Seducing Abby Rhodes

by J. D. Mason

  “You’re seeing Jordan?”

  She raised her chin slightly and looked down her nose at Abby. “I’ve been seeing Jordan for the last seven months.”

  Her knees buckled, but she wasn’t going to give this woman the benefit of seeing it. Abby braced herself. The declaration struck her across the face like a slap. And she’d said it like she’d intended for it to knock Abby over. The first thought to run across Abby’s mind was that the woman was lying. The second thought was, she wished she’d never answered the door.

  “I get it,” Ms. Sinclair casually continued. “Jordan swept you off your feet without even trying. He’s good at that.”

  Abby’s heart pounded so hard that she was surprised it didn’t shake the house. Was this really happening? She took slow, deep breaths to calm herself. Rational thought was key here. Abby had to tap into that part of herself that looked at things from an objective and cogent viewpoint before letting her emotions get the best of her. One by one, the building blocks of logic started to fall into place.

  “How did you find out about me?” she calmly asked.

  Abby studied her for reaction, and for a moment, a brief one, the woman looked uncomfortable.

  “He’s been distant lately,” she admitted. “Busier than usual—too busy for him and me.” She glanced away. “Preoccupied and more aloof than usual. I had my suspicions.”

  She had him followed. That’s the only thing that made sense. Abby continued to focus on keeping her emotions in check, even though inside she felt like a volcano about to erupt. Jordan had been convincingly forthright with Abby. It didn’t make sense for her to take the word of some random woman over his.

  “Have you told him that you know about me?”

  Again, the woman’s expression changed, just slightly, enough for Abby to wonder what this woman’s motives truly were for coming here.

  “I asked him if he was seeing someone else. Of course, he lied.”

  That statement struck a nerve with Abby. Jordan, as far as she knew, had lied to her once. When they’d first met, he’d told her that his last name was Tunson. Since then, though, he seemed to have been an open book with her.

  “So, you came here to confront me about seeing Jordan, expecting what exactly?”

  Was he really seeing this woman while he was seeing Abby? Or was she here trying to stir the pot? It took everything in Abby not to blow a gasket.

  “I’m here because I love him. I’m here because I wanted you to know about me, about us.” She let her gaze flow down Abby to her feet and then back up to her face again, with a slight sneer in her expression. “And you need to know that at best, you’re a chew toy to a man like him,” she said condescendingly.

  “Oh, trust me. I’m no toy,” Abby coolly shot back.

  Expensive clothes weren’t a substitute for class or dignity. Abby wasn’t the one trolling another woman, trying to convince that woman that the man between them didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. Jordan had proved otherwise.

  “You fuck a rich man and all of a sudden, you think highly of yourself,” she said condescendingly.

  “No. I’ve always thought rather highly of myself, rich dick or no dick.”

  Robin Sinclair laughed. “There you go, sweetie. You fight tooth and nail for your little dignity. But after I leave, I suggest you take a good long look at yourself and be honest, brutally honest. While he’s creeping down here to be with you, I’m on his arm in Dallas out there for the world to see. I’m not a secret. This is a battle you can’t win, Ms. Rhodes. You are not equipped to play this game on this field.”

  Bitches like her were so clichéd. Abby almost felt sorry for her, but she was too pissed that this cow had had the audacity to come to her house and crap on an already crappy day to make it even worse.

  “You are absolutely pitiful,” Abby said, shaking her head in dismay. The woman’s expression darkened. “And a disgrace to women everywhere, that you would lower yourself to this level over a man is baffling to me. If I believed that Jordan was seeing someone else, I’d leave him. I wouldn’t degrade myself to another woman over any man. I don’t give a damn how rich and fine he is. I’ve got my self-respect. What happened to yours?”

  She clenched her jaws so tight that Abby feared that woman might break some teeth if she wasn’t careful.

