Was this another game?
Would she even show?
Did Renee and Jaime get the message, too?
Was she going to find out that her husband was having an affair?
Aria had made it from New York to New Jersey in record time. As soon as she pulled up to the valet station of the Terrace Room, a château-styled home of the 1930s that had been converted into a restaurant, Aria grabbed her cell phone and purse before she hopped out.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Livewell,” Andre, the valet, said politely before climbing into the seat of her Range Rover.
Aria gave him a polite smile, nothing like her usual chatty and friendly demeanor. Coming from Newark and having plenty of family work in the service industry, Aria never looked down her nose at those most of her Richmond Hills neighbors considered “help.”
She didn’t give a damn how many celebrities she interviewed, how many million-dollar homes she lived in, there was no sign of bougie in her.
Aria started to call Kingston, but she decided against it. No, I’ll let this shit play out first, she thought, pulling her bronze leather Fendi tote up on her shoulder.
What if Jessa is laying up with Kingston and playing me for the fool sitting at the restaurant?
As she walked across the drive to the brick steps of the restaurant, Aria pulled up the text and dialed the number Jessa used to send it. She had tried it twice before and it was never answered.
“Hello, Aria.”
Her steps froze at the sound of Jessa’s husky voice.
“Where are you?” Aria asked coldly.
“Nice dress. White always looked great on you. Come on in.”
Click.
Aria’s heart hammered as her cinnamon eyes shifted over the windows of the restaurant, looking for a sign of her. Clutching her cell phone, Aria slid her shades down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. Jessa didn’t need to know shit about what she was feeling or thinking.
“Welcome back to the Terrace Room, Mrs. Livewell,” Kilpatrick, the maître d’, greeted her with a slight bow of his balding head.
“Thank you, Mr. Kilpatrick,” she said absentmindedly as she looked past his shoulder into the restaurant. Where is that bitch?
“Right this way, ma’am. Ms. Bell is awaiting you.”
Aria stiffened her spine as she followed him through the elegant restaurant with its French country decor. She eyed the very same table Renee, Jaime, and she had sat at when they’d first received Jessa’s text. Aria came to a stop next to the empty table. “Mr. Kilpatrick,” she called out softly.
He turned. “I’ll be sitting here. Please ask Ms. Bell and the rest of her party to join me here,” she said. Might as well end this bullshit in the same spot where it all began for Renee, Jaime, and me.
Kilpatrick moved his tall and slender figure to pull out one of the parson chairs for her. “I’ll be right back with Ms. Bell,” he said, after she was seated.
Aria didn’t like that her back was to a portion of the restaurant so she shifted over to the next seat, putting her back to the beautiful wood paned windows directly overlooking the gardens surrounding the restaurant.
And when Kilpatrick emerged from the rear of the restaurant and Aria laid eyes on Jessa Bell walking behind him, it took everything Aria had to remain seated. From behind her shades, she missed not one detail about the scandalous bitch. The full waves of her shoulder-length ebony hair. The bright redness of her matte lipstick against the creamy mocha complexion of her skin. The tailored black dress she wore like a second skin on her curves. The arrogant tilt of her head and the sultry nature of her walk.
Aria had never wanted to slap the taste out of someone’s mouth so badly. Taking a deep breath, she licked her glossy lips and pushed her chair back a bit to cross her legs.
As Kilpatrick held Jessa’s chair, Aria promised herself that there was no way on God’s green earth that she was letting Jessa Bell leave without getting some answers.
Enough was enough.
“That will be all,” Jessa ordered him, setting her clutch on the table beside her silverware.
“Thank you, Mister Kilpatrick,” Aria said with emphasis, taking her eyes away from Jessa Bell long enough to smile up at him.
“How have you been, Aria?” Jessa asked, removing her own shades to expose her eyes.
