Mistress, Inc.

by Niobia Bryant

  And so the teddy bear and all the warm feelings it evoked pushed Jessa to call Keegan to ride into the city to meet her.

  “I can’t believe you’re ready to decorate your nursery,” Keegan said, quickly using her iPad to pull up clear photos of fabric swatches that she had on stock in her showroom.

  Jessa touched her stomach, enjoying the feel of its slight roundness as she imagined hearing a child call her “Mother.”

  “Even though I’m just four months, I’m ready to see it finished and have it sitting ready for when the baby and I come home.”

  “I hear you, sugar. I’m not going to turn down the business. . . especially with that slicky-tricky ex-dicky of mine.”

  Jessa smiled. “How’s the private detective working out?”

  Keegan side-eyed her. “I think his little side-boo kicked his ass to the curb or he’s on his best behavior until the divorce is final.”

  “No more ex-sex. Right?”

  Keegan shook her head, sending her red hair flowing back and forth. “No, no more. I’m good for a while. But as soon as this divorce is final, I am going to find the youngest man with the biggest—”

  “Keegan!” Jessa said sharply even as she laughed.

  “I just wish there was some way to catch the son of a bitch.”

  Jessa thought about the mob of women outside her house and her surprise visit from Dina, the wife of her perverted neighbor. “When I was married, I never doubted Marc for a second; but if I did, I think I would want to know for sure. I think I would even set up his ass to catch him in the act.”

  “And trust me, honey bee, plenty of women—and some men—would. Including me.” Keegan winked at her.

  “Would you ever go on that show Cheaters? You ever seen that?” Jessa asked, honestly curious.

  “Hell no. Being on Cheaters would lead to me being on Snapped?”

  “What’s Snapped?”

  “It’s all about women being pushed to the edge and killing their husbands,” Keegan explained. “The whole way that show is set up is meant to escalate the anger because you’re on TV and you’re embarrassed. You almost have to act a fool.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Oh, I would love to catch my ex, but something televised for anyone to see ... in repeats ... and online? No, ain’t no dick worth that shame, darling.”

  “I’m beginning to think most dick isn’t worth a lot of things.”

  “Now I’m not anti-dick, sweetie. As a matter of fact, you need some dick in your life before you get cobwebs or produce dust.” Keegan pointed between Jessa’s thighs.

  I’m good, Jessa thought with a shiver as she remembered Tyson’s skills. The man was built for sex.

  “Finally getting rid of that crazy no sex ’til after the baby rule?” Keegan asked. “You know that’s gonna make giving birth even harder.”

  “That’s not true,” Jessa said, purposefully avoiding telling her about her night of sin-filled passion with the captain. If Keegan wants to tell me ALL her business, then that’s her business. And my business will stay MY business.

  Keegan just shrugged.

  Jessa fell silent as she allowed herself to remember clutching the back of Tyson’s head as his lips suckled deeply on her clit like it was ambrosia for the gods. And he hadn’t stopped until she came; then he dipped down to lick up every drop as he pressed his thumb to her clit and kept her juices flowing.

  Jessa grunted softly as she fanned herself with her clutch as she felt all her pulse points tingle.

  “How’s all your meetings and stuff going?”

  “Good. Thanks.” Jessa turned in her seat. “How much time do we have to browse and kind of get an idea of what direction we want to go in for the nursery.”

  “Which room are you going to use?” Keegan asked, turning on the seat to look over at Jessa.

  “In a perfect world I would convert my dressing room/closet into the nursery, but—”

  “You ain’t giving up that closet,” Keegan finished for her.

  “No, I am not giving up my closet,” Jessa agreed. “So maybe the guest bedroom directly across from me for when the baby gets a little older; but initially I want a basinet or smaller crib for my bedroom that matches the décor.”

  Keegan took notes.

  “Since my bed is pretty close to the fireplace we may have to reconfigure the room.” Jessa opened up her cell phone. “I want the nursery very neutral for now because I don’t know if it’s a girl or boy, but I definitely want everything centered around this bear.”

