Mistress for Hire

by Niobia Bryant

  “It didn’t stop him from calling her and telling her about the file I gave you,” she said, sending him the video she’d recorded of Bella. “I lied and told her I gave you proof of her affair with your attorney, and she didn’t deny it on the video. I’m sure if you put the right pressure on his ass, he’ll tell it all to save his license.”

  “I can’t believe this shit.”

  “Life is a no-good, bald-headed, toothless son of a bitch, Horatio,” she drawled, noticing the driver’s eyes on her in the rearview mirror.

  He quickly looked away.

  “Good luck with everything, Horatio,” she said before ending the call.

  “Boy, you are hell, Ms. Bell,” the driver said, shaking his head in wonder.

  Jessa arched an eyebrow. “Humph, yes the fuck I am.”

  * * *

  Forgive me. He u-u-u-used me. My mama enemy is my enemy, right, M-m-m-mama?

  Jessa wanted so badly to reclaim the distance between herself and Georgia, but it seemed during any moment of extended quiet her thoughts turned to her.

  Mama, save me.

  Jessa reached for her phone, looking for a diversion. It was on Do Not Disturb with only calls from Winifrid allowed through, and there were a few notifications of calls she’d avoided that were sent straight to voice mail. She called her attorney back first. It rang just once before he answered.

  “You’re really working me for that monthly retainer fee, huh?”

  “Just trying to balance out the times I pay you to do nothing at all,” she countered.

  He chuckled. She did not. “I don’t have time for chitchat, Mr. Nitzan,” she said, her tone curt.

  He sighed, ever good-natured, which camouflaged his shrewdness and made many people underestimate him. “Just yesterday I was Nadav,” he said wistfully. “Okay, let’s see. Your husband was granted bail and your temporary restraining order was issued. He should be processed and released within the hour. As soon as he steps outside of the jail, he will be served with the divorce papers. Now, I did want to make it clear that this charge and the TRO may be enough for him to lose his private investigation license in the state of New York.”

  “And? Fuck him. Next,” she said, pulling out her tablet and making notes to her hit list.

  “Keegan’s attorney has reached out to me, and she plans to go forward with a lawsuit against you, but I sent him a copy of the business’s operating agreement clearly outlining that once her initial investment was repaid to her, she in fact is considered an employee although she receives the same percentage of payout. Hopefully, that will cool her heels.”

  “Seems like she should have hired him before she signed the agreement. Next.”

  “Based on the video footage from the spa of Mrs. Hall, I suggest you file a police report, and with that I would be able to also secure a TRO against her,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about her right now. I got her,” she said, reaching over to pat her bag. “But send me a copy of that footage.”

  “Jessa, I wouldn’t advise you reach out to the Halls, even with the upper hand. A misstep could severely hurt you and put them back in the position to sue for visitation rights with your daughter.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, even as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of the Halls’ beautiful two-story brick home on the Lake Valley Golf Course.

  “Last thing. Jaime Hall—”

  “I’ll call you back, Nadav,” she said, ending the call.

  Forgive me. He u-u-u-used me. My mama enemy is my enemy, right, M-m-m-mama?

  “Right,” Jessa said, eyeing their home through the window.

  “You said something, Ms. Bell?” the driver asked, looking back at her over his shoulder.

  She shook her head and opened the rear door, climbing out with her tote in hand. Jessa had no doubt Eric Hall Sr. was behind not only the reemergence of Georgia, but also the pumping up of her hatred of Jessa with bold-faced lies. He had refused to be bested and used her own child against her like a pawn in a game. For that he would pay.

  Forgive me. He u-u-u-used me. My mama enemy is my enemy, right, M-m-m-mama?

  “Park up the street,” she said to the driver before shutting the door and striding up the street.

  She cared not one bit about the picturesque surroundings. Inside their stately home with its flower boxes at each window and manicured lawns dwelled evil, but she was prepared to show them just how dirty life could get.

  They too had to learn, like all the rest, that she was not the one with whom to start a battle. She was built for war.

