Tess was under deadline for her next novel, which as of that week was past due. In the fifteen years since she had written her first New York Times best seller, Tess had never missed a deadline, nor had she had any trouble cranking out her signature drama-filled mystery novels that had made her a small fortune and a household name with readers. But lately, nothing had seemed as it used to be in Tess’s life. Her desire to go out and party had dwindled and her focus on writing had waned.
“What the hell’s wrong with me?” Tess said as she took a huge bite of her pizza. Sauce dripped onto her sweatshirt, landing in the same spot where she’d spilled spaghetti yesterday. She looked down at the mess and shook her head. Whenever she was holed up in her writing cave trying to meet a deadline, it wasn’t uncommon for her to sport sweats, mismatched socks, and messy hair. But not the same clothes two days in a row. “I need to pull it together,” Tess said with determination. She poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip. “I need to refocus my mind before I start back writing. Maybe I just need to clear my head with some mindless stimulation.”
Tess picked up her phone and decided to scroll through her Instagram feed while she ate her pizza and sipped her wine. She landed on Shartell Brown’s page—her favorite online gossip columnist turned detective agency owner turned online gossip columnist again—when something caught her eye. Tess squinted and then clicked on the picture in question, and sure enough, it was her exboyfriend, Antwan Bolling. “What the fuck?!” Tess yelled out in disbelief as she peered closer. Antwan was standing in front of an elaborately decorated floral backdrop, holding hands with a tall beauty in a wedding dress.
Tess dropped her pizza onto her plate as her mind raced. She tried to zoom in on the picture because she’d left her reading glasses on her desk and couldn’t see the image clearly. She walked over to her desk, slid her stylish reading glasses on her face, and logged onto her desktop computer so she could see the images in their full glory on her twenty-seven-inch monitor. Once she’d logged on, she went back to Shartell’s page, located the photo, and gasped. Shartell’s caption read:
@TheRealShartellBrown . . . After a six-month whirlwind romance, Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist @AntwanBollingTheWriter and his beautiful new bride, celebrity makeup artist @MarieJettMy BlackIsBeautiful, wed in a lavish ceremony at the Ritz-Carlton, Buckhead. #blacklove #powercouple #relationshipgoals #thebollings #theywinning
Tess cupped her mouth with one hand and shook her head from side to side. Antwan had been allergic to monogamy and was the most commitment-phobic person she’d ever dated. “I don’t want to rush into anything too soon,” he’d told Tess on countless occasions. Now, not only had he rushed in, he’d plunged headfirst.
“How can this be?” Tess asked herself. “I gave that man two good years of my life, but he couldn’t stay faithful and didn’t want to even think about marriage, and now he’s sweepin’ bitches off their feet in whirlwind romances?!” Tess was fuming with anger. She’d spent considerable time and energy trying to cultivate a meaningful relationship with Antwan, and now it seemed that he’d changed into a completely different person, and sadly, to the benefit of another woman. “I can’t believe this!” Tess hissed aloud. But a little voice of reason inside Tess’s head said, Staying with him after he repeatedly cheated on and disrespected you was a choice that you made. He only did what you continually accepted and allowed him to do.
Tess knew that the painful truth sounding off inside her head was valid. But right now she didn’t give a flying flip about validity or rational thinking because an emotional voice whispered to her, Girl, you need to do some investigating and find out how this happened and where you went wrong! Tess had been so hurt and angry after their breakup that she’d blocked Antwan from all her social media accounts, and up until this moment she’d refused the temptation of trolling his. But now she was curious and she wanted to know what had been going on in his life to cause such a drastic change. Tess clicked on the hyperlink for Antwan’s name and was taken to his page.