  Keegan leaned over to look at the picture. She nodded. “Forward that to me.”

  Jessa did. “I definitely want for the nursery one of those large round cribs. Very royal for this prince or princess.”

  “I know exactly where to go. Driver, Seventh Avenue please.” Keegan made more notes on her iPad. “I’m thinking a really creamy rich vanilla as the base color and then we can always bring in blues and greens for a boy or lots of soft pink and yellows for a girl.”

  “Or leave the whole thing creamy vanilla,” Jessa said, picturing the room. “On that side of the house there’s a lot of natural light and the vanilla would brighten the room.”

  “I thought I was the designer,” Keegan joked.

  “One thing my mother gave me for sure, besides my looks, was damn good taste.”

  The ladies laughed.

  Jessa successfully avoided Tyson for the rest of her week in New York. She never returned the messages he left, she returned the beautiful lilies he sent, and she scheduled any further appointments away from the hotel. On the day she checked out, she left early and wore oversized shades and a hat big enough to cover the moon until she climbed into the back of the car.

  Still, she avoided the man, but the memories of that night replayed at the oddest moments and left her flushed and hot and wanting more. It reminded her of the heat and naughty passion she shared with Eric back in the beginning of their affair. And that for her spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

  Jessa crossed her legs and cooled herself with the church fan as she remembered the way Tyson sucked on ice cubes before he sucked her nipples and her ass and her clit. “Have mercy,” she whispered. “Whooooo.”

  “Hi, Sister Bell. You okay?”

  Her eyes popped open and she flushed in embarrassment to see church was over and people were filing out of the church. Nothing but the devil.

  She rose to her feet and gave Henry Lyons a friendly smile. Every Sunday since he first introduced himself to her after church he made sure to speak to her and to ask about her well-being. “I just lost my train of thought,” she said, falling in beside him as they walked out of church together.

  “It happens,” he said, forming his wide and friendly face into a smile.

  “Yeah, lots of things ... just happen.”

  “Well, I believe God already has each person’s life laid out and pre-planned from birth to death, so things don’t really just happen.”

  Jessa paused in her steps and looked up at him. “So even the missteps are a part of God’s plans?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

  Henry paused to look down at her with a nod. “I had to learn that everything in life happens for a reason. There’s a lesson is everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

  Jessa still looked doubtful.

  “People give the devil way too much power.”

  “I cannot see God cosigning death, affairs, pain, and wars,” Jessa insisted as they continued out the open double doors into the sunshine beaming outside.

  “When I was fighting to get off drugs—”

  Jessa side-eyed him with a slight frown.

  Henry laughed. “Yes, I was strung out pretty bad about ten years ago. Thin. Damn near homeless. Stealing. Just wilding out and doing anything to get high.”

  Jessa remained silent and had to fight the urge to clutch her purse tighter. Judge not, Jessa. Judge not.

  “But as I was saying, when I was getting high I thought the Lord turned
his back on me, but it was because he never left me even through the darkness that I didn’t die. I didn’t completely lose my faith. I didn’t go crazy or worse. I made it through it.”

  Jessa paused again at the sound of victory in his voice. He was giving testimony and honor to God. She knew he meant every word. That gave her chills.

  “Sometimes I look at my life now and compare it to the man I was and it blows my mind like heroin never could.”

  They were standing on the steps of the church. As Jessa watched him and saw his conviction, she knew she had a long way to go. She read the Bible, said the prayers, went to Bible study, endlessly asked for forgiveness, but she didn’t feel it as deeply as he did.

  “There is nothing better than giving it to God and letting him guide your path,” Henry told her. “He will move mountains when needed and He will place them in your path when needed to make sure you go in another direction. God is amazing.”

  She followed an impulse and reached out to squeeze his wrist. She honestly wanted to feel closer to him and what he was feeling. As if he understood her struggle, he placed one of his strong and warm hands over hers. Jessa had never felt so protected. So covered.

