The Perfect Mistress

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “You want Matthew.” Vivian finished for her.

  “You know, you’re right. What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking about him so much?”

  “Because, like I told you,” Vivian replied, “all that playing the field gets old. And you need to get out before you run up on the wrong chick. There’s nothing like a woman scorned.”

  “Yeah, I know, although I’m not worried about any of these women. They don’t need to be mad at me because I’ll do what they won’t. Plus, I didn’t make vows, their husbands did.”

  Lauren couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard a sharp inhale.

  “How’s that working out for you?” Vivian said. “Yeah, you know how to be the perfect mistress to these guys. They love that. But do you love yourself? Because if you do, I can’t believe you want this as your future.”

  Any other time Lauren would’ve said something, but Vivian was speaking some hard truths. She’d never had an issue with what she did, never even felt the least bit guilty about it. Now, not only was guilt setting in, but so was regret, and a host of other emotions.

  But at this point, did it even matter? With all the dirt she had done, could a woman like her ever find redemption? Could she find the happiness that she’d convinced herself she didn’t want?

  “Yeah, since you got all quiet, I’m gonna let you go,” Vivian said. “You don’t want to admit it, but if you think about it, you know I’m right. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Vivian hung the phone up without saying good-bye.

  Her words were still weighing heavily on Lauren as she exited the freeway. The sound of a honking horn jolted her out of her thoughts.

  Lauren looked to her left at a man in a Lamborghini, honking as he tried to get her attention. She noticed the wedding band as he motioned for her to pull over to the side. Any other time, the hot yellow Lambo would have been all she needed. But Lauren was tired. What she needed now . . . what she would love to do now was not meet another rich man—a married man. What she needed was to go home and snuggle in the arms of Matthew King.

  The only problem was, she’d pushed him away. So, Lauren thought, with a new determination filling her, she needed to figure out a way to get him back.

  The Lambo guy was long gone, and Lauren was sitting in the parking lot of Starbucks, trying to figure out her next move.

  “. . . All that playing the field gets old.”

  Vivian was right. It was played out.

  “You think you’re special? You think you’ll be that one woman that can get her man to remain faithful?”

  But was her mother right, too?

  Lauren thought of all the men she’d been with. She hadn’t had to work hard to get a single one of them. Why would she think Matthew would be any different?

  “Just call him,” she mumbled.

  “No,” she told herself.

  She’d sent him packing, and so calling him was no longer an option. But Lauren didn’t want to be alone, either. This visit had taken a serious toll and she needed to be comforted.

  Amid her indecision Lauren swiped through her phone until she reached Thomas’s name. She really didn’t want to talk with him, but at this point he was better than nothing.

  “Well, if it isn’t my little chocolate drop,” he said, answering on the second ring.

  “Hi.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, because you don’t ever call me?”

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “What I’m always doing, working.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” she admitted.

  “Well, Daddy can make you feel better.”

  Of course, his mind would immediately go to sex. She didn’t want sex. She wanted comfort. She wanted Matthew. That was never more clear than now.

  “Hey, Thomas, I’m sorry. I have to call you back.” Lauren hung up the phone before he could protest. She immediately dialed Matthew’s number.

  She needed to apologize. She needed to tell him that she realized how much she needed him.

  “Hello?” he said.

  She breathed a sigh of relief that he picked up. “Matthew . . .” she whispered.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  That brought a smile to her heart. Unlike Thomas, he immediately knew something was wrong. He knew, and he cared.

  “I . . . I need to see you.”

  He paused, his words unsure. “See me for what?”

  “I just need to see you.”

  “Lauren, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We—”

  “Please, Matthew? Can I come by?”

  “I was . . .”

  “Please?”

  That made him pause again because it wasn’t like her to beg for anything.

  “Okay, I’m at home,” he said.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Twenty minutes later, she was ringing his doorbell. He opened the door looking better than ever in a tweed blazer and jeans. She fell into his embrace. He didn’t ask any questions as he held her and guided her inside to his den. His touch comforted her and made the tears reemerge.

  “Okay, do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he said after she settled down.

  She swallowed, overcome with the intensity of the day.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “Is it your mother?” he asked when she couldn’t finish her sentence.

  Lauren nodded. “I’m sorry. My brother is here and . . . it didn’t go well.”

  “I hate to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not really. I just needed someone to talk to.”

  “And you thought of me?” he said, his smile wide.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, I’m listening.”

  Before he could respond, his cell phone rang. He read the display and the reaction on his face gave her pause. She expected him to ignore it and was taken aback when he said, “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

  He stepped into the kitchen. She knew she shouldn’t, but she quietly followed him.

  “Hey. No, we’re still on. Sorry, I’m running a little late. A friend dropped by and she’s going through something. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  That dropped a sickening load into the pit of her stomach. Matthew turned and caught her eavesdropping just as he hung up the phone.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Who was that?” She hadn’t even realized the words left her mouth, but now that they were out, she wasn’t going to take them back. “Am I keeping you from something?”