  “You’ve been a good little side chick long enough, Abby. Jordan’s probably dumbed down quite a bit to keep from overwhelming you, but trust me when I say that he will never fully allow you into his world because you do not fit.”

  “Dumbed down?” Did this heifer just call her dumb?

  “Jordan Gatewood has sat at dinner tables with royalty, senators, governors, even a president, Abby. He’s on a first-name basis with sheiks and celebrities. Where do you think someone like you would fit in?”

  “What makes you think I need to fit in?” Abby took a bold step toward this absurdly tall woman. “I don’t need Jordan Gatewood,” she said angrily. “He makes the two-hour trip down here and back to see me, to sit in my little house and sleep my small bed, to see me while he’s, according to you, leaving your ass sitting alone and lonely, pining away in Dallas, hiring private investigators to see what’s going on down here.” Yeah. That got her. “Are you sure I’m the side chick?”

  Abby said it, but the truth was, nobody had better be his side chick.

  She glared at Abby. “Trust me when I say that I have wrapped myself around Jordan more times than you can count. You’re nothing to him. Instead of insulting me, you need consider the relationship that you think you have with him. I would not waste my time coming here if I wasn’t trying to do you a favor.”

  “Doing me a favor?” Abby laughed.

  This was some Jerry Springer shit unfolding right here in her living room. The only thing missing was the fight, and she was real close to punching this broad in the jaw.

  “Do me a real favor and get the hell out of my house,” she said as she turned, walked back to the front door, folded her arms across her chest, and motioned with her head.

  Robin Sinclair took her sweet-ass time taking that first step. Any longer and Abby would’ve gotten behind her skinny ass and pushed.

  She stopped in front of Abby at the door. “Don’t let history repeat itself.”

  Abby looked stared back at her.

  “I don’t know if you realize that Jordan was married before. His wife, Claire, committed suicide.”

  Abby had read that on the Internet, so it wasn’t news coming from this woman.

  “You and I aren’t the first two women to have a dispute over Jordan.”

  Abby unfolded her arms.

  “Lonnie Adebayo,” she said. “Look her up. Interesting woman. Murdered over a year ago, and they’ve found the killer. Two women.” She smiled weakly. “Both dead. And he’s the only common denominator. Wouldn’t it be sad if we ended up being next?”

  “Are you threatening me?” Abby asked, appalled.

  “Not me,” she stated simply. Robin pushed open the screen door to leave. “But Jordan’s a beautiful monster, Ms. Rhodes.” She stepped out onto the porch and never looked back. “Many women would likely attest to that.”

  Crazy Laughter

  ROBIN SPED AWAY FROM THAT house, pissed that that bitch had the nerve to think so highly of herself. Her country ass was high on Jordan’s dick. That’s all it was. She had amnesia about who and what she truly was or, more fittingly, wasn’t. And she wasn’t anything more than an amusement to him. A basic form of entertainment that he’d get bored with quickly once the stickiness of her wore off, since it likely didn’t wash off with soap and water.

  She’d allowed herself to sink to new lows, wallowing in the filth of jealousy and into the trenches of the bullshit that looked and smelled like a pot of chitterlings simmering on the stove. Abby Rhodes was trash. Ghetto, backwoods trash who had the audacity to think that she could ever compete with a thoroughbred like Robin. Her kind had been the cooks and maids that Robin had gro
wn up with. The black-ass mammies with big tits and hips, smelling like gotdamn corn bread all the time. How he’d managed to dig that one up was beyond Robin.

  Hot, bitter tears blurred her vision as she drove. Without even thinking, she had her phone dial his cell phone number.

  “Robin, I’m busy,” he said curtly over the speaker of her car.

  “I don’t give a damn how busy you are,” she practically yelled. “What the hell ever possessed you to fuck around with someone like her?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the little country mouse you’ve got tucked away in Blink fucking Texas, Jordan.”

  “Where are you?”

