Vivian sighed as she picked up the bottle of pinot grigio and refilled her glass to the top. She drank the entire glass nonstop. When she was done, she closed her eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you all about it.” She refilled her glass again. “But today isn’t that day.”
Staring out the window at the old oak tree just outside her room had become a daily ritual. And Joyce was getting tired of it. That’s why when she saw Pearl in her doorway, tapping on the door, Joyce motioned for her to come in.
“Hey, Pearl,” Joyce said.
She seemed surprised at Joyce’s pleasant attitude. “Good morning. Just wanted to tell you you have a visitor. And it’s not your daughter.”
Joyce’s heart jumped. Had Julian come to see her?
“Who is it?” Joyce asked in anticipation.
“Don’t know. Some older woman,” Pearl said.
Now she was confused. She didn’t have a lot of friends. Her two closest had died several years ago.
“Do you mind telling her I’m on my way?”
Pearl nodded and walked out.
Joyce checked her appearance and made her way up to the front lobby. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of her sister-in-law, Velma.
“Surprise!” Velma said.
She was right about that. Joyce hadn’t seen Velma in almost a year, though she’d talked to her on the phone. Velma claimed that her diabetes prevented her from getting out much. It didn’t prevent her from going up to Atlantic City for the casinos, but Joyce didn’t bother pointing that out. Truthfully, they hadn’t been as close since Vernon died. Velma had adored her baby brother, and Joyce believed that she reminded her sister-in-law of him too much.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Joyce asked, hugging her.
“I just wanted to check on my sister-in-law.”
“I’m still alive, so I guess that’s something.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by here to see you before.”
Joyce wondered when the excuses were going to start. She motioned for her to take a seat in the lobby, which she did.
“I told Lauren, soon as I was feeling better, I was gonna get over here.”
Velma shifted like she was trying to get comfortable, squeezing her robust frame into a chair that looked like it was being swallowed up by her behind.
“You know Carl had the cancer and it just broke my heart to watch him disintegrate,” she said, referring to her on-again, off-again boyfriend of nineteen years. They’d never married because she had no interest in marrying.
“Well, I’m not that bad. Yet. Truth be told, I think my kids stuck me in here so they wouldn’t have to be bothered with me.”
Velma narrowed her eyes. “Now, you know better than that. From what Lauren has been telling me, it’s been kind of rough.” Velma reached over and patted her hand. “Now, stop trying to be hard. How are you really doing?”
“It hasn’t been easy . . .” Joyce admitted, her voice trailing off. “Most days I feel like my regular self. But some days . . .” If she could be honest with any person in this world, it was her sister-in-law. They might not have been close lately, but at one time, they truly were. And since Velma had lived through having a loved one fight cancer, Joyce wanted to open up. “What was it like with Carl?”
A hint of compassion glossed over her eyes.
“It was one of the most difficult things I ever had to go through,” she confessed. “You know Carl was full of life and spunk and well, that disease just came on so fast.”
She took a tissue out of her purse and sniffled into it. When she looked up again, she said, “I’m worried about you and Lauren. She came by to see me. She told me things aren’t getting any better with you two.”
Joyce didn’t know what to say about that. She knew that Velma adored Lauren and would never see Joyce’s side in anything, so trying to explain her feelings would be useless.
“It is what it is.”
“Why can’t you shake this bitterness toward her?” Velma asked.
She didn’t respond. Velma knew the history.
“You know I love you like you’re my own blood sister, so I’m going to shoot straight with you. You’re wrong. Just plain wrong.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Velma.”
Of course that wasn’t going to stop her.
“You know Vernon was my heart,” she continued. “I loved him to my core. But he wasn’t no good. He was a great brother. A great father. A great man, and a lousy husband. You knew that before you married him, and you knew that after you married him. But you stayed. You chose to stay.”
“No, I didn’t—”
“Un-unh, don’t even fix your lips to lie to me. I can’t count the number of houses we rolled up on, the number of women I talked you out of calling.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I understand what you’re just saying, but it’s time you start admitting the truth. You chose to stay with Vernon. You chose to subject yourself to the pain of his infidelity. So that, and all the mess that goes with it, rests solely on your shoulders.”
“Okay, so be it. But that doesn’t mean my child should’ve fallen in line with him.”
Velma’s words were stern. “Your child was a child. Who just wanted her daddy’s love.”
“I gave her love.”
“Okay. And she wanted her daddy’s love, too, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Velma leaned back, shaking her head in disgust. “All that anger and bitterness up inside you . . . Chile, you got some healing to do.”
Healing. There went that word again.
“Hurt people hurt people,” Velma continued. “And until you realize that you and Vernon messed my niece up in the head, everybody is gonna be jacked up.”
“Messed up? How do you figure that?”
“The poor child is a lonely woman, but she’s too scared to give a good man a chance.”
“There’s no such thing as a good man.”
Velma wagged a finger at her. “See. That’s your problem right there. You’re projecting your negativity onto your daughter.”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “From what I can see, Lauren has never had a shortage of men.”