  He sighed. “Actually, I was heading out to meet someone.”

  “A woman?”

  He looked at her strangely, like he couldn’t believe that she would ask him that.

  “As a matter of fact, yeah.”

  “So you’re seeing someone?”

  Matthew asked her bluntly, “What difference does it make, Lauren?”

  “I was just asking.”

  He wasn’t letting her off the hook, though. “Why do you care if it is a woman?”

  She contemplated telling him that she didn’t care. But she did. The reality was the thought of him going out with another woman made her sick. “I was just asking. I mean, just two weeks ago you were acting like you wanted to be with me. Now you’re not hesitating to go sniffing behind another woman.”

  “Wow,” he said, his mouth dropping open. “Sniffing? First of all, she’s just a friend.”

  “Oh boy. Here we go again. I’ve heard that before.”

  He blinked, shaking his head like he was trying to get this scene to register.

  “She is a friend,” he reiterated. “Just a friend. Would it become something more? Maybe. At least we’re on the same page.”

  That iron feeling in her stomach intensified.

  “But seriously, Lauren, where is this coming from?” he asked.

  “Just be honest. You probably were seeing her while you were trying to be exclusive with me.”
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  Matthew huffed his frustration. “Lauren, you said you didn’t want to be with me, so I’m not understanding this attitude. You don’t want a relationship with me, so you don’t get to ask me who I’m seeing.”

  She couldn’t refute his logic. He had said he was in the market for marriage. Why in the world was she about to cry?

  “I told you. I’m looking for someone to get serious with,” he said, his voice turning gentle.

  “So, you’re serious with her?”

  “No. I just met her.” He caught himself, like he couldn’t believe he was answering her questions. “Look, I’m sorry about whatever happened with your mother. But I need to get going. I’ve already kept her waiting.”

  That hurt Lauren more than she could have ever imagined.

  “What?” he said when he noticed the expression on Lauren’s face.

  “Nothing.”

  He studied her. It was taking everything in her power to keep the tears from escaping and running a marathon down her face.

  “Look, Lauren. Either you want to be with me or you don’t,” he said. “I can’t do this back-and-forth. Make up your mind on what you want to do, then let me know.”

  He walked over to his front door, then held it open.

  Lauren slowly walked toward it. She was just about to step outside when she declared, “I need you.”

  He remained unconvinced. “Don’t do this, Lauren. You’re just upset and feeling vulnerable.”

  Yes, she was upset. And maybe even vulnerable. But she needed Matthew, and the thought of him going to another woman tore at her inside. Not just because she was jealous, but because at that very moment she realized that she loved him. Really and truly loved him.

  She stepped closer to him. “I’m sorry, don’t go,” she said, her voice soft and low. “Please stay here with me. Let me stay with you. I’m not good at this love thing,” she confessed. “But if there is anyone I want to try with, it’s you. And this time I want to get it right.”

  She could tell that he didn’t know whether to believe her, so she continued. “Matthew, I’m a little messed up because I didn’t have the best example of love in my life, and so I’m scared as hell about getting serious again. But if you’ll be patient with me, I promise I’ll do everything to not focus on my past, but rather my future.”

  Her heart raced when he still didn’t move. Finally, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Calling Ingrid to tell her I have to cancel.”

  Lauren had never heard sweeter words.

  Yet at the same time she knew full well that her mother had lost herself behind loving Vernon Robinson. Lauren had seen how good her father was at convincing women he was telling the truth. So how in the world could Lauren believe anything any man told her?

  How could she know Matthew was any different from her father?

  A tear slid down her cheek as she realized that she couldn’t. All she could do was trust him—and pray for the best.

  For someone knocking on death’s door, Ernest Berry could be the poster boy for living life to the fullest. He’d had a setback this weekend and had to be rushed to the hospital. But no one would ever know it by looking at him now.

  “Good morning,” Ernest said, greeting Joyce with a smile.

  She wanted to throw her arms around him just because she was happy that he was fine. Instead, she allowed only a smile. “Hey, you. Glad you’re feeling better.”

  “That old cancer can’t keep me down,” he said.

  “What’s that in your hand?” Joyce asked.

  “Some daisies.”

  She laughed because the roots and dirt were still clinging to the bottom.

  “Did you really pick those from the rotunda? You know Nurse Amanda is going to have a fit.”

  He shrugged and handed them to Joyce. “Just wanted to put a smile on your face. You walk around mad all the time, and I got to thinking: maybe it’s because she hadn’t had anyone bring her flowers in a while.”

  Joyce took the flowers. She really was touched by the gesture because here he was, just out of the hospital and thinking of her. Plus, he was right. She hadn’t had anyone bring her flowers in a very long time.

