The Side Effects of You

by Anna Black

Genres: African American Urban; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Andrea, Samantha, and Josie have one thing in common: an ex they want to forget. Although they've tried to keep it together, there comes a time when you have to move on. But moving on only seems to make matters worse as they strive to make new lives for themselves. There is always something that keeps luring them back into the drama they're desperately trying to escape. Will these women finally find the path to happiness, or will the side effects of their exes keep them stuck in an unhappy rut?

Release date: June 28, 2016

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

I stood at the stove in my kitchen, preparing dinner for my family. It was my routine, nothing different from what I had done the night before and the night before that. I had been married for ten years to my husband, Jeremiah, and during that time, I had given him two children and had taken in Kelly, his daughter from his previous relationship with his ex, Regina.

Kelly was now fifteen; my daughter Lena, eight; and J.J., which was short for Jeremiah Jr., was five. My babies were my source of happiness—and three of the reasons I hadn’t packed my bags, got in my car, and just driven away. I wanted a new life, a new start, a do over, to be absolutely honest. I was tired of taking care of everything and everybody and no one taking care of me.

I was a wife, mother, housekeeper, listener, problem solver, cook, maid, first lady and, my least favorite of all, my husband’s doormat. It had taken me a year after getting married to realize that Jeremiah and I weren’t compatible. But instead of listening to that little voice of reason in my head, which said, Leave his ass, I had stayed and had ended up pregnant with Lena. At the time, I had used the birth of my daughter to fill the void I had in my marriage and to deal with the loss of my mother.

Although we were raising Kelly, when my baby Lena came along, I fell in love. All the things that I hated and didn’t like about myself and my life somehow became a distant memory when I held her in my arms. My world was all right because of my angel, and I honestly believed at that time that God had enough mercy on me to give me someone to love who loved me back.

I didn’t have to impress Lena, say the right things, watch my tone, or hold my true opinion inside. She loved me for me. She didn’t know my flaws, of course, but each and every time she saw me, she’d smile and laugh. I made her happy, something I rarely did for Jeremiah. Yet I still stayed.

As Lena grew up, she still adored me, but when her little brother came along, she became a little jealous. And since I didn’t let her mistreat her baby brother, she turned to Jeremiah, and they began to bond. Now she was Daddy’s little girl, and nothing I said was fair or right. J.J. was still young, still trying to find his way, but he was definitely not a mama’s boy. He didn’t like kisses or baths or anything that didn’t move on wheels. I swore that kid was going to be a mechanic, a NASCAR driver or, worse, a car salesman. Either way, I didn’t see us becoming close, at least not anytime soon. Lastly, there was my stepdaughter, Kelly. Since her mother was still in her life, there was little room for me, and she played us against each other. A miserable, losing situation for me.

Work, however, was great. I was doing what I had been born to do, and I loved it. I was a hair and makeup artist. I finally owned my own salon, but after all that I had accomplished, Jeremiah still looked down on me.

Over the years, I had gone from a size twelve to a twenty-two, but I still had a great sense of style, and hands down, I was gorgeous. Short, yes. I was short, five-three, with the prettiest hazel eyes and the deepest dimples. Being a stylist, I changed my look often, but now I was finally wearing my hair natural. This was best beauty decision I’d ever made for myself. Clothes . . . I had racks of them, big girl or not. I loved to look good, but somehow I didn’t look good anymore to my husband.

We hadn’t made love in over two years. Sad, but true. It had been a year since we slept in the same bed, but somehow when I brought up the subject of divorce, we ended up in a yelling match. I could never understand how he wanted to stay married when he didn’t want to be with me. I sometimes believed it was because he was the head pastor at our church. He’d say, “I can’t teach my flock the values of marriage and how God hates divorce and then turn around and get one.”

But he still refused to love me. He still refused to be kind to me. Not that he was pure evil. He was just not there. There was no fun, no loving, and no affection. We watched movies as a family, went out to eat as a family, and ate supper at the dinner table together, but after the kids were down, he went to the spare room on the main floor and I slept alone upstairs, in our master.

Yes, I had tried to turn on the sexy. Yes, I had tried to entice him, but nothing had worked, and I’d felt like a fool for trying to make him do the things he just didn’t want to do.

“Dinner is ready,” I called out.

The kids rushed to the table.

“Did you guys wash your hands?” I asked.

They all headed to the bathroom to do something I reminded them to do every single night.

“I’ll pass on dinner, Mama Ann. I’m going to Bianca’s for dinner,” Kelly informed me.

“Since when, Kel? Why can’t you have dinner with your family?”

