Mistress for Hire

by Niobia Bryant

  Charli gave her a brief wave and left.

  Once the door closed behind her, Jessa reached for the panties and pushed them into the inside pocket of her Balenciaga tote. “Finally.” She sighed in satisfaction as she spread the folders atop her desk and tapped each one as she read three of the names.

  “Jaime Hall. Aria Livewell. Renee Thorne.”

  Her three ex-friends from Richmond Hills.

  Jessa purposefully blew up their marriages five years ago, and in her continuous struggle to assuage her guilt, she checked on them to ensure they were doing well in the aftermath. It eased the conscience she’d once lacked.

  Reverend Dell says I’m invading their privacy.

  Jessa reopened the first file.

  Well, let’s agree to disagree, Rev.

  One by one she read Hammer’s detailed reports. When she was done with all three, she was stunned. Each had secrets far beyond the ones they’d once shared with her as their friend and confidante. But that wasn’t the real kicker.

  One is being cheated on.

  “Well, damn,” Jessa said, not quite sure what to do with that information.

  Chapter 3

  One week later

  Jessa parked her red convertible Porsche just beneath a large black sign embossed with “Richmond Hills Subdivision.” She pushed her oversized shades atop her head as she eyed the stone pillars flanking the wrought iron security gate. Beyond the entrance was a beautiful collection of stately homes and manicured lawns.

  She had once lived among them, happily.

  Until her husband, Marc, passed away and her loneliness—her desperation—drove her into the arms of a man she considered a friend. A man married to a woman who had become her friend, as well. Foolishly, she thought their sex had become love, and their affair would lead to their marriage.

  Nothing but his fucked-up ass lies. Crazy bent-dick bastard.

  Her hands clenched the steering wheel as she remembered him in her bed, his face buried between her thighs, feeding her lies in between eating her out...

  “Eric, can you believe this is the last night we have to spend apart?” she asked, reaching up to grab the headboard as his tongue circled her clit before he sucked it between his lips.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he moaned against her flesh.

  She gasped in pleasure, her hips rising off the bed. Her eyelashes fluttered as she panted, reaching down to grasp the back of his head with one hand. “The moving company will be here at seven,” she whispered.

  Eric lifted his head, his mouth moist from her juices. “I’m going fishing in the morning,” he said.

  Jessa let her head drop on her pillow before she raised it again to look at him. “We’re moving into our new home and you’re going fishing?” she asked, raising her knees to trap his head between them.

  “Isn’t that what the moving company is for?” he asked, raising his hands to press her legs from his head.

  Jessa eyed him as he sat up,. “Months ago, you finally agreed to leave Jaime and your bullshit marriage behind,” she said, tapping his back with her foot. “Did you change your mind again?”

  Eric twisted on the bed to stare at her. “Hell no,” he stressed, reaching to tug her bare thighs with his warm hands. “I love only you, Jessa, and you know that.”

  Their eyes were locked.

  “When will you tell her that you’re leaving?”

  “After I’m gone,” he said. “Less drama.”

  “So you want me to move into the new house while you fish, and then what?” Jessa asked.

  Eric bent to press a kiss to her knee. “Wait for me to get home,” he said without hesitation. “As soon as I get back from the fishing trip, I’m coming straight to you.”

  Hope grew in her heart.

  “You promise?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, revealing her doubt, her need, and her timidity.

  “I swear,” Eric insisted. “Tomorrow everything changes.”

  “And tonight?” she asked, uncrossing her legs and spreading them.

  He smiled as he lay back down on the bed to lower his head.

  She arched her back as he drew his tongue from the divide of her buttocks and up to her plump clit.

  “Fucking liar,” she muttered, opening her purse to pull out her cigarette case.

  The next day while she’d been at the new house awaiting the moving truck, she’d sent that infamous text message. She had truly believed him and gloated, feeling sinful joy that she’d wrecked their marriage.