  She laughed. “Where the hell do you think?” Robin wanted to scream at the top of her lungs she was so hurt and angry. “She’s nothing, Jordan,” she sobbed. “And you chose her over me?”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  “I had to see her for myself,” she said, struggling to compose herself enough to talk without wailing like a banshee.

  “You spoke to her?”

  “Damn right I did. I had to let her know who the fuck she was dealing with,” she said menacingly.

  Jordan was no saint. He was a bad guy trying to pretend to be good, trying to make amends for his past mistakes, but underneath it all, he was still as tainted and seedy as they came.

  “I’ve got to admit, you surprised me with this one. If you were going to leave me for anybody else—anybody else, Jordan—I could’ve eventually come to terms with it. But this? This grimy little ignorant bitch—”

  The phone suddenly went dead, but she’d made her point. He’d sunk to a new kind of low in Robin’s eyes. Robin had been dreaming of a wedding and children with this man, but now she knew better. She’d have been settling with a man like him, the same way Claire had settled while he was out fucking around with Lonnie Adebayo. Robin had no proof that he’d actually had an affair with the woman, but all it took was a little imagination and some speculation, and one could easily create the scenario to that particular episode of Jordan’s sordid past.

  Claire killed herself after finding out that Jordan was having the affair. Police reports had said that there was evidence that Ms. Adebayo had had sex recently before her death. Whether it was forced or not, they couldn’t say, and they also hadn’t found a DNA match to the sample they’d found. Maybe Jordan had killed her after he’d fucked her. Maybe the two of them had made love and she’d threatened to tell his wife about the affair. The details weren’t important. What was important was the fact that Robin had enough of a story to ruin him.

  Telling his little secondhand girlfriend about him was just the tip of the iceberg. In the grand scheme of things, it meant nothing, except to derail this temporary little brisk note of happiness he was enjoying during this pathetic fling. But there was so much more at stake. Jordan Gatewood had just been awarded a multibillion-dollar government contract. Imagine what the feds would do if they found out that he may have actually killed a woman and then hid his own involvement and pinned the murder on Frank Ross.

  Robin’s thoughts reeled over the media frenzy over the news, all nipping away at him like piranhas. Then, of course, the police would get involved. Frank Ross hadn’t been acquitted, but if the DA’s office was smart, before wasting time on a new trial, they’d look for new evidence. And they’d have to look at Jordan, if they hadn’t already. A man like him held a whole lot of power in Dallas. She’d found a connection to Ms. Adebayo by doing a simple Internet search. Any policemen worth their weight in doughnuts could’ve just as easily have found it—and maybe they had.

  Her phone suddenly rang, and it was Jordan, who started talking before she could even say hello.

  “You get your shit and get the fuck out of my building,” he demanded.

  “Oh, I’ll go,” she assured him. “But I’m not through with you.”

  This time, it was Robin who hung up.

  His rejection of her had soured in her stomach in a way that wasn’t natural. He was the man of her dreams. Everything about him complemented her to perfection, from the way he looked, walked, and dressed to his status and wealth. Robin was made for him, and she knew it the moment she’d first laid eyes on him in person. No other man she’d dated impacted her the way he did. Jordan had a way of looking at her, touching her, that sent shock waves through her.

  To know that he was sharing himself like that with another woman was bad enough, but with this woman, this common, ordinary nobody, was absolutely humiliating. What did it say about him, except that he was like his father? Julian Gatewood had died in this town, killed because he was having an affair, too. Shit. She suddenly laughed. Was Blink, Texas, the place where all Dallas millionaires came to find bed wenches?

  He was too stupid to see what he’d had in front of him in Robin. Together, they were royalty. They were powerful and could’ve ruled the world. Or they could’ve settled down in that ranch house of his, had a few babies, and grown old together. He’d ruined it because of pussy. Men were too damn simple sometimes. And Jordan’s simplicity was about to cost him everything.

