I admired myself in the mirror. Twirled. Smiled. Took a few selfies.
“You look nice,” Fortune said, staring at me.
“Ah!” My heartbeat pounded in my throat. Breathing heavily, I asked Fortune, “What the hell are you doing here? Do not start stalking me. Get the hell out!”
I should’ve closed my garage. Locked my door but I’d planned on putting on panties and heading right back out.
“You dressed up for him?” he asked.
“What difference does it make who I’m dressed up for? It’s over between us. You did not do anything for me, not even wish me a happy birthday. I’m tired of supporting you. Go home to your wife. Go live with your other woman. I don’t care about you anymore. Just get the hell out of my house! I hate you!”
“So you’re serious this time?” he asked. His eyes weren’t droopy. They were glossy.
Shaking my head, I didn’t answer. His hatred for me was in his eyes. I saw it. I felt it. I moved closer to my nightstand, where my gun was.
“Your house?” He leaned his head back, laughed, then yelled, “Don’t act like I didn’t fix things around here!” Picking up my Bebe’s bag, he flung my clothes, shoes. He opened the Sephora bag. Tossed my makeup in the air.
I ignored him, I admired myself in the mirror, ran my fingers through my fluffy fluttering hair, then told him, “Your priorities are screwed up. I figured out why you’re so miserable. You’ve never invested in a woman. That’s why no woman wants your trifling ass. And even the times that I’ve taken you back it was never because I wanted you. I was afraid to be alone. But I’m not anymore. You still don’t have the decency to wish me a happy birthday.”
Standing by the drawer of my nightstand, I checked my messages. One percent battery life remained. My phone powered off but not before I saw Spencer’s message.
He’d texted, I want to get to know all about you this weekend. I’m going to spoil you Fabulous.
Fortune stood by me. I opened my drawer. He closed it. I eyed the man in front of me. He was pathetic. My disgust for him had to have shown on my face.
Fortune’s eyes focused on my cleavage, lowered to my hips. He stared at my mouth. He didn’t look into my eyes when he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. Happy birthday, Blake. You look amazing.” He placed his hands on my hips.
Firmly, I grabbed his wrists. “Please, don’t touch me.”
“Don’t deny me, Blake. Give me some of this,” he said, sliding his hand under my dress and between my legs.
I pushed him away.
His eyes grew large. “You naked under there?”
What difference did that make? He didn’t deserve to know but I told him, “I’m spending the night at Mercedes’s house with my girls. You need to get out. For real.”
He didn’t have anything to offer me. Even if he did, I didn’t want it. This time I was one hundred percent sure. The smell and sight of him disgusted me.
He shook his head. “Stop lying to me! You’re going to be with another man.”
“Even if I were lying, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t owe you anything. Not even an explanation. For the last time, get the hell—”
Whack! Fortune backhand-slapped me so hard my hair hit the bed first.
I scrambled to get up. He shoved me down, unfastened his pants, pulled out his dick, then pinned my wrists above my head using one hand.
I jabbed my knee into his dick, and he grunted. “Bitch!” His fist charged toward my face. I moved my head enough for him to miss my eye, but his knuckles slid down to my ear. “Knee me again.”
He didn’t have to ask for what was already coming! I gave my best effort to put his dick out of commission permanently this time.
“Ow! You trying to take away my manhood,” he yelled. His fist bashed my face several times. Felt as though my head was going to separate from my body.
Everything went mute. I struggled to free myself. He spread my thighs. “Don’t deny me, Blake. I want what you gave whoever you let fuck my pussy last night.” He stuck his finger inside me, then sniffed it. “You think I can’t smell him on you. I know you. You—”
I spat in his face. I froze when I saw my blood on his lips. Then I realized my hands were free. I tried to scratch his eyes out.
“Ow!” Fortune ripped my dress, snatched my hair toward the mattress.
What the fuck was he fighting me for? “This is my pussy you nasty son of a bitch!”
Fortune fought me like I was a man. When I gave up, he held my wrists with one hand, shoved himself inside of me. I threw up bile and blood. I hadn’t eaten all day.