“That bastard!” Tess hissed. Antwan’s profile picture was an image of him and his new bride, and it had apparently been taken last month during the Christmas holidays. The two were smiling, hugged up, looking disgustingly happy while wearing matching red cable knit sweaters and red and white Santa Claus hats. Tess clicked through photo after photo of the giddy couple posing inside what she knew to be Antwan’s home, dining with friends, attending black tie events, and enjoying random fun around the city. But the coup de grace that literally made Tess stop breathing was a photo of the couple with Antwan’s family, along with people who appeared to be his new wife’s family, gathered around the two as Antwan knelt on one knee and proposed. Antwan’s hashtags read #myhappilyeverafter #wifeymate-rial #myforever.
“Un-freakin-believable!” Tess was incredulous. She’d had to practically bribe Antwan with tickets to a Washington Wizards basketball game in order to nudge him into going home with her to DC, to visit and meet her parents. She looked at the date of the post, which added insult upon injury. “That son of a bitch!” Tess screamed. “How could he?”
The date at the bottom of Antwan’s post was a mere three months ago. “They only dated for six months, and he proposed three months ago, so that means he put a ring on her finger just a few months after we broke up!” Tess’s anger had now risen to the state of fury. She’d given Antwan her heart, and in all that time he’d never been faithful, had never posted one single picture of the two of them on any of his social media pages—claiming he didn’t want to share his private life with the world—but now he was spreading his personal business by posting and professing his love for another woman for the world to see.
Tess knew she shouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t resist clicking on@MarieJettMyBlackIsBeautiful’s page. Tess formed her mouth into a scowl when she saw that the woman’s profile picture was of her and Antwan toasting with champagne-filled crystal flutes as the lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkled in the background. Paris was the place that Tess had told Antwan she’d wanted to go for her dream vacation. “I want to sip good wine, eat pastries, and walk the cobblestone streets of Paris,” she’d told him several times, hoping he’d get the hint and surprise her with a romantic trip. She’d wanted to go so badly that one time she’d told him she would pay for the trip.
They never went.
Tess had felt a stab of betrayal when she’d seen Shartell Brown’s post, but now she felt the jagged knife dig in and twist at her heart when she realized that the bride’s wedding post, which read Introducing the New Mrs. Bolling, was dated today. “He married that bitch on my birthday! What kind of sick, revenge-type shit is that?” Tess pounded her fist on her desk as the painful memory flooded back to her from a year ago when she’d caught him cheating on her, on her birthday. Now he’d committed the ultimate betrayal by giving another woman the gift that Tess had wanted, and once again, he’d caused her pain on what was supposed to be her special day.
Her sadness and anger fueled her curiosity to see more photos. It was like the old cliché when people said they couldn’t look away from a train wreck. Tess knew that scrolling through Marie’s pictures would only further upset her, but she couldn’t help herself. She read and looked through post after post of one happy photo after the other that mimicked Antwan’s page, but Marie’s page contained even more photos than Antwan’s. As Tess dissected each picture, she had to admit that Marie Jett was stunningly gorgeous. She was an ex-model turned makeup expert and beauty influencer with an Instagram following of over half a million people. Her slender facial features, large afro, expressive brown eyes, long legs, thick hips, and overflowing cleavage made her the type of woman whom men wanted to be with and whom women wanted to be like. Tess wished she could trade places with the statuesque beauty.
After a few minutes, Tess had to make herself stop looking at the reminder of what could have been. She sat back in her chair and rubbed her temples, which had begun to throb. She couldn’t understand
what she’d done wrong. She’d been faithful to Antwan. She’d shown him love. She’d been thoughtful, attentive, and kind. She’d been understanding and supportive of his deadlines and career. “I was a damn good girlfriend to that low-life bastard . . . most of the time.” There were a few occasions when she’d cursed him out and had “showed her ass,” as her mother used to say, whenever she became angry. But those times hadn’t been many and had always been a result of the lies she’d caught him in.
