Wifey Status

by Racquel Williams

  “Yup, I’m just happy to see you.”

  “Word, that’s what’s up. Let’s go then.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He pulled off and then cut the music off. “So, you gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on?”

  I busted out crying.

  “Ma, what’s the matter? Talk to me.”

  “You know all my clients from the East End didn’t show up at all this week.”

  “So they had other plans. Why you trippin’?”

  “Whatever, Alijah, I been doing their hair for years now. If they can’t make it, they always call me to reschedule,” I yelled.

  “Calm down, ma. I’m just as confused as you are.” He took my hand into his.

  “I know they got something to do wit’ it.”

  “They who? What are you talking ’bout? Somebody fucking with you?”

  “Nah, but I know they feel like I sold them out since I’m fucking with you.”

  “Listen, ma, I know you love your job, but you ’on’t need that shit. I have more money than you’ll be able to spend in a lifetime, even with your lavish spending.”

  “Boo, I know you got me, but for real, Alijah, I love what I do, and I’m good at it. Even as a little girl, I loved doing hair. Not only that, I’m independent. I love my own money, even though I love spending yours.”

  “Ms. Independent . . . That’s what I love and respect about you, ma. A lot of broads your age wit’ your type of body just lined up waiting to hit the jackpot with a dope boy, but not you. Even though I keep you laced, you still like getting your paper.”

  “Damn, boy, you just gave a whole speech,” I said, then started to laugh.

  “Wipe those tears, girl. We gon’ make it. The only ones that can separate us is us. Don’t you forget that.”

  “I know, I know. I just want to enjoy life without the drama.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” he said, then opened the glove compartment and pulled out some papers. “Yo, look at this.” He handed them to me.

  I took a look. It was two first-class tickets to Jamaica.

  “Oh my God, baby,” I screamed. “When we leaving?”

  “Two days from now.”

  * * *

  The day before Thanksgiving we landed at Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston. It was definitely an experience. I was hot and frustrated, and we had to wait in a long-ass line to claim our luggage. I was happy I was with Alijah who took control of the entire situation.

  We finally made it to our hotel. It was beautiful and very clean. They treated us like royalty. Our room was facing the ocean—that was a sight to see. I quickly showered, got dressed, and walked out on the patio to get a whiff of fresh island air.

  Our first night, we took it easy. We ate dinner and went to the pub where we sat back with drinks and listened to the soft melodies of old-school reggae. I was so at ease, like all my worries were gone. I looked across the table at my boo. I realized at that moment that I loved everything about that man—his walk, his personality, even his arrogance.

  “Ma, you good?”

  “Yes, I’m just trying to figure out how I got so lucky to have you in my life.”

  “Nah, you have it backward. I’m the lucky one for real.”

  “Either way, I don’t want it to end.”

  “Ma, you know I’m not goin’ nowhere. You my Bonnie to my Clyde.”

  “Only you keep forgetting something . . .”

  “What?” he asked with a dumb look on his face.

  “You’re still married to Shayna.”

  “Ma, that’s a dead issue. I’m not gonna get into all the info right now, but fuck that bitch.”

  I wanted to scream. My nosy ass couldn’t help but wonder what happened for him to speak about her like that. Maybe he just saw that bitch for the poison she really was. Anyway, I’d be waiting on him, so we could really make it official.

  We went for a ride around the city of Kingston and then decided to call it a night. When we got back to the room, I got ready for bed while he talked on the phone.

  Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Alijah answered it. A tall, dark-skinned Rastafarian man walked in. They gave daps and hugged, so I figured they were old buddies. Alijah introduced him as Trevor. We exchanged greetings, and they departed to the patio.

  As I lay in bed waiting on my boo to join me, I started to think about Mo’. I wondered what she was doing at that moment. She wasn’t thrilled that I was taking the trip. She kept complaining that she couldn’t run the shop by herself, but I knew better.

  Lately, I felt like she was catching feelings. I checked her about it, especially her new attitude toward my man. Whenever he said hello, she wouldn’t answer. Instead, she rolled her eyes and walked off. Alijah really didn’t pay her no mind, which was good because I would be fucked up if he found out about her eating me up.

  * * *

  The rest of our stay in Jamaica was the most fun I ever had in my life. We went to beaches, parties, and smoked some good weed. I didn’t want to go when it was time to leave. On our plane ride back to the States I got lost in my thoughts. It was crazy how we took certain things for granted; those are the same things they would kill for. I really saw why Alijah pushed the way he did because of where he came from.

  He slept the whole plane ride. I felt like something was bugging him. Our last day in Jamaica, he was very withdrawn. I did not ask any questions. Maybe he was just worn out from all the partying we did. I closed my eyes and fell asleep on his shoulder.

  Shayna Jackson

  Alijah Jackson, the man that I married four years ago, had turned into a selfish bastard. If I had any doubts before about what I was going to do, they were all gone now. He was going to pay for every bit of anguish that he bestowed on me.

  I lied to Markus that I was going to divorce Alijah and be with him, so he gave me all of Alijah’s financials. I felt sorry for the fool, but I had to include him in my plot.