That bastard shoved, thrust, and grunted with anger until he came. I looked at my nightstand. He started at me.
Fortune said, “If you put your finger on the trigger, Blake, you’d better pull it.”
CHAPTER 26
Spencer
It was six o’clock. I’d hoped Blake would’ve dropped by the restaurant by now. I was excited as hell to see her. Fifty smashed on her in the best way. Nice titties. Tight enough ass. Whatever lucky guy was smashing that on a regular wasn’t treating her righteous. Not the way she came on my dick.
Bank president. Had to Google for that info. House in Roswell. You go, Fabulous. All of her girls were beautiful and seemed to have their stuff together. That was a testament. I wanted to know more about Blake Crystal. Not sure yet if I wanted her full or part-time though. It was way too soon to get serious. Decided to hold off on AC, but her daughter was tempting.
Filling a martini glass with a margarita, my coworker LB said, “Dude, you’re doing it again.”
Damn! This was the third drink I’d overpoured. I’d washed away the salt rim. Again. “Thanks, man.”
Emptying the glass, I started over. This time I stayed focused long enough to get it right. I placed the martini glass in front of the customer.
LB stood beside me. “What’s up, Spence? What’s on your mind? You’re starting to attract Derrick’s attention, dude.”
I placed two wineglasses in front of me, reached for the cabernet, scoped out my manager through my peripheral. He was at the opposite end of the bar. I came straight with LB. I spoke in a low tone. “You remember I told you I put it down on her yesterday.”
“Yeah, the older broad?” His brows hiked. “The one who looked liked she could be her daughters’ sister. Not the daughter, right?”
Nodding, I told him, “She’s coming by to see me tonight. I don’t know why I’m so damn nervous. She was supposed to be a conquest but I’m taking her to Vegas tomorrow.”
LB tapped on the computer screen, entered an order, redirected his attention to me. “Taking or going with?”
“You heard me right. Taking.”
Didn’t want Fabulous to have that crazy rep like she was an easy lay. Lots of females in the ATL had a rotation of men. Fabulous didn’t seem the type. I cared about her. Cared might be too strong a word. I liked her. Might have to pass on Alexis.
“Real shit, dude? Sin City? On your dime?”
“Damn, nigga. It’s the US. You trippin’ like I said I was taking Fabulous to the French Riviera.”
“Fabulous?”
“Fabulous,” I repeated.
LB shook the shaker, flipped over a glass, then poured a JW Lemonade over ice. I filled the wineglasses a third of the way. Answered him, “Real shit.”
We placed the drinks in front of the customers. LB tapped the bar twice in front of this beautiful babe. I told him, “I gotcha, bruh.”
While he punched in another order, I continued, “Crazy, huh?”
“Nah, what’s crazy is who just walked in.”
Excited to see Fabulous, I quickly glanced toward the entrance. “Aw, fuck.”
LB said, “You got that right. Derrick is headed this way. I’ma give yo’ ass space, Spence. I’ll handle the incoming orders. You, handle her,” he said, walking away.
Charlotte sat on a stool in the center of the bar, then pushed the adjacent chair over enough to s
queeze in her four-roller, too-large-to-carry-on suitcase.
“Good to see you’re still in town. I’m hungry. Get me an order of fried zucchini with extra ranch. What time is our trip to Vegas?”
Derrick said, “Spencer, let me speak with you for a moment.”
“Sure,” I said, following my manager to the opposite end of the bar. I ducked under the opening, stepped out onto the patio area.
He stared me square in my eyes. “You’re spilling more alcohol than you’re serving. Your customers are complaining their orders are taking too long. Notice their body language when you walk back in. You need more than a few days off? I can give you two weeks. The only reason I’m not firing you is because I like your work ethic.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need extra days off. I got this.”
“I don’t think you do. I’ll let you know by the end of your shift. You know my rules. You have to pay attention to everything in the restaurant to service our customers well. I’m watching you,” he said, walking away.
