Should I find her?
Jessa surprised herself with that thought. Never had she imagined she would ever seriously consider locating Georgia. Never.
And say what?
How are you?
Do you even know you’re adopted?
Do you hate me?
Have you wondered about me?
Forgive me.
Please don’t ask me who your father is.
“Where is Hammer?” she said aloud suddenly, seeking a diversion from her thoughts.
Mind-blowing sex would definitely do it.
She snatched up her office landline and quickly dialed his cell phone number. She felt anticipation of hearing his voice and desire at the thought of summoning him to come to her and make her cum.
Make me forget.
Bzzzzzz.
She hit the intercom button as she held the receiver between her shoulder and ear. “Yes,” she said.
“Your two o’clock appointment is here.”
She’d forgotten.
“Hey, baby,” Hammer said, his voice echoing in her ear when he answered his cell.
She smiled tenderly. “Hey. Where are you? I need you,” she said into the phone, her voice warm and soft.
“I’m right at my desk, Ms. Bell,” Felisha said, sounding confused.
“Huh?” Jessa asked, shaking her head. “Not you.”
“Not me? Then who?” Hammer asked.
“Ms. Bell, your appointment? Are you prepared to see her?” Felisha asked.
The combo of her rising anxiety, Hammer questioning her in one ear and Felisha whining in the other, pushed her to the edge. She pounded her fist on the desk. “Shut up,” she snapped, rotating her head to work the kinks from her neck.
“Shut up?” both Hammer and Felisha said.
“Hold on,” Jessa said into the phone before setting the receiver down on the desk.
“Felisha, give me five minutes and then bring her in,” she said in to the intercom before ending the connection.
She massaged her temples with her fingertips before picking up the receiver and pressing it to her ear. “Hammer, sorry about that. I was talking to Felisha, not you,” she said, easing her fingers beneath the layers of her hair to lightly stroke her scalp.
“That’s good to know... I think,” he mused.
She smiled. “Listen, I have a meeting with a new client but I would really love to have you in about an hour,” she said, not ashamed of the pleading in her tone.
“Have me?” he asked, his voice deep and warm.
“Yes, on me and in me,” Jessa teased.
Hammer chuckled. “Damn, that sounds good.”
“Good enough to make it happen?”
“I can’t, baby,” he said, sounding regretful. “You have me stretched out this week. I’m following a mark as we speak, and I still have to set up surveillance for a couple of setups tonight.”
Her disappointment smarted.
“When will I see you again?” she asked.
“We have that meeting with Keegan in the morning.”
Jessa rose to look out her office window at the New York landscape. “Not like that, Hammer,” she said lightly, twisting the phone cord around her finger as she stroked it with her thumb.
“Mistress, Inc., business is booming. I’m pretty slammed all week, baby,” he said. “I can stop by your office before the meeting and relieve the pressure.”
She smiled a bit at the sight of a man and woman pausing on the street to share a kiss as the fall winds whipped through the towering buildings and surrounded their bodies with a flourish. “No, I need more than a quickie,” she said, turning as the couple turned from each other with a wave. “I need to lie in your arms after and sleep.”
“Are you admitting that you can’t sleep well without me?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Careful, Jessa Bell, sounds like you might be falling in love,” Hammer teased.
Knock-knock.
“Might be?” she asked, looking at her office door as it opened.
He laughed. It was low and soft and seemed to radiate from some happy place inside him. “We’re on the same page, beautiful,” he assured her.
“Tomorrow night, then?” she asked, giving a smile to the stylishly dressed brunette Felisha guided into her office.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promised.
Jessa hung up the phone and extended her hand. “Mrs. Montgomery?” she asked, surprised by the fuller-figured middle-aged woman who strode in with a hesitant and nervous smile.
Her Chanel pantsuit was ill-fitting, her nails unpolished, and she wore no jewelry save for a modest wedding ring and eternity band. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, and she constantly shifted her eyes as if too nervous to meet a stare.
Most women resented coming to her for her services and made it clear in their tone or their expression. Jessa didn’t care. She was amused by their hypocrisy all the way to the bank when they paid her hefty fee.
Still, what was most disarming about Mrs. Montgomery was that she was African American.
The majority of the clients of Mistress, Inc., were not.
“What can I help you with?” Jessa asked as she reclaimed her seat behind her desk.
Bella Montgomery smiled as she sat her Chanel handbag on the desk. She fidgeted with her wedding ring and cleared her throat. “I don’t know where to begin,” she said, her voice soft and uncertain.
“My husband and I have been married for fifteen years. We have always been so close. So in love,” she said, smiling a bit as she focused her eyes on her bag on the desk. “I would have never imagined a wealthy and powerful man like Horatio falling for me.”
Jessa gave her a polite smile as she waited for the woman to finish her story.
“We had so much in common and we did everything together and went everywhere together,” Bella said with a soft smile as she reveled in the memory. “I remember meeting him for the first time. I was sitting in Central Park reading on a bench in front of a beautiful crepe myrtle bush that was as tall and wide as a small house.”
Jessa was acutely aware of the subtle hint of a Southern accent in her voice.