  I got up bright and early; I had a busy day ahead. I got dressed in a Liz Claiborne striped suit with some nice heels and applied minimal makeup. I was going for the corporate look. I parked on Main Street and walked into the building with confidence. After showing them my ID right away, I spotted two officers standing by the metal detector.

  “Hello, good morning. My name is Shayna Jackson. I need to speak to the head guy. What’s his name . . . Kevin?” I asked, pretending I didn’t really remember the man’s name. That was just a show. I did my homework before I pranced in there; that way, I knew who I was dealing with.

  “Give me your ID and wait here,” the white guy said, then disappeared down the hall.

  The Latino officer tried to make small talk. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? It’s not too cold.”

  “Hmm. It will be even better when I get to speak to your boss.”

  He gave me a look that said, “Bitch, what’s your problem?”

  I kept my focus on my situation. I didn’t give a damn about the weather, whether it rained, snowed, or sleeted. Then the white guy came back out front.

  “Ma’am, come this way with me.”

  I followed him through double doors that led to an office with a huge mahogany table. I guessed that was the room that they used to discuss criminal activities. Sitting at the head of the table was a huge white guy with a shiny baldhead. When he stood, he had to be about six foot nine. He looked like a giant when standing up beside his colleagues.

  “Ms. Jackson, welcome.” He shook my hand with a tight grip.

  “Thank you, Commissioner Sanders.” I sat across from him.

  “I see you did your homework.”

  “Yes, I did. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

  “So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “Before I begin, I need some type of confirmation that I will not be implicated in any of this.”

  “You have to give me more than that to go on. What’s the nature of the i
nformation?”

  “All due respect, Commissioner, you’re not dealing with no slouch. I’ve been an attorney for nine years and have dealt with the law on several occasions. Excuse my French, but you all are a set of crooks. You use people to your advantage, then cast them out for the sharks to get afterward.”

  “Ms. Jackson, I’m a very busy man, so unless you have some good dirt for me, get the fuck out of my office.”

  I saw that he wanted to be a hard ass; wait until he saw what I had. “Well, fine. I have drugs and murder happening right here in Richmond.”

  “May I ask how you know this?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’m married to the head nigga in charge of the operation.”

  “Oh, that explains it. Give me a name.”

  “Nope, you going to do it on my terms, and I will hand him and his crew to you on a silver platter.” I saw his eyes light up. “I knew you’d see things my way after all.”

  “Well, I see that you’re a woman that knows what she wants.”

  “Definitely, but you can take your eyes off my breasts now. I have everything that I need right here in this briefcase, but here is the document that you need to sign first, offering me immunity.” I shoved the document to him.

  I have seen a lot of wives catch conspiracy cases with their husbands, just from knowing or being around them, so before I started singing like a parrot, I made sure he offered me immunity from any future prosecution by any state or federal government.

  He called in two of his colleagues to join him. I told them everything from the first day I had met Alijah and his friends, his operation in New York, all the conversations that I overheard about all the murders that they committed, and that he was the top supplier in Richmond. Last but not least, I told them about the terrible killings over in the East End.

  I didn’t want to come off as the scorned wife, so I told them about his infidelity and that I wanted to move on, but I was in fear of my life. I even busted out crying. Agent Sanders fell for the bait and handed me some tissue.

  “Ms. Jackson, I do sympathize with you. A good woman like yourself shouldn’t have to live with a murderer like your husband. You deserve better. I assure you my office is going to investigate all these allegations and gather information to go in front of the grand jury. However, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What? Name it . . . anything . . . I can’t live like this no more.” I wept some more.

  “I understand. I’m going to need you to play your position. Don’t give him the slightest idea that we’re on to him. We wouldn’t want him to flee our jurisdiction.”

  I gave him the tape and all the documents; then we shook hands. I left, feeling satisfied with myself.

  * * *

  I was unable to reach Markus for days. I went by his house. His car was parked outside, but his lights in the house were turned off. At first, I thought that he was ducking me, so I pulled to the corner and waited for a few hours and still no action. He just disappeared into thin air. That was kind of weird. He had never missed a meeting with me. I didn’t know what to make of it, but if I didn’t hear from him, I was going to file a missing person report.

  It was strange how Alijah accused me of infidelity; then I told him it was Markus. Then Markus just disappeared. I knew I was wrong for that, but I was scared what he might have done if I had not given him Markus’s name.

  I called Sanders to see how things were coming along. That prick had the nerve to tell me he needed more. He wanted me to wear a wire. See, that’s what I was talking about. Those damn pigs didn’t care how they obtained evidence, even if it meant putting my life in danger. I wasn’t no fool. If Alijah ever suspected that I was setting him up, I’d be on the next news flash. I flatly turned him down. I did my part and gave him everything that he needed to put Alijah out of business. All he needed was to get off his lazy ass and put the final touches on.

  I went to the bank and tried to get two hundred thousand. At first, they gave me a hard time, talking about they needed both signatures. I told them my husband was unavailable, and we had an emergency. I started to bawl and create a scene until they finally gave in. Those people were some damn fools. When they wanted your business, it was easy to put it in, but when you wanted it out, it was a big fucking problem. I decided to get the rest once they picked Alijah up.

