Mistress for Hire

by Niobia Bryant

  Jessa looked up at the tall, bald man in his black polo and black pants. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll have my usual smothered chicken and mashed potatoes,” she said, handing him the leather-bound menu.

  “I’ll be back with your drinks,” he said, quickly turning and heading toward the bar.

  Jessa sat up a bit in her chair and raised her hand to get his attention. “I didn’t order a drink yet—”

  “Peach Tea Fizz,” Keegan supplied.

  Jessa relaxed back against her chair, already looking forward to the peach tea and champagne concoction. “Thanks,” she said.

  She fell silent as the in-house jazz band began a soulful rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Christmas was just a week away and the music set the mood for the upcoming festivities.

  The waiter came up to their table, setting Keegan’s glass of red wine and Jessa’s drink before them. “Your food should be ready in another few minutes.” he said before retreating.

  Keegan followed him with her eyes. “I think I would like to fa-la-la-la-la all over him,” she drawled as she took a sip of her beverage.

  Jessa smiled. “You have a Christmas present for him, huh?” she asked with amusement.

  “Humph, it’s the gift that keeps on giving, darlin’,” Keegan sighed.

  They toasted to that.

  “Have you started thinking about your wedding plans?” Keegan asked.

  Bzzzzzzzzz.

  Jessa picked up her vibrating iPhone from where she’d laid it facedown on the table.

  “It’s the office,” she said before answering. “Hello.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Ms. Bell, but Aria Livewell threatened to come to the office and plant her foot in my behind—not the way she said—if I didn’t call and have you return her call. She said ASAP.”

  Jessa frowned. She was done with trying to make amends with Renee, Aria, or Jaime. She’d offered them the truth, honestly trying to protect them, and still they ridiculed her?

  “What’s wrong?” Keegan asked, her face filled with concern.

  Jessa put the phone on mute. “An old friend reached out to me via the office and left a number,” she said, and then realized she wasn’t lying.

  Keegan relaxed.

  Jessa rose to her feet. “I’m going to step outside and return the call. Please excuse me,” she said, dropping the linen napkin onto her vacated chair. She unmuted the phone as she made her way through the restaurant to the ornate but small vestibule. “Felisha, send me the number,” she said, grasping that short of a restraining order, there was only one way to be free of Aria Livewell.

  “I can transfer you,” Felisha offered.

  So you can eavesdrop? No, ma’am.

  “No, just text it,” she requested.

  She ended the call and moments later she received the text. Once she put the call through, it rang just once.

  “Yeah.”

  Jessa rolled her eyes heavenward at Aria’s rudeness.

  “I’m shocked you would want me to have your new number,” Jessa said, moving out of the way in the small vestibule as a couple entered.

  The winter chill blew in with them, and she shivered as it surrounded her.

  “I didn’t. This is a burner phone. Last thing I need is you calling Kingston on the low-low.”

  Jessa flung her head back and laughed. “Me? Call Kingston? For what? To be bored to death?” she asked. “I barely kept awake listening to his boring ass talk during dinner parties.”

  “No the fuck you didn’t!” Aria snapped.

  “Oh yes, I did,” Jessa volleyed back. “And I meant it.”

  “I guess a lunatic murderer does seem more your speed, right?” Aria asked snidely. “Was it exciting getting choked out before you watched another woman’s husband kill himself, huh?”

  Lord, give me strength.

  “What do you want, Aria?” Jessa asked, ready to move on from their childish banter.

  “I’m calling in that favor,” she said, her Newark accent still heavy even though she had long since left behind more humble beginnings for a life in the upper-middle-class gated community of Richmond Hills.

  “And that would be for?” Jessa asked, truly confused.

  “Trying to ruin my marriage with that lying message you sent.”

  “How could I forget it?” Jessa asked.

  Lord, is this a test?

  “I want to know whatever you know about my husband.”

  Humph.

