“He strangled me. He blamed me for leaving. He blamed me for telling his wife and ruining their relationship. And he was obsessed with me. That was the scariest night of my life.” Jessa lightly dabbed at her eyes, careful not to ruin her makeup.
Kerry Kay looked at her sympathetically before turning to face the camera. “We’ll be back with more and Jessa will tell us about the scary night her married lover attempted to kill her before taking his own life.”
Soft and sad music filled the studio audience.
A man with a headset on came up on the stage and Kerry turned to him in a low voice. Jessa heard something about the last segment running too long. Turning her head from them, her eyes happened to land on a small cluster of women sitting in the audience whispering together; then they all turned to eye her.
Jessa stiffened her back and met their stare. She felt their judgment. She turned her head and another woman’s eyes pierced her as well.
“And we’re back in five, four, three, two ...”
Kerry Kay faced the camera again. “And we’re back. We were just listening to the story of a former mistress who nearly died after trying to end the relationship,” she said, before turning her head to look at Jessa. “Tell us about that night.”
Jessa didn’t see any compassion in the woman’s eyes and she knew she wasn’t getting her story told the right way. “Um, he had made promises that he didn’t keep. He was very different with me than he was with his wife. I had no idea that once he discovered her affair that their relationship behind closed doors became very sadomasochistic. I didn’t see that side of him until I attempted to end our relationship. His behavior was very erratic, very intense, very crazed. At one point when I refused to open the door to the home we were supposed to share, he stood outside and masturbated against my window.”
“Were you afraid of him?” Kerry asked.
“Yes,” Jessa asserted. “It seemed the more his wife pulled away from him or angered him, the more he wanted me to still be there for him, and when I wasn’t, his anger and everything disturbing escalated to the night he forced himself into my home. He blamed me for destroying his life and he strangled me until I blacked out.”
“Now, what happens after you lost consciousness has been chronicled in detail by the local news media in New Jersey. Let’s take a look,” Kerry said.
Jessa averted her eyes as a collage of all the news media clips played, detailing all of the sordid details of the love triangle that turned deadly.
“I noticed that you didn’t watch the tape,” Kerry said. “Are you embarrassed by this story taking on such life and exposing a lot of your dirty secrets?”
“Yes,” Jessa said emphatically. “Most definitely.”
“I’ve always believed everything in life happens for a reason and there is the ability to pull a lesson out of adversity. What is the lesson in all this for you, Jessa?”
“Even before the attempt on my life, I made the choice not to be his or any other man’s mistress anymore, but the point has really hit home since I’ve seen all of the blame of the relationship laid at my door,” Jessa said, locking eyes with her host. “I accept my role in it, but now it’s as if his death has absolved him from any blame and to have people feel as if I deserved to die because I was a mistress. I ended the relationship, but my trial and persecutions never ended. I do wonder about that.”
Myra nodded from her seat in the front row as Kerry reached over and lightly clasped Jessa’s hand. Jessa had spoken with truth and with real emotions, but she did accept the small victory of drawing the woman—and perhaps many more—onto her side.
Her interview on The Kerry Kay Show wouldn’t premiere for two weeks, but just the golden nugget of the taping—and the recent news of a high-profile murder-for-hire involving a mistress looking to be the wife—led to Myra booking Jessa on several of those cable entertainment news shows to speak about her own thoughts and wishes on the case as a “reformed mistress.” Before they parted ways at Newark International Airport, Myra received a call finalizing Jessa’s input in an article on the dangers of being a mistress by a major magazine publication.
As Jessa rode in the backseat of the black SUV of the car service, she felt adrenaline at the chance to increase her platform and get her story told. She wanted to change her image. For my baby.
I’m having this baby.
She didn’t feel she ever deserved the right to bear a child, but Reverend Dobbins said that this pregnancy was a blessing from God.
An image of Eric’s face distorted with all kinds of crazy suddenly filled her head. Lord, please don’t let that shit be hereditary.
“Driver, do you have another appointment this afternoon?” Jessa asked, tilting her head to the side to eye the man.
His eyes shifted up to the mirror to eye her.
Jessa didn’t miss the interest clear in his eyes. “I would like to go to the mall. I would pay you for the extended time,” she told him.
“I could go off the clock and we could make it a date,” he offered, his voice deep and nice. The kind to make you shiver when you heard it through a phone line or close to your ear.
Jessa noticed his handsome features when he first opened the rear door for her to climb into the SUV, but dick and everything it was attached to was the least of her concerns.
“I am pregnant and the only man I would even think of having sex with is the father. And since he’s dead and burning in hell for all perpetuity, looks like I’m celibate for the next seven months or so. Still want that date or should we schedule ahead for the night after my six-week checkup?” she asked, the sweetness of her tone doing nothing to belie the sarcasm.
He chuckled. “Nah, I’m good.”
Jessa smiled coldly. “Short Hills Mall, please.”
She slid on her shades as she sighed and settled back against the plush leather of the seat. She knew she was a little too hard on the man, but it felt good to let a little of her normal bitchy self show. Her wit and snappy comebacks had always been a part of her charm. She felt a little like the old Jessa.
Bzzzzzzzzz.