  I was going to be all right when it was all said and done. I was going to come out on top. I might be divorced, but I’d be rich. The thought of all that money gave me an instant tingling between my legs.

  I filled out a missing person report on Markus a week later. I even went as far as calling his mom. She hadn’t seen or heard from him either, which was strange because they spoke almost daily. I had a bad feeling in my stomach. I made a call to Sanders and told him about my concern. He promised me he would check into it for me.

  I called Alijah’s phone and got no answer. I hadn’t spoken to him since the incident at the house when he beat my ass. At this point, I didn’t care. It was strange that his business phone was turned off; maybe he got a new phone. Hmm. I knew one person that would’ve known. I dialed his mom’s number.

  “Hey, sugar,” she greeted me.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “How you doin’, chile? Haven’t heard a word from you since you left the funeral.”

  “I know, Ma, but your son been on his rampage again.” I rubbed it in.

  “Dat bwoy never learn. I keep telling him, but he hardheaded.”

  “I know, Ma. I tried everything. I really thought it was goin’ to be different when we moved.” I started boo-hooing.

  “Sugar, dry dem darn tears. It’s his loss. God knows you’re a good woman. You don’t deserve this.”

  “Listen, Ma, he moved out and went to live with the girl you met.”

  “Really? He never mention anything. He called me last week to tell me he was going home for a week.”

  “Home?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes, chile, home to Jamaica. You know he love to visit every now and then.”

  By then, I was spitting fire. This motherfucker left the country without me knowing. I bet money he took that bitch with him. I should’ve known when I hadn’t seen him lately. I quickly rushed her off the phone. I promised her I would come visit soon, which was a damn lie. By the time her son got back, he’d be arrested, and I was going to be long gone, far away from him and his stupid-ass mother.

  I finished work early; didn’t have much to do. I had a big client for next week, so I left the paralegal all the paperwork I gathered before I left. After that, I headed home. I was ready for a drink.

  Traffic was heavy leaving the city. I suddenly realized that I had no gas in my car, so I pulled over to the Texaco. I got out and used my card to pay for my gas. The next thing I heard was a loud crash. A car had run into the back of my car. I took my card out and hurried over to inspect the damage. That’s when I saw a young, skinny-looking woman emerge from behind an old Toyota Camry. So, you’re telling me that sick-ass bitch just ran her hoopty into the back of my brand-new Benz, and more than likely, she had no insurance. Just my fucking lucky day.

  She got out of her hoopty. “I’m sorry, miss. I just forgot to put the car in park. I am so sorry.”

  “That you are. I hope you have some fucking insurance on this piece of shit you driving.” I kicked her car with my heels.

  Instead of responding, she busted out crying. “Please, miss, don’t call the police. I–I ’on’t have no license. I was staying with my boyfriend, and he kicked me out.”

  Something about her story caught my attention. Maybe it was the fact that I was going through the same pain by a no-good nigga.

  “Don’t cry. It’ll be all right; just go on home.”

  “Home? I don’t have no home. I was staying with him, and he put me out.”

  I wanted to get back in my car and drive off, but something inside of me told me to listen to her sob story. The attendant in the gas station came out and saw what
was going on.

  “Miss, do you need me to call the authorities?”

  “No, I got it under control.”

  “All right. Could you move your vehicles, so the other customers can get to the pump?” He shot me a strange look, then walked back into the store.

  I examined the severity of the damage. It didn’t look that bad. I’d have to take it to the dealer; they’d handle it for me.

  “You need to get yo’self together. Let’s get these cars out of the way. We can pull over there by the phone booth,” I said, pointing my finger.

  I got in my car and pulled to the side of the building. I sensed there was more to her story than meets the eye. She seemed high off something, and it wasn’t life.

  “We did all this talking, and I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Shayna Jackson.”

  I would’ve extended my arm for a handshake, but not with her hands. The whole time she was crying, snot kept running down her nose, and since she didn’t have any tissue, she used her hands to substitute.

  “Hi, I’m Neisha,” she said with a look like she was trying to recap some information in her delirious mind.

  “Did you say Shayna Jackson?” she asked.

  “Yes, the one and only,” I bragged.

  “You married to Alijah Jackson, the big man in Richmond?”

  I wasn’t going to answer her question, but I wondered how the hell she knew him. Hell, no, I hope he wouldn’t stoop that low as to put his dick into something looking like her ass.

  “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. We’re not messing around, but my best friend Sierra is.”

  The bitch suddenly got my full attention. “Gurl, stop lying. You and Sierra best friends?” I tried to sound all ghetto.

  “Well, not no more, but we used to be best friends until she start messing around with his ass.”

  “How is that? If y’all so tight, you all let a man come between your friendship?”

  “Easy. She got all high and mighty when he started to spend all that dough on her and bought her that house.”

  “Girl, give me some of that good shit you’re smoking. He didn’t buy her no house. She lives over there by Creighton Projects or something like that.” I looked at her for confirmation.