  Joyce set the flowers in a vase and returned to her seat by the window. She’d been sitting there, enjoying the beautiful fall day, trying to push aside thoughts of the ugly scene with her daughter. She could have been better than that. Now she had no idea if Lauren was ever coming back.

  “How are you today, Ernest?” she asked.

  “Better now that I see I caught you on a good day. Mind if I sit?” he asked, for a change.

  She motioned to the sofa across her room and he dropped onto it. Apparently he’d come in with an agenda, because he said, “You know, sometimes if you talk to someone who is objective, you can get clarity on things that weigh you down.”

  She cut her eyes at him. “Umm, I talk to Dr. Lawson.”

  “I’m not talking about quacks,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just saying, sometimes it’s good to open up to a friend. A handsome male friend. About six-one, one hundred and twenty-two pounds. Great personality.”

  Joyce laughed. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone like that, would you?”

  He flashed his toothless grin. Joyce felt grateful for his company.

  “I just have a past,” she finally admitted.

  “We all do.”

  Joyce didn’t think so. “Mine was tumultuous. Let’s just say my late husband and my daughter did a number on my heart.”

  “Hmph,” he said. “And it’s made you bitter?”

  Joyce nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Well, let me just say, you can’t allow the negative things that happened with your husband or your daughter to wipe out in your mind every good thing you’ve ever believed. Now, I don’t know what your husband did, but I’m assuming it involved another woman. If that’s true, then yeah, that was really bad, but that doesn’t mean everything about him was bad.”

  “I just can’t shake the anger and bitterness,” she said.

  Ernest shrugged like that was a no-brainer. “You have to make a choice. It’s natural to have those feelings, but at some point, you’re gonna have to ask yourself, is that where you want to stay?”

  Joyce stirred uncomfortably. Her bitterness, she had to admit, led to her daughter storming out of this place. Julian would be visiting only for a little while, and then who would come see her?

  “Stress only aggravates your illness,” he continued. “We’re on a fast track to a date with Jesus. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend my last days in that place of negativity.”

  She nodded, actually taking in his words. That did make her think, though, and she said, “Ernest, where’s your wife?”

  He leaned back in his seat. “Oh, she died years ago. Never been blessed with kids, either. So when I die, my legacy dies with me.”

  “What kind of legacy do you have?”

  “Not much. I don’t have much but my name. So if I have any regrets in life, it’s the fact that there will be no one to carry my name on. But it just wasn’t in the cards. That wasn’t the plan God had for my life. He wanted my legacy to end here, I guess.”

  Joyce thought about what it would be like to die alone. To be like Ernest with no one there in her final days.

  “You don’t have any other family?” Joyce asked.

  “I outlived them all. Got a brother still alive. But dead in the head. Lost him to mental illness. Last I heard, he was homeless in Phoenix somewhere. Got a nephew, he’s the one that pays the bill here, but he ain’t got time to visit. So it’s just me. All alone.”

  “What a sad life.”

  He took issue with that. “Who has a sad life? Not me. I live life to the fullest. To the day I take my last breath.”

  She admired his attitude. She paused, then said, “Can I ask you a question? I mean, you
can be honest because we’re just friends.”

  “So we are friends?” he said, grinning.

  “You know what I mean. There is no reason for you to lie to me.”

  “I don’t lie. Lies are too hard to remember.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Thirty-two years, three hundred and sixty-four days. Wife died the day before our thirty-third anniversary.”

  “Were you faithful to her?”

  He cocked his head. “What kind of question is that?”

  “I guess that’s my answer.”

  “No, I just wanted to know what kind of question that was,” Ernest said. He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Let me tell you something, when I took Lillian Davis as my wife, I forsook all others.”

  “So, you mean to tell me in thirty-three years, you were never with another woman?” Joyce asked skeptically. “I told you there was no need to lie.”

  He was offended. “Tell the truth and shame the devil. I swear on my dilapidated pancreas. Not once did I ever cheat on my wife.”

  Her skepticism turned to amazement. She didn’t think that was possible.

  “Oh, I bumped into some pretty women along the way.” He stuck his chest out. “And as fine as I was, you know they were always after me.” He stroked the stubble on his chin. “But I would always ask myself, Is she worth it? Is she worth hurting my wife? Is she worth my marriage and losing the love of my life? The answer was always no. So I never strayed.”

  “Do you think a lot of men ask that ‘is she worth it’ question?” Joyce wondered if her husband—and her father—were rare or the norm.

  Ernest laughed. “Lots of men don’t even think about it. But I can tell you this, it is possible to love somebody and hurt them. Some men—and women, for that matter—just do dumb stuff.”

  “Repeatedly?” she said.

  He nodded. “Repeatedly. Doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Maybe they don’t know how to love. Maybe they just think they won’t get caught. Maybe they like the adventure.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes.”

  “Yep. But I’ve learned you have to remember the good because the bad will eat you alive. What about you? Were you faithful?”