My Husband's Mistress 2

by Racquel Williams

  “I know, babe. I know.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “Anyway, so why were you so agitated earlier when you called me?”

  He looked at me. “Listen, you’re already having a rough day, so that can wait.”

  “‘That’ what? What are you talking about, Spencer?”

  “Well, you know you asked me to run that boy’s fingerprints—”

  “Yes, so what happened? Who is he?” I cut him off.

  “Well, his name is not José. He had a run-in with the law last year and was fingerprinted. His name is Josiah Clarke.”

  “Josiah Clarke... Why would he lie about his name? And who is this boy?”

  “I talked to my buddy down by the precinct, and he assured me that was the only run-in he had with the law.”

  I sat there quiet for a minute. I was buried deep in my thoughts. Why would he say his name was José when it was really Josiah? Those thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “Hold on a sec,” I said to Spencer as I got up and exited the room.

  I pushed open Amaiya’s door. She was wearing her earphones, so I walked over to her and snatched them off her head.

  “What are you doing?” she yelled.

  “Lower your voice and shut up.”

  “What is it now, Ma?” She folded her arms across her chest and stared at me.

  “What is José’s real name?”

  “Ha-ha. What do you mean by his real name?”

  “His name is not José; it’s Josiah.” I threw the mug shot at her. “And since you’re fooling around with him, I figured you needed to know.”

  She snatched up the paper and stared at it. “Where did you get this?”

  “Don’t worry about where I got it. The question should be, why did he lie about his name, and did you know?”

  “Ma, why are you doing this? I know you ’ont want me to be with him, but to make up some stuff just to break us up is crazy.”

  “His name is Josiah Clarke. He has the same last name as you.”

  “So what? Plenty of people go wit’ each other, and they have the same last name. And his name is not Josiah. Trust me. I would have known. The police must’ve messed up.”

  “Really? What do you know about him other than what he told you? Have you met his family? Little girl, stop thinking with your heart and use your brain. Do you even know where he lives?”

  “Yes, I know where he lives,” she blurted out.

  “All I’m saying is, there’s a reason why he’s lying about who he really is, and I’m going to find out why. You are not allowed to see him anymore.”

  “You can’t do that. I love him, and it doesn’t matter if his name is José or Josiah. His last name is Clarke, but my daddy ain’t got no other kids, so I know he ain’t my brother. It’s pure coincidence.”

  I froze when those words left her mouth.

  “Ma, you a’ight? You looking at me like you just saw a ghost.”

  I didn’t respond. I just looked at her, turned around, and walked away, slamming the door behind me.

  I didn’t feel like dealing with Spencer, so I walked downstairs to the kitchen. I knew I was not supposed to be drinking, but the urge was overwhelming. I opened the cabinet, grabbed a bottle of red wine, and poured myself a glass. I didn’t hesitate before I gulped it down. Then I put the bottle back in the cabinet, walked into the living room, and lay down on the sofa to think.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Josiah Clarke

  I was on the block doing what I did best... grinding. I had to step up my game after my momma passed. I looked around at my surroundings, but there wasn’t shit in the Bronx to do. I was planning to go out to VA with my big cuz after all of this revenge shit was over with. I heard there was some major paper out there. I was ready to show those down South niggas how to get money. Maybe I could find me one of those Southern bitches. I heard they had a big thing for up-top niggas.

  My phone started to go off. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Amaiya. I pressed ignore and went back to doing what I was doing. She didn’t ease up, though. She kept calling back-to-back.

  “Hey, boo. I told you I was goin’ be out on the block today,” I answered with an attitude.

  “Man, I need to talk to you.”

  “Can’t it wait ’til later? You know I don’t like to be distracted while I’m out here. Plus, today, them pigs are out in full force.”

  “Boy, you not listening to me. My mama talkin’ ’bout José is not your real name.”

  “What the fuck you talkin’ ’bout?” She damn sure had my full attention now.

  “I was in my room, listening to music when she came in here wit’ your pic on a mug shot and talking ’bout your real name is Josiah Clarke.”

  “Why would she do that? Your mom’s checking up on me now?” I was pissed the fuck off.

  “I ’ont know what she doing. All I want to know is... What’s your name?”

  “So you feeding into that bullshit. You can’t see that she’s just trying to separate us? Babe, my name is José. Why would I lie to you? I love you. You my motherfucking heartbeat.”

  “I know that she’s just trying to break us up, but why, though? You never did anything to hurt her or me.”

  “Babe, no disrespect to your moms, but sometimes mothers get jealous of their daughters because their love life ain’t going good, or maybe your mom just wishes she had a good man like me in her life.”

  “Man, this is too much. I love my mom, but she needs to quit already.”

  “Listen, babe. Lemme get this sale real quick, and I’ll call you back. I love you, yo.” I quickly hung up the phone.

  “Yo, my G, I’ma be out for a li’l while. Hit my phone if you need me.” I gave dap to my nigga, Trey.

  “A’ight, be easy, my nigga.”

  I walked around the corner to my car and jumped in. That bitch had upset my nerves with that bullshit news she just gave me. I wanted to know what her bitch mother was up to and what she was doing with my mug shot pic. I knew that bitch was up to something, but what it was, I had no idea.

