Falling for My Side Dude

by Racquel Williams

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance

Synopsis

Malaya Ipswich is stuck in a marriage that she describes as pure hell. Her husband, Trent, is nothing short of a man whore, and he shows no compassion to his wife or devotion to their marriage.

After years of contemplating a divorce, Malaya is swept off of her feet by a young, sexy thug. Oblivious to the fact that this thug has a motive of his own, she is caught up in a deadly love triangle. She soon learns that the grass is not greener on the other side, and no one is really who they say they are.

Javon Sanders is a young goon with a deadly past that catches up with him when he is charged with multiple crimes. Being the con artist that he is known to be, he weasels himself into his lawyer's life with no good intentions. Things take a turn for the worse when tragedy hits his family, and Javon becomes desperate. No one is safe in his world, and he ends up betraying the one person that was in his corner.

Release date: July 25, 2017

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

I was irritated as hell as my damn alarm clock woke me up. I mean, I knew I had to be in the office but, shit, I wished I could get at least another hour. I reached over and cut the alarm off and threw the cover off of me. “Damn,” I mumbled to myself as I sat up in the bed.

I instantly noticed that my husband was not on his side of the bed. My suspicions quickly kicked in, but I quickly dismissed the idea. I got up and grabbed my robe. I walked downstairs to make a cup of coffee. As soon as I stepped off the stairs, the smell of bacon filled the air. I walked into the kitchen and noticed that Trent was in there, cooking.

“There you are, you sleepyhead,” Trent said as he flipped over the bacon.

“Ugggh, I think I had too much wine last night, and I have to be in the office. I have a new client coming in this morning.”

“Well, you should hurry then. I already fixed breakfast. Here, get a cup of coffee.” He placed the cup in front of me.

“Thanks. Lord, what would I do without you? You are a lifesaver,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m the lucky one. Now, go on before you are late for your meeting.” He smiled at me.

Without responding, I grabbed my cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

To the public eyes, we were the perfect couple; but, in reality, this woman was far from being happy. I was a miserable woman, stuck in a fucked-up-ass relationship, with a man who wouldn’t fucking leave.

I took a quick shower and ironed my suit. I didn’t have time to really pamper myself, so I quickly oiled down and slipped into my two-piece Armani skirt suit. I then put on my Michael Kors heels that I just bought a few days ago. I sprayed a little bit of Dior J’adore perfume, took one last glance, and then grabbed my briefcase.

I was about to make my way down the stairs when I remembered that I didn’t kiss the kids. My twelve-year-old twin girls were asleep in their bedrooms. I did a quick turn and went back up the stairs. I first went into Nyesha’s room and kissed her on the cheek and then went to Myesha’s room and did the same thing. My girls were definitely my life and the sole reason why I ground so hard. I made a vow when I was younger that when I did have kids, they wouldn’t want for anything.

“Hey, I’m about to go. See you later,” I said to Trent.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. I have a luncheon to attend for one of my buddies.”

“All right,” I said as I stormed down the stairs and into the garage, where my 2014 BMW was parked. I got in and pulled out of our mini mansion in the Chesterfield section of Virginia.

I hated going into the city in the morning. Working in the city of Richmond definitely had its perks, but the traffic alone could cause a person not to accept positions anywhere downtown. Every morning was the same thing: bumper-to-bumper traffic all the way. I fully understood why some people parked their cars and carpooled together. I planned on doing that in the near future but, for now, I had to rough it out.

I parked in reserved parking and dashed out of the car. I practically ran into the building. I stood waiting for the elevator, hoping it would hurry the hell up.

I stepped out of the elevator and into my firm.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ipswich.”

“Good morning, Dana.”

Dana was my paralegal, and she was in law school, pursuing a law degree also. “Rough morning, I see,” she joked.

“You have no idea. One of these days, I’m going to quit coming to the city. It doesn’t make any sense at all how bad traffic is. Damn, this is Richmond; they need to figure out a way to fix this traffic problem fast.”

“That’s why I catch a ride every day with the van service. It saves me gas and the aggravation of dealing with these non-driving folks.”

“See, you’re the smart one,” I joked before I walked into my office.

I threw my stuff on my desk and walked over to open my blinds. The beautiful Richmond skyline was lit up, and the midmorning sun was peeking in. I took a long sigh and then walked back to my desk. I was ready to tackle the world.

As soon as I sat down, Dana knocked at the door. “Come in,” I yelled.

“I brought you some cappuccino; it will help to brighten your morning.”

“Thank you, honey. Is Isiah here as of yet?”

Isiah was my law partner and good friend. I enjoyed working with him because he was young and hungry. I remembered the first time I witnessed him in action. He was like a young pit bull: fierce and determined.

“No, he’s in court this morning. He won’t be in until later this afternoon. So, it’s just us.”

“A’ight. I have an appointment at ten a.m. with Javon Sanders.”

“Yes. His file is in front of you. I am about to go out front. Just buzz me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Dana. What would I do without you?”

