UNVEILED
A Novel by
Shataya Simms
UNVEILED
Copyright © 2018 by Main Line G Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Unveiled is a work of fiction. The events and characters described that are described are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons.
ISBN-7: 978-1-7320671-6-5
ISBN-8: 978-1-7320671-7-2
Printed in USA
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www.shatayasimms.com
Dedicated to the lovers, the hopeless romantics, and to those who are simply waiting for their Happily Ever After!
RE-CAP—Still Anonymous
August 2015
Nyce gives me my life back. I find my inner peace and am able to forgive myself for the accident. I forgive the product of who I am and how I was conceived. I want to live again and I want to be me. I want to be Aneesah Nicole Bradshaw, widow of Saheed Jabari Stone; mother of Angel-Skyy Marie Stone. I want to be the daughter of Rita Alma Bradshaw-Rae; a survivor, a rape victim, an ex-crack head and yet still a wonderful person and mother. More than anything, I want to be Aneesah Nicole Hennessey; wife of James David Hennessey aka Nyce, an ex-kingpin and forever my notorious bad boy. And one day…someday…I want to have his babies.
I am finding myself without feeling sorry for myself. Without feeling like a plague of bringing bad luck wherever I go. I am no longer ashamed of my past and I no longer feel like that abandoned, abused, insecure foster kid that I was so many years ago because the fact is, I made it out and went on to be something great.
As the inner demons release out of my soul, the guilt and hate that I had for myself no longer reside in my heart nor does it pollute my mind. Nyce reminds me every day that I am worthy of love; that I am worthy to be loved despite all my faults and fuck-ups. I am finally free. I’ve finally found my light in my darkest hours, making sense of all my battle wounds and scars that I’ve endured through the years. My soul has finally nestled back into my being and I am free.
Nyce finally gives me my phone back but so far, I still am not talking to anybody. Not even Dani who has been calling me like twenty times a day. I am enjoying having a sober mind and being with my man and my “aunt” who I have apologized to repeatedly for my erratic behavior. As the weeks progress, I write and mess around with the music equipment that Nyce has bought for me. He watches me work and lets me be in my zone. I am writing everything I have felt in my heart; my happiness, my pain, and my sorrow. I cry when I pen out “21”, an ode to Saheed and when I write the saddest song that I have ever written in my life titled “Angel-Skyy”; a dedication to my daughter. My crying becomes hysterical and I have to keep taking breaks from all the emotions I feel.
Nyce never says a word during this process. He just rubs my back, let’s me write, and listens quietly as I compose the music on my keyboard. When the songs are complete, an anchor lifts off my heart and I can breathe again.
“Come here. I want to play you something,” I say to Nyce while I am sitting at the keyboard. “It’s not finished yet but close your eyes and listen,” I tell him as I stroke the keys, playing him a melody that I just composed. I start to hum as I play and watch him as a look of ease displays on his face.
“What do you think?” I ask once completed. “I have to finish writing the lyrics but what do you think?”
“I think that whatever you write to it is going to make you legendary. That shit was beautiful.”
“Really,” I smile. “It’s going to be another love letter to you.”
“Like I told you before, I am your muse. Without me, you wouldn’t have shit to write about,” he cracks a smile.
“Shut-up,” I giggle.
Later that day as I am lying in the middle of the floor trying to figure out the right words to pen to the song, Nyce comes into the bedroom grabbing his sneakers.
“You want to go jogging?” He asks, throwing his sneakers on. For a man of 36-years-old, he still has the body of a fit, 18-year-old god. I lick my lips and stare at him lustfully.
“Don’t be looking at me like that girl,” he laughs. I smile and make a mental note to take advantage of him later.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I reply, throwing my hair up into a ponytail. A run might be exactly what I need to cure my writers block. I change into a pair of tights, sports bra and sneakers.
We run along the beach with me getting winded at 3.5 miles. Nyce slows down and tries to push me forward so he can finish his six-mile minimum.