  I decided to head home. I had no more time to waste. I was ready to make my move. I only hoped that Amaiya would agree to what I was about to ask her.

  Hassan Clarke

  I couldn’t sleep at all. Instead, I tossed and turned all night. I glanced at the clock, and it was only a quarter after three. I was leaving in the morning to go to court, so I prepared mentally to provide the best case of my life. I fucked up the first time, but that time around, I was a different person. The once cocky and arrogant Hassan Clarke was gone. I was a lot older and smarter now.

  A few days ago, I had to swallow my pride and contact my old partner from the law firm. I begged him to help gather some information that I needed. I guess he felt sorry for me because he decided to help without charging me. One of the best pieces of evidence that I had was my cell phone records. At the time of Imani’s death, I was nowhere near the Bronx. I wasn’t there until that evening when my mother called me to tell me about her death. There was no forensic evidence that linked me to her death, nor were there any witnesses against me. As a matter of fact, the PI that we had on the case found two women who saw a woman entering Imani’s apartment on the day of the murder. They couldn’t remember what the woman looked like, but that was enough to put a dent in the prosecutor’s case.

  My goal was to get released so that I could get all of the evidence I needed against that bitch, Destiny. I promised that her ass would rot in prison for the rest of her life. I smiled to myself because I was a step closer to getting my revenge on that bitch.

  * * *

  I got to the courtroom extra early, and as usual, a bunch of niggas was crowded in the holding cell, trading stories, and most of them were just lies. Prison was definitely the place where people could pretend to be a big shot when, in reality, they were nobodies. After being in prison, I was tired of hearing the same old stories. I closed my eyes and leaned back against th
e wall. I started daydreaming about my freedom and the first thing I was going to do when I walked out of there.

  “Clarke, let’s go,” the bailiff hollered and opened the cell.

  I jumped up and eagerly walked out of the cell. God, please help me in the courtroom. I promise, God, I am a changed man, I silently prayed. The courtroom was kind of empty, but I immediately spotted mom-dukes. That was my first time seeing her in over a year. She waved at me and blew me a kiss. I smiled back at my queen. No matter what, she was always there to provide support.

  Leon was already sitting down. I sat beside him. “Whaddup, man?”

  “Ain’t nothing. I’ve got everything ready to present to the court. You ready, partna?”

  “Hell yeah. I’ve been waiting on this day for a long time now.”

  “All rise. The court of the Criminal Division is now in session. The Honorable Judge Morales is presiding.”

  “Be seated,” Judge Morales commanded.

  I almost pissed in my pants when I heard the judge’s name. I looked up and realized that she was one of my old flings. We didn’t end on good terms, so I had no idea how things were going to play out.

  “Your Honor, this is first on the docket. Docket number 67721-63. The State of New York vs. Hassan Clarke.”

  My lawyer got up, and, boy, that nigga showed out. It was nothing like my first trial. That nigga was on point. He provided reasons why I couldn’t have killed Imani and also told the court that my ex-wife, Destiny, had set me up so she could get rid of the woman that I was cheating with. In the process, she also got rid of me so that she could get my money. He provided witness statements, phone records, and he emphasized that there was no DNA evidence to link me to the crime.

  On the second charge of conspiracy to commit murder, a charge that they claimed I confessed to on tape, my lawyer dug right into it by saying that I was drugged by a woman that was out to get me, and I was coaxed by her trying to frame me.

  “How did I do?” he asked when he sat down.

  “Man, you did damn good.”

  The overzealous DA interrupted my seconds of happiness. I felt like that bitch had it out for me because although the evidence was given to her office, she still persisted in trying to keep a nigga locked up. I swear, that bitch just wanted this dick.

  “Your Honor, I know that Attorney Smith just gave us a whole speech on why the defendant could not have committed those murders, but the defendant tried to kill the victim a few weeks before her death. He was arrested and charged for that crime. He was angry that Miss Gibson did not want to drop the charges that would definitely cause him to lose his law license. He was also having an affair with the victim, and he was scared that she was going to tell his wife, which would have resulted in his wife leaving him and taking their daughter.

  “Another reason why the defendant should not be granted a new trial is that he tried to kill his now ex-wife. The police officer and his ex-wife both testified to that in the previous trial. His best friend is dead, and he was caught on tape testifying that he ordered the hit. Your Honor, this man is a menace to society, and if you let him out, God knows who he is going to hurt next. He deserves to stay behind bars for the remainder of his sentence.”

  “Thank you, DA Martin.

  “This case is not an easy one, but as a judge, I can’t get my personal feelings involved. I have to hear both sides of the story and make a decision based on evidence. When I walked in here today, I was ready to make a ruling, but as I listened to both sides, I realized that I needed more time to review the new evidence that was presented in these motions today. I will make my ruling in fourteen days, which is the twenty-eighth, at 9:00 a.m. If there is nothing else, this court is adjourned.”

  I looked at Leon, and he had the same puzzled look on his face. I turned around and saw the sad look on my mama’s face. I wished I could walk over and hug her, but that was impossible. I mouthed, “I love you.” Then the bailiff cuffed me and walked me to the back.

