As Jayla jotted down the information in her notebook, the waitress brought two glasses of ice water to their table. “And how did you find me again?” she asked once the waitress had left the table.
“Melanie. Melanie Stock. You did an . . . evaluation, I guess, on her . . . her girlfriend.”
Jayla smiled to herself. Yes, she definitely remembered Melanie Stock and her girlfriend, Angie. It wasn’t her first time doing an evaluation on a gay couple. There was something about lesbians that made her job more intriguing. Melanie was definitely a character. She had wanted to set up her girlfriend. Wanted to do something spiteful. She had happily divulged information, requested frequent updates, and had generously paid extra for Jayla to sex Angie not once, but three times.
Jayla rubbed her thighs together at the thought of Angie’s thick tongue working its magic. Yes, that had been a very eventful and fulfilling month. Sexually and financially.
“Tell me about your boyfriend,” she continued as Heather took a sip from her ice water. “What’s his name? What does he do? Hobbies?”
“Um . . .” Heather leaned in a bit closer. “His name is Reggie Smith. He’s a plumber. We recently moved in together, and he’s been . . . I don’t know. It seems like he’s pulling away from me. He’s working all the time, doesn’t answer his phone, and he never wants to make love to me anymore. It’s probably me, isn’t it?”
Instead of acknowledging her question, Jayla sat her pen on her notebook and removed her glasses. “Let me tell you a little about what I do.” She started delivering the lines to her routine script. “I am a Heartbreaker. What that means is I evaluate your subject and I draw up a credible estimate of value in an evaluation report. Much like an appraisal, if you will. There are several factors that can influence the results of my assessment. Would you like me to continue?”
At Heather’s tentative nod, Jayla pulled a small stack of papers from her briefcase. “How the process works is like this. We have three required meetings before I even begin. First, there is the briefing, where I just provide information about the process. Then we have a consultation, where we discuss, in great detail, the complexity of this evaluation. I have to do a preapproval questionnaire with you, in which you answer very specific questions regarding you and your partner.” Jayla did not play around when it came to taking on new clients. She knew all money was not good money.
Heather nodded.
“I place a value in three separate categories,” Jayla explained, rattling on. “Mental, emotional, and sexual. In each of these areas, I have subcategories that I review, and the extent of my evaluation will depend on your comfort level. Then we have a conference, where I have you sign a consent contract that is completed based on our agreement from the consultation. At that time, you are required to provide sixty percent of the total cost of service. The other forty percent is due upon completion, and upon receipt, I will provide you a report and all subsequent evidence collected during the process.”
“And how much can this cost?”
Jayla smiled at the question. “It really depends on what you would like me to do. It can range anywhere from three thousand dollars to as high as fifty thousand. Or more.”
“Fifty thousand dollars?” Heather echoed, her eyes ballooning.
I know it’s a large range and a large sum of money.” Jayla’s voice was gentle. “But this is a large investment of time, patience, and effort.”
“Right. I get it.” Heather’s eyes fell on her twiddling thumbs. “So, how much time does it take?”
“I can typically have a thorough analysis completed in two to three months. Rarely have I needed more time.”
Pause. Jayla saw the confusion, the uncertainty in Heather’s downcast eyes. “So, after that, if they haven’t done anything, is it safe to say they passed?”
Now it was Jayla’s turn to frown. “I don’t think I understand the question,” she said.
“Like, you can report they are faithful.”
“Um . . .” Jayla thought back a minute and had to stifle a smirk. Now, that was funny. “I’ve yet to have that happen,” she admitted. “But I guess we’ll cross that bridge if and when we get to it.” She sat back in the booth, Heather’s deflated face wanting to tug on her heart. The truth hurt, she knew. But it was a matter of choice. Either she wanted to know or she didn’t. Simple as that. “So now it just comes down to you, Heather,” Jayla said. “How important is it to know what your boyfriend is worth?”
Not bothering to wait for the answer, Jayla began repacking her briefcase. That was enough for one meeting. Poor Heather probably needed some time to marinate on the idea. But Jayla figured she would come around eventually. Curiosity was a son of a bitch.