“He was sitting on a bench a little way down from me when I noticed him,” she said. “He was tall and dark and fine. I forgot all about that book. He was on his cell phone and suddenly he laughed. His whole face came alive. My heart kinda stopped, you know, and I felt things I had never felt before.”
Jessa folded her arms atop her desk. “Love,” she said softly, caught up in the woman’s story.
“At first sight,” the other woman finished.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I didn’t want to,” she said. “And when he grabbed his briefcase and strolled by, I kept on looking at him. Didn’t have a care except soaking up as much of him as I could in case I never saw him again. And then... he turned and looked back at me.”
Jessa envisioned her every word, letting the scene play out in her head.
“We stared at each other and then I smiled,” she said, with a soft little laugh. “Could hardly believe I did it. It was the most flirting I ever did in my whole life. Me. Still feeling like that ass-backward little girl from Hawkinsville, Georgia.”
So I was right.
“He came back and I stood up. We introduced ourselves in front of that bench that sat in front of the crepe myrtle bush that reminded me of the South,” she said, reaching for her purse.
Jessa eyed her as she paused.
“Every day after that, we met at that bench,” she said, pulling out a small leather-bound book and opening it to reveal a crepe myrtle flower, once red and bright, now flattened and darkened with age. “When we eventually married he planted crepe myrtle bushes around a bench in our backyard, and every year for any special occasion he would gift me a large bouquet of crepe myrtle flowers. It was like he never wanted to forget that first day we met. And then suddenly last year... no more bushes. No more bouquets.
And far too much time when I am left all alone.”
Bella’s eyes were sad and they filled with tears as she stroked the dried flower with her thumb.
“And you want to know why?” Jessa asked, her voice soft.
She nodded as a tear raced down her cheek. It wet the petals. “I deserve to know why,” she stressed.
Jessa nodded. “I agree. That is the entire purpose of what we do here. We get to the truth. Our usual turnaround time is about two weeks, sometimes a month. We do use the services of an in-house private detective and decoys, but I want to assure you that no sexual activity is allowed. The fee is twenty-five thousand dollars with fifteen thousand up front. We will be discreet and respectable, and above all, we will get to the truth,” she assured her.
Bella nodded, reaching inside her purse again for a matching Chanel checkbook cover. She used a gold pen to fill out the check and sign it with flourish. “This is drawn on my personal account,” she explained, as she sat the check on the top of the desk and pushed it across the smooth surface.
Jessa blinked and looked up at Bella with a smile as she picked up the check and slid it into her the top drawer of her desk. “I hope that there is some other reason for this shift in your marriage,” she said as she stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
With a hesitant smile, Bella rose as well with her Chanel tote on her arm. “I look forward to hearing from you soon,” she said, before turning and exiting the office.
Jessa hit the intercom button. “Felisha, get Charli on the line for me,” she said, confident that the sophisticated beauty was just right for their new case.
* * *
The light filtered through the stained-glass windows of the church, creating a beautiful mosaic on the polished hardwood floors. Jessa stroked her bottom lip with her thumb as she stared at the colors. It seemed the perfect moment for a choir to sing. Something slow and heart tugging about loving the Lord—
“Jessa.”
She looked up, focusing her attention on Revered Dell sitting on the edge of the stage. “Yes?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “You kept your appointment with me, but you’ve been quiet for the last five minutes,” he said.
“I have?” she asked, voicing her surprise.
He nodded.
She nodded as well as she looked about the sanctuary. “Is there a reason why we never meet in your office?” she asked, focusing her eyes back on him.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out one of his legs. “Is that what has been on your mind the last five minutes?” he asked.
“No,” she answered truthfully.
He remained quiet.
“Let me recap since our last session,” she said. “Business is great. Money is good. My daughter is a good kid—praise God. My mother is on her meds. In my search for more good karma I informed someone—not a client and not a friend—that her husband was cheating—”
“Not a friend and not a client?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “And praise be to God not Jaime, Aria, or Renee. Right?”
Jessa shifted her eyes back to the colorful mosaic on the floor.
“You can’t be serious?” he balked.
“What?” she asked innocently.
He frowned. “And how do you know what is going on in the lives of these people?” he asked, his disapproval obvious.
Jessa winced. She opened and closed her mouth several times before releasing a long breath. “Does it matter?”
“If you’re the mistress again, then that’s a yes.”
She arched a brow, finally locking eyes with him. “After all this time, you refuse to acknowledge my growth, Reverend Dell. That’s hurtful,” she said.
“My apologies,” he said.
They fell silent.
“And how do you know about the cheating?” Revered Dell asked.
This will not go well. Wait. I’m grown and I meant well. Why am I ashamed for doing good shit?
“Listen, if I did not have my PI investigating them, then Renee would never know the truth,” she said.
His mouth dropped open as he tilted his head to the side and gave her an odd look. “Please consider that you are too caught up in the lives of people who have no desire for you to be in their lives,” he explained slowly, as if he thought she was dim-witted.
Jessa smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’m feeling a little judged, Reverend Dell,” she complained. “And considering I’m not judging you, it feels really unnecessary.”