I took a sip of my cappuccino; this thing gave me life instantly. I picked up the folder in front of me and started to read up on a case. So, Mr. Sanders was charged with several felonies, which included distribution of cocaine and possession of a firearm by a convicted felon in the commission of selling drugs. Well, well, well. What do we have here? I continued reading the police account of what they said happened on February fourteenth when they burst up into the trap house where Mr. Sanders was at.

The ringing of the office phone interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Your ten a.m. appointment is here.”

“Okay. Please direct him to my office.” I got up and walked toward the door and opened it.

“Hello, Mr. Sanders. I’m Attorney Ipswich. Please step into my office.”

“Hello,” he said politely in a raspy voice.

“Please have a seat.” I looked at the fine specimen of a man in front of me and couldn’t help but wonder why he would choose a life of crime. “So, I believe my assistant discussed with you my fees if I decide to take your case.”

“No disrespect, Mrs. Ipswich, money ain’t a thing for me. You came highly recommended, so I definitely need you on the case.” He smiled, showing his pearly white teeth.

“Is that right, Mr. Sanders?”

“Yup. Your name carries a lot of weight in the underground world. I know of a few cats who caught cases, and you got them off or got their charges reduced. So, I’ve got the money, and you’ve got the skills, so I think we can beat these charges that they tried to pin on me.”

I could see that he had the same kind of mind frame as other criminals when they got arrested. They’re never guilty, and the police are always framing them.

“Okay, well, I guess there’s no need to argue with you. I will defend you, and you will pay me by cashier’s check or money order, which you can give to my assistant on your way out.”

“I got you! So, without sugarcoating shit, what are my chances of beating this case?” He stared me dead in the eyes.

He made my body shiver a little. He had these dark brown eyes that looked like he was piercing my soul. I could see that this nigga was trying to read me, so I looked down at the folder that was on my desk.

“Mr. Sanders, you’re no stranger to the system, so you know the process. I will be contacting the DA’s office in the morning to get a copy of their report. Then, I’ll be able to get a better understanding of the route we need to take. You’re out on bond, so you do know that you can’t break the law. You catch a new case while this one is going on and, more than likely, your bond will be revoked, and you’ll have to sit in jail until your case goes to trial.”

“I got you.” He flashed a smile.

“Here goes my card. You can call me anytime.”

“Anytime?”

“You know what I mean. You can call me between business hours to discuss your case.”

“What if I have an issue outside of business hours? Do I still call you?”

“Have a great day, Mr. Sanders.” I got up and walked to the door.

He walked over to me, took my hand, and kissed it. “You’re the sexiest lawyer I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen many. I look forward to us working together.”

“Likewise,” I said.

I watched as he walked over to Dana. I closed my door and sat back down at my desk.

“Woeiii,” I whispered.

Mr. Sanders was definitely a character. He was a little on the short side, but he was handsome with a strong voice. Whatever he was in, he was definitely on boss status. His in- control attitude made me feel some kind of way. I had to snap out of that fast. I was a law-abiding citizen, and he was a criminal. There was no way our paths could ever cross outside of business.

The rest of the day was spent on going over different cases that I was representing. I really loved my job as a defense attorney. I was known for my tenacity and no-nonsense attitude. I believed him when he said that my name was ringing bells in the streets because I was known for helping dope boys beat their convictions. Once in a while, I might lose a case, but even then my clients were happy with the reduced sentences that I got them.

My mind kept wandering back to Mr. Sanders. I’d never met a character like him. His case was a tough one, especially that gun charge, and I knew if I wanted to get him off I would have to put in extra work and use all of my skills.

It was past 4:00 p.m., and I was ready to call it a day. I tried not to take my work home, but today I made an exception. I grabbed Mr. Sanders’s folder and my briefcase. I cut the lights out and walked out of the office. “You’re ready?”

“Yes. I put the check in the safe. I will deposit it in the morning. I also responded to the e-mails and sent out all the e-mails.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. I think that guy earlier has a crush on you,” she said while smiling.

“Hmm. Why would you think that?”

“The way he looked at you. He also asked me if you were always this uptight. He smiled when he asked.”

“Well, I didn’t see that. Plus, I’m a happily married woman.”

“I hear that loud and clear.” She laughed.

We walked to the elevator, talking and laughing. We parted ways in the parking lot. I got into my car and pulled off. I wasn’t ready to tackle this traffic. As bad it was in the mornings, the evenings were the same.

On the drive home, I couldn’t help but think about my life. Here I was with a good job and a family who loved me, but I was not happy. I was tired of playing the happy wife while, inside, I was silently suffering. Yes, he played the doting husband and all but, to be honest, it was all a front. When no one was looking, Trent Ipswich was a cruel son of a bitch. As I recalled, something a year back had piqued my interest.