She opened her bright orange Birkin and pulled out her cell phone. She frowned, not recognizing the number. “Hello?” she said, smoothing the deep waves of her hair behind her shoulder.
“Jessa, this is Jaime. I have Pleasure on the line—”
Jessa’s head pounded at the sudden intrusion into her life. “I’m not his pimp and don’t have to be privy to your business transaction of Dicks on a Dime,” Jessa said smoothly, recovering quickly. I’m on a roll today.
“Real funny, Jessa. I thought you should tell Pleasure that you’re claiming to be pregnant and he might be one of the candidates.”
Jessa felt her anger rise, but she forced herself to smile as she saw the driver’s shocked expression in the rearview mirror. “Pleasure, why not just tell Jaime that all you did was eat the hell out of my pussy—and thanks, by the way. Now, unless science has changed and you can get a woman pregnant with your clever little tongue—particularly two months before we even met—then there is no chance in hell that you my babbydaddy,” she said, meaning to add extra emphasis to the slang term.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t telling people I got you pregnant” he said, his dark and deep voice suddenly filling the line.
“No offense, Pleasure, but as fine as you are, your dick has more miles on it than a thousand rental cars. I wouldn’t raw you for a million dollars. So puh-leeze and bye-bye.”
Click.
The SUV came to a stop and her driver turned in his seat to eye her.
Jessa rolled her eyes and removed her shades. “Poor, Jaime, but your attempt at a Maury Povich moment missed the mark ... like that new hairdo of yours,” she said smoothly.
“You are such a bitch, Jessa.”
“How did you get my number?” she asked as she motioned for the driver to turn around and proceed ahead.
“Eric’s death has made a substantial amount of resou
rces available to me. Financial and otherwise.”
“Well, you didn’t need to waste it getting my private cell phone number when I live down the street from you. Now, don’t blow all that money in one place, you don’t have the resources or the work history to build it back up again,” Jessa said, meaning to sound bored even as she quickly made a note to contact Eric’s private detective to see if he sold her number to Jaime. She might have stumbled on the man’s info in Eric’s home office and contacted him.
“Jaime, why don’t you go ahead and plan your evening of fun, fucking, and finances with your man-whore and I’ll enjoy a little shopping trip to make sure your stepchild has a wonderful wardrobe when he or she arrives.”
“That’s if you’re even pregnant, bitch ... and if you are, your bastard child means nothing to me. Clear?”
Jessa’s eyes glinted with fury and Jaime’s words felt like a gut punch. That was the third time the woman had addressed her unborn baby as a bastard. The third damn time.
Lord, this double-life–living, trifling, backbone-lacking, confused, and unsure heifer is trying me. She is trying me.
“Ooh, good comeback. You always were the smart one in our little clique,” Jessa said, her voice heavy with sarcasm as she let the slander of her baby pass ... for now. “And ask Pleasure to do that little tongue trick just above the clit. If your pussy isn’t numb from overuse, you should cum like crazy. I know I did.”
Jessa ended the call and dropped her phone back into her bag before sliding her shades back into place.
“You’re hell, huh?”
Jessa said nothing. Behind the cover of her shades, her eyes were filling with tears she refused to let fall.
“That’s if you’re even pregnant, bitch ... and if you are, your bastard child means nothing to me. Clear?”
Jessa dismissed Jaime but not her words. Who else would call her child a bastard or even worse—behind his or her back or even more boldly to their face. A child shouldn’t have to bear the sins of the parents.
Jessa fell silent with her thoughts as she looked out the window at the green trees lining the roads leading to Short Hills Mall. Day by day, the idea of having this child was settling with her. She would be happier if the baby wasn’t Eric’s, but there was no turning back on that now.
I am going to raise this child.
A soft smile lit up her face. But when she thought of her own mother and how easily she had left her behind, the smile faded and sadness filled her eyes. With focus she could see her face in the tinted glass and she wondered if she would ever forgive or forget being left behind. Abandoned. Shelved. Forgotten.
And it had hurt all the more because she had been a little girl completely enamored of her mother ...
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred,” Jessa said, her voice slightly soft and husky even at the age of five. She ran her slender fingers through her mother’s shoulder-length hair and thought it was just as soft and pretty as her Barbie dolls. She set the brush on the table where her mother said and came around her to bury her face in her lap.
“Move, Jessa, ” Darla Logan said, her voice filled with irritation as she brushed her daughter’s head from her lap.
Jessa’s eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled as she stumbled back a bit.
Darla lit a cigarette and took a deep drag of it, her bright red lipstick staining the butt. She used her free hand to fluff the soft waves of her face before she finally glanced over at her daughter. She sighed as she turned in her chair. “Look, Jessa, your mama has a date. I’m trying to find you a new daddy,” she said, her eyes already showing the effects of whatever she kept sipping from the glass.
“Where my daddy?” Jessa asked, easing back over to the table to pick up her mama’s bottle of perfume. She inhaled deeply of it.
“No one knows that but him and God,” Darla snapped, as she took the perfume bottle from her daughter’s hand.