  But even as she stood there absorbing his words and trying to understand the power of God and the way that He worked in someone’s life, she felt more confused than ever.

  Why does the Lord keep blessing me when I continue to trip on my path to him? The baby. The TV exposure. The speaking engagements. The magazine interviews. The book deal. All of it.

  Was she supposed to make mistakes as a part of her learning? Was all the goodness making up for her almost dying? Or was he testing her? And if she failed, would he snatch it all away?

  Jessa had come straight to church from New York, and she was glad to finally climb back in the SUV and tell the driver to take her home. She hadn’t seen her house in a week, and although she loved the luxury of her hotel suite, there was nothing more comfortable to her than her own bed and thousand-count sheets lightly scented with lavender and vanilla.

  She was playing on her iPad when the SUV stopped at the security booth for clearance before rolling through the gates of Richmond Hills. Jessa’s stomach growled and she briefly thought about going to the Terrace Room but quickly squashed the idea. She wasn’t one of the down-home, make you smack your mama kind of cooks, but she could handle baked tilapia and seasoned rice.

  No, I’m going home. Bathe. Get in my most luxurious pajamas. Cook. And stay huddled in my beautiful home for the rest of the—

  “Aaron! Be careful!”

  The driver slammed on the brakes and the tires screeched as the SUV skidded to a stop, barely missing slamming into the driver’s side of Renee’s car. Jessa reached out to brace her hand against the rear of the driver’s seat as she looked at Renee’s son, Aaron, quickly maneuver the steering wheel of the car to turn it and speed off down the street.

  “You okay back there?” her driver asked.

  Jessa nodded and licked her lips as her heart continued to pound hard. She looked through the rear passenger window as Renee’s daughter, Kieran, went stomping into the house before slamming the front door as Renee argued with Jackson. Jessa leaned over and lowered the window enough just in time to hear.

  “He’s your son and it shouldn’t matter to you that he’s gay,” Renee roared.

  “Could you be any louder?” Jackson snapped.

  Renee’s eyes widened. “So you’re ashamed of your son? The child should be ashamed of is that illegitimate bastard you made on me,” she told him coldly as she pointed her finger at him accusingly.

  Jackson reached for her arm and she snatched it away just as the driver rolled ahead.

  “Get the fuck off of me and go home to sign the divorce papers. Your old family will make it just fine without you.”

  Jessa settled back against her seat as she raised the tinted window. So Aaron is gay? Never saw that one coming.

  “Y’all have more drama going on than anything near what pops off in my hood,” the driver said.

  Jessa cut her eyes up to his reflection in the mirror and recognized him as the driver who walked her through the mob of wives who had been waiting at her front door. “You’re right,” was all that she said.

  He pulled up to her home and Jessa spotted a black four-door Lexus sitting in her drive. She recognized the car. It was Eric’s parents. Jaime had to have let them into the subdivision unless they still had Eric’s security code. Either way, here they were waiting on her.

  Without a doubt it was about the baby.

  Jessa smoothed the edges of her skirt and arranged the layers of her jet-black hair behind her ears as the SUV slid to a stop. She placed her iPad back into her Louis Vuitton tote and gathered her pocketbook just as the passenger door opened and the driver extended his hand to help her out.

  Determined to maintain her composure, Jessa smoothed her white linen dress over her curves and literally flexed her shoulders before making her way to her front door. She had barely passed the hood of the car when both front doors opened and the Halls climbed out. Jessa unlocked her door and pushed the door open wide just as the driver jogged up the steps with her luggage and set it in the foyer. She gave him a stiff smile and slid a fifty-dollar tip into his hand without a word of thanks.

  “Jessa, I think it’s time we all talked. Don’t you?”

  She turned on the doorstep to eye Eric’s father. She hadn’t seen him since the day of his son’s funeral when he escorted her out the church and proceeded to make a slick pass at her. He was an older, slightly shorter version of Eric with square features and deep-set eyes.