“She’s dating, but she won’t commit to love.”
“Love is overrated anyway.”
“Don’t deflect your animosity onto your child. We want our children to take the good things about us and not the bad.”
Velma was working her nerves. She hadn’t seen her in almost a year, and she wanted to roll up in here trying to tell Joyce about how to deal with her kids. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on children?”
“You can sass me all you want, but the facts are stubborn.”
“Is that what you came here for? To harass me?”
Velma smiled, unfazed by Joyce’s attitude. “I came here to see how you were doing, but you know I shoot straight.”
“Whatever.” Joyce tossed her hand, dismissing Velma, just as Ernest walked up.
“Wow, who is this?” he said, licking his front tooth.
“My sister-in-law, Velma.”
“I’m gay,” Velma quickly said.
That wiped the smile right off Ernest’s face, but then it was quickly replaced with a more wicked expression.
“Well, I don’t mind watching.”
“Ernest, go somewhere with your old mannish self,” Joyce said.
Velma chuckled. “Nah, let him stay. I’m a senior-atrix.”
“A what?” Ernest asked.
“Senior-atrix. You know, like dominatrix. Only I get my jollies from sexually torturing old men.”
Ernest was reduced to speechlessness. Joyce was struggling to restrain her laughter.
“Joyce, yo’ people nasty,” he said as he walked away.
“Ooh, chile, you’re funny,” Joyce said. “You haven’t changed at all.” Velma used to keep her in stitches, and it felt good to laugh again. In fact, Joyce forgot that just a minute ago, she was mad at her.
“Well, I’d better get going,” she said. “I promise I’ll get back over here to see you soon.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Joyce said with a giggle, standing with her.
“Ha-ha,” Velma said, staring.
“What?”
“I love to see you laugh. You should try it more often. It’s so much better than anger.”
“Whatever, Velma,” Joyce said, still smiling.
She remained serious. “Joyce, I’m praying for you. Before you leave this earth, God’s gonna unharden that heart.”
“Well, God better get to work because from the looks of things, I got a one-way ticket out of here that I’m about to cash out.”
“Hmph, God done already worked that out. I’m just waiting for the manifestation.”
Joyce pushed her toward the exit. “Bye, Reverend Velma.”
She hugged Joyce. “Talk to you soon.” She motioned toward a gift bag that Joyce hadn’t seen, leaning against the side of the sofa. “Brought you something. Use it. The fact that you hadn’t been using it has probably been the source of all your problems.”
She winked, then wobbled away.
Joyce picked up the silver-and-pink gift bag. What kind of gift had her sister-in-law left? She dug in the bag and pulled out a burgundy Bible. A yellow Post-it note on the front read:
Try me.
You might like me.
Joyce smiled. She hadn’t cracked open a Bible in years. Maybe she would try it. At this point, she had nothing else to lose.
As hard as it had been, Lauren had not called Matthew all week. Well, she had called once, but when he didn’t return the call, she took that as her cue and moved on.
So, today was going to be all about Thomas. Lauren pushed away thoughts of Matthew. She’d been waiting for Thomas Brooks to return from his trip overseas for a month. He sent her text messages about all the things he wanted to do with her when he returned. He also promised her that she was going to want to do whatever he suggested once she saw all the amazing stuff he’d bought her in Paris.
Lauren knew that meant he sent his people on a shopping spree. But the logistics of who did what didn’t bother her. Thomas might sound like a guy from around the way but, in reality, he was a self-made multimillionaire real-estate tycoon.
Thomas had reserved a penthouse at the Hilton. He had told Lauren to arrive this morning and had given her the full spa package of a masseuse, nail tech, and even threw in a bikini wax. He wanted her rested, relaxed, and dolled up for when he arrived at 8 p.m. Lauren glanced at her watch. Since Thomas was a stickler for punctuality, she knew she only had ten minutes. She raced through her mind and tried to remember his favorite perfume. Between her regular men, she often lost track of who did what or who liked what.
“Kenzo,” she said, remembering as she dug through her overnight bag. She pulled out the flower bottle, sprayed both sides of her neck, then dropped the bottle back in the bag.
At eight on the dot, the lock clicked. Lauren went to face the window, her backside toward the door. The lingerie accented her in all the right places. And since her backside was her biggest asset, followed by her breasts and her long, sultry legs, she wanted to make the best first impression.
“Damn!” he said, the door slamming behind him. “You know how to greet a brother.”
She smiled as she turned around, letting the lace robe drop open. “I take it that I meet your approval?”
“You know you do.” He looked at her hungrily.
She took her time walking over to him because she wanted him to savor every bit of the three-hundred-dollar negligee he’d had delivered and waiting in the room.
“How was your flight?” she said, loosening his tie.
“It was fine,” he said, devouring her with his eyes. “My family thinks that I’m not coming back until tomorrow.”
“So, does that mean I have you all night?” she purred.
Lauren was having to act more than usual tonight because her mind kept going back to Matthew. In truth, she couldn’t manage as much enthusiasm as usual.