  Jessa forced herself not to gloat at Aria turning to her for help. “Fine. I do owe you one for that message,” she said.

  “Just like that?” Aria asked, sounding disbelieving and suspicious.

  “I’m busy and I don’t have the time nor the desire to keep going back and forth with you.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll call you when the report is ready,” Jessa said, meaning to interrupt her.

  She hung up on her for good measure, knowing it would send her into a tirade.

  That was spiteful.

  Jessa paused with her hand on the brass knob of the door leading back inside the restaurant. She paused and looked upward. “Forgive me,” she mouthed, before opening the door and welcoming the warmth as she entered.

  Her steps faltered a bit when she spotted her blond stranger from the elevator at a round table with several other suit-clad men. She moved toward them and he glanced up just as she neared their table. His surprise quickly shifted to that same appreciation of her he never hid. He smiled and nodded at her with warm humor in his eyes at yet another coincidental meeting between them.

  She gave him a smile, never breaking stride on her way back to her table. As she reclaimed her seat, she looked back to find his eyes were still on her. “Sorry about that,” she said, focusing her attention on her steaming plate of food.

  “Everything okay?” Keegan asked as she shook pepper on her shrimp and gravy on cheese grits.

  “Yes,” she said instantly before pausing. “Although things could be better.”

  Keegan took a bite of her food and did a little shimmy with her shoulders. “How’s that?”

  Jessa set her fork on her plate, hating that she felt unsure. “I invited you here not just to celebrate our last day of work before we closed for the holidays,” she began, taking a sip of her drink—and then another—before she continued, “but to also ask you to plan my wedding.”

  Keegan nearly choked on a bite of shrimp. She coughed, causing several patrons to stare at her. Jessa rose to come around the table and slap on her back.

  Keegan brushed her hands away and took several long sips of water. “I’m fine,” she said, still sounding a little strangled.

  Jessa retook her seat, giving those who still stared an apologetic smile.

  “Excuse me ladies.”

  They both looked up at a different server standing by their table holding an unopened pink-gold bottle of Ace of Spaces pink champagne and a note. The dark-haired man handed the latter to Jessa. She knew without a doubt it was her stranger.

  An early Christmas gift from one stranger to another. Just promise you will share it with your lunch companion and not take it to your lucky husband.

  Enjoy!

  Jessa tapped the folded card against her chin as she glanced over at his table. He raised his own glass of brown liquor to her in a silent toast. She smiled.

  Class act.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at the waiter.

  He sat the ornate bottle on the table. “I’ll ask your server to bring flutes and open it if you wish,” he said, before taking his leave.

  Keegan picked up the metallic bottle. “Armand de Brignac Rosé,” she said, sounding impressed.

  Jessa tucked the note into the side pocket of her tote sitting on an empty chair at their table.

  “Who sent it?” Keegan asked.

  Jessa hesitated and then shrugged. “A stranger on his way out. The note said Merry Christmas and for us to enjoy it,�
�� she said.

  And that was all she was willing to divulge. She would love to fill Keegan in on her harmless flirtations with the sexy blond stranger, but she’d learned during her days as friends with the ladies from Richmond Hills to never supply another woman with the ammo to take you out when friends turned to enemies.

  Their waiter appeared with two modern-looking champagne flutes and a hand towel folded over his arm. They looked on as he effortlessly opened the bottle with the towel wrapped around the cork and neck as he twisted it. There was nothing more than a dull pop to sound its opening.

  “You seem very good with your hands,” Keegan said, giving him a long stare filled with her appreciation.

  His neck reddened in embarrassment.

  Jessa concealed her amusement behind her hand and Keegan continued to openly stare, enjoying that she made the young man uncomfortable. She gave him credit for his steady hand as he poured the pink champagne into their glasses.

  With Keegan’s attention diverted, Jessa chanced another look over at the stranger. He was gone. Oh well.