I was doing laundry, and I saw pink lipstick on his white collared shirt, which he supposedly wore to a retirement party for one of his boys. I put the shirt to my nose, and it smelled like sweat and cheap perfume. “Ewww.” I quickly removed that shit from my nose and walked up the stairs. I walked into the study where he was and confronted his ass.

“So, who the fuck was lying up on you?” I threw the shirt on him.

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” He looked at me like he had just seen a ghost.

“Pink lipstick on your shirt and that cheap-ass perfume! How do you explain that?” I stared down at him.

“Calm down. That is your lipstick, isn’t it?”

“We’ve been married for how many years? You’ve never seen my black ass wear no damn lipstick. And I damn sure don’t wear no cheap-ass perfume. Trent, you tried it, but please come up with something better than that,” I snapped on that ass.

“I swear to you, Malaya, I’m not stepping out on you. I don’t know where that lipstick came from. And as far as perfume being on my shirt, that’s bullshit!”

I looked at this fool, sitting in front of me, sweating bullets; he was nervous as hell. I knew he was lying, and it only angered me that he thought he could feed me bullshit and I would believe him.

“I’m telling you this: you are a fucking fool if you think I believe a word that’s coming out of your damn mouth. I’m not even mad. You’re fucking one of your whores; at least now you can leave me the fuck alone.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I walked off on his ass and went back to doing what I was doing.

The honking of a horn jolted me back to reality. After that day, Trent started acting as if he was so in love with me again. I didn’t say anything else about him cheating on me. That didn’t mean that I didn’t notice when his phone would ring late at night, and he would get up and tiptoe out of the room.

I’m not going to lie; at first, I was kind of hurt, or maybe I was more shocked. Up until that point, I really thought he was only a jerk, and he wasn’t fucking anything. Even though I was angry with the way he treated me, I thought we could’ve gone to counseling and gotten our relationship back on track. But that day confirmed everything, and I gave up on hoping for a better us. I viewed him the same way that I viewed the rest of these fuck niggas who didn’t know how to keep their dicks in their pants. Now, I couldn’t stand his smell, much less his touch. Every time this bastard touched me, I cringed because I would rather he not touch me at all.

Things went from bad to worse. He became fascinated with fucking me in the ass all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I can be a freak at times and, yes, I’ve been fucked in the ass before. However, I’ve got a pussy, which is tight and wet, so I didn’t understand what my husband’s sudden fascination with my asshole was all about. The first few times, I allowed him to grease up his dick and slide in. I also noticed that he would be more turned on when we were having anal sex than when he was up in my pussy.

“Trent, what’s going on? Lately all you want to do is anal sex.”

“Damn, Malaya! Why do you have to pick at every damn thing? Just toot your ass back here so I can get all the way in.”

“You know what? Hell no. I ain’t doing this shit no more. I’m a woman, and I’ve got a pussy. That’s where I want to be fucked at.”

I got up out of the bed and walked into the shower. That was the last time I allowed him to enter my ass and, because I refused to do it anymore, he stayed with an attitude. He barely asked for sex, which was cool by me. I bought a new We-vibe 4 vibrator, which satisfied me way better than Trent ever did. This was my first time using a toy and, boy, was I satisfied. I experienced multiple orgasms back to back, and my pussy was fully serviced.

I thought about getting a divorce but quickly decided against it. I wasn’t going to leave my home and everything we’d accomplished so one of these whores could walk up in my shit and reap the benefits. I also wondered why he hadn’t asked for one either, but I thought I knew the answer. He knew I would drag his ass through the mud and take my girls.

I slowly pulled into the driveway. I noticed Trent’s car in the driveway, which was strange because he was supposed to be attending some sort of luncheon for one of his police buddies. I glanced at my watch; the girls were still at their afterschool band practice.

I got out of my car and walked toward my door. My palms were getting sweaty, and my throat started tightening up on me. I wasn’t sure why he would lie to me about not being at home. I took my time and opened the front door. I slipped out of my loafers and tiptoed toward the stairs; something in me was yelling, don’t go up there. I ignored the voice and quietly crept up the stairs. I heard screams, as in sexual screams, as soon as I approached my bedroom door. I walked to the door and slowly pushed the door ajar and stood there! Shocked would be an understatement. My husband, Trent, was fucking his slut in our marital bed that we shared.

“Fuck me, daddy! Fuck me, daddy,” this slut screamed as he fucked her.

They were so into the heat of things that no one heard when I walked over to my dresser and took out my gun. I also pulled up my iPhone camera and started recording. I wanted to have proof of this nigga’s antics.

“Hello, Trent!” I said.

“What the fuck? Uh-uh.” He jumped off of her and turned around, looking at me with his dick still hard.

“Trent, who is this?”

“This is my . . .” he stuttered and acted like something was stuck in his throat.

“What’s the matter, honey, the cat got your fucking tongue? Well, I’m his wife. Now, get the fuck up out of my shit before I blow both of y’all motherfucking heads off.”

“Malaya, baby, I can explain. It’s not . . .