Revenge of the Mistress

by Cydney Rax

  Right then he decided not to file a police report. Most times nothing ever came of it anyway. Instead he drove on home. When Rashad arrived and found his wife in the kitchen, Nicole’s eyes grew large with surprise. She was wringing her hands and pacing the floor.

  “What’s wrong with you, Nicky?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. She eyed an ugly red bruise on the side of his forehead. “What happened to you?”

  “Get the first aid kit.”

  She raced to the bathroom and returned in a panic.

  “Did you get into some kind of fight? Were you in an accident?”

  “No!”

  “Then tell me, what the hell is going on?” She ripped open an antiseptic towelette and applied it to his wound.

  “Ouch. That stings.”

  “It’s supposed to. I never knew you were such a big baby.” She gently kissed Rashad’s forehead and placed a Band-Aid on it. The tension in Rashad’s shoulders began to subside. He finally muttered, “Thanks, Nicky.”

  She handed him a cold beer. He took one sip, then he told his wife what had happened and griped that the robbery had cost him a lot of money. “I might have to start carrying my own fucking gun. I have one, but I don’t keep it on me, because I don’t do the deposits anymore. Jerry does. But he had an emergency. So I went to our bank right up the way. He could have warned me.”

  “No, Rashad. Are you trying to blame your boy for what happened? I personally don’t like Jerry, but why would you assume he knew this was about to go down? Everything was just a coincidence. But it’s also proof that we need to move to a safer neighborhood.”

  “I guess. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I take one step forward and two miserable steps backward. What’s next?”

  “At least you’re alive and you came back home to me in one piece.” She tried to focus on the bright side. “Baby, have a seat. Dinner is ready: meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn bread. And my famous sweet tea. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “Once you eat and calm down, you’ll feel a lot better.”

  “Are you serious?” he snapped. “How in the hell will eating replace the money that bastard stole from me? I swear, if I ever see that guy again I’m going to sink some bullets in his punk ass. As hard as I work and I still have to pay my crew and my creditors? Shit, shit, shit.”

  Nicole decided to keep her mouth shut. She quickly arranged his dinner on a plate. Rashad sat down and angrily chewed his food. The meal tasted good, but he kept a sour frown on his face.

  “Other than what just happened,” Nicole said, “how did your day go?”

  He shoved some mashed potatoes in his mouth and glared at her.

  “Well, um.” She nervously laughed. “My day was good, babe. I finally got around to changing the sheets on our bed. And the new comforter set . . . remember, it has all those pretty pillows? I put that on the bed, too.”

  He stared at Nicole like she’d lost her mind. She fell into silence and tried to ignore the small tears that formed under her eyelids.

  When Rashad finished his meal, he went out to the garage to look for some of his tools. He quickly returned to the kitchen, ready to talk to his wife.

  “Why the fuck is the Jeep smelling all nasty and shit? I see smoke rising from underneath the hood like a fog bank or something. Do you know what the hell is going on? That’s a new Jeep.”

  Nicole immediately began crying.

  “I . . . it was . . . things got busy . . . time flew.”

  Rashad could barely understand her. “Calm down, Nicky. What happened?”

  She took a few deep breaths. “I-I forgot to get an oil change.”

  “Okay, that happens. But how long has it been?”

  “I-I’ve never gotten one.”

  “What?” He grabbed his wife by the shoulders and shook her until her head hurt. “We got that car last October and you’ve never taken it for a lube change? How can you not do that? What the fuck is wrong with you? All you gotta do is remember to change the oil every three thousand miles. Am I expected to take care of everything around here?”

  “I know, Rashad. I forgot. I’m sorry. With the baby and everything and—”

  “Oh, don’t give me that you’re-too-busy-with-the-baby shit. Forgetting important stuff when it comes to the Jeep can cause long-term damage. Surely you realize that, Nicole.” He focused on her and suddenly noticed her new layered hairstyle. And the colorful outfit she was wearing was brand-new and made out of costly fabric. He knew Nicole liked to go to work in one stunning outfit and then come home and change into another pretty dress accompanied by some leather pumps. “Nicole, you mean to tell me you can’t remember to do something important like get an oil change, but you never forget irrelevant shit like your hair and wardrobe? Get the fuck outta here.”

  “You’re right, I’m wrong. But it’s going to be okay, Rashad. I swear I will take the Jeep to get an oil change first thing tomorrow.”

  “Too late for that. The Jeep probably has to go to the mechanic. That engine needs to be checked for sludge.”

  “Checked for what?”

  “Never mind. Damn, Nicole.”

  He turned around and started to return inside the house. He paused and faced her. “So you want us to get a new house, right . . . an expensive-ass house that will need all kinds of preventive maintenance. Are you going to forget to keep up with that, too?” Instead of waiting for her answer, he headed back for the garage and slammed the door behind him.

  * * *

  Kiara and Eddison had just gotten in his car and were on their way home from watching an adventure flick at a suburban movie complex. He drove them in silence. Kiara had noticed that he kept leaving his seat while the movie was playing.

  “Eddy, are you alright? You are awfully quiet tonight.”

  “I’m fine. Movie was good.”

  “How would you know?”

