Allison’s song was in my head as I rolled it on Steve’s dick.
I had him paralyzed.
I was moving my hips side to side.
Back and forth.
Marlene had said he fucked like he invented it.
He was good. Damn good.
But I was showing him what fucking was.
I tightened the walls of my pussy around him, like a cobra squeezing the life out of its prey. Steve moaned as I felt him pulsate. He was almost there. About to explode.
I leaned back. Braced my hands around his ankles. Continued to roll it.
Then I sat up. Pressed down on him as I rolled it harder. Faster. He moaned louder. Called out my name. Reached his hands up to fondle my breasts. I pushed them away.
He said, “Shit, Lisette. Shit!”
He was at the door.
About to open it and spill inside of the condom he had on.
I constricted my walls tighter.
Rolled it harder.
Directed his dick to my spot.
Right there.
Right . . . there.
Right.
There.
And then the front door opened, and in stepped the police captain who loved it up the ass. Behind him followed the other husbands I’d set up.
I stared at them as they stared at me. Their faces were masks painted with anger, rage, and hatred.
Suddenly there was a loud growl of rage, and then something hit me in the side of my head. Hard. Near my temple. Steve’s dick slid out of me as I went crashing from on top of him to the hardwood floor.
Dazed and confused, I looked up through blurred vision to see Steve standing over me with his hands balled into tight fists. His face bore the same mask as the other husbands, but he was smiling. Payback was a bitch. That’s what his eyes said.
He laughed.
The other husbands laughed with him.
And then they all attacked me.
Past the swarm.
In between each punch and kick.
I saw her.
Saw her eyes.
Watching.
Reveling.
A faint whisper said, “You should have taken the money, bitch.”
And then my Sidekick rang.
I opened my eyes.
I was dripping sweat. My heartbeat was thunderous. I took a breath. Gasped. My hands were shaking.
I said, “Shit.”
Then I looked over at my side table beside my bed. Looked at the clock. 8:00 P.M. Didn’t remember ever dozing off.
My black Sidekick was ringing. I ignored it and looked away from the clock and stared up at the ceiling for seconds, which turned into minutes.
I said, “Shit,” again, and then reached for the Sidekick. I looked at the missed call. Marlene. I called her back. My hands were still shaking.
First words out of her mouth when she answered: “I know who she is.”
I said, “Meet me at Justin’s in half an hour.”
I ended the call and stared up at the ceiling again. I valued my sleep. I hadn’t had a bad dream in a long time.
This bitch was going to pay.
16
Friday night.
Diddy’s restaurant.
Toward the back, for privacy again.
As always, it was packed.
People went to Justin’s for two reasons. Some went for the soul food. Others went to be seen. I liked Justin’s. It was suave, chic, and hip. If Diddy were a Transformer, Justin’s would be what he transformed into.
I had arrived first. Ordered a Merlot to help me relax. I hated to admit it, but the dream had gotten to me. I was on edge and unnerved. I was ready to break something, someone.
I was sipping my Merlot when Marlene showed up and sat down. She ordered a martini from the waitress. When the waitress left, she gave me the name.
“Kyra Rogers.”
“Kyra Rogers?” This was the first time her name escaped from my lips. Wished it would have been the last. I asked, “Do you know this bitch?”
“Never heard of her before.”
Kyra Rogers.
One call to me. One call to Marlene. She’d been a presence in my world only two times, yet no one had affected me this way before.
The waitress brought Marlene her martini and left.
I said, “Did Lisa give her my number?”
Marlene shook her head. “She swears she didn’t. She swears that she didn’t talk about you with anyone else.”
“She was the only one you gave details too, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, unless you’re lying to my face, she’s lying.”
“I’m not lying to your face.”
I stared at Marlene for a second and then said, “I know. I’d be able to tell if you were.”
Marlene sipped her drink and said, “I’m sorry, Lisette. I really didn’t think she’d tell anyone.”
I shook my head and called Marlene a stupid bitch with my eyes.
From one pair of lips to the next.
I closed my eyes a fraction as I continued to look at Marlene. My eyes were now calling her a stupid, stupid bitch.
Marlene looked down to her glass. “I’m sorry, Lisette,” she said again.
I said, “Too late for apologies.”
Marlene nodded.
“So . . . what did you find out about this bitch?”
“Well, her husband’s name is Myles Rogers. He’s made his money by buying up real estate throughout New York City. He owns properties in Manhattan, including two hotels. He owns a lot of property in Harlem that he bought up before the resurgence. The word is when Bill Clinton moved in, it was Myles’ lease that he signed.”
“Kyra,” I said, sipping my Merlot. “I want details about her.”
Marlene raised her eyebrows. “I am giving you details about her.”
“What does she do?”