  “If you think so,” Jessa said coolly as she shifted her eyes to Mrs. Hall, looking prim and proper in her peach coatdress, wide-brimmed church hat, and pearls.

  She stepped back and allowed them to enter the house before her. She closed the front door and saw them headed into her living room. “No!” she shouted out in a knee-jerk reaction.

  They both stopped and turned to eye her.

  She couldn’t let them sit in the room where their son had killed himself. She just couldn’t.

  “So is it okay if we talk in my den,” Jessa said, already turning to head down the hall leading to the rear of her house. They followed behind her.

  Sunlight beamed through the entire room from the wall of ceiling-to-floor windows that showcased her beautifully landscaped backyard. Jessa waved her hand at one of the large oversized suede sofas as she took a seat in one of the two club chairs facing them across the large leather ottoman.

  “How can I help you?” she asked as soon as they took their seat. Jessa wanted to gain and maintain control of the conversation.

  “It has come to our attention that you claim to be pregnant with our son’s child,” Eric Sr. began, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

  “Make I ask your source?” Jessa asked as she crossed her leg and settled back against the comfort of the chair.

  “Does it matter?” Mrs. Hall snapped.

  Jessa curved the corner of her mouth into a smile. “I guess not, Mrs. Hall.”

  The woman set up on the edge of the sofa and pointed her finger at Jessa as she gave her an Aunt Ester one-eyed stare. “Your attitude really disturbs me. You seem too cocky and damn cool for a woman who didn’t have the gall or the class to let us now that you may be pregnant with our dead son’s child,” she said coldly, even as her eyes filled with tears.

  “If there are any doubts about the paternity, one or both of you can submit a DNA sample for a grandparentage test that would prove Eric is indeed the father,” Jessa told them.

  “And you are considering suing the estate on behalf of the child?” Eric Sr. asked.

  “Yes, I’m considering it. I’m sure you both know your son would want his child taken care of. I’m sure you want the same.”

  “What I want is for my son to be alive and committed to his marriage,” Mrs. Hall snapped as her husband pressed his handkerchief into her
hand. “And it’s your fault he is dead.”

  Jessa looked at the woman as if she was crazy. “Excuse me—and I mean no disrespect—but no one is to blame for Eric’s death but Eric,” she stressed as she felt her entire body tense.

  “We don’t know what really happened that night?”

  Jessa sat up in her chair. “Then I’ll tell you since you obviously did not read the police report or the autopsy. Your son, after weeks of harassing and stalking me because I ended the affair, came to my home and attempted to kill me by strangulation, and when I passed out he shot himself,” she told the woman with ferocity in her eyes and her voice.

  “Liar!” Mrs. Hall roared, jumping to her foot. “You lying whore!”

  “Kittie,” Mr. Hall said in warning, rising to his feet as well.

  Jessa remained in her seat and forced herself to relax her body as she settled back in her seat. “I will excuse your bad manners because I can understand the delusions of a parent not willing to accept that the son they spoon-fed and raised was crazy,” she said calmly, her eyes locked with the stormy ones of his mother.

  “If that is my son’s child you are carrying, we will sue you for custody and we will use any means to win. Do you understand me?” Mrs. Hall said, standing over Jessa.

  Jessa rose to her feet and looked down into the woman’s face as they stood close enough to kiss or fight. “I see where Eric gets his crazy from, and if you think I am going to turn over my baby to you to be turned into a fruitcake like your son, then you are out of your motherfucking mind. Don’t fuck with me about my baby. Now, do you understand me?” Jessa told her in a cold and hard voice that still held nothing on the chill in her eyes.

  Mr. Hall pressed his body in between them. “Jessa, you’ll be hearing from our attorneys,” he said, before guiding his crying wife out of the house.

  As soon as Jessa heard the front door close behind them, she lost all of her strength. All of her fight. Her knees gave out beneath her and her body sank to the floor as she felt fear like nothing else she ever knew evoke wretched tears.

  She couldn’t let them take this baby. She couldn’t.