by Anna Black
“Now, after I ruined everything and almost died, this is the one and only chance I have to be free. If I stick around here, I’m going to continue to crave the attention and the VIP treatment and the way bitches used to worship me. I need a new start, and my past is so close behind, I can’t do it here,” Tressa expressed. She then let the tears fall.
Amber reached over to comfort her. “I think you should be honest with your dad, Reesy. Your dad will understand.”
“I can’t, Amber. He’s now sick and trying to make my momma happy and turn me into this suit that I never was. I am not cut out for this. I thought I was, but, Amber, I’m not. And then there is my mom. She cries every day in fear that my daddy is going to die. I can’t tell him how I feel. I just can’t right now.”
“Listen, your dad will understand, I guarantee you,” Amber encouraged.
“Maybe he will, but I won’t do it. I want my daddy to die a proud man, so I have to forget myself and how I feel for once in my life and think of him like he has done for me time and time again. Once my daddy is resting in peace and I still want to fly the coop, I will. I know that Tiffany is more than qualified to run things without me. If I do have children, which I plan to, I’m sure my shares will be handed down to them, and I’m sure Tiffany will do the same for her offspring, but, for now, I’m all in.”
“And you give me your word that you are not out to destroy Tiffany in any way. Not even a tiny bit. You are 100 percent sure that there are no ulterior motives behind that gorgeous face?”
“I promise you there are no motives. She has to run my dad’s company because I’m not capable of doing it alone. In the meantime, I’ll just keep a close watch on Tracy. I swear on everything that I’m over it.”
“Good, now if you are still in the mood for shopping, let’s go, because if my pregnant behind stays idle too long, I’ll fall asleep.” She stood, and so did Tressa.
“Well, come on. I’m not at my monthly spending limit, so let’s go spend some money.”
Dinner and Rewrites for Two
Episode 17
Tracy
She checked the time on her phone again and wondered what was keeping Colby. He was over fifteen minutes late, and she didn’t want the food to dry out, trying to keep it hot for him. She didn’t want to seem anxious or impatient, so she didn’t call or text him. Then she heard her phone and rushed over to it. It was Mike again. She hit Ignore and sent a quick text to him.
Going over rewrites with Grant. What’s up, baby?
A few moments later, she got:
Baby wants to play . . . I miss my mommy! How long will you be?
She replied, Not sure, baby. May not be able to play tonight. :-(
He replied, You said the same thing the last four nights, and baby is starting to grow angry. You don’t want baby angry, do you? When baby’s happy, everyone’s happy.
She blew out a breath and knew he was right. Her job was still hanging in the balance. With only one show, that had still not aired yet, and with no new show ideas, she knew she didn’t have a lot of leverage to play games. Especially not with the big boss, so she replied, Will rap it up soon, baby. Mommy’s tits are full and ready for you to feast!
With that, Mike stopped texting. She looked at the meal she prepared for Colby and turned off the warmers. He wasn’t coming, so what was the point? She didn’t bother to text or call him, she just poured a glass of the chilled wine she had for them, and then waited ten more minutes before she texted Mike.
Is baby still hungry?
Yes, Mommy.
Give me an hour and I’ll come feed u.
OK, Mommy.
She flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the remote and flipped through the stations, but nothing sparked her interest. She tossed it on the cushion beside her and let out a sigh. She was already showered, dressed to kill, and her makeup was flawless because, like Tiffany and most all of the staff at TiMax, they had a stylist and makeup artist who never minded making extra cash. She wanted to seduce Colby that night, so looking her best was a desideratum. Somehow, deep down, she knew that men like Colby, fine, arrogant, and cocky, would be a no-show. Having a little time to kill, she grabbed the remote again and cranked up the volume. One of her favorite shows, Snapped, was on, so she listened in. She sipped and by the time the show ended she had to rush over to Mike’s, but she now had a plan to begin her operation to destroy Tiffany.
The show talked about a voice monitor that was planted, and the assailant had listened in on his victim’s conversations, plans, and daily routine, giving him the leverage he needed to attack his victim at the right time. She knew Sundays was the slowest day, and she could get into Tiffany’s office and plant a device. She had to find out something. That way, she could learn information that would help her in her plot to abolish her.
She wanted to run Tiffany out of town. She wanted to humiliate her so badly that Tiffany would want to live under a rock after she was done with her. To be so bitter over something like that from the past was crazy, and Tracy knew it, but for some reason, she couldn’t let it go. For some reason, she wanted to knock Tiffany’s ass to her lowest point, just the way Tiffany had knocked hers. “I have to show you, Tiffany, exactly what you did to me. You have to feel some of my pain. How did you swoop in and land my job, and then move so far up the ladder to where you are Mr. Green’s next in line? You are an evil, selfish, thieving bitch, and you don’t deserve any of it!” she griped.
“You will feel my pain. You will not ride off into the sunset while I have to suck old men’s dicks and change nut-filled diapers just to get recognition. Oh yes, Tiffany Richardson, your ass is going to pay. You are going to feel me!” she declared.