  As her car service pulled away she knocked on the door, ignoring the doorbell—that was too polite. Moments later the door opened, and she took pleasure in the look of shock on Kittie’s face. “I need to speak with you and your husband,” Jessa said. “Once and for all we need to handle this issue with my daughter.”

  “Bitch, go somewhere and die!” Kittie exclaimed, moving to close the door.

  Jessa reached out and pressed her hand to the solid wood, stopping her. “Don’t you want to know why your husband truly ceased pursuing custody of Delaney?” she asked.

  Kittie’s eyes blazed with her fury, but in the brown depths also lingered the doubts she obviously had.

  Jessa gave her a mocking smile as she reached into her bag and withdrew the small teddy bear. “It’s the nanny cam I used to record him the last time he came to my home to discuss Delaney,” she began. “I was surprised he was alone. Were you surprised he left you behind?”

  Kittie’s eyes dropped to the teddy bear as she stroked the pearl necklace she wore with a pretty peach cardigan set. “What are you trying to imply? What lies have you come up with now?” she asked, her voice low and bitter as she shifted her gaze up to Jessa.

  “I’m not trying to imply anything. That’s why I have proof,” Jessa said, pulling out her iPad and playing the video she already had cued. She held it up in front of Kittie for her to see.

  It was grainy and in grayscale, but it gave a clear shot of the room as Jessa sat there and beckoned for him to join her in the living room.

  “In here, Mr. Hall.”

  Jessa remembered so clearly her plan to shoot and kill them in the same room where their son had taken his own life. She had loved the irony of it. And now she closely watched every single emotion on Kittie’s face as she closely watched the video.

  “I wasn’t looking to hear from you for a few more hours,” he said.

  “And your wife? Where is she this morning?” Jessa asked.

  Kittie frowned a bit, and Jessa knew she saw the look her husband gave when she crossed her legs.

  “She’s at home getting Delaney’s bedroom ready for her,” he said.

  Jessa remembered his cockiness. His confidence. He had been so sure she would sign the papers giving him custody of her daughter. I had one snatched from my arms and there was no way I was handing another over so easily. I was ready to kill them with the same gun I have in my bag right now.

  Kittie coolly took in their argument over the unsigned papers, but her eyes widened and she gasped as Jessa pulled a gun from behind the pillows on the video.

  “I would love nothing more than to kill you in the same room where your son killed himself. Have a fucking seat,” Jessa ordered.

  Kittie looked up at her with contempt. “You could have hurt him,” she scolded.

  “I meant to do just that,” Jessa promised her.

  “Do you understand that I would rather see you dead than have you raise MY CHILD?” Jessa asked.

  “So you threatened him with death?” Kittie asked.

  Jessa saw the reflection of her pressing the gun to Eric Sr.’s head in her eyes.

  More played out. More angry words and bitter declarations. Jessa didn’t need the video, she remembered like it happened yesterday.

  And so her eyes became steely as she knew the next words from his mouth would destroy whatever illusion this woman had of her husband.

  “
I’ll tell what you what. Sign the papers, put down the gun, and I’ll forget you pulled this little stunt,” Eric began. “Or you sign these papers, put that gun down, give me some of the good pussy I know you got and I’ll let you visit your daugh—”

  Kittie’s face crumpled and her shoulders slumped under the weight of the truth. “Oh, Senior,” she sighed in disappointment, turning away from the video as she pressed the side of her little fist to her mouth.

  “There’s more,” Jessa egged her on.

  “No more. I refuse to let you enjoy this,” Kittie said, even as pain made her eyes appear glossy.

  Jessa fast-forwarded the video to the part where she slapped him hard before she pressed the barrel against his dick.

  “You talk a lot of shit when I’m the one with the motherfucking gun,” she said, her anger clear.

  Kittie turned and looked on, her eyes widening as her husband opened his legs and thrust his hips upward, causing the gun to stroke his privates.