  Dreams of You and Me

  HE DIDN’T HAVE TIME for this. Jordan had been in meetings all day and had a flight to D.C. at six thirty the next morning, but Abby wasn’t answering her phone. He’d left several messages explaining that he’d see her as soon as he arrived back in town, but anxiety got the best of him, and the next thing he knew, Jordan had thrown an overnight bag in the passenger seat next to him in his Bugatti and had gotten on the freeway headed to Blink. It was just after seven in the evening when he arrived.

  Jordan knocked several times. “Open the door, Abby,” he said, staring at her truck parked in the driveway.

  He’d expected Robin to be upset, but he never saw this coming. She’d taken this shit to a whole new level, and he could only imagine what kind of damage had been done to his relationship with Abby.

  Jordan knocked again. “C’mon, honey. We need to talk about this.”

  “I thought you said you had a flight to catch in the morning,” she said from the other side of the door.

  He couldn’t help smiling at the sweet sound of her voice.

  “I do, but since you wouldn’t talk to me over the phone…”

  Jordan heard the click of the dead bolt, and Abby slowly opened the door. She looked like she’d been crying, but he knew she’d never admit it.

  “You all right?” he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her.

  She thought about it before finally answering, “I’ve been better.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Abby, wearing one of those long, floral, slip-like dresses that women seemed so fond of, pressed her pretty lips together and reluctantly stepped aside to allow him in.

  “It’s been a pretty shitty day,” she said, turning and walking over to the sofa. She sat down, tucking her legs underneath her. Jordan sat down next to her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her but thought better of it.

  “Is it true?” she reluctantly asked. “Are you seeing her … too?”

  “I was,” he admitted. “I met her before I met you, but it wasn’t serious with her.”

  “She seems to think it was,” she said softly.

  Jordan pondered that for a moment. As far as he had been concerned, he’d made it clear to Robin from the very beginning that he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship with her or anyone else. Until Abby had come along, that was true.

  “She wanted it to be serious, Abby. I didn’t.”

  He didn’t want this situation with Robin to be a deal breaker for him and Abby. It seemed ridiculous that it could be, but he could see those wheels turning behind her eyes. Abby’s first instinct was to take care of Abby, to protect Abby from being hurt or misled. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel as if she needed to protect herself from him.
>
  “I stopped seeing Robin nearly a month ago, Abby, at the fund-raiser in San Francisco and only because we had committed to it months prior to the actual event,” he explained as rationally as he could. “Before that, I had been spending all of my free time with you, and that was the night I realized that I needed to be clear with her and end our relationship.”

  It was absolutely honest, and it was absolutely important to him that she know it.

  “You told her about us?”

  He shook his head. “No. Honestly, at that time, I didn’t know if there was an us, sugah. I think I was curious about where this could lead, if anywhere at all, but Robin was—”

  “Catching feelings?” she asked.

  Catching feelings. It was an amusing phrase. “Yes,” he said with a smirk.

  “So, she came here to be vindictive,” Abby concluded. “How’d she know about me and where I live?”

  Jordan thought for a moment. “That’s a good question.”

  Robin must’ve hired someone to follow him, which pissed him off, but right now wasn’t the time to deal with it.

  “I don’t know what she said to you, and I don’t need to know, but I have been honest with you, Abby.”

  “Except for that time when you told me your last name was Tunson,” she reminded him.

  “Except for that time,” he reluctantly agreed.

  “But I understand why you did it.”

  “This isn’t a game for me. I’m forty-nine years old, I’m incredibly busy, and I don’t have the time or interest to play musical women.”

  “And rationally, I reached the same conclusion.”

  “Good. It’s a rational conclusion.”

  “Who’s Lonnie?”

  The name struck him in the chest like a fist.

  “How do you know that name?” he reluctantly asked.

  “Robin.”

  Just how deep into his life had Robin truly gone? Lonnie was history, and not good history. She was his own personal, private ghost, one he dealt with daily and that he would wrestle with for the rest of his life. She was his penance, maybe even more than Claire was.