She got up and went into her spare room where the walls were plastered with photos and articles of Tiffany. She had collected them over the years, and she obsessed over them even when she didn’t want to. Her obsession was beyond her control, and there was no way for her to get over it unless she got even.
“You will pay, Tiffany. You will pay. This is far from over,” she yelled at a wall decorated with captions of Tiffany. Breathing hard and heart thumping like a rapid erythematic beating drum in her chest, she began to slap herself. After a few stinging licks to her face, she punched her thighs. “Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!” she yelled repeatedly, over and over again until she was exhausted.
When reality set back in, she realized she bruised herself. She went to the bathroom mirror, and her cheeks looked as if she wore red blush from her self-inflicted slaps. “Get it together, Simms. You’re not angry at yourself for being late, you are mad at Tiffany for taking your spot,” she recited in the mirror. She snatched the cabinet open and grabbed her bottle of pills. She should have taken one before she slapped her own face and beat her own thighs, but she gave into the self-affliction instead of suppressing it with medicine.
Taking one without water, she put the lid down on the toilet and waited for the pill to relax her and the ability to contain her irrational thoughts of Tiffany and self-afflicting behavior. After almost ten minutes, she could feel the medicine doing its job. She was more tranquil now and felt like nothing mattered, not even Tiffany Richardson. She stood, turned on the water, and began to sing. She hummed the Jill Scott tune “Golden” as she combed her hair back into place and touched up her makeup, camouflaging the bruises from her slaps. She rubbed concealer on her thighs and sealed it with powder, hoping she wouldn’t get makeup all over Mike’s sheets because she didn’t want him to question the marks she left on her skin from her punishing herself.
When she left the bathroom, she noticed the guest room door was still open. She hurried over to shut it. “Now who left this door open?” she questioned as if she was talking to someone else in her home. “We all know not to leave this door open,” she said out loud as if she wasn’t the only one that lived there. After shutting it, she went and trashed the meal she had prepared for Colby as she continued humming Jill Scott’s tune.
/> After all of the pots and pans were empty, she loaded them in the dishwasher and poured in the dishwasher detergent. She made sure her kitchen was spotless before she headed for the door.
She drove to Mike’s place as if nothing unusual transpired at her house. She smiled as she parked and decided to put Tiffany and her vendetta against her in the backseat. She got out and strutted to the front door and rang the bell. He let her in and welcomed her as always, and she let him do her body the way he did each time they were together, and she welcomed sleep when it was all over.
I’m in Control
Episode 18
Tressa
Tressa sat at her desk going over the numbers for the next season of Boy Crazy, and her eyes crossed. Over and over she coached herself saying, “You can do this, Tressa, you are a Green, and you’re not just a lazy, spoiled brat, and you are no longer an addict.” Hard work was something she had never done in her life, and it was still foreign to her. Getting up every morning and going to work still hadn’t fully kicked in, and she thought of abandoning ship often, especially moments like this when everyone was gone for the day, and she was still at work trying to handle what was a simple task to the veterans that worked there.
Stressful moments made her want to snort a line or two, but she did her best to focus and fight off the urge. “You are strong, you are fearless, and L.A. doesn’t control you, Tressa Isabella Green. Mind over matter, mind over desires, mind over feelings,” she recited. Something she had learned in rehab. She learned that the mind was more powerful than emotions and feel-good fleshly pleasures. She was now in control, and she promised herself, her momma, and her father that she would stay clean. “One day at a time,” she coached herself and got back to the graphs in front of her.
Since Boy Crazy had been one of TiMax’s highest-ranking shows, she had to triple-check her work, because she didn’t want to make any mistakes. She then knew why Tiffany was treated like royalty at TiMax, because everything about that hit show was brilliant. From the story line to the wardrobe, to the makeup, to the cast, there was not one negative thing to be said. The cast gave it their all, and then some, and the crew did not half step, so Boy Crazy would have a spot at TiMax for a very long time, and she was now a fan. She watched the show faithfully. Tressa smiled, and then said out loud, “How does she do it?” Her thoughts just jumped out of her mouth, and she didn’t know she had a visitor standing in her office.
“How does who do what?” his voice jolted her out of her work zone.
She looked up, and her eyes landed on the last person she wanted to see standing in her doorway. The last person she needed to see, and she wondered what prompted him to show up at her office. A sudden wave of panic went through her body as if she had seen the devil. Why was he still there? His show was already done taping, so his visit was out of left field. She had ignored him, blocked him, and made sure she stayed as far away as possible from him, and somehow, he was standing in her office.
“Stephen, what, what?” she stuttered. “How did you get in here?” The sight of him not only surprised her, but it also made her extremely uncomfortable. She was strong, but what strong meant for her was staying away from her poisonous influences, and Stephen was just that, and in the worst way. Tressa had been on the straight and narrow, and Stephen was a friend that didn’t take no for an answer, so she made it her daily job to stay clear and away from him.
“Nice to see you too, bitch,” he said in his flamboyant, off-the-screen personality. He was a heart throb on television and played a straight, sexy role in his series, but not all of his fans knew he was really gay. There were rumors, suspicions, and even printed gossip about it, but nothing that was concrete, so his show did well.
