Falling for My Side Dude

  Falling for My Side Dude:

  Renaissance Collection

  Racquel Williams

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE - Malaya

  CHAPTER TWO - Malaya

  CHAPTER THREE - Malaya

  CHAPTER FOUR - Malaya

  CHAPTER FIVE - Malaya

  CHAPTER SIX - Malaya

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Malaya

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Javon

  CHAPTER NINE - Malaya

  CHAPTER TEN - Javon

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Javon

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Malaya

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Malaya

  EPILOGUE - Malaya

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Falling for My Side Dude: Renaissance Collection Copyright © 2017 Racquel Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6228-6526-0

  First Trade Paperback Printing August 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I give all praises to Allah. Without Him, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful and definitely blessed.

  To my mom, Rosa: thank you for being there through everything.

  To Carlo: you know words can never explain how much you mean to me. I appreciate you.

  To Nika, Ambria, Danielle, and Qiana: I appreciate the love and support I get from you ladies. I am forever grateful.

  To Renee Fludd, and Sharlene Smith: thanks for the constant promotion of my work. I appreciate you ladies.

  To my readers who have been rocking with me no matter what I’m going through, please know I appreciate y’all: Rhea Wilson, Yolanda Morgan, LaTanya Garry, Jeree Alyce, Patricia Charles, Barbara Morgan, Dawn Jackson, Cherri Johnson, Mary Bishop, Kendra Littleton, JoAnn Hunter-Scott, Toni Futrell, Priscilla Murray, Joyce Dickerson, Nola Brooks, Erica Taylor, Yvonne Covington, Evelyn Johnson , Akia KiaBoo Porter, Latanya Burress, Jessica Deutaye Hudson, Dessiree Ellison, Donica James, Cherita Price, Redgirl Pettrie, Jane Pennella, Lisa Borders Muhammad, Alexis Goodwyn, Maya Gibson, Tonya Tinsley, Jocelynn Boffman Green, Taheerah Brown, Myre Childs, Sharon Bel, Aisha Taylor-Gamble, Pam Williams, Tammy Rosa, Shekie Johnson, Venus Murray, Shann Adams, Nancy Pyram, Tina Simmons, Patricia Charles, Temmiyyia Davidson, Nicki Williams Kenia Michelle, Jenise Brown, Kysha Small, Suprenia Hutchins, MzNicki Ervin, Trina McGuire, Rebecca Rogers, Rita King, Stephanie Wiley, Stacey Phifer Mills, Rochelle Simmons, Tera Kinsley-Colman, Joan Bro, Carol Mustipher, Charmain Trantham, and Kesia Ashworth-Lawrence.

  To my readers out there, too many to name: thanks for rocking with me. If I forgot anyone, please charge it to my head and not my heart!

  PROLOGUE

  Paying bills, cooking, and helping out around the house are all things that most married bitches wished their husbands were doing, but not me. I may be coming off as ungrateful, but you’d have to take a walk in my shoes first in order to understand where I was coming from.

  I met my husband, Trent, while I attended a party that an old friend was throwing at a banquet hall. He was this tall, dark-skinned brother with that look that made you scream, “Damn, who is that?” I guessed the feeling was mutual, because the entire night he kept on eyeing me. On his way out the door, he slipped me his number written on a piece of paper. After debating if I really wanted to call this man, I decided to take a chance. After talking, I realized that we had so much in common, and the best part of it was that he knew how to make me laugh. There was something about a man with a big sense of humor.

  I learned that he was fifteen years older than me and, to be honest, at first it bothered me; but the more we conversed, the more I realized that his age wasn’t a big factor to me. Plus, he treated me like a queen. We started dating, and soon we became inseparable. We dated for about two years, and then he proposed. I quickly accepted, and we had a big wedding, which was the talk of the town for years to come.

  For the first years after we got married everything was great, or so I thought. Right after our wedding, I learned that I was pregnant; but it didn’t last. Three months into my pregnancy, we learned that I miscarried. The loss of our child put a strain on our relationship a little, and Trent started staying out more.