  She turned her attention back to Keegan as the waiter left the bottle chilling on ice in a bucket on the table. “Back to my wedding,” she said, tapping her crimson fingernails on the base of the flute.

  Keegan settled back in her seat and eyed her, saying nothing.

  “I don’t want to make the mistake of thinking I can plan it myself because it’s small.”

  Keegan’s face revealed nothing.

  What more does this bitch want?

  Jessa fought not to roll her eyes. “I know you still take a lot of decorating jobs, and you’re the most stylish, most organized—”

  “You’re really shoveling that bullshit, darling,” Keegan drawled.

  “Stop making me spread it so wide,” Jessa countered.

  Keegan shook her head. “I have a problem, friend o’ mine.”

  Jessa couldn’t hide her exasperation.

  Keegan reached into her oversized crocodile tote sitting on the floor beside her feet and withdrew a wrapped present that was the size of a hardcover book. She set it on the table next to her plate. “Do I give you this gift or take on the headache of planning your wedding?” she asked. “And this is a good gift, too.”

  “You could give me both.”

  “No, ma’am. Just one.”

  “The wedding it is,” Jessa said.

  “Then my mama’s gonna love this Hermès scarf,” Keegan drawled, leaning over to drop it back into her bag.

  “Will she even know what it really is? No shade,” Jessa asked as she picked up her flute.

  Keegan laughed. “Of course not. She’ll probably use it to wrap her hair when she gets a fresh permanent.”

  “Thank you, Keegan,” she said earnestly.

  “No problem,” she said, raising her flute as well.

  The two friends toasted.

  Bzzzzzz.

  Jessa checked her phone. “It’s Hammer,” she said, rising. “I need to take this.”

  She reached the chilly vestibule again. “Hey, Hammer. I was going to call you when Keegan and I finished lunch,” she said.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I know we’re done for holidays, but I need a quick favor.”

  “Go.”

  She smiled. “The Livewells. What’s up with them?” she asked.

  “I thought you were done with those Richmond Hill ladies?”

  “I was. Aria called me.”

  “A’ight. Let me check my notes.”

  Jessa moved closer to the outside door and looked out the full-length glass panel at the dirty snow piled high on the edge of the sidewalk.

  “He’s faithful. It’s the money where he’s fucking up.”

  That surprised her. She turned from the door.

  “He sank a lot of money into opening a new medical practice. A lot of money. I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s panning out and their funds are low.”

  “Does she know?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Mrs. Montgomery called me earlier to check on her case. Are we ready to close it?”

  “Not yet. Waiting on some background checks to come in.”

  “Okay, thanks, baby. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Jessa,” he said gently.

  “Huh?”

  “I called you,” Hammer reminded her.

  She grimaced. “You sure did. What can I do for you?”

  “I thought about what you said the other night about not meeting my family . . .”

  Jessa stiffened. No.

  “My moms is . . .”

  Jessa frowned. He.

  “Coming for Christmas.”

  Jessa pinched the space between her brows. Didn’t.

  “And she’s going to stay with me until the wedding.”

  Is this what a foot in your mouth tastes like?

  “Oh, baby, that’s great,” she lied, forcing joviality into her tone when she really wanted to take her iPhone and punt it like a football over the dirty piles of snow and into the busy Manhattan traffic.

  * * *

  Later that night, Jessa enjoyed a long, jasmine-scented bath as she sipped on the remaining pink champagne gifted to her. She left the water behind once it cooled and enjoyed pampering her body with her favorite lotion and taking care of her skin with a facial. She left her en suite bathroom draped in her favorite crimson sheer robe with her half-filled flute in her hand.

  The hour was late. She was alone.

  Delaney was in bed. Winifrid was gone for the night. Her mother was in her room watching 70s sitcoms on television. Hammer was spending his mother’s first night with her at his loft apartment.

  Jessa was clearheaded and contemplative.

  Something wasn’t right.

