“Uuggghhh,” Walter cried out. “You just burned me, you crazy bitch, and you ruined my brand-new shirt. I oughta kick your high siddity ass!”
But instead of feeling fearful of the man standing in front of her, whom she now viewed as a stranger, Bernadette gathered all the years of hurt and bad relationships she’d experienced into the moment. “You ought to kick my ass?!” Bernadette screamed back. Her voice was a mixture of controlled anger mixed with a touch of set-it-off. “I’m the one who should be kicking your ass!” Bernadette said, gritting her teeth. She lunged at Walter, and in one quick motion she picked up the stapler off his desk and launched it like a missile at his face, hitting him in his nose, causing blood to gush.
Walter grabbed his nose in pain, but Bernadette showed no mercy. She reached for the sharp metal letter opener and stabbed it into Walter’s forearm. He cried out again and staggered backward as he pulled the office tool turned deadly weapon out of his bleeding flesh. “Bitch, I’m gonna kill your crazy ass!” Walter yelled.
“Dead men can’t fight,” Bernadette said as she lunged at him with full force. She didn’t know where her strength came from—it could have been from pent-up hurt, feelings of abandonment from her father, bitterness from her mother, unrequited love from her past relationships, or a combination of them all. But one thing Bernadette did know was that her raw emotions led her to fight Walter like a man and beat him to a pulp. But she didn’t come out unscathed. She suffered a fractured right hand and a nasty black eye.
“Press charges and put his butt behind bars,” her mother told her later that evening. “If he tried to swindle you, I’m sure he’s involved in all kinds of shadiness.”
After what Bernadette had just lived through, all she wanted to do was put Walter and his deception behind her. In the days that followed her shocking discovery and violent breakup, Bernadette learned that Walter’s luxury car had really been a rental from Prestige Foreign Cars, and the beautiful home he lived in was the property of one of his real estate clients who’d been living abroad for the last six months while Walter house-sat for him.
Bernadette shared a few details with her mother and poured her heart out only to her close cousin, whom she considered a sister. But she was much too devastated and embarrassed to reveal the full truth to the rest of her family and friends.
Over the next few weeks she retreated into the four walls of her luxurious Dupont Circle townhome and eventually told everyone that she’d realized that she and Walter had been incompatible. She knew that no one really believed her story, and she was grateful that not a soul had pushed her for the ugly details of their breakup, especially after Walter was arrested two months later for wire fraud.
Walter Pearson’s deception had done more than embarrass Bernadette; he’d hurt her to her core, and she vowed to never allow herself to be deceived by another man, ever.
Chapter 2
TESS
One Year Ago
Tess’s eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, trying to figure out the best way to cause Antwan maximum damage without landing herself in jail. “I’m gonna make that sorry, sneaky, low-down son of a bitch pay,” Tess hissed. “His conniving ass is gonna learn that I’m the wrong bitch to fuck with.”
Testimony Sinclair, or Tess—the name that everyone called her—was so mad she could barely see past the red rage flickering behind her big, brown doe eyes. Her boyfriend, Antwan, had been MIA for the last two days. He’d sent her a text message early yesterday morning saying he was under a tight deadline at work, but her intuition told her that he was up to something, and being the curious person she was, she knew she needed to get to the bottom of what was really going on with him. So this morning she’d risen early, something she rarely did, and driven over to Antwan’s house. She’d parked her car across the street and waited to see what she might discover. Sure enough, thirty minutes later he had emerged, accompanied by a full-figured, Jill Scott–looking woman who was rocking a mile-high afro and a satisfied smile.
“I knew it!” Tess had screamed. She was about to swing her car door open, run across the street, and confront them, but a tiny voice inside her head cautioned her to stay put because if she didn’t it would take a team of armed officers to break up what would ensue. But as she watched her boyfriend and his side chick drive away, a bigger, more forceful voice told her, “Girl, don’t get mad, get even!”
