My Woman His Wife 3

Book 3: My Woman His Wife

by Anna J. Forrest

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

It's been four years since Monica disrupted the Cinque household, but starting trouble is like riding a bike for Monica, and she's pedaling full steam ahead. The foundation of Jasmine and James Cinque's marriage has been shaky ever since they dared to bring a third person into their union. Now they're trying to repair the damage they've done, to regain trust and repair broken hearts. But with so much drama in their past, it won't be hard for Monica to come in and shake things up a little. If Monica is smart, though, she'll watch her back. With so many enemies gunning to take her down, Monica has to decide if Philly is where she wants to be or if she should run back to the ATL where it's safe. Or is it? Breaking up is hard to do, but making up proves to be just as challenging - especially if Monica has anything to do with it.

Release date: November 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

All I asked James to do was pick up the kids from the afterschool program. I mean, how hard was it to take responsibility for your own damn kids? It made no sense to me that I was called out of a business meeting because it was after six and no one had gone to claim my children yet. I say my children because it’d been years since James acted like they were ours. How embarrassing is that? This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. Another reason why I was so irritated right now. You could mess with me all you wanted, but do not jeopardize my job or the safety of my children. It would quickly become a sticky situation for the accused.

What worked me the most was that I had to make two stops. Monica’s son was a bit of a problem child so I had him in an entirely separate program from Jalil, Jaden, Janice, and Jordan (my two sets of twins). That meant I had to go get my kids first, and then go and get James’s son. Now, I know that sounds harsh, but I really don’t give a damn. I refused to take any claim to that boy. He belonged to James and Monica. The rest of these kids were mine.

To make matters worse, it was pouring down raining like we were in the middle of a tsunami, so visibility was down to practically nothing. It was a cold January night, and I hated driving in these types of conditions. When I got to Junior’s program the instructor threatened once again to kick him out because he refused to just follow directions from either him or any of the aids who worked there. I wanted to snatch his ass up right quick and check him, but I told James that Junior would be his responsibility, and I was standing by it.

Every time I saw his face in the rearview mirror I wanted to pull over and choke the shit out of him. He looked so much like Monica, and he had her “I don’t care” attitude as well. Why didn’t she take her bastard son with her? I thought if enough time had gone by I could grow to love him like my own, but I just couldn’t feed into the lie. He was conceived by my husband and birthed by a woman I’d once loved . . . still did. I hated myself for missing her, but my heart did what it wanted to do, so what could I do about it?

I hated the fact that I could still picture so vividly everything we’d done sexually. I’d given up on James a long time ago, so all I had was memories of Monica during quick masturbation sessions when I finally got some alone time. Hell, I had five kids to raise, so any “me time” I might have had in the past was a done deal now. I was okay with that sacrifice years ago when I was hype about being married and starting a new life. Now, I wished I would have just stayed the single whore I was. Life was much simpler then. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, but I didn’t sign up to be a single parent. That just wasn’t a part of the deal. Now I had James to thank for this bitter-ass attitude. Thanks, James!

I’m not even going to go in on Monica’s trifling ass. She got to live a carefree life doing whatever, wherever she lived, and I didn’t even get to sleep in late on a Saturday morning because I had responsibilities. Then she had the nerve to send us checks like we needed them. Now, I’ll be truthful and say that I had no problem cashing the $3,000 checks she sent monthly like clockwork for her son (which later turned into $5,000 as he got older), because that money got me a new Benz that I drove when weather permitted and Jalil and Jaden a new wardrobe. If she thought I was using it for him then shame on her simple ass for leaving him here. I didn’t want her son feeling anywhere near comfortable at my house so he got to wear hand-me-down clothes that Jordan could no longer fit into or I no longer wanted him to have, and if you had a problem with that you could feel free to come get him. I’d have his shit packed by the door ready for your arrival.

Time certainly did fly, though. With Jalil and Jaden being the oldest at eight years old, I had some help with my four-year-old twins and Monica’s four-year-old, but there was only so much they could do. I refused to bog them down and burden them with the responsibility of taking care of a child at their age when all they wanted to do was have fun and be kids themselves. Janice and Jordan didn’t know that Junior had a different mom, and it was really hard to tell considering they all looked like James. I mean, Junior had a little bit of Monica in his features, but those were definitely James’s kids. Where as the other kids looked like a combination of me and James, it was clear that Junior had a different mother. There was no denying it. So, I just left that bit of information on a need-to-know basis. Even with Jalil and Jaden, Junior came along when they were pretty young, so it just sort of worked out.

