“Babe, my friend, Bailee is having an anniversary party next month…on the tenth. Do you think you’ll be able to make it?” Jayla asked with a frown of worry wrinkling her forehead. “It’s going to be a very nice affair, and I’ll feel self-conscious if I have to go alone.”
“The tenth?” Sadeeq thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I can do that. We can go.”
Jayla exhaled.
“Do I have to wear a suit or something?”
“Yes, it’s semi-formal.”
“Cool. What are you wearing?”
“I don’t know yet. I have to order something.” Bailee picked up her phone and pulled up Diva Curves, a trendy, plus-size website. She scrolled through numerous items before she came upon the salmon-colored dress she’d been looking at for the past week. She enlarged the photo and handed her phone to Sadeeq.
“That’s pretty. You’ll look real sexy in that,” he said, nodding his head in approval. “It would look nice with my navy suit, especially if I get a tie to match the color of your dress.”
Feeling heartened, Jayla broke into a big grin. “So, you’re definitely going to go with me?”
“Yeah, I gotchu, bae. Where they having it at?”
“The Ritz-Carlton.”
“Wow, so they doin’ it big?”
She nodded. “It’s an important anniversary, their tenth. Bailee and Trent are usually frugal. They both make good money, but they’re not showy at all, so it’s surprising that they’re going all-out for this event.”
“Well, we’re not gonna let them outshine us. We’re gonna do it big, too. Don’t worry, I’m gon’ be representing for my baby,” Sadeeq said and gave her a sexy wink.
Feeling relieved, Jayla put the dress in the virtual cart and ordered it.
Chapter 9
Being banished to the guest room didn’t seem to faze Trent in the least. He moved around the condo with his normal ease and comfort as if everything was good between him and Bailee. Barefoot and wearing sweatpants and a worn, yellow T-shirt that bore the name of the private academy they’d both attended during their high school years.
In the kitchen, perched on a chrome barstool in front of the marble island, Bailee was bent over her laptop, attending to the final details of the anniversary party.
She suffered through a glass of lemon-flavored water when she’d rather have what Trent was drinking, a tall glass of strawberry iced tea, and she’d kill for a handful of the buttery popcorn he was munching on. But, sticking to her starvation diet, she snacked on celery sticks and tried to convince herself that their crunch was as satisfying as a potato chip.
“Hey, Trent,” she called, injecting cheerfulness into her voice that she hoped would indicate she was ready to call a truce. “What do you think about switching from daffodils to roses? I know the daffodil represents the tenth anniversary, but I’ve never cared much for that flower. Roses are prettier and more elegant, don’t you think?”
Trent kept his gaze focused on the TV and didn’t bother to glance in her direction. “Whatever,” he muttered in an impatient tone that told her she was interrupting his show.
Alrighty, then. It was insulting to be spoken to so harshly by her husband. She swiveled around and hunched over the laptop. They weren’t a couple who fought very often, and the rare times they did, it was always Bailee who had to be appeased before they could fall back into normal married life. Being the soother and trying to cajole Trent out of his sour mood was an unfamiliar role, and she wondered how long he was going to hold a grudge. Surely, he couldn’t continue the silence much longer, could he?
Trent emitted rumbles of laughter while watching Black-ish, a show that he and Bailee usually enjoyed together. His gleefulness was proof that he was doing fine without talking to her.
Feeling defeated, Bailee closed the laptop and slunk off toward the bedroom. She clicked on the bedroom TV and tried to focus on CNN, but couldn’t. It was the same old news. The country was going to hell in a handbasket unless someone reeled the president in, and so far, no one had been able to.
In bed, she struggled to get to sleep, hoping that the morning light would bring a fresh perspective on how to whip Trent back into shape. She was tired of the sullen stranger Trent had become and wanted her loving husband back.
When she heard Trent padding down the hallway, she sat up anxiously, but her heart dropped when he bypassed the master bedroom.