  “What?”

  “You kept leaving, and so you missed some of the action sequences.”

  “It’s not the end of the world. I can always see it again. Or wait till it comes out on DVD.”

  “But that’s not the point. We were on a date. And you seemed very distracted.” She paused and gathered her thoughts. “Sweetie, I noticed your phone kept ringing. You excused yourself, which is nice. But I want you to be available only to me when we’re on a date.”

  “I can understand that. But I-I had an emergency.”

  “Oh, really? Is everything alright?”

  “Yes,” he said in an odd light tone. “It’ll be alright in time.”

  Eddison didn’t divulge any further information, so she let it go and folded her arms tightly across her chest. This mysterious silence wasn’t like Eddison at all. And Kiara couldn’t forget how when they were in the theater, he barely held her hand.

  The conversation ceased the rest of the way home. When they pulled up at her house, Eddison walked Kiara to her front door. She gave him an expectant look. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

  “It’s getting late.”

  “That’s never stopped you before. I don’t understand.”

  “Look, I have something to take care of . . . some family business.”

  “Family business?”

  “Yes, I will talk to you about it later. It’s bothering me, so . . . that explains my odd behavior.” He reached over to kiss her. His lips were smooth and warm. He gave her a little bit of tongue, then quickly backed away.

  “Go on in, Kiara. I’ll wait here until you’re safe, then I’m out. I-I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said in a quiet voice. She let herself in the house and stood in the darkness of the living room peeking through the drapes. She watched Eddison get back in his car. She watched him pick up his cell phone, then press it against his ear as he began talking. She watched him drive away and leave her questioning what could be happening with her man.

  * * *

  Rashad nervously
stood in front of Beeva Reese’s front door. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It was a Wednesday. He skipped going to work since Myles’s school had no classes that day. He bundled up the kids and took them on a little road trip.

  An hour and a half later, he was in Bryan, Texas, pulling up in his mother’s driveway. Soon Beeva Reese answered her door and welcomed him with a big smile and a warm hug.

  “Hi there, son. It ain’t even Christmas and yet here you are to see me.”

  “Don’t start, Beeva. I-I thought you’d want to see Myles and Hayley.”

  “Hayley?” she squealed. At hearing her name, little Hayley popped out from her hiding place . . . behind her daddy’s long legs. She emerged with a shy smile. And when Beeva laughed with joy and waved at Hayley, she rushed out into the woman’s welcoming arms.

  “Oh my God, you are such a beautiful little doll.” Beeva hugged her with moistened eyes. “Thank you, son, for bringing my grandbaby to see me.”

  “I’m here, too, Grandma.” Myles had been poking around on the side of the house and ran around to the front. Beeva welcomed her family inside.

  Rashad took a seat. Being at his mother’s felt real good. Before he knew it, Beeva Reese insisted on breaking out a carton of fresh strawberries, chilled whipped cream, and spongy little shortcakes. She happily worked in the kitchen, fixing up bowls of dessert and happily presenting them to the grandkids.

  While Myles and Hayley stuffed their mouths with food, Beeva pulled Rashad to the side in a corner of the kitchen and away from the listening ears of the children. Once she knew they were occupied, she took a seat at the table next to her only child.

  “How are things going?” she asked, getting right to the point.

  “That woman spends money like I’m Bill Gates.”

  “What do you mean, like you having to pay all the normal bills?”

  “Normal bills don’t faze me. I consider paying those my job as a man. But it’s all the extra stuff that I hate. The stuff she sneaks and buys and won’t let me know about until the credit card statements come in the mail. I can’t stand that shit.”

  “Rashad, I hate to ask, but . . . didn’t you know Nicole had dollar signs bulging from her eye sockets before you married her?”

  “Well—”

  “Well, nothing. You knew. And you married her anyway.”

  “Beeva, hear me out. At first, Nicky was real low-maintenance. But once she got used to me trying to help her out, and especially after we bought that Jeep, she’s been slowly flipping out with the credit cards. Twenty-six-percent interest, Beeva. I feel like I work every day for five or six different banks.”

  “And you do. Bank money ain’t free money, and this is what happens when you spend borrowed money impulsively. Bankers will always get their cut.”

  “That type of spending is about to get cut, too—”

  “Look, son. You married a woman whose heart pumps at the thought of riches. Preferably your riches. You should have gotten a prenup. But because you made her legal, her problems, her habits, are now all yours. Hell, she could wreck your credit. And I will not let that hoe bag destroy what your daddy built for you.”

  “Beeva, that’s my wife you’re talking about—”

  “Son, I’m not trying to be disrespectful. Yes, she is your wife, but right is right and wrong is wrong. And if what’s currently going on in your life didn’t bother you, no way you would have driven all the way up here.”

  “You speak not one lie. I wanted your honest opinion.”

  “And now that you have it, what you gonna do about it?”

  A little silence gave his mother the necessary gumption to ask another much-needed question.

  “Rashad, since you married her what’s done is done, but did you two at least go to financial counseling before you got—”

  “No, Beeva. No.”

  “That’s a damn shame. Some of you men are so quick to lie down with a big-booty hoe. Just because you went half on a baby did not mean you had to marry her, Rashad. She ain’t the first single mother and she damn sure won’t be the last.”