I wanted all of this Monica business to stop, and I hated that every time I walked into my house I could still smell her scent. When I walked into my kitchen I could almost see her perched on top of the table while James and Sheila joined her in a twisted orgy that almost got their asses killed. When I went into my bedroom my clit pulsated as I thought about the things she did to me on my bed. I could feel her hands touching me in places that James knew nothing about, and when I closed my eyes real tight I could almost feel her warm tongue kissing my nipples and trailing kisses down my stomach. Hell, on a good day in my imagination I would have her and the twins all at the same time. A pure mess, I tell you.

I had to get out of that house or I would’ve gone crazy, and so we did. We packed up and moved and I threatened James to not tell Monica a damn thing. I promised him I would set up a post office box so that her mail would be directed there, but I never did. We didn’t need shit from her. The only reason she would need to know where I lived was to come and get her damn son. You can judge me all you want, but until you’ve walked in my shoes and lived my life for me there is nothing to discuss. I don’t care how you feel about it. Point blank period.

I had been dialing James’s cell phone for the past hour and it went from ringing to going straight to voice mail. That just pissed me off even more because that meant he was definitely ignoring my calls. The same damn way he had been ignoring his responsibilities for the last two years, but I had something for his ass though. Payback is a mutha, and when it all came down to it I would be cracking the hell up in the end.

That’s exactly why when he got paid I made sure to only leave him enough money in his account to get gas and maybe buy lunch if I felt like being nice that week. Occasionally I would let him go down on me, but as soon as I was pleased and able to release he just ended up beating off in the bathroom to relieve himself. I did that shit to him every time, and his simple-ass constantly fell for it. It would be a cold day in hell before he would warm his dick with my walls again, and the sooner he realized it the better off we would be.

That’s not to say that I didn’t get it from elsewhere. Best believe I had a lineup if ever I needed a tune-up. I didn’t have time to be fooling around with a maybe from James when I could get a definite from any given person on my contact list. Male and female included. My time was precious, and I didn’t have a lot of it to be wasting on nonsense.

Most of the time I would get a quickie in my office from the secretary on the second floor in my office building before I left for the day, or I would meet up with any given person at this little hotel I found over in Mount Laurel, New Jersey when I really wanted to dip off and enjoy myself a little before it was time to pick up the kids. James never knew about it, and I just kept all that on the inside, hoping all of my secrets wouldn’t just bust out one day. You can’t keep everything in the dark for too long. It’s just designed to come out in the light eventually. That’s just the way of the world.

I had this little issue with those twins from Bally Total Fitness that I couldn’t shake as well. They wanted a paternity test to see which one of them was the dad, but I wanted to leave well enough alone. I didn’t bother either of them for child support so what was the big deal? It was a one-night stand, for heaven’s sake. There was no need to go any further. Anything that happened after that was on me, and those were James’s kids. All five of them. I didn’t want nor did I need to prove anything otherwise. I thought I had gotten away with it until Monica wrote that letter, and even though James didn’t deny Janice or Jordan, he had to think in the back of his mind that there’s a possibility that they may have belonged to another man.

We weren’t exactly the best of friends or on speaking terms around the time of conception, and we might (and that’s a very strong “might” because I really can’t remember that far back) have had a quick night of makeup sex, but the timing was certainly off, and he always felt like I was trying to get him back for bringing Monica into the picture. It was one of those never-ending situations that guys take you through when they wrong for doing some dumb shit, but want to drag you through the mud forever because they can’t deal with it. Typical male bullshit.

He did have a kid outside the marriage, but it’s not the same thing as what I did, and my love for him wouldn’t allow us to go through that kind of pain. Yeah, I still loved him, although the way we acted toward each other now you wouldn’t think so. He just got on my nerves so bad sometimes. We had a lot of work to do, and had strained so far apart that neither of us really knew the first step to bring this thing back together. At this point did I really want to? Did we really want to? Was there anything to come back to?

After Monica wrote that letter to James telling him about the twins I had the threesome with to get back at him I wasn’t sure where this thing with us was going to go. Dudes run they mouth too much though, and can’t never keep nothing to themselves. A woman will cheat forever and never say a word. A man wouldn’t even be out the pussy good before he ran running his mouth to anyone who would listen.

