My Woman His Wife Saga (10 page)

“Okay then, you lovebirds get back to each other. Jazz, I'll see you around.”

Instead of responding, Jasmine closed the door in Monica's face with a hard thud and a loud click of the lock. Stunned, Monica stood looking at the door for about five minutes before she turned around and numbly walked to her car. She thought for sure she had Jasmine in check, especially after that last session, but now she wasn't too sure. James totally took her by surprise, and she knew she definitely would have to get him back for trying to play her.

“Hiding behind wifey,” Monica said to herself angrily as she got into her car and peeled off from the curb. “She won't be yours for too much longer, James.”

Not knowing what to do with herself because she was so mad, Monica rode around aimlessly trying to get her temper under control. For some reason things weren't working out the way she planned. At this phase, Jasmine should be ready to leave James, but they seemed more in love now than they did before.

Monica felt sick, and not sick like the morning illness she had been experiencing lately, either. She wanted to get pregnant, she wanted James's ass gone, and she wanted Jasmine now. Slamming on the breaks at a red light, she was fixing her mouth to curse the guy in front of her when she looked to the side just in time to see Sheila, accompanied by her mom and her son, come out of the Pizza Palace.

“This must be my lucky day,” Monica said as she maneuvered her car into the right turning lane so she could pull into the lot before they drove off.

Running the red light, she pulled around the entrance and stopped next to Sheila on the passenger side of the car just as the door closed. Catching Sheila off guard, Monica had to control herself to keep from snatching Sheila through the car window.

“Hey, Sheila, it's been awhile,” Monica began with a false smile. The only thing that kept her from snapping was the fact Sheila's son was in the car.

“Hey, Monica, how have you been?” Sheila sat in the car feeling caged in because Monica was the last person she was expecting to see. She figured since three weeks had gone by, Monica would have found someone else to bully by now.

“Sheila,” Monica responded mocking Sheila's high-pitched voice. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries, and her face showed just that. “I've been trying to catch you for a while. Where are you on your way to?”

“Home. My son is tired after all that playing,” Sheila responded, gesturing to her sleeping son in the car seat. She knew what Monica wanted, but she wasn't in the mood to give in.

“Why don't you let your son go ahead with . . .” Monica said looking passed Sheila to her mother. “Is it good to assume that's your mom?”

“Yes it is,” Sheila's mom replied in the background, “and you are?”

“Please excuse me for being rude. I'm Monica. Me and Sheila are good friends from the office,” Monica replied, planting a fake smile on her face. She made eye contact with Sheila, daring her to say otherwise. Sheila's mom wasn't aware of what went down with Monica, and once Monica figured that out, she used it to her advantage.

“Yeah, we worked at the firm together before I went on leave,” Sheila responded unconvincingly.

“I was about to go into the mall. Want to hang out for a while?”

“I really shouldn't,” Sheila began. “I need to put Devon down for a nap, and I'm a little tired myself.”

“Girl, that's nonsense,” Sheila's mom said. “I can put Devon in bed. You've done nothing but cater to him since you been on leave. Go ahead with your friend. You need some adult time for a while. I have your cell number. I'll call you if I need you.”

Sheila was determined not to be alone with Monica ever again in life, and now her mom had made that virtually impossible.

“But, Mom, I need to . . .”

“Nonsense, now go and have a good time. Your son will be here when you get back.”

Trying to cover her attitude in front of her mom, Sheila gathered her belongings and got out of the car. Before closing the door, she leaned in and kissed her son on the forehead, looking at him like that may be her last time seeing him. She didn't want to be with Monica, but knew if she didn't go, Monica's persistent ass would just keep following her until she gave in. The way Sheila saw it, if she just got it done and over with maybe Monica would leave her alone, but deep down she knew it wouldn't be that simple. She had to find a way to turn the tables on Monica, and she vowed to find a way to do just that and still have her job intact.

After Sheila got into Monica's car, her mom wasn't even out of the parking lot good before Monica was back out on the street. Sheila didn't have to ask because she knew they were on their way to Monica's house, and her thoughts were confirmed when she saw the only pink house on the block standing out from their spot on the corner. Neither said a word on the drive over, and Sheila decided she would let Monica do all the talking while she tried to figure out how to get out of the mess she just happened to become a part of.