  “You are in between a rock and a hard place, Jessa. You don’t want to go to jail and have those big dykes in there fucking you with broom handles and making you eat their pussy.”

  “Oh my God,” Kittie wailed softly, the string holding her pearls together nearly snapping as she tugged upon them in obvious distress.

  “I guess he wanted to know just what drove your son batshit crazy,” Jessa said spitefully.

  “Maybe there is another deal you and I can make,” he said. “Give me a month—no, two months—of pussy on call and allow us to keep the baby once a month, and I’ll convince Kittie to drop the lawsuit.”

  “Enough!” Kittie screamed, covering her ears with her trembling hands.

  Yes, it was more than enough. Jessa turned off the video, sparing Kittie the sight of her allowing her husband to kiss her and fondle her pussy as he pressed her body down on the sofa.

  Jessa remembered how in that moment she chose to forgo killing him because she wanted to see her daughter grow and teach her about men and the games they played. To one day give her child the wisdom and guidance she was never given. To help steer her from those same mistakes made by a little girl wishing for and missing her mother.

  I want that for Georgia as well. I have to fight just as hard for her as I did for Delaney.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Perfection.

  Jessa turned to find Eric Hall Sr. standing on the sidewalk in his golfing gear of plaid pants and polo shirt, glaring at her with such open hostility that she almost felt like stumbling back from it. Instead she gave him just as good as he gave it as she stepped out of the frame of the door to let him see his grief-stricken wife.

  “Kittie, what’s wrong?” he asked, dropping his leather golf bag onto the sidewalk and rushing up the stairs. He roughly pushed Jessa out of the way to reach his wife.

  Jessa corrected her stance, looking on as Kittie reached her arm back until it was almost behind her and then swung, slapping him soundly.

  Whap!

  “Kittie!” he exclaimed, his cheek quickly reddening.

  Jessa laughed.

  “Get the hell away from us!” Kittie roared, looking past him and giving Jessa a glare like she wished it had been her that she hit.

  This is not what she wants.

  “No,” Jessa said simply. “So you’ll have to have your domestic squabble after I’m gone, because I am far from done with the two of you whack jobs.”

  Eric turned and got in her face. “I am not the one to fuck with, little girl,” he said, his voice cold enough to evoke a chill of fear and intimidation.

  If she didn’t have the upper hand.

  Jessa gave him a mocking smile. “I showed her the video,” she whispered contemptuously as she matched his glare with her own.

  In the quiet storm that brewed between them, Kittie’s sobs filled the air.

  His hands came up with a quickness to grip her neck.

  Jessa brought her hands up to clutch at them, trying to dig her talon-like nails in the soft flesh of his inner wrists and free herself. “You’re just like your son. First you want to fuck me and now you want to kill me.”

  His eyes bulged as he tightened his grip.

  Jessa felt the pressure against her windpipe. She was unable to swallow. Dropping her hands, she felt around inside her bag until her hand closed around her gun. She grunted as she pressed the muzzle against his gut with it still inside her bag.

  Kittie cried out. “Stop it, Senior!” she wailed, coming over to wrap her hands around his arm.

  He felt the barrel of the gun, and his mouth twisted in hate and anger just before he roughly pushed her away from him. “Bitch!” he snapped in disgust.

  Jessa harshly gasped for breath.

  “Call the police,” Eric Senior snapped.

  Jessa nodded as she swallowed and gulped in air. “Call them so I can show them this proof that you’ve been doing some insider trading during your retirement. You and Roderick Rivera would look really good in prison jumpsuits.”

  His body stiffened.

  She chuckled and nodded. “That’s right, you’re not as slick as you think. I’ve been holding on to this little nugget just in case you stepped out of line, and you did just that when you turned my daughter against me, motherfucker,” she said with contempt. “You are looking at a woman with nothing else to lose. No secrets to be held against me. No trump cards to be played. So, try me, please.”