James didn’t really react as bad as I thought he would. He could have very well just packed his stuff and rolled out, but guys will be miserable just for the sake of not wanting to pay child support. That was exactly why I ate his check up every time. I told him there was no truth to the letter, and at the time he seemed to believe me, but my gut told me that he really didn’t. I guess he figured since he had done so much dirt himself he couldn’t rightly crucify me for my shit, but he just never let it go. That’s part of the reason why we were where we were in our marriage now, and another thing added to the list of why I hated Monica’s simple ass.

The rain was coming down harder and I felt myself hydroplaning as I cut through small streets to avoid the end of rush-hour traffic on the expressway. My wiper blades weren’t doing shit against the amounts of water that were beating down on my car, like the elements were angry at the decisions I’d made. I told myself to slow down when I slid through a stop sign and almost caused a major pileup a few blocks back. The kids looked scared and helpless, and I knew I would have to deal with my issue with James at a later date. The first thing I needed to do was get everyone home safely.

I called his phone again and this time he answered, but all I could hear was loud music in the background. I was steadily saying hello, but all I heard was a bunch of females laughing, and then the phone call disconnected. When I called back again the phone went straight to voice mail once again.

I was beyond pissed, and it took everything in me not to drive around the city and look for him so that I could string him up by his testicles and dangle him from a utility pole. He made me so sick! This weather was unbearable, and this twenty-three-degree temperature did not make January feel inviting, letting me know that 2008 just may be a difficult year to get through. I needed to make it home because the wind was starting to whip up something serious, and the rain started turning into sleet as we drove. I could see the fear in their eyes, and I knew it was time to wrap it up until I got to a safe place. The combination of the horrible weather and my reckless driving wasn’t a comfort to anyone, considering that the car had already almost failed to stop and I even fishtailed a little a few times. Normally the car would be full of chatter from the kids talking among each other about their day, but on this day there was a deathly silence surrounding us.

I tried getting through to James a few more times as I half watched the road and typed him a misspelled text message at the same time. The angrier I got, the harder I pressed on the gas. I wanted him dead, and just as I sent him the message I looked up to see through the rearview Junior pulling at Janice’s ponytail.

“Sit y’all asses back or I’ll—”

Before I could finish my sentence I realized that I had pressed the brake, but the car was still moving. Everything seemed like slow motion as I slid out into the intersection and my Jeep was hit first on the passenger side by a Hummer that was taking its turn at the stop sign, and then by another Jeep that collided into my driver side in the back, causing us to spin out of control. I couldn’t control the wheel.

The Jeep did a few quick spins, and all I remembered hearing was the collective scream from my kids as we crashed against the telephone pole. I hit my head so hard on the steering wheel right before it crushed me in, and I was seeing stars. My legs felt jammed under the dashboard, and the wheel was pressed so tight against my chest I could barely breathe. I heard the kids crying loudly, but then everything started to sound muted and all I saw was black.

This chick looked just like Monica. Chocolate-brown skin, kissable nipples, and all. She’d been gyrating and popping her pussy in my face for the last five minutes . . . working hard for this twenty I was holding in my hand. I was contemplating how long I should make her sweat, because if I added just ten more dollars I could get me a VIP session that would mean more than a mere lap dance. The J Spot had some of the best girls in the tri-state area doing a lot of strange shit for some change, and I contributed to their bills more often than I wanted to admit. Fuck it, I was a man after all. What did she expect me to do if I wasn’t getting it at home? Keep stroking one out? There wasn’t an ice cube’s chance in hell that I was going to keep going out like that.

Jazz was messing up my groove though, just like she messed up everything else. I could hear my phone vibrating on the bar next to my shot of Hennessy, but I refused to answer it. I didn’t feel like hearing her bitch because I didn’t go and pick the kids up. I didn’t feel like it. She was being a smart ass claiming she had to stay at work late, but I was sure she’d figure it out when the afterschool program called her because she was late. There was a fee to pay of five dollars for every five minutes you were late, but she had the money. Shit, she practically had my entire check so she’d just have to handle it. I knew she would be at least forty-five minutes late, so she could just spend some of my hard-earned money on something other than shoes and overpriced handbags.