  She remembered it well, even all these years later:

  LIFE HAS MANY FORKS IN THE ROAD AND TODAY I’VE DECIDED TO TRAVEL DOWN THE PATH LEADING YOUR HUSBAND STRAIGHT TO MY WAITING AND OPEN ARMS. I CAN’T LIE AND SAY I HAVE REGRETS. I LOVE HIM MORE THAN YOU AND I NEED HIM MORE. YOU SAW HIM FOR THE LAST TIME THIS MORNING. TONIGHT HE COMES HOME TO ME. HE’S MY MAN NOW. THANKS FOR NOT BEING WOMAN ENOUGH 4 HIM.

  XOXO

  “Life has many forks in the road,” she said sarcastically with an eye roll. “So fucking dramatic. Bunch of bullshit.”

  And in the end, plain embarrassing.

  After his fishing trip with his friends was over, Eric Hall went home to his wife. Although she knew from her friendship with Jaime that their marriage was far from the perfect scenario they portrayed, Eric had looked her dead in the face and lied about leaving her. He had allowed her to sell her home in Richmond Hill and acquire another knowing damn well he was a pathological liar.

  Jaime left him that night when he got home from fishing, and he blamed Jessa for that. When she ended things as well, his crazy truly came out, and he stalked her. He harassed her. He threatened her. He sat outside her house for hours on end. He ejaculated on the window of her house. He—

  “No,” Jessa said forcefully, closing the cigarette case and dropping it onto the passenger seat of her car.

  I’m not reliving that crazy shit anymore.

  She looked up at her rearview mirror but quickly shifted her eyes away. Her reflection was a bit too hard to stomach when she felt like she’d started the ball rolling—not on his crazy, that was there simmering all the way ready to boil over—but the affair and that message she regretted ever sending was all her.

  “All me,” Jessa said softly, looking up at the mirror again.

  So why am I here?

  She released a heavy breath as she checked the side mirror and pulled away from the curb. As she drove around the small New Jersey town she once called home, she had good memories of her life with Marc. Walking to the park, dinner at one of the restaurants, watching him golf at the country club, couples massage at Serenity Spa . . .

  Yes, Serenity Spa. Jessa slowed the Porsche down. “A little pampering is just what I need,” she said, checking the rearview mirror before she shifted over to make the right turn past the cupcake bakery on the corner.

  Three miles up on the left she made the turn onto the large paved driveway of the renovated 1930s Georgian cottage. She pulled up to the valet stand, leaving the key in the ignition before she exited and smoothed the wide-legs red pants she wore with a black silk halter top. “Thank you,” she said to the valet, passing him to enter the spa.

  Jessa paused at the entrance. The décor was completely different. Her vibrant clothing clashed with the whitewashed walls. The bleached floor with muted accents and watercolor art were immediately relaxing. The nerves she felt about being back in town receded a little bit as she looked around.

  “Welcome to Serenity Day Spa. How may I help you?”

  Jessa stiffened her spine and notched her chin higher as she crossed the space to reach the turquoise-tinted glass front desk. “Hello . . . Barbi,” she said to the petite blonde, reading her name tag. “I do not have an appointment, but I am desperate need of a massage and body scrub. Any openings?”

  Barbi slid her waist-length Marcia Brady–esque hair behind her ear before she tapped away on the touchscreen computer. “Actually, with it being midweek we’re not very busy,” she said.
“I could fit you in this morning.”

  “Perfect,” Jessa said, pulling out her wallet from her bag.

  Barbi swiveled a large tablet around to face Jessa. “If you could just enter your name and all of the services you would like,” she said.

  That’s new as well. Hello 2015.

  She booked facial and massage treatments.

  “That will be six hundred and fifty-four dollars,” Barbi said.

  Jessa handed over her Plum American Express card before being led to the row of changing rooms to change into a pale blue woven cotton robe. She hung her clothes in the small cabinet and set her bag on the top shelf before turning the key in the lock and taking it out to slide into the pocket of her robe as she stepped out into the hall.

  “Kittie, it was good catching up. Let’s do lunch real soon.”

  Jessa froze. Kittie. Couldn’t be. Better not fucking be.

  Jessa turned. “Shit,” she swore with an eye roll that had to show nothing but the whites of her eyes. Motherfucking Kittie Hall.