The policy was straight. Every customer was every employee’s responsibility. I got that. I loved that. Was starting to feel more for Fabulous, less for Charlotte. If every woman I’d sexed was my responsibility, I’d be a lifetime patient at a mental institution. Outside of riding my dick, I was starting to believe that women didn’t know what they wanted either. Charlotte was a good example. One day it was me, then she slept with dude. Now she’s hounding me. But she probably still in good with dude.
I didn’t like being checked but Derrick was right. I went behind the bar. Wanted to ignore Charlotte but she was a customer.
LB whispered, “Yo’ girl refused to let me serve her. She wants you.”
Politely, I asked Charlotte, “Can I get you something to drink?”
She damn near shouted, “What you can give me is a public apology for fucking that Fabulous bitch! She staying her ass right here. You taking me to Vegas!”
Derrick swiftly approached. Stood in front of Charlotte. “I’m telling you to leave my restaurant and don’t ever come back.”
“Unless your name is Cheesecake, this ain’t your damn restaurant!”
Actually it was. Derrick was an operating manager. My lips tightened. Charlotte’s selfish ass thought this shit was funny. Bet it wouldn’t be so cute if I showed up on her job at the car dealership acting a damn fool. If she lost commission on selling one of those used vehicles, she’d be pissed off for months.
Derrick turned to me, then said, “You need to leave now and take her with you.”
LB brushed by me, whispered, “You know what you need to do. Cut her loose,” then said, “I’ll holla at you later, Spence. Don’t forget about my hookup with the daughter.”
Embarrassed as fuck, I strolled toward the front door. Charlotte grabbed her suitcase, followed me to the parking lot. Tossing her luggage in the back of her car, she followed me all the way to my apartment building. When the garage gate opened, she tailed me until she was inside. I didn’t care. By the time she got to the sixth floor and parked in a visitor’s space, I’d be inside.
She parked next to me knowing they might boot her car. I was not giving her seventy-five dollars to have it removed. I checked my cell. No missed texts or calls from Blake. I sent a message, Something came up. I have to rain check you on Vegas.
I sent that moreso because I was pissed. Getting out of my car, I refused to say a word to Charlotte. I unlocked my door, left it opened. She entered behind me.
“Spencer, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make you lose your job.”
Turning on my shower, I took off my clothes, and stepped in. The water was hot as I could stand. I yelled at her, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
That could’ve gone either way. For Charlotte’s crazy ass jeopardizing my job. Or for my dumb ass dealing with that bitch!
CHAPTER 27
Blake
He deserved to die!
I contemplated picking up my gun, pointing it at his head, then pulling the trigger but I was in shock. I sat on the side of the bed, slid the straps of my gold platform heels off my feet, then let them drop one at a time to the floor. Easing out of bed, I saw that the hem of my purple dress was unraveled. Threads hung to my ankles.
Lowering my ass, I flopped on my chaise. My arms dangled as I stared at my red polished toenails. My hair hung like I was a rag doll. Thirty years ago I was in great shape. Now I weighed more and was less motivated to work out. If I had been stronger, I could’ve fought my way out of being raped by that filthy jealous bastard.
Never again would I leave my home accessible under the pretense that I lived in a safe neighborhood. I used to run a 5K in fifteen minutes. If I were faster, I could’ve escaped, run out the house, and screamed for help. I wished my neighbor across the street would’ve heard me. Tom would’ve killed Fortune.
Short breaths. Small steps. My sleeve fell to my bicep. I pulled the torn material over my shoulder then cupped my aching breasts. My side was sore to the touch. Quietly I inhaled, then held my breath as I paused at the foot of the bed to stare down at Fortune.
His mouth wide open, drool seeped from between his lips and slid down his chin onto my white satin pillowcase. He turned onto his side then snorted. His back was to me. That was the way we’d slept most nights. Facing away from each other.
I entered my spacious bathroom, stood in front of the full-length mirror trimmed in glittering gold. The image before me was nearly unrecognizable.