Walking into the house a short while later, Sheila excused herself and went upstairs to use the restroom. Noticing the open door at the end of the hall, curiosity took over as she crept to the door to get a peek inside. That door was normally shut tight and locked down. Taking notice of her surroundings, she began looking at the canvas placed in the corners around the room. She knew Monica was a photographer, but she didn't know Monica painted as well.

Sifting through the stacks of paintings, she noticed that the woman on the paintings looked just like Jasmine. She knew Jasmine and Monica were cool, but not to that extent. She figured Monica was probably just lusting after Jasmine too, and painted what she thought Jazz would look like nude because there was no way her boss was bisexual. Leaving it to an assumption, she turned around to leave the room only to find Monica in the doorway watching her.

“Monica, I was just . . . ” Sheila began, holding her chest from the shock of seeing Monica standing there. She hadn't even heard her come up the steps.

“Being nosey as hell!” Monica began taking a step into the room. “Find what you were looking for? From what I recall the bathroom is nowhere near this room.”

“I . . . I saw the door cracked, and . . . ”

“You want to know why you see Jasmine on those paintings?”

Shocked by Monica's ability to read her thoughts, she stood in silence just looking at her. Sheila knew she was in some shit before, but it was just sinking in as to how deep the shit really was. Monica was one powerful chick, and Sheila was feeling the seriousness of what was going on around her.

“Follow me,” Monica said, turning from the room and going into the master bedroom. Sheila's legs felt like lead as she walked behind her, stealing glimpses at paintings of James and what looked like the guy from the hardware store in her neighborhood.

Walking down the hallway seemed to take forever as Sheila continued to take notice of the people in the paintings hanging on the walls. All of them featured Monica, but each man was different, making Sheila wonder how many men and women Monica had actually been with. Furthermore, she wondered if she bothered to use protection with any of them, because she and Monica never had.

Upon entering the room, she took a seat on the edge of the bed as Monica hooked up the camcorder that she hid behind the mirror to the television. Sheila didn't want to know what was on the tape for fear of who she might see. It was obvious that Monica got around, and Sheila was sure that she might know some of the people.

Monica took a seat beside Sheila and turned her face so they were eye to eye. Sheila thought she saw flames shooting up behind Monica's hazel eyes like she was the devil reincarnated. Too scared to move, but curious at the same time, Sheila waited to see what would happen next.

“Sheila, I'm going to show you this tape because I trust you. This recording is one of many, and what you see here can never leave this bedroom. Do you understand me?” Monica asked with a straight face. There were no traces of vengeance in her voice, but Sheila did detect a hint of sadness—maybe even weakness—that Monica wouldn't normally show. Sheila's mouth wouldn't move, so she just nodded her head in agreement.

At this point Monica was tired of the runaround. Going to Sheila was pretty much her only option, because she had Sheila tucked safely in her back pocket. If Sheila told, she would be putting herself out there, and Monica doubted that she would do that. Besides, it was becoming too overwhelming trying to hold everything in.

“I also want you to understand that if this does get out, it won't be wonderful for you. Get my drift?”

Without waiting for a response, Monica pushed the play button and stood by the window to wait until the tape finished playing. Monica couldn't watch the tape again because, in spite of what everyone thought of her, it was painful for her. She wanted Jasmine more than she wanted life, and she just couldn't seem to grab hold of her no matter how close she got. It was like someone was dangling a carrot in front of her and she just couldn't reach it.

Monica spotted Jasmine long before she slept with James. Jasmine had represented Monica's former lover, Tanya, in the murder case for her husband. Tanya and Monica, much like her and Jasmine, were seeing each other. Monica fell in love with Tanya, and her husband had to go—by any means necessary. Tanya didn't want to break it off because of the children they shared, even though Monica had more money than either of them could count.

Monica was getting restless and fed up, because just as James was doing now, Tanya's husband Marcus was sleeping with her also. Although Marcus treated Monica like a queen, he was very abusive toward Tanya, often leaving her with black eyes and broken bones. Deciding enough was enough, Monica went to Tanya's house one night to see if she could lure Marcus away. When she arrived, she found Marcus going through one of his many drunken fits, and he was beating Tanya unmercifully.

Monica used her spare key to get in, and she tried to help Tanya out. In a raging fit, Marcus then began swinging on her, leaving her no choice but to take the small revolver out of the pocket of her trench coat and
off
him right there. The one shot to the head would have done it, but Monica unloaded the gun into his face, reloaded, and finished him off until there was nothing left but a shell of what used to be his head.