“Don’t play any more games with me, Jessa. We go a long way back and you know I ain’t never in the mood for bullshit,” Aria told her in a low voice that was brimming with anger. She sat up on the edge of her chair, removing her shades to lock her eyes with Jessa’s. “Are you fucking my husband?”
Jessa’s eyes shifted to the left and to the right like she was concerned someone had overhead Aria. “I thought doing this in a public place would erase the opportunity to be vulgar and loud, Aria.”
Aria jumped to her feet.
Jessa held up her hands. “Sit down, Aria,” she said calmly. “Kingston is not—was not—my lover.”
Aria absolutely hated the waves of relief she felt cascade over her body as she sat back down in her chair. “So who is it, then, Jessa?”
Jessa shifted her eyes to the entrance of the restaurant. “I really wanted all of you here, but Renee didn’t want to meet and Jaime never answered me,” she said, sounding disappointed.
“And I wish Mark could be here,” Aria spit out. “I’m sure he’d be so proud of his wife for fucking one of his friends.”
Pain flashed in Jessa’s eyes. “Mark would understand that I fell in love, plain and simple.”
Aria’s brows furrowed as she pierced Jessa with her eyes. “In love? In lust, must be. If you’re so in love then why didn’t your shit work out? Renee and Jaime are not with Jackson and Eric. So if he loved you, if he chose you, if he couldn’t get enough of you . . . then why the hell ain’t he with you.”
The look of surprise on Jessa’s face was hard to miss.
“Oh, you didn’t know that. Recognize when you’re nothing but a sideline ho, a bust-it baby, a hit-it-and-quit-it bitch, a nut buster.”
Jessa’s face shaped with anger.
“I had no idea that you were . . . so childish, sneaky, manipulative, and cruel,” Aria continued. “Did you have any idea the effect that stupid motherfuckin’ message of yours had on all of our lives or didn’t you give a shit?”
Jessa eyed Aria with defiance. “You all deserved it.”
“What?” Aria snapped.
Jessa smirked. “My friends. None of you trusted me anyway. Once Mark died the ladies in the neighborhood all began to clutch their husband’s arms a little tighter when I walked by or would innocently stroll up while I was simply having a conversation with their man. Everyone began to treat me like a whore on the prowl for a new pimp. Including the three of you.”
Aria waved her hand dismissively. “Bullshit.”
“Puh-leeze. I noticed little things you all did . . . just like every other scared and insecure housewife. Little comments, little side-eyes. Obvious questions that double-checked the who, what, when, where, and why of me being in one of the men’s company.” Jessa’s short laughter was filled with bitterness. “I never expected that bullshit from the three of you.”
Aria balled up her fist and brought it down on the table so hard that the silverware clanged. “So you prove that you’re to be trusted by sleeping with one of our husbands and then planning to run the fuck away from him?” Aria asked her bluntly. “Bitch, you are crazy out your ass.”
Jessa’s eyes flashed. “Crazy is lying to your husband about being able to have children, or almost having an affair with your gay assistant, or stealing money from the husband who busted his ass to give you everything—after you’re caught cheating.”
Aria thought of the hell she’d put Kingston through, accusing him, arguing with him, searching through his dirty clothes and his cell phone while he slept, following him or at least double-checking to make sure he was where he said he was. As if the guilt of keeping her infertility from hi
m wasn’t enough, she damn near ruined her marriage because of this delusional bitch.
“I cannot believe you tryna be a big and bad bold bitch. I ought to slap the shit out your cra-zy ass. Bitch.”
Jessa smirked as she reached into her clutch and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m moving back to my home in Richmond Hills and I’d advise you all to get ready.”
Aria frowned as she watched Jessa typing away on the keypad of the black and silver BlackBerry as she spoke. “Are you serious?”
Jessa set the cell phone down on top of her clutch. “Very.”
“Still playing games, huh, Jessa?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which husband?” Aria asked, amazed that she could sit here so calmly.
“I already told you: not yours. Don’t worry, you still have Kingston’s nose wide open. I guess all those tricks you learned in your teens paid off.”