Heather scooted out of the booth, looked at Jayla, mumbled something Jayla didn’t understand, and ran past the hostess station. Unbelievable.
Just then Jayla’s phone began vibrating. She glanced down at it, saw an unknown number, and ignored the call, not knowing if she would regret it.
CHAPTER THREE
Shit.
Jayla tripped and damn near fell face-first on the cement doorstep. She stumbled a little before she caught her balance and glanced back to see what the hell she had tripped over.
A package.
Curious, she observed the neatly taped flaps and the carefully tied red ribbon and bow adorning the simple brown packaging. A slip of notebook paper was attached to the ribbon, and there was no evidence of a postal service delivery. Not even a stamp. Whoever delivered the package had personally placed it on her doorstep.
Jayla glanced around the quiet neighborhood, half expecting to see someone watching. The sun and a faint breeze created a picturesque vision of the ideal family community. Sighing, Jayla stooped to pick up the package and then carried it back inside. She would just have to be late.
Jayla nudged the door closed behind her and carried the package into the kitchen. Instinct compelled her to press her ear against it. Nothing. She shook it to see if she could guess the contents. Not a sound. Jayla plucked the slip of paper from the package and turned it over to reveal a note. The sadistic message had her heart spiking to her throat as a gasp ripped from her parted lips.
You fuck over others and you’re liable to get fucked up.
The threatening words were scribbled in deep-red lipstick that, even though it had been slightly smeared, stained the crisp white paper with evident precision.
Jayla wanted to be angry. A psychotic client was sending her threatening messages. She wanted to be amused. An immature woman wanted to play the damn blame game, as if she hadn’t asked or paid for the insight. But all she felt was fear of the faceless, voiceless person who had been bold enough to write a threatening note, and who had been vigilant enough to hand deliver it right to her front porch, like the Sunday paper.
After crumpling the note in her fist, Jayla threw it in the trash can. She then eyed the seemingly innocent package a moment longer. She shuddered to think what was inside, but curiosity gnawed at her like a desperate itch. She snatched the ribbon and bow off and used her nail to puncture holes in the tape sealing it together. Then she ripped off the brown packaging and found a plain box. Slowly, she opened it.
The glint of the knife was the first thing she saw, as the edge of the jagged blade was protruding from a jumble of cotton and plush velveteen. One end of the velveteen looked like a slashed face, and she realized that the heap of fabrics used to be a teddy bear. But someone had taken care of that real good.
Jayla shut her eyes but couldn’t erase the teddy bear’s image. Innocence had been replaced with something evil. She opened her eyes. There was nothing else in the box, but the slashed bear and the knife were unsettling enough. She teared her eyes from the remnants of stuffed animal, then shoved it back in the box and flipped the flaps to close it once again. Someone was fucking with her, but who? Jayla remembered Yolanda’s hateful message and sighed. But, shit, was it Yolanda? Was it Tracy? Was it Kayla? she wondered. Hell, sh
e had fucked so many spouses, fiancés, and boyfriends, it could be a number of people. It wasn’t like she had the most likable of professions, but still, she’d taken care to maintain a sense of anonymity. How the hell did the person get her address?
Jayla carried the box outside and dumped it in the large trash can. Her hands were trembling. Quickly, she climbed in her truck, started it, and sped out of the neighborhood. Fear had really set in now. Jayla felt it snake its way up her spine as her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Calming down didn’t seem possible at the moment.
She knew she was late. But after what had just happened, she should have canceled her damn plans altogether. As she sped down the highway, her mind flipped through the faces of her many clients. Too many to count. It could’ve been anybody.
The driveway at her sister’s house was already stuffed with cars, and they also lined both sides of the street. Jayla parked and sat in the car for a moment longer. It was easier to be angry at the situation than afraid, so Jayla quickly latched on to the former emotion as she stepped out from behind the wheel and headed up the crowded driveway. When she found whoever it was, the bitch was as good as dead.