  He gave his mother a helpless look.

  “I honestly don’t even think that you are deeply in love with her, either. Are you?”

  Rashad rose to his feet. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. The blood drained from his face and he knew he was in over his head.

  “I love her, Beeva.” He shrugged. “May not make any sense, but I do.”

  “You’re not making a bit of sense. That’s not how I raised you.”

  “Give me a break. You asked if I loved her and I told you. What more do you want, huh?”

  Rashad was getting weary of the conversation. He wanted compassion, not judgment.

  “Hmm. That’s fine, but I must warn you—marriage ain’t a game.”

  “Says the woman who’s on her fourth husband.”

  Beeva raised her hand and nearly smacked Rashad across his face. “And that is why I am very qualified to tell you that it’s nothing to play with. It gets messy. And embarrassing. And tiring. Look at Halle Berry. She may be getting a third divorce. Poor thing. People call her crazy and wonder why she can’t keep a man. They talked the same shit about me. But I ain’t a celebrity. I’m real. And getting it wrong time after time isn’t a laughing matter. It hurts.” There was pain in Beeva’s eyes. “I don’t want you to make my mistakes, your daddy’s mistakes. But hey, what’s life without a mistake?”

  “A fairy tale,” he answered.

  In some ways Rashad regretted coming to visit his mother. But he’d really wanted someone to talk to . . . someone who loved him and who understood. He wished he could have gone to Kiara about these issues he was having, but he knew he’d messed up too much to even consider asking her for advice. He felt all alone and wished he’d never done the things that had put him in this position.

  Time was flying. He was getting older by the day, and he was sick of the game playing.

  If only I had learned to be happy with the good woman that I had. If only I had done the stupid little doable things she asked me to do.

  He felt ashamed, like he was a major screwup who wasn’t adept at handling his relationships. And he decided that if he didn’t have what it took to successfully manage a relationship, then he’d just have to make some tough choices. And even though it needed to be done, he didn’t look forward to it.

  Rashad had already signed that contract for the house. It was a speedy transaction and they’d be moving in the next day.

  “Maybe I should have listened to you, Beeva. But as a man, I thought I could make my own decisions.”

  “And you can . . . if you can accept the consequences.”

  “I just want to do the right thing. ’Cause when I look around, barely anyone takes marriage serious anymore. I’m guilty of that myself.”

  “Hey, it happens. Maybe not intentionally. But we live and learn.” Beeva studied her son. “Keep doing the right thing and it may work out. And I’m worried, son, not because you are having second thoughts about this lady. I remember the look in that woman’s eyes on your wedding day: like you have the power to save her just by marrying her. Funny thing is, some people believe that marriage lasts forever. But all marriages come to an end one way or another. Question is, how will yours end?”

  He couldn’t answer his mother, because he honestly had no idea.

  * * *

  Rashad had just left a construction site located in the midtown area. Houston’s real estate was booming in spite of the recent oil price crashes. He was amazed to still see the Bayou City filled with mile-high cranes in every direction. One-million-square-foot manufacturing warehouses, luxury apartments, housing developments, and more. And Eason & Son had successfully bid on a higher education project that he hoped would keep his firm busy for the next several years.

  As he pondered his future, he was still unsure about Nicole. His new wife wanted to know everything about his business matters: How much is that project? W
hen does it break ground? Did he need her to write up any press releases and send them to local black newspapers and blogs? He appreciated her interest, but he figured that all she saw was dollar signs and she thought money lasted forever. But Rashad knew that riches could vanish as quickly as they came.

  Rashad drove down Montrose Street. A streetlight shone upon two men who were walking along the sidewalk. He waited in his sedan with his dark-tinted windows partially ajar and could clearly see that one of the men was Eddison Osborne.

  Eddison wore some tight pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Rashad kept staring as he waited for the red light to change. He watched Eddison and his companion enter a gay bar. It was a well-known establishment that Rashad had seen in the news on a few occasions.

  “I knew this perfect fucker was too good to be true.”

  Rashad made a right turn at the light. He hurriedly parked his car and got out. He walked toward the entrance of the bar and decided to go inside. The small corridor was very dark, only a few lights flickering here and there. A long counter could be spotted on the left-hand side of the entrance, and a small stage had been erected on the back wall of the main room. Dark shadows made it hard to see, but Rashad noticed several men dressed in underwear prancing around to “Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough.”

  The music was loud and the energy had the customers bobbing their head as they enjoyed the entertainment.

  “Go-go dancers? What the hell?” Rashad tried to remain calm and felt nervous about what else he might find. He soon spotted Eddison and his male companion again. They sat next to each other at a bar. They were handed two drinks. Their heads were close together as they looked like they were talking. Rashad wanted to throw up. How could Kiara be in love with such a man? He stood and watched them awhile longer.

  “Hey there, are you looking for anyone?” a white guy in drag sweetly asked as he checked out Rashad.

  “Not anymore.”

  He immediately left the bar, making a note of its name and address. He looked up and down the street, seeing other men whom he assumed were gay as they took their time going in and out of the establishment.