Tess reached into her handbag and pulled out the bump key she’d made a few months ago that would unlock Antwan’s door. After jiggling it around in the lock, she gently opened the door and let herself into his neatly kept house. Her eyes zeroed in on two empty glasses beside a bottle of wine on his coffee table. “That cheating mutherfucker,” Tess said. She picked up the empty bottle of Chardonnay and then sent it crashing into large shards across Antwan’s hardwood floors.
Tess knew she should leave because the little voice inside her head returned and told her that being in her boyfriend’s house like this wasn’t a good idea. But once again, the bigger voice pushed out its weaker opponent and said, “Girl, you’re already in here, so you better make the most of it!”
Tess decided to once again listen to the dominant voice, and she headed back to Antwan’s bedroom.
Once she was inside she was more pissed off than ever by what she found. Antwan was a near-OCD neat freak and always made up his bed as soon as he rose, no matter what. One time when she hadn’t moved fast enough he’d tried to make up his bed with her still in it. But this morning, instead of finding his bed made with military style precision the way he usually kept it, it was a disheveled mess with sheets hanging off the edge. Tess shook her head and ran her hand over her thick mop of curly hair. She felt like striking a match and letting it land wherever it may because she was completely disgusted.
“This is the reason his sorry ass has been avoiding me for two days straight,” she said aloud. “Deadline my ass! That bastard! I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit again. But this is the last time.”
Tess and Antwan Bolling had been dating two years, and in that time he’d repeatedly cheated on her with multiple women, sometimes juggling two women at a time in addition to Tess. One time he’d even cheated with his ex-girlfriend whom he’d broken up with shortly before he and Tess had met. Tess had forgiven him the first time because his “slip-up with the past,” as he’d called it, had happened only a few weeks into his and Tess’s relationship, and they hadn’t made a solid commitment to each other. So Tess had brushed it off and decided that she and Antwan could start anew, as a committed couple this time around. She’d laid down the law and told him that she expected monogamy, and that if he couldn’t deal, he needed to move along.
“Tess, I promise you. I’m going to be faithful to you and only you,” Antwan had said.
“How can I believe you? How can I trust you?”
“My word is my bond, and I’m giving that to you, along with my heart.”
Telling a man that she expected monogamy had been a big deal for Tess because Antwan was the only man she’d ever wanted to be faithful to. They had instantly clicked when she’d met him at her book signing two years ago. She’d been signing copies of her latest novel when a handsome man had caught her eye. His dreamy, hazel-colored eyes, deep dimples, and kinky coily twists of hair had grabbed her attention among the throng of readers who had come to Barnes & Noble to have their books signed that evening. After her event had ended, Tess had been on her way out of the store when she’d spotted Antwan standing near the door. He’d introduced himself and given her his number and the rest was a wrap.
They were both accomplished writers, she a popular New York Times best-selling author, he a highly respected award-winning newspaper journalist. They’d bonded over classic literature, good food, wild sex, and fine wine. No man had ever understood Tess in the way that Antwan had, and his compassion and kindness had made her fall hard for him. But despite his many good qualities, the one thing Tess had noticed early on in their relationship was Ant
wan’s wandering eye. Every time they were out he’d stare at other women, and if they happened to be very attractive, his eyes would linger to the point of disrespect. Then there was the fact that his phone was always on vibrate or silent, and she’d suspected that was his way of trying to prevent her from detecting whether he was receiving phone calls, texts, or both.
There were other things that gave Tess pause as well, like the fact that Antwan was hesitant about making their relationship public. He’d said it was because his profession—being a Pulitzer Prize–winning columnist for the Washington Post’s Chicago bureau—and hers—being an international best-selling author with a legion of loyal readers—kept them both in the spotlight enough, and he didn’t want his private life to become a public story.
“I want people to know that I’m in love!” Tess had said one night when they’d been out on the town and she’d wanted to post photos of the good time they were having on her Instagram and Facebook pages.