  Wife of Eric Hall Senior and mother to Eric Hall Junior. Both men had tried in their own ways to destroy her and Kittie had defended their actions.

  Well, those that her dumb ass knows about.

  Jessa looked on in amusement as Kittie spotted her down the length of the hall and her eyes widened in shock. Jessa crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall as she watched the older woman look over her shoulder before she made her way toward Jessa. She also was dressed in a Serenity spa robe and flips-flops that made a light slapping noise against the bleached wood floors as she moved.

  Here we go. All right, bitch, let’s play.

  “What the hell are you doing here, you harpy?” Kittie spat in a harsh whisper. “Are you following me?”

  Jessa arched a brow. “Listen, I’m trying to avoid my own path straight to hell. I wouldn’t dare follow you down yours,” she said dryly.

  “Oh, hell has your name written on it,” Kittie said coldly, forcing a fake smile and smoothing her silver bob with her hand when a spa worker walked past them.

  Lunatic.

  “And you’re married to Satan and bore his spawn,” Jessa said, not trying to lower her voice.

  Kittie’s eyes widened before they filled with tears. “Don’t you dare speak on my dead son. Not when it’s your fault he’s dead.”

  And for a moment, Jessa regretted her words, and then she knew she was changing for the better. Standing before her was a grieving mother, her only child lost to her. In many ways, they were more alike than they were different.

  “Your first daughter was saved from you!” Kittie said, her glee at Jessa’s loss filling her eyes.

  Jessa pushed up off the wall and took a step forward, towering over the short, round woman. Any softness or remorse she had dissipated with ease. She gave her a smile that bordered on wolfish. “I dare you to mention my daughter again,” she said, her voice low and threatening, as she fought the urge to snarl.

  Kittie gasped a bit and stepped back, clutching at the front of her robe. “You are crazy,” she whispered.

  “I’m crazy?” Jessa asked in disbelief with a little smile that lasted a millisecond.

  She opened her mouth, ready to spill secrets that would humble Kittie Hall. But she couldn’t. They were her leverage against her husband, a powerful man, who wanted to punish her by taking her daughter—their grandchild—away from her. Instead, she stepped back, forced herself to relax, and gave up the urge to win the fight. Keeping Eric Hall Sr. at bay and not having to battle for the custody of her daughter was more important than revealing to Kittie that her husband had pursued her for sex.

  Jessa smirked.

  She had allowed him to press disgusting kisses to her neck just long enough to record him with her teddy bear nanny cam and used the video to blackmail him into dropping the custody battle.

  No. I can’t give up my leverage. I’m smarter than that.

  Instead, Jessa moved past the woman and walked down the hall.

  “Scandalous, low-life, trifling, immoral, vile bitch,” Kittie said from behind her.

  Jessa turned. “Your granddaughter is fine, thanks for asking,” she said.

  Kittie blustered as she kicked off her flip-flop, stopped down to pick it up, and flung at Jessa. It hit against the wall with a splat.

  Jessa chuckled as Kittie balled her hands into fists in frustration. She looked up at the corner and pointed at the video camera. “I’ll be sure to get my attorney to subpoena a copy of their files,” she mocked. “I’m sure any judge would love to see how you react in anger.”

  Kittie was alarmed as she looked up at the round black glass surrounding surveillance equipment. She pressed her lips into a thin line, sent Jessa one last hateful glance, and then quickly disappeared into her changing room.

  Jessa glanced at that bubble again, before making her way back to her own changing room and unlocking her cabinet to remove her iPhone. Quickly, she zipped an email to her attorney, doing just what she’d threatened, and then headed back to her private room to focus on nothing but relaxation for the next three hours.

  * * *

  Kittie was long gone by the time Jessa emerged from the Serenity Spa. Once she was behind the wheel of her Porsche she headed back across town to the Richmond Hills subdivision.

  Tell her the truth.

  She pulled to a stop just a few feet from the security gate. The guard game out of the stone hutch and looked concerned as he eyed her. Vaguely she noted he wasn’t the same guard from when she resided in the upscale community.