“Mom, I have a project due in three days, and Bianca and I have to finish it up. I already cleared it with Mrs. Wright. She said we can eat while we work on our homework.”

“What are they having?”

“Beggars Pizza,” she answered.

That was why she wanted to go. Beggars was not only the kids’ favorite; it was also mine.

“Okay. Go. Just make sure you call when you are ready to come home. I don’t want you walking, young lady.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. She shot out the door, and my other two kids took their seats at the table.

As I set the table, my husband walked in, wearing a suit instead of the shorts and tank he had had on an hour before.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

He straightened his tie and then smoothed his jacket. “Yes. Sister Thompson called and asked me to come by to pray over her grandson. He has a fever, and it won’t come down.”

“Well, you know we all have the power to pray over our children,” I said smartly. “She can anoint him and pray for him, and you can pray to God from right here.”

“Yes, you are correct, Ann, but not every saint is blessed with healing hands.”

“According to the Word of God, all of us have the power to heal.”

“Let’s not do this, Ann. I’ll be home later.” He shut me up, as usual, and kissed the kids. “Where’s Kel?”

“She went to Bianca’s.”

“You permitted that on a school night?”

“Yes. She has a project. At least that is what she said.”

“Make sure she’s home before bedtime.”

“Will you be home before bedtime?”

“Please put my plate in the warmer,” he said, not answering my question, and then he walked out.

I took me a moment to get myself together. Lord God, you are all-knowing. I’m not. How long must I suffer this arrogant man, Lord Jesus? I was miserable, and I wanted a new life. I wanted a man who adored me, who wanted to be with me, who wanted to hold me and spend some romantic time with me.

I wanted to wear a smile behind my smile, instead of the frown that was buried beneath the curled-up corners of my lips. I was the first lady of our church and the go-to person for our members. I was on top of my career, my children, and my home. I was spread so thin, and I just wanted God to either take me home or give me my heart’s desires, because I no longer wanted to be in the Young house. I wanted to be free. I wanted a new love. Someone who wanted me.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Jeremiah Jr. said, snapping me back to the dinner table.

For a moment, I had been absent, the troubles in my life taking over my mind, but now I moved quickly and carried the dish of potatoes to the table. Then I sat and ate with the only two people who I knew loved me for me, Lena and J.J.

I reached for their little hands. “Okay. Bow your heads and let us pray.”

I sat patiently and waited for my appointment at Sassy Styles. I hadn’t wanted to go, but I had gotten a gift certificate from my staff, and I’d promised I’d redeem it. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I needed this appointment. I hadn’t been to the salon in over six years, and even though I put a box relaxer on my hair every eight weeks, I hadn’t had a trim, a haircut, or a professional styling in ages. I probably had six or seven inches of split ends on my head.

I had fallen into a dull routine of pressed powder, eyeliner, lip gloss, and my hair pulled back into a bun. Yes, that was my look, even for church and some of the social events my friends invited me to. I was divorced and hadn’t dated in years, because my ex-husband had given me a gift called herpes.

I still didn’t believe it, even though my doctor had diagnosed me with it. It had taken that first outbreak to let me know that I was truly infected. It had hurt like a motherfucker, and I had decided then that I’d never have sex again, because I didn’t want anyone to get it from me. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to disclose my affliction to anyone, so I’d walked away from the dating scene completely.

None of my friends knew why I had turned into a dateless prude, so they spent a lot of time trying to convince me to get back out there and meet people. They all were under the impression that I was scared from my marriage with Charles and that I was just too afraid to get hurt again, but that wasn’t it. I just didn’t want to spread this horrible, painful virus to anyone else.

“Samantha Cooper,” a young beauty called out. It was as though she had appeared out of thin air.

“Yes?” I stood.

“Come this way. Andrea is ready for you.”

I got up and followed her. I secretly admired the salon’s decor and thanked God that my staff had set me up with such an upscale place. The last thing I needed was to get a makeover from some ghetto-fabulous joint.

“Have a seat here,” the young woman offered. I sat in the empty seat she pointed to, near the shampoo bowls.

“Thank you.” I looked around and wondered why there were two waiting areas. I could have stayed in front. It reminded me of the doctor’s office. The nurse called you back so you could wait an additional ten minutes, which you spent rereading all the posters on the walls ten times.

She put her hand on the shoulder of another young lady who had approached. “Amanda here is going to drape you, and Andrea will be out in a second to consult with you. Would you care for a drink? We have bottled water, sparkling water, flavored water, red wine, white wine, champagne, and strawberry daiquiris.”

I smiled. I’d had no idea it would be that upscale. “White wine will be great. How much is it?”

“It comes with your service, ma’am. There’s no extra charge.”