Rejection hurt. It wasn’t like him to be so stubborn, and if he didn’t revert back to his usual go-with-the-flow attitude, Bailee was going to have a serious meltdown.
Then, she got an idea of what she needed to do to get back in her husband’s good graces. Smiling smugly, she slipped out of bed, ran her fingers through her locs, dabbed her good perfume on her cleavage, and crept out the room.
“What’s up?” Trent asked when she appeared in the guest room.
Figuring she could show him better than tell him, she sidled up to the bed where he lay, wearing briefs and the yellow T-shirt. She knew Trent like the back of her hand, and if there was one thing he was weak for, it was a long, juicy blowjob.
Prepared to suck him off for all she was worth, Bailee eased onto the bed, slithered up to his crotch, and began slowly licking his scrotum through the fabric of his underwear. Her tongue work was skilled and leisurely, drawing a moan from him as she lapped like a cat slurping milk.
As she moistened the material that housed his crown jewels, his erection bulged and strained, trying to slice through the opening of his drawers. Tenderly, she caressed his throbbing dick before snaking her hand inside the slit and giving it a gentle squeeze. Trent fisted the sheet and Bailee’s lips curved into a smile.
The key to winning this battle and conquering Trent was to remind him where her strength lay. Straddling him, she tugged on his briefs, gliding them past his thighs. Finally free, his dick sprang upward and then bobbed back and forth.
Bailee wrapped a hand around the thick shaft, gliding her hand from the base to the crown, enjoying the feeling of the ropy veins and the heat of the blood that pulsed through them. She ran her thumb circularly over the small slit, coaxing out droplets of creamy moisture, which she licked from her finger.
“Mmm,” she moaned.
Trent sucked in a gulp of air and raised his hips, demonstrating his desire. “Get on it,” he said harshly, and Bailee knew he was so ready to embed his dick inside something wet and warm. He didn’t care if she sat on it or gobbled it up with her mouth.
Preferring to prolong their lovemaking session, she buried her face in his crotch, taking in deep sniffs of his musky scent as she licked him from his balls up to the smooth head. Stretching her mouth open, she sucked him into her mouth and slid her tongue along his hot flesh, moaning all the while. She cupped his ass cheeks, digging her fingernails into his flesh, encouraging him to bogart his way to the back of her throat.
She planned to suck him until his toes curled and his eyes crossed, but Trent couldn’t last. With his shaft situated snuggly down her windpipe, Trent, groaning and growling, grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and yanked her head harshly as he deposited a voluminous amount of hot semen.
Taken off guard, Bailee was unable to swallow it down and the thickened liquid spilled from her lips, trickling down her chin.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, keeping her eyes on Trent as he lay with his eyes squeezed shut, panting. When he finally recovered and opened his eyes, Bailee flashed him a victorious smile. She had broken down his barriers, and she was proud of herself.
But Trent didn’t return her smile. He didn’t invite her to lie next to him nor did he welcome her into his arms. His whole demeanor changed when he propped himself up on an elbow and stared at her through dark eyes that were empty and unloving.
A sickening wave washed over Bailee. “What’s wrong?” she asked, anxiously gnawing on her lip.
“Bounce,” he said, in a monotone. “I need to get some sleep.”
The coldness of his words hit her like a splash of ice water in her face, and she uttered a sound of shock.
“Did you hear me? I need my space. Get the hell out of here!” His voice was a dangerous tone she’d never heard him use before. There was a hard look of contempt in his eyes as he made a shooing motion that said: Be gone, peasant.
“You bastard!” Deeply offended and ready to pounce, Bailee raised a balled fist.
He caught her by the wrist and gave her a deadly look. “What’s wrong with you, you nut-ass broad? You got me fucked up if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you put your hands on me. Now, walk your ass on out of here, like you got some sense,” he growled, his face twisted into a hateful mask with an unhinged glimmer in his eyes.