  I waited until I was in the holding cell to let everything register. What the fuck just happened? I thought. I quickly put on my lawyer hat. It wasn’t bad news. I think the judge actually believed what my lawyer was saying. Two weeks was too fucking long, though, to wait on those fucking crackers, but there wasn’t shit that I could really do about it.

  * * *

  Stress is a motherfucker that I didn’t need. Those motherfuckas knew that I had the fucking bug, and stress wasn’t good for me mentally or physically.

  “All rise. The Honorable Judge Morales is presiding.”

  “Please be seated. Will the defendant and his attorney remain standing? I said two weeks ago that this was not an easy case. I’ve reviewed the evidence that the State presented in the original case. I’ve also thoroughly reviewed the new evidence presented to me two weeks ago. I’ve heard the passionate pleas of the district attorney, and I’ve heard the argument presented by the defense attorney on behalf of the defendant. After going through the evidence thoroughly, I am very disgusted by the way that the previous defense attorney handled this case. He didn’t provide proper counsel to his client. That’s my first issue with this case. Second, there is proof that Mr. Clarke was nowhere near the victim’s house when the victim was murdered.”

  “But, Your Honor,” the DA interrupted.

  “No, ma’am. There are no interruptions during my ruling.”

  “Mr. Clarke, I’m hereby throwing out your convictions on the murder of Imani Gibson and the conspiracy to commit murder against Corey Griffin. I am also granting you a new trial on the attempted murder of Destiny Clarke. I am setting your bond at one hundred grand.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” I blurted out without thinking.

  “Please remain quiet, or the bailiff will remove you from the court.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “While you’re out on bond, you’re not allowed to go within one hundred feet of the victim, Destiny Clarke, or her residence. You’re not to break the law while you’re out on bond, and if you do, your bond will be revoked immediately. Do you understand these terms, Mr. Clarke?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “That’s it. If there’s nothing else, the court is now adjourned.”

  “Thank you, man.” I hugged my attorney.

  “Don’t mention it, man. I’m just happy it worked out for you.”

  I walked out of the courtroom, feeling like new money. I was so geeked up that I totally forgot that I was a broke-ass nigga who didn’t have any money to pay my bond. The bitch said my bond was a hundred grand. Where the fuck am I gonna come up with that kind of paper? I thought. Mama had some money that she was holding for me, but it was nowhere close to that amount. Since I got locked up, that bitch, Tanya, spent all of my damn money, and the niggas that I knew with that kind of money stopped rocking with me a long time ago. My happiness was dimmed by sadness as I realized that I might not be able to make bond.

  * * *

  Three days later, I was still in Rikers, waiting to get shipped back to prison. There was no way that I could come up with that kind of money. I tried to call Tanya, but the bitch didn’t pick up.

  The next morning, I was up early. I was ready to get away from those fuck niggas. Jail niggas behaved differently than prison niggas. In jail, they were loud and spent all day running their mouths. In prison, niggas had real time to worry about, and most niggas had jobs, so the unit wasn’t noisy during work hours.

  I decided to do a few push-ups to occupy my mind. That was one of the days when I didn’t feel drained from all of these damn pills.

  “Clarke, Hassan, grab your things. You’ve made bond.”

  I thought that I was tripping, so I continued doing my push-ups and counting. I was finished and decided to take a quick shower.

  “Hassan Clarke, gather your things, and let’s go,” the CO yelled over the intercom.

  Oh shit. I stopped in my tracks. I wasn’t tripping. I heard him correctly the
first time.

  “Who the hell posted my bond?” I asked the CO as we walked up the ramp.

  “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask at the front desk.”

  As I walked beside him, I prayed that it wasn’t a joke, and my bond was really posted.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Destiny Clarke

  Josiah Clarke. That name just kept playing over and over in my head like a broken record. Amaiya was so wrong, and Hassan did have a little bastard with Imani’s ass. See, Amaiya didn’t know about it because I tried to shield her from all of the drama that was going down. I wondered what happened to him after his mother died. I’d never seen him or knew what he looked like.

  “Ha-ha, you’re trippin’. That monkey may be somebody’s foster child or is up in somebody’s jail.” A little voice interrupted my seconds of craziness. I wished for once that I could ask Hassan what the boy’s name was, but I would die first before I spoke to that bastard ever again.

  Speaking of Hassan, I remembered him telling Amaiya that he was appealing his case. I wondered how that worked out for him. His ass was too cocky and thought that he could con his way out of every situation. Not that time, buddy. His ass wouldn’t see the streets until he was as old as dirt.

  * * *

  “Amaiya, you need to get fitted for your dress. Tomorrow is Thursday so that we can do it then.”

  “Why do I have to wear a special dress?” She frowned up her face at me.

  “Because it’s my wedding, and you’re one of my bridesmaids. The color is fuchsia.”

  “If I tell you that I don’t want to go, would you be upset?”

  I turned around to face her. Did I hear her ass right?

  “What did you just say to me?” I was ready to slap the shit out of her ass.

  “See, I knew you were going to be upset. That’s why I kept quiet.”