  Jessa brushed her hair from her face as she walked down the stairs. Her heart pounded and her pulse raced as she took large breaths to steady her nerves and calm her anger. She turned to face them on the sidewalk and patted her purse. “This is the second time I spared your life. There won’t be a third,” she promised him before turning to walk up the street to her waiting car.

  Her driver turned when she climbed into the car and closed the passenger door. “Where to next?” he asked, his friendly demeanor in contrast to the explosive turmoil she had just faced and conquered.

  He was oblivious.

  She turned and looked through the rearview mirror just as Eric tried to wrap his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Kittie roughly pushed away his show of comfort before entering the house and swiftly slamming the door in his face.

  “You done for the day, Ms. Bell?” the driver asked.

  “Not at all,” she told him, turning to face forward as he drove them away.

  * * *

  As the SUV pulled to a stop in front of the red brick community center, she closed the file she had been studying and quickly checked her hair and makeup in her compact. She applied a fresh layer of crimson gloss before she pulled a stack of one-dollar bills from her wallet, folding and sliding them into the pocket of her pants. “I got it,” she said to the driver, opening the door and exiting the car before he could leave his seat.

  She settled her shades on her face as she made her way across the short sidewalk and opened the glass door leading into the building. The wood floor that spoke of the building’s age was polished to a high gleam. The walls were painted a mint green that reminded her of schools. She ignored the glass cases filled with awards and plaques of local successes in sports and other activities as she made her way to the row of double doors with “Bedford Community Center” in faded bronze letters on the wall above it.

  The space was wide open with no divisions and a modest stage on the far wall flanked by doors. The windows were frosted but still allowed the late afternoon sun to shine in on the floors with brightness. Metal chairs formed a circle in its center and a table with refreshments was just beyond, with a dozen or so people gathered around it. Some looked at her with open curiosity and others spoke with a nod or brief word before losing interest in her.

  Jessa took a seat and crossed her legs, looking for her target. He’s not here.

  She decided to wait.

  “Is this your first meeting?”

  She pushed her shades atop her head and looked up at a full-figured dark-haired woma
n with skin almost the color of milk.

  “Yes, I’m just observing. I’m not sure if it’s for me,” Jessa lied.

  “I’m Olive,” the woman said, extending her hand as she sat down.

  “Jessa,” she said, avoiding the woman’s hand and giving her a stiff smile instead.

  Olive shrugged and gave her attention to devouring an onion bagel. “You are going to be a huge trigger for some of these guys . . . and girls,” she said, in between bites.

  Jessa truly didn’t care as she checked her watch.

  “Good luck with your recovery.”

  “Olive, you talk too much. Would you mind moving?” Jessa asked, pointing at the other empty chairs in the circle.

  The woman gasped in shock. “Wow, you’re a megabitch,” she said.

  “Yes, I know. Bye-bye.”

  The door to the left of the stage opened and her eyes went to it as Olive gathered her snack and her purse and moved several seats down.

  He’s still fine as fuck, I see.

  Jessa allowed herself to enjoy the sight of Pleasure strolling toward them. His body was still sculptured and strong, the navy button-up shirt he wore with faded denims unable to hide the physique that once made him a popular exotic dancer and skillful man-whore. His dreads were neat and pulled back from his handsome bronzed face. She could tell from the quality of his shoes, clothing, and watch that he was not suffering from his change of occupation.

  She couldn’t help the little moan she released as she remembered paying him well to go down on her. In the aftermath of her message to her friends all those years ago, she had wasted his tongue talent on just pissing Jaime off. She’d known Jaime was one of his most loyal clients.

  Why didn’t I fuck him? Silly, silly me.

  “I apologize for running a little late,” he said, clasping his hands together as he looked around at the small crowd with a grin.

  His steps faltered a bit and his smile faded when his eyes landed on her. She arched a brow and offered him a nod of her head.

  “If everyone will take their seats and let’s get started,” he said.

  Jessa continued to stare at him, enjoying that he was unsettled by her sudden reappearance in his life. She bit her bottom lip as she gave him a sultry look.