“I’ve reached my limit,” I stop and laugh breathless. He runs back to me and slaps me on my ass before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. He tries to finish his other 2.5 miles with me hanging off him but taps out and collapse.
“You’re not as strong as you look,” I giggle, brushing the sand off my tights.
“Shut-up punk,” he laughs jumping to his feet.
When we make it back to the house, he carries me inside and throws me on the bed, pulling my sneakers off.
“Your feet are backing,” he chuckles, fanning his nose and pulling off my socks.
“Shut-up,” I smile while he climbs on top of me.
“I love you,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. He stares into my eyes and cracks a smile.
“I love you too,” he responds kissing me. We are sandy, sticky, sweaty and I am quite sure we both stink, but that doesn’t stop us. My phone starts to ring Dani’s ringtone I had programmed for her, breaking up what is about to be a nasty, hot, lovemaking session.
“Why don’t you answer for her?” Nyce asks breaking out of our kiss and grabbing my phone off the night stand.
“Because…I don’t know. Maybe because she represents a part of me that I am trying to forget,” I confess.
“What have we been talking about these last few weeks?”
“That I can’t run from the past or the monsters in my head. I have to face my demons,” I mock as he playfully mugs me in my head.
“Exactly,” Nyce responds answering my phone. “It’s for you,” he smiles handing it to me.
“Of course it’s for me. It’s my phone,” I laugh snatching the phone out of his hands.
“Hello,” I answer. Nyce starts peeling off my tights.
“Aneesah?” Dani says.
“Um hmm,” I purr as Nyce begins kissing my inner thigh before running his tongue along my panty line.
“Aneesah, it’s Dani.”
“I know silly. What’s up?” I ask in a breathless whisper and biting down on my lip trying to hold in my moan.
“I have to talk to you. It’s important. When are you coming home?”
“I…dunnowhy,” I reply all in one word. Whoa! Nyce is doing the damn thing to me.
“If you’re fucking stop. NOW. STOP,” she starts screaming in the phone. Her voice alarms me. I sit up on my elbows and hold my finger up for Nyce to stop.
“What’s wrong Dani? What’s going on?”
“I tested positive for HIV Aneesah,” she says softly. “You have to get tested and…,”
I don’t hear what she says after that because I dropped my phone. My heart stops and I throw Nyce off the bed with my feet as tears start to spill from my eyes. Nyce gets up off the floor and looks at me as if I had just lost my fucking mind. I let out a high-pitched scream as tears spill uncontrollably and I start hyperventilating.
“What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?” Nyce asks alarmed when he reali
zes that I am having a panic attack.
“Relax…breath…take deep breaths,” he says rubbing my back. “Breathe,” he continues to say as I slowly catch my breath.
“Don’t touch me,” I cry, slapping his hand away. “Don’t ever touch me.”
“What?” He asks confused.
“Dani is HIV positive,” I blurt out.
“It’s okay babe,” he says kissing my cheek while still rubbing my back. “We can try to help her.”
“You don’t understand. I slept with Dani,” I cry.
Chapter One
August 2015
“What the fuck you just say?” Nyce barks with a faraway look in his eyes like he’s about to go mad. I swallow the lump in my throat and wipe the tears off my face.
“I said that we have to get tested for HIV,” I utter as tears continuously trickle down my cheeks. He rises up off the bed and glares at me, cocks his head to the side before cracking a smile.
“Run that by me again,” he states calmly.
“Um…we…,”
“I HEARD WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID,” he yells, grabbing me by my throat and slamming me back onto the bed.
“I FUCKIN’ LOVED YOU. I FUCKIN’ GAVE UP MY LIFE FOR YOU,” he screams as tears of anger rolls down his face. He tightens his grip around my neck and I can no longer breathe. I feel the blood rushing to my head as I claw at his hands, trying to get him to loosen his grip but the more I scratch, the tighter his grip becomes.