“Get outta here,” I said and waved my hand.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s included. I’ll have it out to you in a flash,” she said before walking away.

“Please stand,” Amanda instructed.

I stood. Amanda slipped the robe on over my clothes. Just then a beautiful, voluptuous sister approached me. She extended a hand.

“Hi. I’m Andrea Young, the owner of Sassy Styles. I’ll be your stylist today.”

“So nice to meet you.”

“Do you have an idea what you would like to have done today? Did you bring any magazines or pictures?”

“Actually, no. I came only because my staff and crew felt sorry for me, so they all chipped in and gave me a gift card, and here I am. They said you were the best, so I’m up for suggestions.”

The young beauty returned with my wine. “Here you are, Miss Cooper.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Nicole,” Andrea said to the young lady before she hurried off. “So I see you have relaxed hair and your ends are severely damaged.”

“Yes, I relaxed it, like, a week ago.”

“Okay, well, I will have my assistant, Monica, shampoo and deep condition you. While you enjoy your wine and conditioner, I’ll have her give you a stylebook to look through, and we’ll go from there. Now, I’m not saying you have to look for an exact style, but at least find something you like or a look you may want to try, and I’ll tailor it to you.”

“Wow. Thanks, Andrea. I’m excited. This place is lovely.”

“Thank you.”

I got up and followed Monica to the shampoo bowls and then to the dryer. During the twenty-minute conditioning treatment, I looked through a stylebook and got a refill on my wine. Two was my limit, because I had to drive home, but I savored the flavor. I could tell the wine wasn’t a house brand. I owned a restaurant, and I knew good wine from cheap wine. I was definitely going to come back here.

“Come this way, Miss Cooper, so I can rinse you,” Monica said when the twenty minutes had elapsed.

When I was finally in the stylist chair, I made a bold choice. “I like this,” I told Andrea, pointing to a short, tapered style in the stylebook. It was time for a change. I had never tried short hair, but I felt like I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to walk into my restaurant and look as good as some of my patrons. I handed her the book. She took a glance at it and then put it to the side.

“Now, as a stylist, I know you can rock this haircut, but I have to ask you three times if you are sure before I can proceed. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Samantha, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Samantha, are you absolutely sure you want this drastic change?”

“One hundred and ten percent sure.” I hoped it wasn’t the white wine talking.

By the time she was done with the cut, I felt brand new. “Before you put that foam on, can I touch it? I mean, I can see the difference already, and I’m loving it,” I said.

“Yes. You sure can.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and played around with it for a moment. “Oh, my God, this is beautiful. I love it. I love it.” It looked so good, and it wasn’t even finished.

“It does fit you well. I’d love to do your eyebrows, and since you have a nice piece of change on your gift card, I’d love to do your makeup too.”

“Let’s do it.” I was so excited.

When it was all done, I looked beautiful. I looked like my old self, the person I used to be before Charles took my life from me.

“You are beautiful,” Andrea said, complimenting me. “Your man is going to be blown away.”

“Well, I don’t have one of those, but I know my staff and customers will be. I may never, ever have another man.”

“Don’t think like that. You are beautiful, Samantha, and we are not meant to be alone. God has someone for all of us. You just have to wait on the Lord.”

“Listen, I don’t get into all that religious mumbo jumbo. I lost faith in God years ago. I have always done the right thing. At least I thought I did. My crime was falling in love and marrying a man who was no good for me. Now I’m scarred for life.”

“Don’t say that. Bad things happen to good people, and I’ll tell you firsthand that life isn’t all perfect or fair, but you should never stop believing.”

“Yeah, well, God has cursed my body. I never cheated.” My eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t deserve the cards I was dealt.”

She handed me a tissue. “Shhh. Come on, beautiful. Don’t ruin your makeup,” she said and turned my chair so that she was closer to my face.

I dried my eyes, and she touched up my makeup real quick. “God is a good God, so whatever it is that has happened to you, you still thank Him for life. If it’s not terminal, you praise Him for that. It’s not over until they bury you six feet under, so you ask God to send you someone who can deal or cope with your imperfections. It didn’t end for you with your ex. Do you hear me?” she said.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes. I guess you are right.”

“Come on, gorgeous. Look at you. You are what? Five-seven? With long, beautiful legs. And you’re slim, and you got junk back there. Your hair is banging. You are a ten. Someone will love you again. This, I know.”

I stood and looked in the mirror, admiring myself. “I do look good, don’t I?”

“You do, so go home, put on something sexy, and just enjoy you. I mean, that’s what I’d do if I was single.”