Her sister Jackie leaned against the doorjamb, the distinct aroma of barbecue wafting from behind her. “Damn. Do you know how to get anywhere on time?” she said, a combination of annoyance and mild anger coloring her voice. A frown had settled on her pouty lips, which were identical to Jayla’s. “I even called you this morning,” she noted, rambling on. “For once, just once, I’d like to see you be somewhere when you say you are going to be there.”
Jayla rolled her eyes but remained quiet as she stepped past her sister into the house.
A slew of cousins cluttered the living room and dining room. And by taking a quick glance at the sliding-glass door, she determined that even more had spilled onto the patio and into the backyard. Her sister definitely knew how to get the family out, that was for sure.
Jayla lifted her hand to greet several of her cousins huddled around the sixty-inch flat screen. Apparently, a football game had them on their feet, beers in one hand. Some sort of bet had prompted them to pull dollar bills from their pockets and toss them into a bowl on the coffee table. Jayla didn’t realize her muscles were clenched until she felt them ache, and she struggled to relax. It did feel good to be around family and friends.
She spotted her other sister, Jocelyn, waddling from the kitchen with a full plate of food in each hand. She headed over. “One for you, and one for the baby, huh?” Jayla teased when she reached Jocelyn’s side.
“Girl, shut up. You make it sound like I’m a fat, greedy pig or something.”
“Greedy, yes,” Jayla said on a wink. “But we’re not going to blame that on the baby.” She followed her sister to the dining-room table and helped her sit down. “So how you feeling, ma’am?” she asked as she took the seat next to Jocelyn.
Jocelyn sighed and rubbed her protruding belly. The frilly lounge dress accentuated her plump titties and full, pregnant figure. “Pretty good. Tired as hell. Swollen. Back and feet killing me.”
“How’s my nephew?” Jayla leaned forward to rub her sister’s stomach, and a grin spread across her face when she felt a slight kick against her palm.
“He’s good. Of course, he wants to wait until all times of the night to practice his karate, so I’m not getting any sleep.”
Jayla smiled, masking the slight twinge of guilt she felt. She had been pregnant before. Twice, to be exact. But raising children was about as foreign to her as working a “real” job. She didn’t want that for herself, so adoption and then an abortion had been her only options.
“But enough about me,” Jocelyn said, pulling Jayla from her train of thought. “You know, Tara’s here with her boo . . .” She trailed off, and her lips curved upward, as if she knew the punch line to some secret joke.
Jayla frowned. “Okay,” she said. “They’re always here. What’s so funny about that?”
Jocelyn remained silent as she shoved a forkful of baked beans in her mouth.
“What, Joce? What is it?”
“I’ll let you find her,” she said. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your surprise.”
Jayla grimaced. No telling what her “surprise” could be. “Let me go get something to eat,” she said instead and then rose and crossed into the gourmet kitchen.
Jackie’s daughter, Jasmine, was in the refrigerator, fumbling through Tupperware and foil-wrapped plates. Jayla immediately noticed how much her ass was filling out her jeans, a drastic change since she’d gone off to college.
“Damn, what they feeding you at State, girl?” Jayla joked and poked a finger at her niece’s plump ass. “How your body look better than mine and you ain’t but nineteen?”
Jasmine snickered and tossed her twists behind her shoulder. “I gained a little weight,” she admitted. “But in all the right places.” She tossed her aunt a wink, and Jayla couldn’t help but laugh at how grown up she was. “Auntie, I’m glad you’re here.” Jasmine took a peek at the living room to make sure no one was within earshot. “I need some advice.”
“What’s up?”
Jasmine let out a frustrated sigh. “You remember my girl, Keela? How about I saw her boyfriend at the movies with some other chick? That shit pissed me off. So me trying to be a good friend, what do I do? I tell her, and this chick gets mad at me, saying I’m lying. I guess that’s what the fuck I get for not minding my own damn business, right?”
“Girl, no.” Jayla leaned on the laminate counter. “Keela should appreciate a friend like you trying to give her a heads-up on her shitty-ass boyfriend. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But now I feel like I should’ve kept my mouth shut. She won’t even answer my calls.”