“JAMES, GET OFF HER,” Aunt Ruthie shouts.
I start to see dark spots floating around and close my eyes waiting for it to be over, thinking that out of all the dumb shit that I’ve done throughout my life, this is how I am going to die. I am going to die by the hands of the man that I love with all my heart. I am going to die by the man that gave me my life back and willed me to live again just for him to snatch my life away from me.
“AHHH,” he yells, letting go of my throat as pieces of glass and water hits my face. I open my eyes and greedily suck air back into my lungs. Aunt Ruthie had hit Nyce over the head with the flower vase that sat on the nightstand.
“FUCK, MAN,” he growls as blood trickles from his head.
“WHAT THE FUCK HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU, BOY?” Aunt Ruthie barks.
“She…she…,” he stutters while pointing and staring at me in disgust.
“I might be infected with HIV,” I whisper. Nyce charges at me as I bounce to my feet and run out the bedroom door.
“JAMES, NO,” Aunt Ruthie yells, running after us. I run out the front door with Nyce heavy on my tracks and Aunt Ruthie heavy on his. Running to the back of the house, I make it to the shed, locking myself inside. He begins to violently bang on the door.
“I’M SORRY,” I scream while picking up a pair of hedge scissors to defend myself. It’s only a matter of time before he kicks the door down.
The banging abruptly stops, and I hear Aunt Ruthie talking to him, but I can’t make out what she is saying.
I’m like a walking fuck up, are my thoughts as I sink to the ground crying. It seems that whenever I get my piece of happiness, God laughs in my face, taunting me before snatching it away.
I spend all afternoon locked in this shed, too afraid to come out. When night falls, I don’t even bother trying to find the light switch. I just continue to sit in the middle of the floor in the dark.
There is a light tap on the door.
“Aneesah,” Aunt Ruthie calls my name.
“Yes,” I answer.
“You can come out now. He’s not going to hurt you,” she confirms. I open the shed door with the scissors still in my hands. The look of disappointment is written all over her face.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, bowing my head in shame as she takes the scissors out of my hands. She lets out a heavy sigh.
“Come on; let’s get you tested,” she says. When I approach the porch, Nyce is sitting with a glass of cognac in his hand. I glance at the bandage on his head and the band aid on his arm from where Aunt Ruthie has already tested him I’m assuming. I stop in the doorway and stare at him.
“Don’t say shit to me…ever,” he says through clinched teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He throws his glass at me barely missing my head, shattering against the wall. I run into the house in tears, not believing that I just managed to fuck up my life again.
Aunt Ruthie draws my blood as I sit quietly, praying in my head.
“God, I know I’ve fucked up within these last few years. My test can even come back positive and I won’t be mad but please, please let Nyce be okay,” I repeat my prayer.
“I’m going to send these off to the lab. I won’t know anything until next week,” Aunt Ruthie confirms.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“The likelihood of you contracting HIV from another woman is very slim. Were you using protection with your other partners?” She questions.
“I don’t have other partners. I haven’t been with a man since my husband. I swear,” I tell her. She lets out another heavy sigh, looking as though she doesn’t fully believe me.
“I’m not going to preach to you but I pray for your sake and for the sake of my nephew that these tests come back negative. Now you understand the stupidity that you have done to yourself these last two years fuckin’ wit’ them drugs. Let this be a lesson.”
“You’re angry,” I murmur softly sounding like a child.
“Pissed at you and what brought you to this, and God help me if my nephew is infected,” she replies walking away.
I walk into the living room and look out the window at Nyce. He is sitting in the chair taking shots of Cuervo. I want to talk to him; to explain that I wasn’t in my right frame of mind. That I was on Ecstasy pills when I slept with Dani. That Dani damn near seduced me.