“Hey, it’s early. I have a restaurant. I’d love it if you’d join me tonight. I just want to celebrate my new look. I mean, if you don’t have plans.”

“I’d love to.” Andrea smiled.

I gave her the address of the restaurant and then headed out. I climbed in my car and checked my rearview mirror five times before I pulled off. I was gorgeous and could attract any man with my new look, but who’d want me? I was a walking infection.

Looking up from the front desk when I heard my apartment door shut, I caught a glimpse of Ana, my eldest, trying to breeze by without me seeing her outfit.

“I’m sorry. Can you hold please?” I put the caller on hold before he agreed to be placed on hold. “Hold it. Where are your clothes? What the hell are you wearing?” I asked my teen.

“Mom, it’s the latest style. I don’t want to go out looking like a nerd. Enriquez is going to be there.”

“I don’t care who is going to be there, Ana. You go and put some real pants on, and not those see-through tights. And that fake belly ring needs to be thrown out. Have some self-respect. You’re only seventeen,” I griped.

“And soon I’ll be eighteen and won’t have to listen to you,” she snapped back.

“And then you can get out of mi casa. Now, go and change, or you will stay home!” I ordered.

My oldest daughter was a pain in my bottom. She was driving me crazy. I was a single mother of two now, because my husband—well, now my ex-husband—was in prison for doing every illegal thing under the sun that you could name. I just prayed my youngest daughter, Angelica, didn’t follow in her big sister’s footsteps. Ever since her daddy went to prison, Ana had been flipping out on me, and I was at my wit’s end.

I remembered then that I had someone on hold.

“I am so sorry, sir. Thanks for holding. How can I help you?”

I took care of my guest and then waited for Ana to come back down. When she did, she had changed clothes, but she had a bigger bag than the last time.

“You must think I’m stupid or something. What’s in that bag, Ana?”

“Clothes. I’ve decided I’ll stay with Enriquez tonight.”

I thought my Puerto Rican ears were playing tricks on me, because I knew damn well my underage kid didn’t just tell me she had decided she’d stay at her boyfriend’s house.

“Qué?”

“I’m going to stay at Enriquez’s, Mom, and you can’t stop me.”

“Ana, estas loca?”

“No, Mama, I haven’t lost my mind. I need a break from this place, and I’m tired of being here. Why can’t I just live my life?”

My heart was broken, and I was saddened. I only did what I thought was best for my girls, but Ana was out of control, and I was tired. “Ana, I’m tired. If you wanna go, go, but don’t come back. I will not have a disobedient child who doesn’t respect me in my house, so if you think you are grown enough to tell me that you are going to stay someplace I don’t permit, go and don’t come back to this place,” I said, pointing to my own chest. My eyes welled up. I had done all I could for her, but I had to let go, because I was tired of battling with her.

“Fine!” she yelled and stormed back inside the apartment. I assumed she had gone back for more of her things, but I no longer had the fight in me to argue.

I sighed and went into my office. I was fortunate to have my job. When José got locked up, we lost our house. I had worked my way up from housekeeping to general manager at the hotel where I worked, and God had stepped in and blessed me with a job that gave us a free place to live. My two daughters and I lived in the spacious manager’s quarters at the hotel. After sixteen years of hard work, I had done something on my own, and I didn’t want any more stress or heartache.

Ana had graduated from high school, by the grace of God, and was a couple of months from her eighteenth birthday. I had had her when I was fourteen, and after all the hard years, I was still here, doing my best. I just had to let go.

After twenty minutes, she came down with a packed bag.

“Mama, I’m sorry, but it’s time for me to go.”

“Good luck, child. Que Dios te bendiga ,” I said, giving her my blessing. I couldn’t hold on to her anymore.

“Bye.” She sniffled, and then she was gone.

I dried my eyes and asked God to strengthen me. I loved my baby girl, but she and I bumped heads, and she needed to get a dose of reality.

After I finished my shift, I sat and ate with Angelica and explained that Ana was moving out. She was fifteen and smart, so she didn’t have a lot of questions.

Not tired, I decided to shower and go out for a drink. I went to a restaurant that my girlfriend Samantha owned not far from my hotel, but I was shocked when I laid eyes on her. She looked like a new person. Her makeover had made her look amazing, like a brand new person.

“Oh, chica, you look fabulous. What happened to the bun?” I said.

“I needed a change.”

“Well, you look beautiful. I mean, you don’t look like you at all.”

Raising a brow at my words, she said, “Gee, thanks.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it in a bad way. I always thought that you were attractive, chica, but now you are hot.”

She came around from behind the bar and sat next to me on a vacant stool.

“Well, I went to the salon today and just went for it. I . . .