Jayla rolled her eyes. “So? Fuck her,” she said. “You did the right thing.”
Jasmine’s lips turned down in a frown. She was obviously unsatisfied with the nonchalant answer.
Jayla eyed her niece more closely and noticed the smooth bronze complexion, the hazel eyes, the dramatic arch of her narrow eyebrows, and those genetic pouty lips. Her niece was absolutely gorgeous. Plus, she had ass for days and titties that looked to be catching up.
Jayla’s mind went to work, and she couldn’t help but grin at the brilliant thought. “Do you have a job for the summer?” she asked.
“Nah.”
“I think I have a job for you.”
Jasmine grinned. “Really? Doing what?”
“Bitch, does it matter?” Jayla laughed. “You’ll be making money. A lot of money, I might add. I’ll talk to you about the details later. Just keep this between us, though.”
“I’m down. Thanks, Auntie.”
Jayla nodded, excited about the prospect of her niece working with her. With Jasmine helping with the evaluations, Jayla could pull in twice as many clients. And it appeared Jasmine already had the right attitude, given her situation with her friend. It was perfect. “Oh, one more thing,” she added as Jasmine headed to the door. “Are you a virgin?”
Jasmine’s eyebrows drew together at the random question. “Auntie, really?”
“I just want to know.”
“Yeah.”
Jayla lips folded into a doubtful smirk. “Bitch, don’t lie to me, because you think I’m going to tell your mom.”
Jasmine laughed. “I’m for real.”
Jayla’s mouth fell open at the sincere expression on her niece’s face. “Girl, you lying? No anal? No oral? Nothing?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Why?” she joked. “Is that a problem or something?”
“Girl, get on. We’ll talk about it later.” Jayla frowned as she watched Jasmine head back into the living room. She hadn’t expected that. But that damn sure wouldn’t stop no show. There was a first time for everything.
Aunt Bev marched into the kitchen and slapped Jayla’s shoulder, with a frown and a smack of her teeth. “Child, you need to eat.”
Jayla sighed. Sheer love for
the woman had her biting back a smart comment. “I do eat, Aunt Bev,” she said.
“Skin hanging all off you like you done had gastric bypass,” Aunt Bev continued as she began to prepare her plate. “What man gone marry you without some meat on your bones?” As she spoke, her own round frame and abundant rolls clearly stretched the little souvenir T-shirt she wore.
“I’m healthy,” Jayla said and watched as Aunt Bev rolled her eyes.
“You young girls. Can’t nobody tell you nothing. Just skin and bones.”
The not-so-subtle jealousy lacing her words was too obvious. Even though her long-standing battle with diabetes had packed the weight on her, those extra pounds were, nonetheless, extra. It was enough to prompt people to voice their comments on the drastic change in her weight. But Aunt Bev had raised Jayla and her sisters after their real mother had passed, so Jayla had too much respect for her to refuse to take her advice.
Jayla reached for a plate. “Well, I’m going to fix a plate now to make you happy,” she said with a smile. “Where is Uncle Ron?”
Aunt Bev lifted a Styrofoam cup to her plump lips and slurped. “Who knows?” She shrugged and gestured toward the patio. “Who cares? That bastard made me so mad this morning, it’s ridiculous. I probably need to go ahead and divorce his fat ass.”
Jayla rolled her eyes. Those two had been married for forever, plus some years. No one even bothered to take their little arguments seriously anymore.
“Yeah, I need to go ahead and get me a young, fine thing that can keep up with me.” Aunt Bev smirked as she patted her thigh. “Someone your age. Someone like . . .” She trailed off as her eyes, lit from apparent appreciation, traveled to the doorway. “My, my! Now, who is that?” she said.
Jayla glanced over but did not recognize the stranger. One thing was for sure. The bald head, the thick lips, and the deep chocolate skin certainly did make for an attractive package. As he approached them, he flashed a smile, and Jayla seemed magnetized by those deep-set dimples winking in each cheek. She drew in a breath.
The Appraisal Page 3