  I was tired of sitting at home alone doing nothing, so I decided to go to law school. I enrolled in the University of Richmond School of Law. In three years, I graduated with my law degree. This was something I dreamed of since I was young; I was fascinated with the Matlock and Perry Mason court shows.

  Right when I was getting ready to start my career, Trent decided he was ready to retire. After all, he’d been a Richmond City Police homicide detective for over twenty years. I wasn’t tripping that he didn’t make a lot of money, because I had my own. My father passed away when I was only twelve, and he left a substantial amount of money behind. Let’s just say that his children wouldn’t ever have to worry about money. Mama was also well taken care of. She and my two older sisters moved from New York after I graduated high school and started college.

  It was soon after college that Trent and I met. Right around our sixth anniversary, I noticed things started to change drastically. He would leave for days without calling or saying a word to me about where he was going or what he was doing. I also noticed that he had become distant and abusive. He’d try to start fights with me for no damn reason. He would threaten me, at times with his gun, and the words “bitch” and “slut” were his words of choice. It didn’t take anything for those words to fly out of his mouth. At first, I kept praying for a change. I wanted my marriage to work out. I figured if I fucked him good and was a good wife, he would eventually change his ways. I was wrong; the more he got away with his bad behavior, the more he continued doing it.

  To make matters worse, I found out I was pregnant with twins. I was excited because I was starting to think something was wrong with me because we had been trying to get pregnant right after the miscarriage. Trent, on the other hand, didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the pregnancy. Once, he even mentioned that maybe I should get an abortion because he was too old to be a daddy. I was crushed when he said that because I thought he wanted a family; at least, that was what he had been screaming for years. I paid him no mind. I carried my children full term and gave birth to two bubbly baby girls.

  Trent was present for their birth, even signed their birth certificate. I was hoping the birth of his daughters would soften him up a bit, but it didn’t. In front of the girls and others, he was the doting, proud daddy; but behind closed doors he would curse me like a dog, accusing me of trapping him. I paid his ass no mind, and I put all of my attention into taking care of my girls.

  I was ready for a change; I was tired of going through hell with this nigga. Matter of fact, I didn’t want Trent anymore, so the first thing I did was start playing stingy with the pussy, a
nd when we did have sex, I would lie there, pretending like the shit was good. I would throw it up on him, squeeze my pussy muscles, and talk dirty to him. In no time, he would bust. Trent just wasn’t doing it for me anymore because of all the emotional ways he abused me; plus, he was a good size, but he just didn’t know how to work the pussy. When I was younger, the dick was great, but the older I got, I realized that he wasn’t as experienced as I thought. The only position he knew was him lying on top of me and stabbing me hard. He was boring, and whenever I suggested he try another position, he would curse me out bad and accuse me of fucking other guys.

  I wasn’t cheating, but I wanted something new! I wanted a man who could make my insides tingle, make my pussy wet just by looking at me, and fuck me for hours without busting. I wanted passion, the kind that made my toes curl and made my insides shiver.

  See, I, Malaya Ipswich, was born and raised on the south side of Richmond, Virginia. I was raised in a home with both of my parents but, growing up, I could see that Mama wasn’t happy; she just chose to settle. My daddy was a good man to everyone around him and a great provider, but he was not a good man to Mama. He had different women all over the city, and he paid them lots of money to keep quiet about the affairs. I wished Mama had a backbone to leave him, but she didn’t. She played the good wife until we got word that he passed. As if that weren’t bad enough, he had a heart attack while one of his mistresses was riding him during sex. I knew Mama was broken when she found out, but she quickly got over it after he was buried. I thought she was relieved to know he wouldn’t be screwing around on her anymore.

  I made a mental note back then: I wasn’t gonna be like that. I wanted more out of a relationship. People may judge a bitch, may even go so far as to call a woman a bitch or slut if she was fucking another man. But did they really know what was going on in one’s bedroom or in a relationship? Well, I can’t speak for another bitch, but for me, if a nigga can’t handle his business, whether it’s in the bed or financially, he should be replaced. I’m not saying to divorce your husband or leave your man, but move his ass out of the way so that the next nigga can move on in and handle his business!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Malaya

  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.”