“Why does the world have to know?” Antwan had countered. “As long as the two of us know that we love each other, what difference does it make what others think?”
“It’s not about what others think. Like I’ve said many times, I just want to share the love I feel.”
Antwan was unyielding. “I don’t want to share my life with the world.”
“You post and share information on social media all the time.”
“Only social or political commentary that’s related to my column. I post about the news and world events, but my personal life is off-limits. You know that.”
“Are you trying to keep me a secret?” Tess asked, trying not to frown.
Antwan wrapped her in his arms. “No, I just don’t want to share my private life with the world, Tess. Can you respect that?”
Even though Tess didn’t like or understand his reasoning, she’d acquiesced, mostly because Antwan repeatedly professed his love for her, that there was no one else, and that he’d learned his lesson about fidelity and would be faithful to her. But his promise had been short-lived when, nearly a year after she’d caught him cheating the first time, he’d fallen off the fidelity wagon again.
He’d tried to lie his way out of it, and he’d almost gotten away with his deceit until one of his friends had unknowingly given Tess the wrong answer to a trick question she’d asked, busting Antwan’s bogus alibi. Once Tess confronted him, Antwan had finally admitted that he’d “slipped up” again, in what he’d called a moment of regressive weakness. “I only lied to protect your feelings,” he’d told her. “I love you, Tess, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Blame it on my immaturity and shortcomings, not my heart.”
Now, once again, Tess was standing face-to-face with Antwan’s infidelity, staring pain squarely in the eyes. The reality hit her, and in that moment Tess knew this wouldn’t be the last time her boyfriend cheated, but it would most certainly be the last time he cheated on her.
“I invested two years into this asshole!” Tess screamed, beginning to see bright red again. “I was faithful to him, and now look at this shit,” she hissed as she stared down at the bra that his side chick had left behind. She sneered. “She’s a young-minded bitch, because if she had to leave her damn underclothes behind as a calling card to me, what does that say about her?” But as soon as Tess said those words she knew that what she’d said about Antwan’s side chick applied directly to her as well. After all, she’d gone through the trouble of having a bump key made several months ago, and today wasn’t the first time she’d sneaked into Antwan’s house to snoop around.
“What the hell’s wrong with me?” Tess questioned out loud. “I’m successful. I’m smart. I have a great personality. And hell, I’m straight-up beautiful with a bangin’-ass body. So why would he cheat on me?”
It was a fact that Tess was successful, as was evidenced by her latest novel, which was still sitting at the top of the New York Times best sellers list, several months after its publication. Her magna cum laude degree from Winston-Salem State University confirmed that she was academically smart. Her vibrant personality was the reason that her friends and family called her the life of the party. And her smooth skin with near-perfect bone structure, along with her slim, well-toned body was a testament to the fact that she made men and women do a double take when she walked into the room.
“What’s wrong with me?” Tess repeated softly. She breathed deeply as the loud voice inside her head told her: Listen, sister, there ain’t nothing wrong with you, except the fact that you’re in love with a liar who’s clearly not in love with you. This shit is about him and his problems. So stop feeling sorry for yourself. Remember, don’t get mad, get even!
Tess walked to the kitchen, opened the bottle of Hennessey sitting on the counter, and poured a glass. As she swallowed the smooth, brown liquid, her eyes landed on the butcher block knife set at the other end of the counter. She removed the kitchen sheers from the set and marched back to Antwan’s bedroom, heading straight to his meticulously organized walk-in closet. One by one she removed his neatly hung clothes from the black, felt-lined hangers.
“Since he acts like half a man, I’m gonna make his wardrobe match who he is!” She cut one sleeve off every shirt, sweater, and jacket before moving on to his pants. She held up his neatly creased khakis and cut off one pant leg in four large snips, then she commenced to cutting off one leg of every pair of jeans, slacks, and shorts in sight. Next, she walked over to his dresser, opened his sock drawer, and cut off the toe section of every pair of socks that Antwan owned. She moved on to his underwear drawer and cut one leg off of each pair of boxer briefs and one sleeve off every immaculately folded T-shirt she could get her hands on. After she was satisfied that she’d destroyed his clothes she walked over to his master bathroom, opened the door to his linen closet, and cut every towel and washcloth in half. She would have tackled the sheets next, but her hand was beginning to cramp, so she decided to redirect her efforts on something less taxing.