Aria bit back her words as the waiter sat two goblets of iced water on the table. Jessa waved her hand dismissively, sending him on his way.
Aria shifted her eyes to the BlackBerry. She reached across the table to snatch it up so quickly that she knocked over the glasses of water.
Jessa reached across the table and Aria roughly slapped her hand away. “Touch me or this phone again and I will lay your ass out . . . and you know I will,” she warned.
Aria scrolled through the recent calls. Her eyes widened at the sight of the cell phone number. She recognized it and it was in Jessa’s phone. Again and again and again.
She opened a text and her mouth fell open at the picture of a man’s dick. It was way more of her friend’s husband than she needed to see. Aria stood up and threw the BlackBerry like a fastball pitch. It struck Jessa square in the center of her forehead, sending her head flying back from the impact.
“Ow!” Jessa cried out, all sophisticated composure gone as she fell backward in the chair.
A collective gasp of shock came from everyone in the restaurant.
Aria stepped forward, but Kilpatrick quietly and calmly appeared to step in her path.
“Mrs. Livewell and Ms. Bell, our manager has asked me to escort both of you from the premises. You are more than welcome to return at another time . . . separately.”
Aria looked around and saw all eyes were on them. Kingston was well known in the community and a scene like this would embarrass him. Especially if I drag that bitch around the restaurant.
She shifted her eyes back to Jessa as the woman clutched at the chair and struggled to climb up to her knees. Aria squatted down and leveled her eyes with Jessa’s. “You know, I really thought I would beat your ass wherever I caught you, but now I know you ain’t even worth it. You’re a miserable, lonely bitch who couldn’t stand to see her friends happy because your husband passed away.”
Aria rose up and reached to grab her pocketbook. “I apologize for the commotion, Mr. Kilpatrick,” she said, before turning to strut out of the restaurant with her head held high—like she didn’t just chunk Jessa in the head with a BlackBerry à la Naomi Campbell.
As soon as she stepped out of the door, she called Kingston’s cell phone. She wanted to—had to—apologize for the craziness she’d put him through. Her marriage was in therapy and her husband had threatened divorce because she’d believed Jessa over him.
His phone went straight to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message.
Besides groveling, she wanted his advice on breaking the news to a friend that her husband was the culprit. Taking to his voice mail wasn’t going to offer any suggestions.
Aria pressed a ten-dollar tip into the valet’s hand and climbed into her Rover. She was just pulling out when she saw Jessa step out of the restaurant clutching the arm of a busboy and looking around like she was worried Aria would jump out of the bushes and teardatassup.
“Punk bitch,” Aria muttered with anger.
She pulled out of the driveway and came to a red light. She had no time for Jessa . . . for now. She cleared her throat as she dialed her cell. It rang three times and went to voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Aria. Listen, um, give me a call back. I really need to talk to you about something.”
Aria released a heavy breath as she tossed the BlackBerry onto the seat and drove away.
“Ma, why are you sleeping in the car?”
Renee opened one eye and looked up at her son and Darren peering through the driver’s-side window at her. For a few seconds she struggled between that sleep and wake zone as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. She avoided their eyes as she sat up straight and then opened the car door.
“I just felt sick at the store and fought my way home. I couldn’t even get out of the car,” she lied.
“How long have you been out here?” Darren asked, setting the box he held onto the driveway.
“Not long,” she lied again. “But I feel better.”
In truth she didn’t remember even driving home from Jackson’s apartment. Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous.
“We finished the brochures, Ma.”
Darren nodded before he picked up the box. “I’m heading home. See you Monday.”
“Where’s your sister?” Renee asked, watching Darren as he carried the box to put into the trunk of his late-model black Lexus.
“She went bowling with her friend Gina. She called to ask permission, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I told her to go, to get out of her room.”
Renee smiled at her son as she rose to her feet, trying her best not to wobble on her feet. “Thank you, Aaron.”