“But I thought Cary was gonna be daddy?” Jessa said, standing on the tips of her bare feet to pick up her mama’s lipstick tube. “I heard you call him Daddy when he spent the night. ”
Darla took the lipstick tube and lightly grabbed her daughter’s chin. She kindly smiled as she undid the tube and put a little of the bright red lipstick onto Jessa’s lips. “Look, you get your coat and I’m gonna take you to Grandma’s house,” she said, her breath filling Jessa’s nostrils.
The little girl frowned at the sour smell of liquor. “I’m staying the night?” she asked, her words garbled from the back-and-forth motion of the lipstick on her lips.
“Um, no, I’ll come and get you as soon as my date over. Okay?”
Jessa nodded and turned to look at her reflection in the mirror. “Everybody say I look just like you, Mama,” she said, smiling as she turned this way and that.
Darla stood up. Her bright red bra and panties looked even brighter against her deep bronzed complexion. Jessa watched as her mama picked her pocketbook up from the foot of the bed and took something from it that she slid into her mouth.
“Can I have some, Ma?” she asked, her hand already extending.
Darla looked down at her daughter with sad eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want none of this shit,” she said before turning to pull on the clothes laid out on her pretty white lace-covered bed.
Jessa ran to her room and grabbed her pink coat with the bunny ears on the top of the hood. She settled down on her knees in front of her television. Soon she was giggling from the colorful cartoons, actually ending her laughter with a sigh filled with content.
It wasn’t until the show went to a commercial that she jumped up and ran into her mama’s bedroom.
“Mama,” Jessa called out as she stood at the bedroom door and saw her mother leaning forward as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Jessa frowned as her mother fell forward off the bed and onto the floor. She rushed to her side as Darla struggled to rise to her feet. “You okay?”
Darla brushed her daughter’s hand away. “I’m fine, Jessa. Get off me!” she snapped.
Again the tears came and the bottom lip trembled. Her mother was her everything and she hated to make her angry.
Darla stumbled into the adjoining bath.
Soon Jessa heard the water running as she sniffed and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she said when Darla reappeared.
“Okay, Jessa. Thank you,” she snapped, her words slurring, as she tugged on the wool coat that matched the dress she wore.
Darla was known for her style and fashion, and Jessa loved to play with her makeup, clothes, and jewelry.
“Let’s go. ”
Her mother grabbed up her hand and pulled Jessa behind her through the modest-sized home and out the door. Jessa felt like she was running to keep up with her mother’s stride.
Her grandmother lived just down the street and they were climbing the stairs to the big brick house in no time. Jessa pulled off her coat as soon as they stepped inside. “Grandma,” she called out.
“I’m in the kitchen,” her grandmother called back.
Jessa made to run in that direction, but Darla reached out to grab her arm. “Hey, give Mama a big hug,” she said, her eyes glazed.
Jessa was more than happy to oblige as she wrapped her arms around her mama’s neck.
“Tell Grandma I’ll be back to get you tonight. Okay?” she said, pressing a kiss to Jessa’s cheek.
“Okay, Mama.”
Darla smiled a little as she looked at her daughter. “You do look just like me,” she said softly before standing up and walking out the door.
Jessa moved to the window and pulled the curtain to watch her mother stumble back down the street to their house. She hoped her mother would turn and look back, but she didn’t. Something didn’t feel right.
Jessa was still standing there a little while later when a flashy red car pulled up in front of their house and her mother came outside with a suitcase in her hand. A man got out of the driver’s seat an
d took the suitcase to put it in the trunk before he got back in the car. They pulled away.
Jessa was still standing there when her grandmother walked out of her kitchen.
“Where your Mama?” she asked.
“She said she’ll be back,” Jessa said, her nose pressed to the cold window as her breath fanned out on it and then evaporated.
That was a lie. It was one of many her mother told her in the days after she left Jessa behind with her grandmother. Until the calls stopped all together.
Jessa shook her head as she remembered pressing her face to the car window anytime they would pass the house where she had lived all her life with her mother. Her grandmother owned the home, and once her mother ran away with the man in the bright red car, they eventually rented it out to a new family.
Jessa never laid eyes on her mother again. Not even at her grandmother’s funeral years later. It was as if she never had a mother and her mother never had a child.
Jessa pressed her hand to her belly and closed her eyes. I’ll do better by you. I swear.
Chapter 6
Two weeks later
Jessa was just finishing one final lap around the large pond that made up the center of the Richmond Hills subdivision. Stationed around the water were the clubhouse with an indoor heated pool, a tennis court, a playground area, and a small dog park.
She came to a stop and bent over to press her hands above her knees as she inhaled and exhaled slowly as she waited for her heartbeat to slow down. It had been so long since she ventured from her cul-de-sac to take advantage of the amenities offered by the high-end subdivision.
Standing tall, she placed her hands on her hips in the form-fitting unitard she wore as she looked at the ducks in the pond. It was many Sunday afternoons that she and Marc would finally pull themselves from bed or from lounging around the house to sit by the pond and just read or talk or sightsee their neighbors.
She shifted her eyes over to the playground and envisioned a small girl of about six with pigtails and colorful bows laughing and running around with the other children. Her daughter.
Mistress, Inc. Page 7