“Hmmm, let’s see what else can I fuck up,” Tess said as she walked back out to the kitchen and poured herself another glass of Hennessey. She looked at his prized stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerator and smiled. She reached over to his knife set, pulled out the serrated edge bread knife, and dragged it up and down the appliance’s smooth surface until it looked as if it had been attacked by a wild animal. “That’s good, if I do say so myself,” Tess declared, admiring her handiwork. She pulled the door handle open, perused the shelves, and grabbed everything that was liquid or that she thought would aid her in her next phase of destruction. She poured milk, juice, and soda on his kitchen floor, cracked eggs on his couch, and smeared jelly, honey, and syrup onto his plush carpet covering his living room floor.
Tess proceeded to destroy pretty much anything she could get her hands on from Antwan’s prized journalism awards that sat perched on his mahogany bookcase, to his collection of carefully curated prints hanging on the walls, to his two flat-screen TVs. She also broke every glass, plate, bowl, cup, and saucer in his cabinets. She wanted to work her way back to his guest bedroom and bathroom, but by now she was growing tired.
“I need to go home and decompress because this shit is exhausting,” Tess said as she reached into Antwan’s pantry, pulled out one of his reusable canvas grocery bags, and filled it with as many bottles of his wine and liquor as it would hold. “One thing I can say about that asshole is that he has good taste in alcohol.”
Tess walked toward the door and looked out the living room window at the snow that had begun to fall. Her mind had been so focused on her troubles with Antwan, that she’d completely forgotten that the weather forecast had called for heavy snow that would bring more than a foot by nightfall. She wrapped herself up in her heavy wool coat and quietly closed the door behind her as she lugged her bag full of liquor to her car.
As Tess cautiously drove twenty miles below the speed limit across town and back to her house in the Gold Coast—arguably one of Chicago’s
most affluent neighborhoods—she felt as though she’d just completed the Ironman contest. She was physically tired and emotionally spent. Even though her gut had told her that Antwan was cheating on her again, she had held hope against hope, naïvely believing that he would eventually change his ways. She had thought he was the one; that he would be her forever man. She was in her late thirties, and for the first time in her life she wanted to get married, settle down, and even have a child or two, and she wanted to do that with Antwan. That was how much she loved him, but now, he’d turned her world upside down and dashed her dreams in the short span of a few hours.
Tess was almost home, and as she steered her car down her pristine street, her face went blank when she saw Antwan’s number pop up on the screen of her car’s Bluetooth system. Under any other circumstances she would have picked up right away, but right now she couldn’t bring herself to speak with her lying, cheating boyfriend. The call went to her voice mail but he didn’t leave a message.
When Tess entered her spacious home she kicked off her shoes, put away her bag full of alcohol, and went straight upstairs to her bedroom. She peeled out of her clothes, put on her oversized nightshirt, and crawled under her soft comforter. It was barely 9:00 a.m., and even though the day had just begun, Tess desperately wished it was over. Suddenly, it dawned on her that she’d almost forgotten about a very important call she needed to make. She reached into her handbag that she’d placed on the floor beside her bed and retrieved her cell phone.
Tess was about to dial the intended number when her phone rang. Her eyes shifted into long slits of anger when she saw Antwan’s name appear. When he’d called while she’d been driving home she had felt sad, and too emotional to talk with him. But now she was seeing bright red again, just as she had back at his house. “The nerve of this mutherfucker! I ought to curse his ass out right now.” Just as she was about to swipe her finger across her cell phone’s screen to answer the call, she stopped in mid-motion.
The Other Side Page 2