“He never wanted a commitment, never wanted to be faithful, and the mutherfucker damn sure didn’t want to get married. But here he is, sharing his private life with the world and his last name with some other heifer. What did I do wrong?” Tess asked aloud, as if someone could give her the magic answer. Just then the answer came to Tess as if it had been laid at her feet. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and even if she’d been the epitome of the perfect girlfriend during their relationship, Antwan still wouldn’t have been faithful to her or asked her to marry him. She realized that the hard truth was that Antwan did indeed want a commitment, he wanted to be faithful, and he wanted to share his private life with the world. He wanted all those things, he just didn’t want them with her.
Chapter 6
ARIZONA
From the time Arizona had been old enough to stand on her feet and bat her lashes, she’d had an insatiable appetite for and attraction to men, and unfortunately, her modus operandi was “the more inappropriate the better.” She had developed an affinity for bad boys during her elementary school days. When she’d been in second grade, sweet and quiet little Sam Davis slipped her a piece of paper that read “Will you be my girlfriend?” with two spaces that had been left blank to indicate her response of yes or no. Arizona had swished her long ponytails to the side, smiled, and written NO in large letters with her #2 pencil. She sashayed over to Sam’s desk, handed him what would be the first of many rejections for the awkward little boy, said, “I like Bobby Ray, and he’s gonna be my boyfriend!” and then strutted her little feet back to her desk.
Bobby Ray Johnson was Arizona’s oldest brother’s best friend and also happened to be the neighborhood hoodlum. He’d been much older than Arizona and had barely known she’d existed outside of being his best friend’s pesky, fast-tail little sister.
“This right here is some bullshit!” Bobby Ray had said when he’d been arrested for stealing from the neighborhood corner store. Arizona had thought he was bold and cuter than any boy she’d ever laid eyes on. That had been the beginning of the end for Arizona’s judgment when it came to men.
As Arizona grew into a teenager and then matured into a young woman, her predilection for bad boys, danger, and trouble only grew. She loved the swagger and excitement that the combination brought in their wake. And in true Bonnie and Clyde fashion, she’d been the typical ride-or-die chick who had perfectly complemented her men, the majority of whom had either been fresh from prison or quickly on their way there. She’d been a heavy drinking, club-hopping, foul-mouthed young woman who’d only cared about having a good time lying on her back with a man or partying until they turned the lights on at the club.
Just as much as Arizona had loved bad boys, they’d loved her right back. She’d been chunky as a child and thick as a teenager and had grown into a voluptuously full-figured woman—attributes that were greatly admired by the good ol’ country boys in Bourbon. Arizona was a Southern belle with spice. Her mother put considerable time into trying to groom her into conducting herself like a lady, but Arizona’s natural proclivity was anything but. She loved flaunting her breasts in tight tank tops and corsets, and she squeezed her round hips and thick thighs into miniskirts and stretch pants, which drove the men in the clubs wild. Her womanly body and her pretty face garnered Arizona attention, and she’d loved every minute of it.
But much to her parents’ consternation, Arizona’s reputation had been well known around the Bottoms, the section of town in Bourbon, where her family had resided for more than five generations. Just like Arizona, the Bottoms was equal parts gentility and roughness, and even though Arizona had been constantly in trouble, she’d been surrounded by loving family, friends, and church members who’d been in her corner whenever she’d needed them. When she’d gotten arrested for underage drinking, family and friends had been there to catch her. When she’d wrecked both her parents’ cars the summer she’d gotten her driver’s license, they’d been there to catch her. When she’d blown a full academic scholarship at a four-year university because she’d partied her way to straight Fs, they’d been there to catch her. And when she’d gotten pregnant but hadn’t had a clue as to who the father was because it had been a draw between three different men, she’d had love, support, and understanding to catch her.
Not knowing who’d gotten her pregnant had been one of the worst feelings of Arizona’s life, but it had also signaled a momentous turning point that changed her. She’d known that it was a damning indictment about the reckless, out-of-control kind of life she’d been living, and she’d known that she didn’t want her unborn child to end up the same way. Just as she’d loved bad boys from the moment she could stand on her two feet, the moment she’d learned she was pregnant, Arizona vowed to make a change.
