appointment? Can I see an ultrasound picture? Are you taking your vitamins? Why aren’t you showing?” He’d rubbed her flat belly so many times, straining to feel a heartbeat. He’d even gone out and purchased a high chair because it was on sale. Now he was talking about selling his condo and was even spending his weekends house hunting, looking for a spacious house with a large backyard.
Jayla didn’t know why she’d let the lie linger on for so long. Maybe part of her hoped she was pregnant. Especially after seeing how proud he was at the news. Then the several times she’d opened her mouth to divulge the truth, he’d slipped into some discussion about baby names or day cares. It was killing her to keep her mouth shut, but it would kill her to tell the truth. She felt like complete shit.
Without thinking, Jayla ran into the kitchen and snatched her keys off the counter. She felt like there was only one person she could turn to.
* * *
“Puma. What a pleasant surprise.” Patricia leaned on the doorjamb with a welcoming smile. Her eyebrows creased when she saw the distraught look on Jayla’s face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Jayla let out a breath. “Everything,” she murmured.
Patricia nodded her understanding, turned, and led the way into the spacious kitchen. The strong aroma of spices wafted in the air, and various pots simmered on the stove. “You hungry?” Patricia asked, lifting the top on a sizzling skillet of sautéed shrimp.
Jayla slid onto a barstool at the marble island, set down her purse, and absently brushed invisible dust from the countertop. She noticed the wineglasses, plates, eating utensils, all arranged in pairs, and immediately regretted her decision to stop by.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have called. You’re having company.”
Patricia waved away the apology with a flick of her wrist. She adjusted the temperature on the stove, leaned into the oven to gauge if the garlic toast was ready, and turned to Jayla. “So, what’s the matter?” she asked.
Jayla sighed and started from the beginning. Patricia listened attentively, her eyes patient and completely nonjudmental, which Jayla appreciated.
“There’s more,” Jayla went on after a brief moment of silence. She took a breath. “I think someone is after me. I believe it’s this girl Tracy. One of my previous assignments. I’ve been getting strange packages in the mail, and when I went away for the weekend, whoever it was broke into my house. My sister was there. She fell down the stairs and lost the baby.” Her voice cracked with the last statement, and she felt Patricia’s hand cover hers.
“You feel responsible,” Patricia concluded.
“Patricia, I am responsible. The person, Tracy, or whoever did it, was after me. My sister just happened to be there, and she was trying to run away when she had the accident. And now she’s lapsed into some kind of resentful depression, and hell, I can’t blame her.” Jayla sounded desperate. “Patricia, I’ve never thought about this so long and hard before, but I want out. I can’t do this anymore.”
Patricia sighed and sat down on the stool next to her.
Jayla watched her sink deep in thought, as if struggling for the right words to say. “Do you know why I went around the world?” she asked after a long silence. “I went around the world because I felt I was drowning, and I needed to get away. So, I went away for a year, gave myself time to breathe, and now I’m back.” She patted the short stack of plates next to her. “I’m back, making jambalaya.” She tapped her fingernails lightly on one of the wineglasses. “Serving wine. Business as usual.” She forced a smile and brushed Jayla’s hair behind her shoulder.
“So . . .” Jayla shut her eyes. She could almost hear the click as the puzzle piece snapped into place. “There is no getting out.”
Patricia stood on a sigh, circled to the refrigerator, then pulled out a wine bottle. The sexy red teddy she wore peeked out from underneath the matching sheer, thigh-length robe. The material hugged her curves as she moved to pop the cork and pour the red liquid into one of the glasses.
“You know, sometimes I wonder if I was right to introduce you to this lifestyle.” She picked up the glass she’d filled and took a sip. “This life—my life. My world. It comes with a lot of sacrifice, as you now know.”
“But it makes you stronger.” Jayla murmured the familiar phrase.
“Yeah.” Patricia nodded. “But it can also break you if you let it.”
Too late.
“Come here,” Patricia said with a sensual smile. “Let me make you feel better.”
Jayla slipped off the barstool, made her way over to Patricia, and allowed herself to be tongue kissed. Patricia expertly used her tongue to massage her lips while caressing Jayla’s nipples through her shirt. Jayla felt completely numb. Even her pussy seemed to be nonresponsive.