Having no doubt that her typically nonviolent and gallant husband would not hesitate to hit her back, and with great force, she unfurled her fist and lowered her arm. She quickly hopped off the bed and scrambled toward the doorway.
She gave him a fleeting glance over her shoulder. Who was that stranger who had just slid from perfect grammar and diction to ’hood vernacular? Astonished, she’d watched her husband of ten years morph from a man who was dignified and respectable into a common street thug who used frighteningly aggressive body language and was comfortable with the idea of getting physical with his wife.
The sudden personality change was scary.
And creepy.
With a shudder, Bailee rushed out of the room.
Frantic, she plopped into a chair in her bedroom, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t confide in her mother. Due to Trent’s troubling lack of pedigree, he had not been an easy sell as the son-in-law to prominent socialite Giselle Cormier Wellington. For that reason, Bailee was hesitant to say anything that would poison her mother’s mind against him.
She couldn’t talk to Jayla, either. It was foolish of her to have divulged the disparaging remarks Trent had made about Jayla. Now, it would be virtually impossible for Jayla to give an unbiased opinion of what she thought might be going on with Trent.
It was obvious to Bailee that her husband was bothered by something more than her unwillingness to break their mutually agreed upon decision to forgo having children.
He seemed like a ticking time bomb, and she wondered if he needed professional help.
A dark and unpleasant feeling washed over Bailee. Feeling uneasy, she rose from the chair and engaged the lock on the door.
Chapter 10
“Jayla! What is going on with you?” Lorraine yelled into the phone.
“Nothing. But you sound upset. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’ve been getting all kinds of calls from folks from collection agencies. They’ve been calling my house phone, ringing the dang thing off the hook, and getting smart with me when I tell them you don’t live here. One woman had the nerve to tell me I was liable for your debt and I could lose my home.”
“They’re trying to scare you. Next time, just hang up on them, Mom,” Jayla said wearily.
“Oh, they’re definitely messing with the wrong one, trying to scare me. I know my rights, and I know that I’m not liable for any debt you rack up. But what I’m curious about is why you’re not paying your bills?”
“It’s a long story,” Jayla said with a sigh.
“I have time. This foolishness isn’t like you, Jayla. You always took pride in your good credit rating. You bought your condo at twenty-five years old—a very wise decision for such a young woman. You don’t want to mess around and let those folks put a lien on your property.”
“They can’t do that,” Jayla exploded.
“Why can’t they? They sure put a lien on Mr. Lambert’s house.”
“Who’s Mr. Lambert?” she asked dully.
“A church member. The man is over seventy years old and his trifling nephew ran up a bunch of bills in his name. The devious nephew even went so far as to open up new lines of credit in the man’s name. And poor Mr. Lambert didn’t know the first thing about any of it. The nephew was already locked up for some other illegal activity by the time the creditors started harassing him.
“It was a big ol’ mess, and that man almost lost the home that he had paid off twenty years ago. His situation was so desperate, it was looking more and more like he was going to have to pack a few things and move into a men’s shelter at the Salvation Army. But Pastor stepped in and called on all his prayer warriors.
“We prayed on Mr. Lambert’s behalf for several weeks. Next thing you know, Mr. Lambert got unexpected help from the Philadelphia Corporation for Aging. They did a lot for him. With their assistance, he was able to stay in his home, but there’s a lien on his property until he pays off all of his nephew’s debt. And there’s no way he can pay off thousands and thousands of dollars in debt—not in this lifetime.”
Listening to Lorraine talk about the nightmarish ordeal of the old man at her church put a shiver of fear down Jayla’s spine. Although she had visited the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA) website and had learned a lot about her rights as a consumer, she was nevertheless rattled by the many outrageous and intimidating methods that the collection agency representatives used in an effort to get her to pay up.