He came in closer, uninvited, and Tressa thought she’d go into a full-panic frenzy. “So, missy, why have you deleted me from your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr? Heck, even on Pinterest a bitch is not your friend. Why did you ditch me, Reesy? We were friends.” He stood there with his body poised like a runway model, then crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an explanation.
Tressa took a breath and remembered what she learned in therapy about interacting with friends she has abused drugs and alcohol with in the past. “I didn’t ditch you, Stephen. I decided to separate myself from the people who I indulged with. I am clean now, and no way could I have stayed this way if I continued to run with the same crowd and friends.
“As a recovering addict, you have to separate yourself, you know that. Nothing personal, but I had to let go of some of my old friends to begin my new journey. I’m clean, Stephen, and I want to stay that way.” Her tone was even, direct, and stern. She meant it and hoped Stephen would not try to seduce her back into the life of addiction. It was always that “one line won’t hurt you,” she knew because she said that to Amber a billion times after she cleaned up.
“I’m no addict either, sister-girl, and I would have understood. Reesy, you are my girl. My ride-or-die bitch, so you know I would have never pressured you or forced you to indulge.”
She knew that was bullshit, but she said, “I know, Stephen, but when you want to be free of that drug, or any drugs, for that matter, you can’t be around it. You have to separate yourself completely to avoid temptation. Honestly, I could never blame you or anyone else for my habit, but for me . . . for me to remain clean, I can’t be around it.”
“So is that what rehab taught you?” he asked smartly and snickered. He went into his bag and pulled out a tiny zipped bag with coke in it. “I’m no expert on the matter, but you and I both know that you had it under control before the wedding bullshit with Kory and your trust issues with your dad. Look, Tressa, until Kory found that shit in your purse he didn’t even know. You can snort responsibly,” he suggested. He opened up the bag, licked his pinky, and dabbed a little on it. He licked his finger, sucking the contents clean, and Tressa’s eyes were locked on him to keep from looking at the poison that she fought so hard to kick.
She knew what one hit would do, but she didn’t want it. She liked her new life, her new clean life, so Stephen had to go. “Look, Stephen, a true friend wouldn’t come up in here with drugs. A true friend would congratulate me, and lastly, a true friend wouldn’t be mad because I turned my life around. Now, I am happy to see you, but if this is all that you came for, I’ll ask you nicely to leave.”
He grabbed his chest dramatically as if he was about to have a heart attack and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of Tressa’s desk. “Oh, since when does the Queen of L.A. ask nicely?” he retorted.
“Stephen, I’m no longer the Queen of L.A. I’m just trying to live a normal life, get along with my parents, and earn their respect. My daddy has put so much into helping me and giving me a job and my thousandth chance to do right by him and my mother. This was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, so again, be a friend and put that away. I don’t need to see any type of drug or drink. We can catch up, hang out, or whatever you want, but I’m done with that shit, Stephen, and I mean it . . . seriously!”
“But we all miss you so much, Reesy. Look, you don’t have to indulge, just hang.”
With sincerity, she said, “No, Stephen, I can’t. I don’t want to hang or put myself in those circles anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent sure.” Tressa was confident and so proud of herself. Stephen was very persuasive, beguiling, and slick, and could convince someone to sell their soul, so he had to go.
“Okay, then, bitch, I’ll put it away. I come in peace. I just wanted to see your ass, that’s all. I mean, security so tight around here now,” he stood and pranced around her office.
“I know, Stephen. My father has taken extreme measures to make sure I stay clean.”
“Well, he must not know me well.” He went over to her side of the desk.
She stood, and they exchanged a hug. “I’m happy to see you, Stephen, and I want you to know I love you, but I had to kick the old
out of my life to move forward with the new, and I had to separate myself from old habits in order to break them,” she explained.
He moved back to the other side of her desk and took a seat. “I hear you, boo, and I’m not here to cause no trouble. I see that you are truly on the straight and narrow, and as your friend, I’ll respect that, but if ever—” he tried to say.
“Never,” she declared, cutting him off.
“Okay, bitch, damn! Can we still hit a club or two? I know you’re a working girl now, but everybody needs a party. There are virgin cocktails, Ms. Thang.”
“Rain check,” she said with pleading eyes. She had work to do, and she wasn’t strong enough to fight off evil devices alone. “I have a deadline, Stephen, and I’m still learning the ropes here. These figures alone got my eyes crossed. I have to focus on work. You understand, right? So can I please get a rain check?”
“Rain check, bitch, please! Nobody rain checks me. Today is Sunday, and you shouldn’t be here in the first fucking place, and tomorrow is some type of bullshit-ass holiday, so come on, Reesy. Working on a Sunday is for no-ass-life idiots, and on top of all of that, you are the boss’s daughter. Get in gear, bitch . . . I’m here to resurrect your status, boo. After all, you do know your ass is on the ‘I’ll be damned’ list now?”
“I am? Are you serious?” She frowned.
“Yes, as serious as a fat kid with cookies in his pocket,” he confirmed.
“Okay, bitch, one drink, and I have to get back to my office and get my work done. I can’t be fooling with you, Stephen. If my dad knew . . .” she said. She stood and reached for her handbag.