One eye that matched the color of my dress was nearly shut. My other eyeball bulged so far out that my eyelid couldn’t move. I blinked but couldn’t close either of my eyes.
Softly, I sang, “Happy birthday to . . . me.” Well, I was beautiful for almost a whole day. If Spencer could see me now. My body jerked but there were no tears, on the outside.
Sitting at my vanity, I soaked a cotton ball with witch hazel, then gently stroked my swollen jaw. I flinched.
I’d come home after the best day of my life to this bullshit. This is bullshit! Why the fuck did he come back here?
My girls must’ve given up on my coming over by now. No one had called. Suddenly I remembered my phone had died. Better for my daughters and Spencer to be mad at me for being a no-show than for me to show up looking like this.
Dropping the cotton ball into the trash, I exited the bathroom, got my phone off the bed. I placed it on the charger in the bathroom, then went to my walk-in closet, closed the door, turned on the light. I scanned everything I’d bought but had never worn. Dresses. Skirts. Jackets. High heels. Anne Klein. Donna Karan. Jimmy Choo. Red bottoms. All beautiful clothes too sexy to wear to work or church. But there were a few things appropriate for a funeral.
I’d worked my ass off to buy the finest house. Seven cars—one for Fortune, one for each of my daughters as their graduation gifts. The most expensive luxury sedan was my Benz. The red Ferrari was simply a gift to myself because I could afford it. I was on the verge of being genuinely happy. If I’d invested in a man who loved himself, this would’ve never happened.
I didn’t believe any man would love me unconditionally but I’d never been beat down. Maybe it was best I let things between Spencer and me end. He may have been intrigued by me but he’d never fall in love with me.
Don’t deny me. Fortune’s words echoed in my head as I searched for the perfect dress. Suddenly, my body’s temperature was too hot, the memories were chilling. Hours ago that motherfucker had the audacity to force himself on me like he owned me!
I returned to the bathroom. Soaked another cotton ball. I hurled the bottle of witch hazel into the wall. “That motherfucker deserves to die tonight.”
My cell started chiming with incoming texts and missed calls. I picked up my phone, silenced the tone. Instead of returning calls my trembling fingers texted Mercedes, I can’t make it. Thanks for a beautiful day. I love you. XOXO
As I put my phone down, my vision became blurry. I squeezed a few drops in each eye, then read Spencer�
��s text. I replied, Something unexpected came up. Can’t do Vegas. I wanted to add, “rain check,” but that wasn’t what I was feeling. Plus, I was tired of struggling to see the keyboard.
The voice in my head spoke softly: Definitely the black dress.
I returned to my closet. Too sore to raise my arms over my head, one leg at time, as though putting on the pants I’d worn for the last time, I stepped into my dress. The side zipper remained undone.
I went downstairs to the kitchen. Opened the cabinet. I gripped the handle of the longest knife, sharpened the blade. One long stroke after another I repeatedly slid the edge in one direction.
I picked up a piece of paper, rubbed the edged of the blade along the side. It tore halfway then stopped. I continued sharpening. The next time the paper effortlessly divided.
What I was about to do was premeditated. There’d be no need to plead temporary insanity or guilty. I wasn’t crazy and this was not my fault. I dropped the sharpener to the floor.
There was one more thing I had to do before going upstairs. Reaching for a pen and a fresh piece of paper, I wrote, I love you, Devereaux. Take care of your sisters.
In a separate note, I wrote, I love you, Mercedes. Take care of your sisters. I’d done the same with Alexis and Sandara, then left the notes on the countertop.
Quietly walking toward the bedroom, I heard him snorting. He was lying on his back. I clutched the handle so tight that my red polished fingernails cut into my palms. I steadied the razor-sharp knife directly above his heart.
I knew if there were a God, there was forgiveness.
CHAPTER 28
Spencer
Sitting in the center seat on the plane next to Charlotte, I stared out the window.
Being with her wasn’t as much of a problem as how I’d gotten here. She spilled drama from the moment she stepped into the restaurant until the second I’d agreed to let her come.
Baby, You're the Best Page 11