Tanya broke down and Monica fled the scene, promising Tanya that she would get her the best lawyer money could buy. Before Monica could act, Tanya was appointed to the extremely sexy Jasmine Cinque. When Monica saw her it was love at first sight. She went through the motions of finding out who Jasmine was and if she was married. Getting info from her favorite judge down at the courthouse, she found out about James, later seducing him and talking him into the threesome with Jasmine. Now it was only a matter of time before she got Jazz, and hopefully without having to get rid of James permanently. Tanya quickly became a distant memory as Monica left her rotting in jail for a crime she didn't commit and made Jasmine her replacement.

 

 

Monica snapped out of her memories when she heard Sheila gasp. Sheila stared at the television with her mouth wide open in shock at the things the tape revealed. First, she saw James, Jasmine, and Monica at the hotel. Then there was Monica and James, including the two exchanging money. Then, there was Monica and Jasmine with the ice sculptures.

Sheila almost fell off the bed when she saw Officer Hill on the tape in front of the fireplace. Monica didn't know Officer Hill was married to Sheila's oldest sister because their last names didn't match.

Sheila was feeling sick to her stomach as she watched Monica have her way with the obese mayor of Philadelphia. She almost lost her lunch when shortly thereafter a threesome, including the mayor's wife, Monica, and the mayor's daughter flashed across the screen.

Just as the tears began to form in her eyes, Monica came over and clicked the stop button on the DVD player. Sheila didn't know what to do as a steady stream of salty tears stained her cheeks and the front of her blouse. Monica seemed to be oblivious to Shelia, as she was dealing with her own pain and memories of Tanya. Breaking the monotony, she turned Sheila's face around so she could look into her eyes as she talked. She wanted Sheila to understand the significance of the situation before they moved any farther.

“Now, Sheila, I know that may have been a bit much to view at one time, but I need you to understand the caliber of what's happening here. I'm in love with Jasmine and I need your help. I don't want to blackmail James, but that may be the only way to get him out. Either that or kill him, and who wants to deal with that again?”

“What do you want me to do?” Sheila said through her tears. Monica had her on tape, and she was sure she had more than one copy.

“Not right now, but I'll need your help down the line. I just need to know that you got me on this.”

“I can't do that to Jasmine. She helped me out in more ways than you can imagine. She's been good to me.”

“I can get you a job better than that. I know people in high places. You can start tomorrow,” Monica stated like that issue had no importance. She could just call one of the many judges she was sleeping with around Philly and have Sheila in a higher paying position the very next day.

“Monica, please, just give me some time.”

“I don't have time!” Monica snapped, losing her cool for a second. She was not in the mood to negotiate with Sheila; she wasn't asking her for help, she was telling her what she was going to do. “You will do it or else.”

“Or else what?” Sheila asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Monica calmed down a little before answering because now was not the time to lose control of the situation.

“Fuck with me and find out,” and with that said, she put the DVD back in its case and put it in the safe that she had built into the wall behind a painting of herself in a two-piece sheer thong set.

Sheila didn't know what to do about Monica or her pounding headache, so instead of arguing, she moved farther up on the bed so that she could rest her head on the pillow. She didn't know what to do with the information she had just received, but she knew she had to do something. Before drifting off to sleep, she took one last look at Monica standing by the window. Monica seemed to be struggling with her own thoughts, and for the first time she looked vulnerable. Sheila could understand her pain, although she couldn't understand why she had to drag so many lives into it.

For a second she saw Monica as a child, which she thought was comical because she didn't know her then. She saw Monica looking out the window dressed in a pink and white baby doll dress with her long, thick hair pulled up into two pigtails held together with pink and white flower-shaped barrettes. Holding a bunny rabbit tightly in her little arms, she seemed to be at a happier time in her life then. Sheila wondered if that was when her obsession with the color pink began.

As she stared at her, Sheila saw the teenaged Monica, braces and all. Acne covered her face and this Monica looked sad like she had no friends to speak of and was teased because of her absence of curves like the rest of the girls her age had. This Monica looked like the last thing she wanted to be was alive, and her face was etched with pain and worry for reasons unknown to anyone but her.

Then she turned into the evil, conniving adult Monica, and Sheila could have sworn she saw devil horns sticking up through Monica's wrap hairstyle. Chalking it up as fatigue setting in, she closed her eyes in an effort to stop the little man from dancing on her temple. She hoped by morning she would figure out some way to stop this madness for good.