  But if I tell her, then I have to reveal I have them under surveillance.

  She frowned.

  Just mind your own business, Jessa Bell.

  She eased the car into reverse, finishing a K-turn to turn around and leave the subdivision.

  Bzzzzzz.

  Jessa dug her iPhone from the side pocket on her tote with her free hand. “Yes, Hammer,” she said, coming to a red light and easing to a stop.

  “You’re not in the office today?” he asked.

  “I will be,” she said. “I have some errands to run. Why? What’s up?”

  “Just checking on you. You’ve had something on your mind all week,” he said. “And last night... we just slept.”

  “Really, Hammer,” she said, as her stomach rumbled in her hunger. “One night of dry dick and you hunting me down? What’s next? A tracking device?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I eased one up in you the last time I fingered that pussy,” he joked.

  “You won’t be the first Negro to go crazy over this cha-cha,” she countered, slowing down her Porsche and turning onto Fairmount Avenue.

  “Nah. No offense, but I’m not crazy and I’ve had good pussy before,” he said, sounding offended.

  She pulled into the side parking lot of the Terrace Room restaurant. “Good ain’t the same as the best,” she said, pulling into a spot before she turned her car off. She let her head fall back against the headrest as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

  “Come remind me it’s the best.”

  “Horny bastard,” she said, her tone playful.

  “Come take the pressure off,” he countered.

  She laughed softly, checking her makeup in the rearview mirror. Her laughter died down as she eyed the three women walking into the restaurant together. Aria. Jaime. Renee. Her heart pounded wildly. Fate is a mischievous bitch.

  She leaned forward to look up at the clear blue skies. “Or is this your way of telling me to stop stalling, God?” she asked.

  “Huh?” Hammer asked, obviously confused.

  Jessa shook her head. “Nothing, Hammer, let me call you back,” she said before ending the call. Seconds later the phone vibrated in her hand as he called her right back. She turned the ringer on silent and dropped it inside her bag.

  I’m trying to do something right, right?

  She grabbed the bag and left the car, pushing the door closed b
efore she made her way up the concrete walk to the wood doors. When she entered, she almost felt like she was taken back to 2010. Nothing about the décor had changed. She smiled at the maître d’. “Table for one, please,” she said, her eyes already moving past him to look about the restaurant.

  He led her to a small table by a large bay window.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m just going over to say hello to some . . . friends first.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  Jessa stiffened her back and made her way over to their table. Her façade was cool, but in truth her pulse raced. She knew this was a bold and defiant move.

  Jaime looked up from her menu and spotted her first, saying something to Aria on her left and then Renee on her right before all three women looked at her with openly hostile eyes. Well, here we go . . .

  All three women rose to their feet.

  “Hello, ladies, have a seat? I know I will,” Jessa said, setting her bag on the floor and folding her curvy frame into the seat before her. “We need to talk.”

  “You’re six years late to the day you were supposed to meet us here but instead sent that stupid-ass text,” Renee said. She was still tall, thick, and toned with her hair cut even shorter and framing her pretty face. Still dressed like she’s forever on her way to a business meeting.

  Jessa frowned a bit and then her face filled with clarity. “Actually, we were supposed to meet at the spa, and I’ve been there as well today, not even remembering,” she said, glancing at each woman as they continued to stand

  “What the hell do you want?” Jaime asked, looking less refined and poised than the façade of perfection she used to project as the socialite wife of a wealthy businessman.

  “To make amends for what I did to all of you,” she admitted, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair as she looked up at them.

  “This bitch,” Aria muttered.

  It was she that Jessa did not trust. Aria was born and bred in Newark and loved to remind everyone of that fact by her temperament and her willingness to get physical at the drop of a hat. She would gladly push aside her Ivy League education, her career as a journalist, and her position as the wife of a prominent doctor to go straight Newark “Brick City” New Jersey on anyone who tried it with her. Jessa knew her well. They had been friends since college. In fact, it was she who had encouraged Aria and her husband, Kingston, to move to Richmond Hills.