“It does.” He loosened his top button as she slowly pulled the tie off. “You know I had to finagle some things, but that’s all I’ve been thinking about . . . spending the night with you.”
They’d only spent the night together once before, when he had her meet him on a business trip.
“Let me take a shower and”—his eyes roamed up and down her body again—“you just wait right here for me.”
“I’ll be here sipping this wine, waiting on you,” she said, falling back across the bed and crossing her legs.
He licked his lips, hunger dancing in his eyes, and then he darted into the bathroom.
“Hey, order us some room service,” he called out as the shower started. “I’m famished. I’d like the filet mignon.”
“Got it,” she said.
She placed the order and then went back to waiting across the bed. She set her iPhone to the Slow Jams music channel. She wanted the mood to be just right.
Thirty minutes later, they’d gone through round one, which she told him was the appetizer. He’d get the full-course meal after he ate. She enjoyed the look on his face, like he’d just gone to Heaven. Too bad it didn’t give her heart joy.
The doorbell to the suite rang. “Room service.”
Thomas walked over, peeked out the peephole, and then opened the door. The waiter smiled as he came in and set up their plates. Lauren had ordered a Caesar salad, which she only planned to nibble on. The one thing she always did was eat lightly around her men.
Thomas signed for the food and then the waiter pushed the cart back out. They had just sat down to eat when someone knocked on the door again. “Room service.”
“What are they doing back?” he said.
“I don’t know, but I’ll get it.” She peeked out the peephole, but she couldn’t see anything. Oh well, she thought as she opened the door. No sooner had she cracked the door than it was kicked open, causing Lauren to stumble as she fell back on her behind. “What the . . . ?”
“You lying bastard!” A woman came storming in. Thomas jumped up from his seat in absolute fear.
“Teresa!” he said.
“You bastard. What are you doing?”
“Baby . . .”
“That’s a dumb question,” she said, her rage on full blast. “I see what the hell you’re doing—laying up screwing this tramp!”
Lauren was completely caught off guard. What was she thinking, opening that door? She knew better than that. She tried to pull herself up off the floor.
“Babe, let me explain,” Thomas said.
“I had you followed from the airport when I saw your stupid itinerary that your incompetent secretary sent to me by mistake.” She looked around the lavish chamber. “The penthouse suite? You’re so damn predictable.” The woman spun on Lauren. Her eyes bucked in horror when she spied her robe. “Is that the same negligee set you bought me?”
“I-I didn’t know he was married,” Lauren said.
This woman was filled with rage, and Lauren would say whatever she needed to calm her down.
“Whatever. I’ve seen you before. You know he is married. You see the damn ring on his finger.”
Lauren cursed herself. She was really slipping. Maybe she was getting too old for this game.
“Teresa, calm down.”
Lauren had visions of the woman pulling out a pistol and shooting them all.
Dear Lord, just let me get out of here . . .
Lauren couldn’t finish her thought. She hadn’t prayed in years. What did she look like now, praying for God to give her grace from screwing another woman’s husband?
“You’re right,” Teresa said, growing eerily calm. “There’s no need for me to act like some gutter trash just because my husband climbed in the gutter with some trash.”
She glanced at Thomas. “I hope this piece was
worth it. Because it’s about to cost you—majorly.” She gave Lauren a look of disgust. “Both of you.”
Lauren didn’t know what that meant. She was just grateful when the woman walked out the door. As soon as it closed, Lauren hurriedly slipped a dress on, grabbed her belongings, and headed out.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Thomas asked.
Lauren couldn’t believe he planned to go ahead like nothing happened. She decided he wasn’t worth the energy of her vocal cords. She was definitely leaving. For good.
Good morning, Ernest.”
Joyce’s toothless friend swung his head around, narrowed his eyes, and peered at her. Then he took his two left fingers and dramatically placed them over his wrist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m checking my pulse to see if I’m still alive. Because you walked in here with a smile, which must mean I done died and went to Heaven.”
“Oh, stop being so cynical,” she said as she slid in the seat across from him at the cafeteria table, where he’d been sitting alone, eating breakfast.
“Well, what has you in such a good mood?” he asked. “’Cause you’re the queen of the sourpuss committee.”
She opened her yogurt, dipped her spoon in it, then slipped a bite into her mouth.
“My son is coming today,” she said with a grin.
“Your son?” Ernest said. “I thought you only had a daughter.”
That caused Joyce consternation. “Why would you think that? I told you I had a son.”
He shook his head like he was convinced she was trying to trick him. “Naw, you never told me that. Mighta been someone else. But not me. Your daughter is the only one that’s ever been here to visit you. I didn’t know you had nobody else.”
“Well, if you would listen when I talked to you, you’d know,” she snapped.
“I listen and if you had told me you had a son, I woulda told you he sorry since he ain’t never been here to see you.”
Joyce brushed off his comment. “Whatever, Ernest.” She refused to let anything mess up her mood today.
“I’m just saying,” Ernest continued. “I hope you got a good tongue-lashing waiting on your son when he does get here.”
The Perfect Mistress Page 16