“Well, other than spend her husband’s money . . . nothing. She’s married to a very rich African American real estate tycoon who very quietly is nipping at The Donald’s heels. That’s pretty much who she is. She doesn’t work. She doesn’t run any charitable foundations. She doesn’t head any fashion companies. From what I’ve heard about her, she spends her time going to spas and hanging out with other wives who have nothing better to do than to hit the hot spots and hang out with rappers.”
“Is she white?”
“No. She’s African American.”
“Black,” I said. “I never liked that African American designation.”
“Okay, well, she’s black.”
“How old is she?”
“Couldn’t get a confirmation, but I’m hearing she’s in her thirties.”
“And Myles?”
“Fifty-three.”
I sipped my Merlot.
More than women who allowed themselves to be controlled by men by taking unnecessary shit, women like Kyra pissed me off the most. They did nothing. They aspired for nothing. They were nothing. Yet they wanted everything.
I took another sip of Merlot. It was supposed to help calm me down, but the opposite was happening. My blood was starting to boil.
The bitch called and threatened me.
She called and threatened Marlene.
She didn’t deserve shit, yet she wanted it all.
“Did you get a number?” I asked.
Marlene shook her head.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it from her husband.”
“What are you planning to do?”
I looked at Marlene.
“I’m going to have a talk with Myles Rogers about two hundred thousand dollars that I could have to invest in some real estate.”
17
“Your wife wants to pay me two hundred thousand dollars to trap you.”
Starbucks.
Eight o’clock in the A.M.
I’d been watching Myles Rogers sip his cup of coffee for twenty minutes. He liked his coffee black. Didn’t touch the Sweet-n-Low or the Sp
lenda.
Just like Kyra said, he sat at a table alone, sipping his coffee and typing away on his Mac book. His eyes never once averted toward the counter where the twenty-something female was staring at him as though his penis were rock hard and pointing directly at her.
He sipped his coffee.
He typed on his laptop.
He ignored everything and everyone around him.
That’s why he never noticed the white gentleman pretending to read a newspaper two tables over from him. Had he ever bothered to pay attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed that the man had been watching him for the past three days, just as I had been.
Myles Rogers.
He was a good looking man.
Six foot one with a runner’s build. Strong, square shoulders. Attractive, intense, brown eyes with crow’s feet at the corners. Slightly broad, yet distinguished nose. His lips, framed by a whisper of a goatee, were thin at the top and full at the bottom, just like Taye Diggs’. Actually, he looked a lot like him. But Taye was a sexy, bald specimen, whereas Myles had gray curls. Even with the gray, I wouldn’t have put him a day over forty.
Myles. Married to that bitch.
I Googled them on the Internet after my meeting with Marlene. I wanted to put faces with the names.
Myles—an attractive fifty-two-year-old Taye Diggs look-a-like.
Kyra.
I wanted her to be as ugly as her personality. I wanted her to be a black Cruela DeVille. But my wishes weren’t satisfied. She looked like the queen bee, Lil’ Kim before she decided she’d look better with plastic parts.
Pretty eyes.
Pretty nose.
Pretty smile.
Pretty teeth.
Just all around pretty.
I might have even called her sexy. But I had no love for her, so pretty was as far as I’d take it.
She looked like someone I knew from the neighborhood I’d grown up in. Or maybe someone I knew looked like her. Whatever it was, there was just something about her that was very around the way. Made me wonder what it was about her that guided her toward him.
I took a sip of the espresso I’d ordered and watched Myles tap dance his fingers on his laptop. Then I switched to the man Kyra had hired.
Mid to late forties.
Scraggly beard.
Bags under his eyes.
Looked like he’d rather be somewhere else, and would have been if it weren’t for the money he was being paid.
I sipped my espresso in the cheap paper cup until the heat went away. Then I approached scraggly beard.
“I’ll double whatever she’s paying you.”
He looked up at me, confusion in his eyes. “Huh?”
“You’ve been watching him tap away on his laptop for twenty minutes. You’ll do that for another twenty and then you’ll follow him to his office. You’ll take a break for a few hours and then, if he steps out for lunch, you’ll follow him there and back. You’ll take a break again for another few hours, and then you’ll follow him back to Starbucks and then home. The routine was the same yesterday. It won’t change today. It’ll be the same tomorrow and the day after that. If I were you, I’d take me up on my offer and then go and find something better to do.”
Scraggly beard’s forehead knotted up. He wanted to know if I was kidding. Or maybe even testing him.
I said, “The bitch who hired you doesn’t have sense enough to test you this way.”
He looked at me, then looked over in Myles’ direction, and back to me. He said, “Ten thousand.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out my checkbook.
I filled out a blank check and handed it to him. I said, “Good-bye.”
He looked from me to Myles again, and then shrugged, snatched the check from my hand, gathered up the newspaper, and left. Two minutes after that, I was sitting down at Myles’ table, telling him that his wife wanted to pay me to trap him.
