My Husband's Mistress 2. Racquel Williams
sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances. I was reviewing your case and was kind of curious about why you didn’t use your partner for it. Your firm is well known to be one of the best,” he chuckled.
“Well, I decided not to involve the firm in my personal affairs. Furthermore, you’re a beast in the courthouse, and I need someone with that experience,” I lied.
“Sure, I understand. OK, so I need you to tell me everything that went down. You know that’s the only way I can effectively provide counsel. I am not charging you anything, ’cause I consider you family. All I ask is that if I ever need any kind of help that you extend yourself the same way I did.”
“Damn, bro, that’s what I’m talking about. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I got you.”
I sat in the chair, and this time, I told the story exactly the way it went down. I trusted him, and I knew he would do his best to get me off these charges.
“Have you spoken to Miss Gibson since the incident?”
“Nah, I’m done with that bitch. Excuse my language.”
“Well, it might be a good idea to go talk with her to see if she’ll drop the charges.”
“Man, this bitch got me locked up. I ain’t got shit to say to her, dawg.”
“Listen, bro, get out of your feelings. I need you to think like an attorney right now. This advice that I’m giving you is the same advice you would give to me if the roles were switched. This is a domestic violence case, and most times, the so-called victim recants their story. The DA will drop the case because it’s so much harder to win a case without a complainant. Think about it.”
He was making sense. I had plenty of cases dismissed because the women dropped the case or didn’t want to cooperate with the authorities. What bothered me was the fact that I had to talk to that bitch. After I got locked up, I vowed one night while I was in that cell that I would never see or talk to that bitch ever again. I had no feelings, and my heart was as cold as ice whenever I thought about her and her fucking bastard.
“Man, I swear I had no intention of ever speaking to her again,” I said as I sank in the chair.
“I understand that, but it ain’t like I’m asking you to fall in love with her. You’re a smooth talker, so finesse her a little and get her to drop the charges. Man, your career—and your freedom—depends on this.”
The word “freedom” rang out in my head, and I quickly understood what he was trying to say to me. I knew I had no other choice but to make up with her.
“I got you. I’m on it ASAP,” I confirmed.
We talked a little longer about what strategy he was going to take if Imani didn’t drop the charges. It felt strange because I was on the other side of the table this time. But I knew that I had to humble myself because I was not the lawyer in this case. I was the client.
I got up to leave, but Jamal spoke. “Aye, bro, please don’t do anything stupid while you’re out on bond. I don’t want this to blow up bigger than it is.”
“I got you, bro.” I opened his door and walked out, thinking about how I was going to get at Imani. I knew that bitch had a slick mouth and might come at me sideways. I knew I’d have to use everything in me not to beat her ass for getting me locked up in the first place. I stepped out in the humid weather, straightened my tie, and walked to my car.
I am Hassan Clarke. I can do this, I thought.
Chapter Nine
Destiny Clarke
Today wasn’t a good day for me. I woke up this morning feeling sick with flulike symptoms. I thought it was the flu, but I didn’t have a cold. I did have a bad headache, a mild fever, and a runny nose. My body felt weak, and when I went to use used the bathroom, I noticed I had a big bump with blisters on my pussy. That’s when it dawned on me. I was having an outbreak from herpes. I sat on the toilet seat and cried. I knew I had it, but reality finally hit me in the face. I was hurt, but I was also angry. I couldn’t get the wicked thoughts that I had for Hassan out of my head. I wanted him to feel everything I was going through... all the pain and the embarrassment.
I took a hot shower and some of my pills. The rest of the day was spent in bed going over my account and making a note of everything that I needed to do. I also called a realtor. I decided to sell the house and move into something much smaller. In another year, Amaiya will be going off to college, and then it would only be me.
Spencer wanted me to spend the night with him, but I declined. I just wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone, especially when I knew I couldn’t sleep with him. I knew if I explained it to him, he would’ve understood, but I chose not to. I felt ashamed and decided to tough it out. I recalled the doctor telling me that stress could trigger an outbreak, and I believe it because lately, I’ve been stressed out to the max. Hassan has put so much strain on me mentally and now physically. Some days, I wanted to throw in the towel and say fuck it, but I knew I deserved better. I didn’t want to be with a liar, a cheater, and an abuser. That man had put me through too much shit, and I would never allow him to even breathe on my pussy—ever again.
* * *
I got a phone call early in the morning. It was Hassan’s bitch, Imani. She sounded like she was drinking or smoking some shit. Whatever it was, that whore sounded desperate. She wanted her money. Even though I couldn’t fully understand what she was saying, I managed to make out that she was ready to meet with me. I sat up in bed with all kinds of thoughts running through my head. I thought about telling her that I didn’t want what she had, because, honestly, I didn’t trust that bitch. Besides, fifty grand was a lot of money to give away to a person. Hmm.... Whatever she had, I needed proof before I handed over my hard earned cash to that two-dollar whore.
I got out of bed and talked to Spencer for a little while. I told him that I had to meet with Imani, and being the protector that he is, he told me not to go. I wanted to listen, but I also needed the video of Hassan. I refused to let him walk away with a firm that I helped build and money that I put into his pocket.
I grabbed my purse and my keys, but I turned back and walked into Hassan’s room. I needed to grab something.
Imani Gibson
After I left Corey’s funeral, I couldn’t forget what he said to me the day I visited him in the hospital. He believed Hassan was the one who got him shot. Then his sister insinuated that I knew something about it. I knew one thing... I didn’t know anything about no murder. I wondered if Hassan could say the same thing.
I was tempted to call and ask him. Shit, I wanted to see why he was not at his childhood best friend’s funeral. I remembered how close they were, and his absence made me question if there were any truth to what Corey said. Did Hassan get that boy killed?
“Oh my God,” I yelled out. If Hassan did this, he did it because I lied to him about Josiah, and he found out about Corey and me. Guilt swept over me. I hoped this boy didn’t lose his life over a bitch that would never love him.
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