“Judging me for?” Reverend Dell asked, leaning forward to press his elbows onto his thighs.
She looked around at the sanctuary. “Why don’t you have sessions in your office anymore?” she asked. “Or am I the only one isolated to the sanctuary?”
“There goes that five minutes,” he said.
“Yup,” she agreed.
Reverend Dell squinted a bit as he eyed her. “I am more comfortable meeting with you here than in my office. Yes, that’s true,” he admitted.
“So let me get this straight. Not only am I a reformed mistress who fell off the wagon, now I can’t be trusted not to seduce my pastor,” she said, her tone sly as she rose with her tote in hand. “Why not douse me with holy water and press a cross to my forehead?”
Revered Dell rose as well. “Jessa—”
“I’ll do the work for you and exorcise my evil self out of your church,” she said as she walked up the aisle.
“You’re not evil, Jessa,” he called behind her. “You’re on the same path we all are on, to be the best versions of ourselves.”
Jessa stopped and turned. “I have changed, Rev,” she said, her hurt clouding her eyes. “I know I have. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying. And the last thing I need is for a man of God to make me feel like there is no hope for me.”
He eased his hands into his pockets as he slowly made his way up the aisle toward her. “Perhaps being around you makes me feel like there is no hope for me, Jessa,” he admitted.
“Oh,” she said softly in understanding, before nodding as she waved her hand up and down the length of her body. “I am a lot.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you are, but the Lord is even more, and my focus and dedication is to Him. No temptation will sway me from doing his work.”
“That’s good to know, Reverend Dell,” she said, as she turned to leave. “Very good to know.”
* * *
Jessa pulled her car to a stop before her house. She looked up at the soft glow of light filling each window. It was all beautiful and inviting. A home. Not her first by far, but definitely the one she had the most peace and happiness in. In the words of Martha Stewart, that’s a good thing.
“But why is the entire house lit up?” Jessa murmured as she climbed from the car. “Some of my mother’s bullshit.”
She locked her car and activated the alarm but remained standing by the vehicle. The fall wind was chilly, but she tilted her head back and took a deep inhale of the air, letting it fill her lungs as she looked up at the moon. Life ain’t bad at all.
“Jessa, what you see up there?”
Oh hell.
She closed her eyes as the sound of slippers dragging across the concrete echoed into the quiet of the night as her mother came to stand beside her. When she opened her eyes and saw her mother frowning as she too looked up at the sky, Jessa couldn’t help but smile. “How are you, Mama?” she asked.
“Confused as hell,” she said.
Jessa reached for her wrist and squeezed it gently, drawing her gaze. “No, how are you?” she asked again.
“I get so bored sometimes, Jessa,” Darla said, raising her arms in her colorful silk caftan and doing a semiturn. “This is a long way from Harlem, where you can just sit on the stoop and see all kind of shit and a store was just down the street.”
“And have plenty of men around to tell you what you should already know—that you’re beautiful,” Jessa said. “By now you should have learned a man doesn’t need to pay you c
ompliments.”
Darla arched a brow. “Don’t be a hypocrite,” she snarked.
Jessa eyed her. “I’m not a hypocrite.”
“Bullshit,” Darla drawled with emphasis. “Those are dick strokes Hammer is paying you, not compliments, little girl.”
Jessa averted her eyes and bit back a smile. “What I’m saying is,” she stressed, giving her mother a serious face.
Darla reached out and pressed her fingertips to her daughter’s lip.
Jessa’s eyes widened and she sputtered as she jerked her head back from her mother’s touch.
“What I’m saying is that I am still hot to trot and open to some male companionship, and until you either become celibate or become addicted to a dildo, don’t tell me how I am supposed to be happy with a dickless life,” Darla said. “Comprende?”
Her mother’s sudden usage of Spanish threw her a little, but she nodded.
Darla’s eyes softened and this time she pressed her hands to Jessa’s cheeks. Her smile was wide and genuine. “Listen, I know more than probably anyone what all you have faced in this lifetime—the shit done to you and the shit you did to others. And I know my role in it and thank you for forgiving me,” she said, stroking Jessa’s chin with her thumb.
Jessa felt the urge to step out of her mother’s embrace again, but she didn’t. She stood there, wanting to connect with the woman who bore her. Not wanting to have an undercurrent of resentment pulse between them. She blinked rapidly at the emotions that rose up.
“I see you happy, my Jessa, and that makes me so happy for you,” Darla said, her voice filled with pleasure. “I don’t care what anyone says, I know that you deserve it after everything you have been through.”
Jessa closed her eyes, hating that she was taken back to that moment in her childhood.
“Nope. Don’t you do it,” Darla said, lightly tapping her cheeks. “Don’t go back there, Jessa Bell.”
The memory disappeared.
“Choose to be happy,” Darla said, with one final press of her hands to her cheeks before she dropped them.
“I want to, Mama,” she admitted, her smile hesitant.
Darla winked at her as she took one of Jessa’s hands and walked toward the gate leading to the backyard.
Mistress for Hire Page 7