We’re going to bring a lawsuit against you and when we win, you’ll lose your home, your car, and we’ll garnish your wages until the debt is paid in full. You have within forty-eight hours before law enforcement comes after you. And you can face up to five years imprisonment if you don’t honor the agreement you signed.
“So, what did you purchase to have these folks chasing you down like this?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom. I’m in the process of straightening out the matter, so can we drop it?”
“No, we cannot drop it. I have a right to know why bill collectors are ringing my phone night and day.”
Jayla’s mind raced as she tried to come up with a believable story. “Identity theft,” she blurted. “Somebody got ahold of my credit card information.”
“How?”
“Uh, there’s a crime ring that targets gas station and even ATM machines.”
“Targets them, how?” Lorraine sounded irate, like she wanted to personally catch the members of the crime ring and dole out justice.
“Criminals today are real savvy, Mom. They use some kind of device called a skimmer. They put it outside the pump where you swipe your credit card and it’s able to read all your information. I use multiple cards at gas stations, and those thieves were able to make a lot of purchases on three different cards of mine. After I found out, I tried to fight it because I knew I hadn’t made all those crazy purchases.”
“What did they buy with your cards, Jayla?”
“They bought all kinds of stuff online. Expensive electronics, clothes, jewelry…you name it and they bought it.”
“My heavens! This is terrible. Can’t they track back the purchases to the address they were sent to?”
“I tried to look into it after I found out about the purchases, but the shipments were sent to different addresses all over the country. The credit card companies aren’t being helpful in finding the thieves; they’re holding me responsible simply because I didn’t opt to pay an extra monthly fee for fraud protection. It’s a shame, but you can’t win when you’re up against big businesses,” Jayla said, sounding beaten down.
The lies rolled off her tongue fluently and with such ease, Jayla surprised herself. Sadly, her cards had been used for electronics, jewelry, and clothes, but she had willingly handed the cards over.
“There has to be some kind of law that protects you, baby,” Lorraine said sympathetically.
“I hope so,” Jayla said.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to ask Pastor to pull the prayer warriors together on your behalf. The prayers will work quicker if you come and join us in our circle.”
Jayla frowned. Lorraine was always trying to finagle a way to get her to go to church. “I can�
��t, Mom. I have two open houses this Saturday and I’ll be tied up on Thursday and Friday night, getting both houses ready.”
“I understand. You’ve worked so hard to establish yourself and it’s a sin and a shame that Satan sent his thieves to try to undo all your hard work. I’ve been thinking long and hard about you, and what you need is a husband.”
“Here, we go.” Jayla was instantly irked. “You always find a way to work my single status into every conversation.”
“Well, how long do you plan on going it alone in this cruel world where you’re so vulnerable to thieves?”
“It’s illogical to think that I would have somehow been protected from identity theft if I were married.”
“Think about it, Jayla. First of all, you wouldn’t have been out there pumping your own gas. You would have been sitting in the passenger’s seat like a respectable lady while your husband did the work that God intended a man to do.”
“You don’t drive, Mom, and you have old-fashioned beliefs and gender roles. There’s nothing un-ladylike about pumping gas. But that’s neither here nor there,” she said, starting to feel frustrated.
“I still feel that your life would run a lot smoother if you had a good man by your side. In my day, we got married right out of high school, but women today want to succeed in their careers before they commit to a relationship. When they’re finally ready to settle down, they discover that their eggs have gone bad.”
Jayla groaned.
“It’s the truth,” Lorraine insisted. “Then they turn to the fertility specialists, expecting the doctors to work a miracle with a bunch of rotten eggs.”
Jayla sucked her teeth. “Oh, please. Do you realize how uninformed you sound? Eggs don’t rot; they decrease in number.”
“What’s the difference? Whether they’re rotten or there’s only a few of them that’re old and useless—you get the same results: infertility. You girls are doing everything a-s-s backwards,” Lorraine said, spelling out the word “ass” as if spelling it instead of saying it was more acceptable and Christian-like.
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