  She set her flute on one of the coasters on her nightstand as she sat on the bed with one leg tucked beneath her bottom.

  First things first.

  Jessa pulled up her old texts from Felisha and found the one with Aria’s number. She dialed it and then studied her manicured feet as she awaited an answer. It eventually went to voice mail.

  Perfect.

  “Aria, this Is Jessa. Kingston passed the test. He’s as faithful as ever to you,” she said, pausing, and then deciding not to divulge their financial straits. “Listen, this will be the last time I speak to you, so I’m gonna give you some advice. Something I learned during my time operating Mistress, Inc. You can take it or leave it. You’re playing a dangerous game waiting for the other shoe to drop concerning Kingston cheating. You got a faithful man. Have more faith in yourself before you push him away with your paranoia. I’ve finally found love again. In fact, I’m getting married. If after everything that has happened I can trust someone, there is no reason for you not to believe in Kingston more than you do. Anyway, just my nickel. Have a good life, Aria. God bless.”

  Jessa ended the call, took another sip of her champagne, and then opened the Montgomery file. “What are we missing?” she asked as she opened all the files Hammer had sent her into different windows. “Something is not right.”

  It wasn’t the first case they’d had where the man wasn’t proven to be a cheat—Aria was fresh evidence of that—but Mrs. Bella kept insisting and wouldn’t accept that he was devoted to her.

  She tried to increase the image of the surveillance videos, but it just overlapped over other windows. She wanted to be able to see everything all at once.

  The screen on the laptop wasn’t large enough.

  She grabbed the goblet and Delaney’s video monitor and slipped on red satin ballerina slippers before she left her bedroom suite and walked down the hall. She paused at her mother’s open bedroom and looked inside. The bedroom was empty but light shone from beneath the closed door of her adjoining bathroom. The laugh track from one of her mother’s beloved sitcoms blared inside the room suddenly.

  Her eyes landed on the teacup sitting on the bedside table.


  She walked softly into the room, her eyes darting to the door, as she picked up the cup and sniffed its contents. It was free of the smell of liquor. Thank you, Lord, for that.

  The commode flushing echoed from the bathroom.

  Jessa turned and eased her way back out of her mother’s room to the hall. She was worried the eggnog incident would make her crave liquor again. Although they kept all alcohol under lock and key, her mother was an addict from Harlem and would figure out a way to get what she wanted when she wanted it.

  In the darkness that was only broken up by the subtle light from the sconces lining the wall, Jessa made her way down the left side of the double staircase and to the right hall leading to her private office. She turned the switch to raise the lights. Here was more of Keegan’s design aesthetic on display with clean lines and pops of red color on a shiny linen backdrop.

  Soon she had the Montgomery files on display on the seventy-inch television monitor She leaned against the front of the desk and gently stroked her neck as she tilted her head this way and that as she surveyed the first surveillance video of Charli trying to catch the attention of Mr. Montgomery while he sat at the bar of a well-known eatery.

  Bzzzzzz . . . bzzzzzz . . .

  She looked down at her phone sitting face up on the desk. An unsaved number. Aria.

  Jessa ignored it as she continued to study the scene. She walked closer as Montgomery pulled his phone from the back pocket of his khakis.

  “He’s dressed more for golfing then screwing a sidechick,” she murmured. “Not that it matters.”

  Eric had claimed to spend many a day golfing or fishing, but instead lay in bed with me all day while his wife was none the wiser.

  “Lesson learned.” Jessa stood close to the screen, and it cast her face and upper body with the lights from the high-def display.

  Ba-doop.

  “Fuck your voice mail, Aria,” she said, turning to swipe the remote and turn up the volume.

  She watched the video until the end and then watched it again. And then once more, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side as she focused in on the moment right after he made his first phone call.

  Brrrnnngggg . . .

  She opened her eyes and paused the video. “It could be a coincidence or . . .”

  Jessa picked up her iPhone from the desk. The new voice mail notification was on the screen.