Today, Arizona was a completely different woman. She was mature, stable, reliable, and responsible—and her five-year-old son, Solomon, was the reason she was the woman she’d grown into.
There was no doubt that Arizona was a very different person, and she’d changed in many ways, most notably, her choice in men. Chris Pendleton was proof of that. He was educated, gainfully employed, conscientious, well-respected, and levelheaded, and most of all, he was a kindhearted Christian man whom Arizona had prayed into her life. Chris was everything Arizona had asked God for, and up until last night, she’d thought God had delivered in spades. But now, as she looked into the mirror and applied her makeup—in preparation of treating herself to a celebratory dinner—she couldn’t help but think about last night and the colossal disappointment it had been. She shook her head and sighed. “That’s a huge shortcoming,” she said as she slid the nude-colored glossy liquid across her full lips. “I still can’t believe it. What am I gonna do?” she questioned out loud.
Today was Arizona’s birthday, her thirtieth, to be exact, and she’d been excited about celebrating it for the last few months, and because this year her special day fell on the weekend, she planned to enjoy every minute of it. Today was her It’s All About Me day, something she hadn’t experienced since Solomon had been born. She had nowhere to be and her parents were keeping her son the entire weekend, which she’d been reluctant about at first, but she’d eventually warmed to the idea when her mother had explained the benefits.
“I know you don’t want to be apart from your baby boy for so long,” her mother had said, “but take it from me, Arizona, raising children only gets more challenging as they grow, so take advantage of this time while you can.”
Arizona had thought about her mother’s sage advice, which was always on point. This was an opportunity for her to do simple things like walk around the house naked if she wanted to, cook or not cook a meal, or lie in bed until noon, which she’d done today. This part of her birthday was what she’d dreamed it would be. But when her mind drifted back to last night, she was reminded that one of the most important bonds she’d been looking forward to with Chris had been a huge disappointment.
Arizona bristled as she swept the almond-hued finishing powder over her face to set her flawless makeup. She was a very attractive woman, and once she “beat her face” she knew her good looks were taken straight to gorgeous. She smiled in the mirror at herself, but then frowned as her mind went back to Chris and his small penis. She wanted to cry.
“Why, Lord, why?” Arizona said as she looked up at the ceiling. “I know you’ve put me through some tests, and I’ve overcome them all, but this right here . . .” Arizona took a deep breath, pounded her fist on the bathroom countertop. “This is just downrig
ht cruel.”
Arizona’s mind flashed back to the moment last night when she’d first realized that Chris’s manhood was micro. He’d been on top of her, moaning and grinding hard in a steady rhythm. But all Arizona had felt was Chris’s pelvic bone bumping and rubbing against hers. She’d initially thought that he’d purposely positioned himself that way so he could make a big and memorable impact when he finally did enter her. After a few minutes of the hard movements, he’d shifted his weight, positioned himself in the middle of her thighs, and thrust hard.
“Oh, baby! Oh, baby,” Chris had panted.
Arizona’s face had gone blank because she hadn’t been able to figure out what was going on. He was moving between her legs, simulating something similar to intercourse, but there was no feeling inside her other than the throbbing sensation of needing to have her itch scratched.
“Baby, you feel so good! Oh, Oh, Oooh.” Chris had breathed heavy as he’d continued to simulate sex.
Panic had grown inside Arizona as she’d begun to awaken to the realization of what was happening. She’d opened her eyes and looked into Chris’s face. His forehead had been creased with a thick bead of sweat, his teeth had been gritted as if he’d clenched down on food, and his eyes had been closed in deep, concentrated ecstasy as he’d continued to make in-and-out thrusting motions. Then suddenly, Chris’s movements had sped up to a jackhammer frenzy before he’d yelled out with carnal satisfaction.
The Other Side Page 5