As I stare out at the ocean, I see a boat in the distance slowly approaching the island. Nyce jumps up, walks inside the house and heads to the bedroom. When he returns, his bags are in his hands. He rushes past me and walks out the front door.
“Noooo,” I run after him. “No, don’t leave me. Please.” I beg running to catch up to him. I grab his arm.
“I suggest you leave me the fuck alone right now,” he snaps.
“Don’t leave me, Nyce. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was high on Ecstasy and…,” I try to explain as I become hysterical and tears continue to slide down my face.
“You better pray and hope that my test comes back negative or I am going to kill you myself,” he states with malice in his voice, staring dead into my eyes.
“Baby, please don’t go. We can get through this. Please,” my voice cracks. I reach out to him and try to pull him to me but he doesn’t budge. He just steadily walks towards the beach, ignoring me. The boat finally docks and Nyce speeds up, his strides making it hard for me to keep up. I jump in front of him.
“NO,” I scream, tackling him to the ground. “You’re not leaving,” I cry.
He forcefully throws me off him and gets up, collecting his bags.
“It is taking everything in me not to fuck you up right now, Aneesah. I strongly suggest that you leave me the fuck alone,” he growls.
“No. Don’t leave me. You promised that you would never leave me. We can work this out,” I plea grabbing his arm. He roughly snatches his arm out of my grip and pushes me aside.
“We…,” my sentence is abruptly cut short as I fall to the ground, holding my stinging cheek. He hit me. Nyce hit me. I start to cry harder as I stare at him mortified with hurt feelings; shocked that he actually hit me. I look into his eyes and he looks just as hurt; the look of regret written all over his face.
“Shit…I’m sorry,” he panics, holding out his hand towards me and lifting me up. I go to embrace him, but he snaps again, pushing me away.
“Fuck that and fuck you. I’m not sorry. You want to work it out? Work what out? You possibly gave me HIV and you are sitting here tryin’ to work shit out? You need to be on your fuckin’ knees prayi
ng that these tests come back negative because if they don’t, I swear on my life, I will come for you and if you run, I will find you. I don’t give a fuck about your money or whatever guards you hire. I will find you and end the both of us,” he seethes before turning to walk towards the boat.
I sit on the beach crying, watching him dock. I sit until I no longer see the lights of the boat as it sails away.
Chapter Two
The next couple of days are torture as I pace around the house. I want so badly to call Nyce and talk to him, but I don’t. I promised myself that I would wait until after the results come back. I search the internet doing as much research as possible on how people with HIV live. The one thing that gives me hope is that Aunt Ruthie was right. It is hard for women to contract HIV from another woman, but I still do my research just in case I am somehow infected; trying to mentally prepare myself for the worst. However, if I am infected, more than anything I am looking forward to Nyce keeping his promise to kill me.
During this time, Aunt Ruthie keeps a watchful eye on me. My guess is that she is afraid that I am going to relapse, but she doesn’t have anything to worry about. Getting high is the very last thing on my mind.
When Wednesday finally comes, I wait anxiously for Aunt Ruthie to get the phone call that we are all waiting for. Around 2 o’clock that afternoon, the phone finally rings and my heart stops. I listen to Aunt Ruthie and her friend from the lab converse briefly before hanging up.
“Negative,” she says looking at me.
“Really?” I ask in relief as tears run down my face.
“Negative,” I repeat, finally letting out a breath. I run to the phone to call Nyce.
“Why don’t you wait a few days? Let it sink in that he is negative. Let him get over being angry,” Aunt Ruthie suggests. I think about it for a moment before agreeing. I walk into the bedroom to lie down and think about all that has happened to me in my 32-years of life. Abandoned by my mother, abused by my foster mother; then later, finding out that my mother was gang-raped, and I was somehow conceived that horrible night. Being betrayed by Yaya- my assistant and one of my best friends- which led to Nyce and I being arrested, and I think about the car accident that killed my husband and unborn child which led to my drug addiction.
Unveiled Page 1