He looked up from his laptop. “Excuse me?”
“Your wife offered me two hundred thousand dollars to seduce you. She wants your money, and she doesn’t want to wait five years to get any of it.”
Myles looked at me with his mouth partly open. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
He looked around the café.
I said, “No hidden cameras.”
He put his focus back on me. “You’re serious?”
“I’ve never liked games.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“I’m sure I could get her to pay more.”
He watched me.
He saw the dead seriousness in my eyes.
He took a breath.
He let it out.
He closed his laptop.
18
“Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter. What does matter is that your wife threatened me. She also threatened the lives of a few women that I do business with.”
Myles shook his head. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“Why did you marry her?”
“Excuse me?”
“You had two failed marriages. That was no reason to settle for a gold-digging bitch.”
“How did you know about my marriages?”
“Your wife told me.”
Myles’ forehead knotted up in frustration.
I said, “She told me a lot, Myles.”
“I . . . I don’t believe this,” he said, his voice laced with the same disbelief present in his eyes.
“She’s tried to set you up before.”
His eyes widened.
I continued. “High-priced hookers. Men. Nothing worked, though. You never gave in to temptation. Why?”
“I . . . I love my wife. I . . .” He paused, clamped his hand down around the back of his neck and squeezed. “I can’t believe this,” he said again. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you.”
Strong conviction in the tone of his voice.
Nothing but doubt, shock and anxiety in his eyes.
I said, “You come to Starbucks every morning for your coffee. You sit here and type away on your laptop for forty minutes. You leave here and go to work. Sometimes you take lunch. Most of the time you don’t. After work, you come back here for your wind-down fix and then you go home, give your wife a peck on her cheek, and then disappear to your study to do more work.”
Myles looked at me. He was stunned. He didn’t understand how or why this twilight zone moment was happening.
“How . . .”
“Your wife’s been having you followed, hoping to catch you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. She’s tried and failed. I’m good, Myles. Nothing like those high-priced hoes she hired. Had I said yes to her, in another month, you would have been on your way to being severely hurt, financially.”
Myles squeezed the back of his neck again. His brain was struggling to absorb my words. His heart couldn’t contemplate the level of betrayal I’d just presented. It just didn’t make sense to him.
“Are you pussy-whipped, Myles?”
His mouth dropped a notch. “Excuse me?” “Is her pussy magical? Does she do things that make your toes curl?”
Myles looked around the café to see who else heard my questions. Luckily for him, no one had been paying attention.
Still, he leaned closer to me and dropped the volume in his voice. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
I stared at him. His language surprised me. Up until that point, I didn’t think he had it in him. I crossed my legs. I was wearing a sleeveless, lavender blouse with a slouch collar that clung to my frame. I had on a black skirt with a slit at the side, which stopped just above the knee. My leg was peeking through the slit, revealing a lot of thigh.
Myles tried not to, but he looked.
High-priced hoes could be attractive, but they didn’t have it like I did. They did what they did to survive. I did what I did because I could. High-priced hookers thought they understood what being confident was all about, but
the truth of the matter was, they didn’t understand shit. That’s why they could never get a man like Myles to fold and do as men did.
Myles admired my leg for only a few seconds, but a few seconds was all that was needed.
Fuck a ho.
I was the real deal.
I gave Myles a subtle smile and said, “I already know all of your fucking business.”
He wanted to say something. He opened his mouth to do just that. Then he closed it and squeezed his neck again. He couldn’t say anything.
“Did you really think a prenup would protect you?”
Myles sighed.
His shoulders sagged.
Reality was sinking in.
“I don’t understand. Kyra . . . she . . . she wouldn’t do this to me. I mean, she loves me.”
“Are you asking or telling?”
Myles squeezed his neck again and then moved from there to his temples. “What the fuck?” he said, dragging his hand down over his face. “What the fuck?”
I said, “Kyra’s a bitch. She never loved you.”
Myles blinked rapidly several times and then his shoulders sagged a little more.
My statement was blunt and raw. Had it been a knife, he would have bled to death.
“I’ve never met her face to face, but it only took one conversation to know she’s a gold digger, and my saying that has nothing to do with her wanting to hire me. Her personality comes through in the tone of her voice . . . the way she says her words. You were played by an ignorant bitch.”
Myles shook his head and stared out the window of the café. “I can’t believe this,” he said, with genuine hurt in his voice. “This just doesn’t seem real to me.”
“Believe it,” I said. “Because this is very real.”
He sighed again and looked back at me. “She never . . . her qualities . . . she’s so genuine.”
“But yet you made her sign a prenup an hour before you married her.”
“I was just . . .” He paused and clenched his jaws. “I mean, I’d had it drawn up as a precaution, but I’d decided not to give it to her. But people kept pushing me. Saying after the drama with my first two wives, that I couldn’t be caught out there again. That I had to give it to her.”
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