He stepped forward. “You want me to help you into the house, Ma?”
Renee slammed her mouth shut and shook her head no, knowing if it tasted like shit��and it did—that it had to smell twice as bad.
Darren blew his horn briefly before pulling off.
Aaron waved him off and then turned to head into the house.
Renee tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of the summer rays on her face. She smiled softly when she thought of barbeque and the get-togethers she and Jackson used to host all through the summer season. They both loved the heat and would lay in the yard, in hammocks—back before she went to work. Back before their marriage was over and her husband began playing buck to some white woman.
“Hey, Renee.”
She opened her eyes and looked at Aria walking up from her Range Rover parked on the street. She couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. “Hey, hi, Aria. Something I can help you with?”
“I left you a message to call me back and when I got home I saw you outside so I decided to drive down,” Aria explained, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, I didn’t hear my phone ringing,” Renee stumbled to explain.
Aria came to stand beside Renee and leaned back against the Benz. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“Considering you hate my guts because I’m the whore of Richmond Hills . . . uh, yeah, I did kinda wonder,” Renee drawled sarcastically.
“I don’t hate your guts, Renee, I just—”
Renee laughed. “No, you just judged me and threw our friendship in the trash like a rotten banana when I needed you most,” she admitted, ending with her voice barely above a whisper as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You and Jaime just pulled away.”
Aria eyes widened in surprise. “Is that about Jessa—”
Renee waved her hand. Slashing the air. “Jessa. I fucking wish the only problem Jackson and I had was Jessa’s dry behind. My husband has a baby on the way with another woman—”
“Oh my God,” Aria gasped, reaching out to wrap her arms around Renee’s shoulders. “Are you okay, Renee?”
“No,” she admitted, dropping her head in her hands. “Ain’t a damn thing about me all right.”
She hadn’t shared even twenty words with Aria since that day, but it felt easy, natural, and damn good to finally have someone to talk to. Never underestimate the value of friends.
“I’m sorry, Re
nee, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have judged you, just you almost had an affair and Jessa’s stupid message and all the shit I was going through. I overreacted. And then I was so caught up in falsely accusing Kingston and couples therapy and . . . and—”
Renee looked over at Aria with red eyes. “Falsely?” she asked.
Aria nodded. “Did you get Jessa’s invite to lunch today?”
Renee nodded. “I was so busy trying to tear all the blond hair out of my husband’s baby mama’s head that I told Jessa to just tell me.”
Aria arched an eyebrow. “Blond hair?”
“All pussy is the same color in the dark,” Renee said, sliding her hands into the pocket of the cotton peasant skirt she wore.
“True.”
“Did you go?” Renee asked, thinking maybe it would have been good to lay a little ass whupping on Jessa, too.
“I did and the bitch is moving back to Richmond Hills. Now you tell me she doesn’t have a clit on her big as a set of balls on an old man.”
Renee shifted her eyes to Jessa’s house with a snort. She thought back to the day they’d gotten the message and then used her alarm code to break into her house to snoop for clues on the guilty husband. It was that day that Renee had learned to use alcohol to numb the pain.
“It’s crazy, but I spent that whole damn day thinking it was my husband, wishing it wasn’t my husband sleeping with my friend, and he comes home to tell me another woman is pregnant with his child.” Renee closed her eyes against a wave of pain. “I never thought I could actually hurt Jackson but that night I knew that if he didn’t leave my eyesight I would have shot him.”
“What are you going to do?”
Renee looked down at her bare left ring finger. She’d stopped wearing her wedding rings the morning after Jackson’s announcement. Everything the rings stood for felt like a mockery anytime she looked at them. “He wants me to forgive and forget but I can’t see it. I can’t envision it. I can’t do it . . . as much as I love him I can’t forgive this. I won’t.”
“Just even thinking Kingston was cheating drove me crazy so I cannot even imagine what you are going through,” Aria admitted.
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