Mocha, the Monica body double who was dancing in front of me, was a snake charmer. The way she moved her body made me sway with her. I couldn’t help it. I knew she had to have a juicy pussy, too, and the more I sat there and thought about it the more I knew I had to get at it before I rolled out tonight. It was only right. She entertained me relentlessly every time I came here, so why not test the goods to see if it’s worth it? I’d have been a fool not to.

There were two other girls dancing on either side of me, and the one girl picked up my phone while it was vibrating and pushed the talk button. I wasn’t even fazed by the shit. I gently took the phone out of her hand, and when I saw that she had answered Jazz’s call I just hung the phone back up. Fuck it. Shit was going to be off the chain when I got home anyway, so I might as well have enjoyed myself now. Only God knew when the next time would be that I would be able to get out and have fun after the all-night argument that would go down tonight, so there was no use in rushing home to the bullshit. Feel me?

Mocha bent down and took my phone out of my hand and inserted it in her juicy pussy. Climbing down from the bar she made her way over to the VIP room, and I had no choice but to follow her. After all, she did have my phone. The right thing to do would be to get it out before it started ringing again. My dick was straining against my Sean John slacks, and I couldn’t wait for Mocha to release it. She had a wicked smile on her face that let me know I was in for a treat. I paid at the window and was escorted back to one of the many used rooms where I had a ball fishing my now dripping-wet phone from out of Mocha and filling the void with my stiffness. I wore her ass out for the entire thirty minutes I paid for because I knew once I got home it would be awhile before I could come back this way again.

It took me a little longer than it should have to get home because there was a real bad accident blocking Ford Road. The expressway was still a little backed up from the rush-hour traffic, so I had to sit in traffic either way until I found a street I could turn off on. The accident was indeed horrible. A utility pole was knocked down almost completely, causing downed wires on that block. You could see the medics working to get out whoever it was who was trapped inside of the wreck, and it didn’t look like there would be any survivors. That just made me wish these people would move so I could get home a little quicker. That was someone’s family in that Jeep: a loss no one was ever ready for.

It took me an hour and a half to get home, a trip that would normally only take me about thirty-five minutes. I didn’t see Jazz’s Jeep in the driveway, so I figured she might have gone to her mom’s house before coming home. It was slushy and hailing outside, and I knew how she hated to drive in this kind of weather. I was still feeling a little tipsy from all the drinks I downed at the strip joint so I mellowed out on the couch for a minute before I went upstairs. I knew Jazz wouldn’t be out too late so I at least wanted to be in comfortable clothes because I was sure we would be up for a couple of hours arguing.

I must have dozed off on the couch because when I woke up the nightly news was on, and someone was banging on my door. Jazz still hadn’t come home, and I got an instant attitude because now she was taking shit too far. She was probably going to stay the night at her mom’s, but the least she could have done was called. It was just like Jazz to be on some self-centered bullshit, so I wasn’t surprised.

The banging on the door was persistent and I figured maybe she decided to show up after all, and needed help bringing the kids in. I took my sweet old time getting to the door just to piss her off even further. That accident that I went past earlier was being discussed on the news, but I had the television on mute so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

I had my screw face on when I opened the door, only to be greeted by Jazz’s brother punching me in my face. He, along with a few of her uncles and her dad, took time to beat the shit out of me in front of my own house. I couldn’t swing back if I tried because they were swooping down on me. The cold numbed my body just as fast as the blows from their fists and Timberland boots, so I balled up in a fetal position until they were done.

Her father grabbed me by my bloody collar and pulled me up to a wobbly standing position. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but Jazz has a lot of explaining to do. Damn, is not picking up the kids worth all this?

“It’s because of your stupidity that my baby girl is in the hospital,” her father yelled at me before tossing me into the living room like a rag doll.

“What are you talking about?” I asked as I wiped blood from my mouth with my shirt. I was thinking I might have lost a tooth in the scuffle; I just couldn’t tell at this moment.

Instead of answering, Jazz’s brother picked up the remote and un-muted the television. I watched in horror as the accident I couldn’t get by earlier was played again. I could see what I now recognized as Jazz’s truck smashed up against the pole as the newscaster warned us that the scene would be graphic. They showed the Jaws of Life trying to pry open the roof of the car. Even though her license plate was scrambled I knew it was her car. I ins. . .