Patricia kneeled between Jayla’s legs and nuzzled her kitty through her jeans. “Let me make you feel better,” she whispered again, then planted kisses all over the crotch area of Jayla’s jeans.
Reluctantly, Jayla nudged Patricia’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Maybe too much is on my mind right now. I can’t.”
Patricia nodded and stood and gave Jayla another passionate kiss. “I understand,” she said, resting her forehead against Jayla’s. “I’m here if you need me. Always. You know I love you.”
The oven’s timer buzzed, signaling that the garlic toast was ready. Jayla picked her purse up off the kitchen island and adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” she said.
“I’m sorry. You came for a way out,” Patricia said, giving her back a gentle pat. “Think about leaving. For good.”
Jayla pulled back, with a frown. “Like, leave leave?”
“I came back,” Patricia said. “That doesn’t mean you have to.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang, signaling that Patricia’s assignment had arrived.
They walked arm in arm to the front door, and Patricia pulled it open. Jayla glanced at the visitor, mildly surprised it was a woman who was standing on the porch, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. If she had been paying attention, she probably would’ve recognized the distinct features of her soft face, the gray-streaked hair, which the woman had placed neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” The woman glanced from Patricia to Jayla. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all.” Patricia smiled and stepped aside to allow the woman room to enter the house. “Come on in. My daughter was just leaving.”
Patricia leaned in to kiss Jayla’s cheek as the woman stepped over the threshold. “You’re strong,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t. You know what you need to do.”
* * *
An index card was taped to her front door. Already prepared for a sadistic message, Jayla didn’t even assess her fear as she ripped the card off the door and flipped it over to read the back.
Too bad about your sister. Second time’s a charm. I won’t need a third.
Jayla ripped the card into shreds and tossed the pieces on the grass before stepping in the house. After she locked the door, Jayla punched the wood panel and cried out when pain shot like a bullet from her fingertips to her wrist. “Shit,” she hissed, massaging her knuckles.
Her phone buzzed just then, and Jayla ignored it at first, scampering to the kitchen to retrieve some ice and a towel for her wounded hand. Her hand chilling on ice, she turned her attention to her phone and was surprised to see she had a video message from Jasmine. She pressed PLAY.
Immediately, Jasmine’
s face covered the screen: her mouth was hanging open, and pleasure had her eyes rolling back in her head. She moaned, and Jayla realized she had the camera up in her face while some faceless man was jabbing her ass from the back. Apparently, he was giving it to her good and hard, because her titties were swinging like crazy.
“Oh yeah,” Jasmine moaned again and bit her lip. “Yes, fuck me! Fuck me harder, Derrick! Fuck, yes! Take this young pussy! Jayla’s pussy ain’t got shit on mine!”
Jayla saw red as she tore her eyes from the porno. Still, she heard Jasmine’s moans, the man’s grunts, and the distinct slapping sound of wet skin against wet skin. As Jasmine’s moans grew more intense, Jayla felt her own blood boiling. Finally, her own scream exploded. Ironically, it was in harmony with Jasmine’s high-pitched orgasmic scream as Derrick apparently stroked her daughter’s G-spot.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Hey, sexy.” Derrick pulled Jayla into his arms, not noticing her icy composure. “You missed Big Daddy? Good dick keeping you up all night?”
Jayla sidestepped him, walked into his living room, and glanced around. She almost expected to see Jasmine still there, ass naked on the couch or something.
“Where have you been?” she asked, her eyes smoldering as they landed back on him.
Derrick frowned. “Um, here. Working earlier, but I’ve been home all evening. What’s up?”
Jayla remained silent, her chest heaving, as she struggled to remain calm. “Home, huh?”
Derrick stepped forward cautiously. “Yeah, home. Why?”
Jayla wanted to bust his ass for looking so damn innocent. She whipped out her cell phone, pressed the PLAY AGAIN button, and shoved the phone in his direction. Once again, Jasmine’s desperate moans filled the room and had Jayla’s stomach bubbling with nausea.
When Derrick heard his name, he frowned and squinted at the screen. To Jayla’s amazement, he laughed. “The hell? Really, Jayla?” He laughed again, which only raked her nerves even more. “You really think she’s talking about me? I ain’t never seen that girl before in my life.”
The Appraisal Page 18
