Never Gonna Be Wifey Read online

  “Alrighty, then, let’s get down to business. Start with names, possible date of birth, and last known address.”

  I didn’t know too much ’bout the bitch, but I know her name and her last known address in Richmond. I gave him all the info that I remembered.

  “Well, that’s all I need. I’ll get on this as soon as possible.”

  “Listen, Al, I need this information real soon. A day or two at the most.” I took out a wad of cash and handed it to him to speed up the process.

  “Oh wow, Miss Shayna, you know exactly how to make a man happy. The husband must be one lucky fella,” he grinned.

  “No, the husband was a fucking fool that didn’t know what a gem he had. Are you married, Al? I don’t see a ring.”

  “Yes, for twenty years now. The wife and I have three beautiful daughters.”

  “Tell me, Al, does your wife fuck you good?”

  “Huh?” He looked puzzled.

  “You heard me. Does yo’ wife fuck you good?”

  “Miss Sha, uh, Miss Shayna—”

  “Don’t bother to answer that,” I cut him off. I walked over to him and knelt down in front of him. I started to unbutton his pants and took out his thick, short cock. There was nothing attractive about it, but it didn’t matter. I got straight to the point. I took the little midget in my mouth and deep-throated it. It was short in length, but the width was a killer. Even though I was a pro, my damn mouth was tired.

  “Aargh, aargh,” his old ass groaned.

  “Mmm-hmmm. I bet yo’ wife can’t suck you off this good,” I teased, then went back to sucking him aggressively.

  “Oh sweet Jesus, I’m ’bout to discharge,” he yelled like a bitch.

  I sucked harder while working his balls. I felt his cock getting harder. I let his dick go as sperm spurted out. There was no way I was goin’ let his old juice flow down my damn throat.

  He sat down on the bed, then leaned back and lay there grunting like a pig and holding his chest.

  Lord, I hope this motherfucker is not having no heart attack, I thought.

  “You all right, Albert?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m so embarrassed. I’ve never experienced this feeling before. Oh, Lord.”

  “Albert, relax. You just haven’t been wit’ the right woman before.”

  “Yeah, my Doris is old-fashioned. She ’ont know how to do none of this stuff the younger generation be doing.”

  “Listen, Al, there’s more of this where that came from. If you play your cards right, I might just let you get some of this good, high-grade pussy I got here.” I patted my pussy.

  “What you mean by playing my cards right?”

  “Get me the info I need, keep this between us, and, I promise, you’ll be havin’ this feelin’ for a long time.” I got up and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Okay, Albert, pull yo’ pants up and get to work. I’m hoping to hear from you ASAP.”

  “Oh, Lord, my mind’s so messed up; I’m just sittin’ here exposing myself. Pardon me. Yes, I’m getting on it right away. I’ll call you in a few days, pretty lady,” he grinned at me.

  Albert left, and I went to the bathroom and washed out my mouth with Listerine. See, I love fucking. All those years that I was in prison only made my sexual appetite stronger. I loved how powerful my pussy was and how men reacted to it. This time, I was scared that old fart was going to die on me. I can see the headlines now: MAN KILLED BY POWERFUL PUSSY. I chuckled to myself as I exited the hotel room.

  I stopped by the front desk, handed over the key, put on my Prada glasses, and walked out of the lobby.

  * * *

  It’s been weeks since I started fucking with Alonzo, and, as usual, I was tired and bored out of my damn mind while he was out running the streets. It reminds me of how Alijah was when I was married to him. It brought back memories of how much I hate being alone while he was out fucking other bitches. To clear my mind, I cut on the television to catch the news. Out of nowhere, an old friend came to my mind. The last I’d heard, he was retired. Soon as I get settled, I plan on visiting Sanderson. How could I forget about him? That son of a bitch double-crossed my ass. He will soon learn that no one crosses Shayna, and for that, he’d pay dearly.

  The anxiety of finding Sierra and her bastard son was killing me. I could taste the sweetness of revenge on my tongue. This time, it won’t be no “almost” killed her ass. On my daddy’s life, I was going to finish her so she could join the bastard she so badly wanted. I was so ready to start the next chapter of my life, even considering a future with Alonzo. He did something to my heart; it was a feeling that I’ve never experienced before . . .

  Weeks had passed, and I was nervous and getting restless. I needed to hear from Albert. He promised that I would hear from him in days. I picked up the phone and dialed his number. He didn’t pick up, so I called right back.

  “Shayna, hey, you. I was gonna call you.”

  “Really? I thought you took my money, cheated me out of my head, and ran off.”

  “Ha-ha, no. I been in the business too long. Well, pretty lady, I think I found yo’ sister and her son.”

  “You think, or you did? Spit it out.”

  “Yes, I found a Sierra Rogers; she’s right here in Stone Mountain, Georgia.”

  The phone fell out of my hand . . . I snatched it up off the ground and put it back to my ear.

  “Miss Jackson, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. The phone fell out of my hand. Sorry. I’m speechless. After all these years, you found my sister. Daddy would have been so happy that you found his baby girl. How sure are you that’s my sister and not just some woman with the same name?”

  “Umm, not a hundred percent sure as yet, but I’m pretty confident that I’m barking up the correct tree. I’m doing some deeper investigating. I had to smile when I found out she was here. Y’all might be living next to each other and don’t even know it,” he chuckled.

  “I got to go; let me know what else you find out,” I said, then hung up in his face.

  “Jerk.” I don’t see what the point was of him telling me this if he wasn’t 100 percent sure that it was her.

  Sierra in Georgia, I thought. If it turned out to be her, I wondered how long ago she moved here. I would never forget that bitch’s face. The entire time I was locked up, I’d dreamed about meeting up with her again. I wanted it to be phenomenal. This time around would be our last encounter. No more loose ends this time or me going to prison. I also planned on getting that bitch mother. I’ve never forgotten how she got on that stand and pleaded with the judge to give me life. That bitch painted a horrible picture of me. She had it out for me ever since I met her ass. She should’ve minded her own business because now, she was going to be one dead bitch too.

  I poured me a glass of Moscato and walked upstairs. I’m happy I was home alone this time, so I could get some time to put my thoughts together. Plus, laying up with me and not making money was a no-no.

  I walked into the room and placed my drink on the nightstand; then I walked over to the dresser to get me a pair of my pajama pants. Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks. The drawer was half-closed. I hurriedly pulled it open and noticed that my clothes were not the way I left them. I stuck my hand under the clothes and pulled out my envelope . . . Anger erupted in my heart as I noticed that the envelope had been pried open. I ripped it open and saw all my papers all over the place and not in order like I had them. I knew somebody’s nosy ass went through my shit, because I was a neat freak, and I’d placed each piece of paper neatly into the envelope before I sealed it up. I never opened it; I didn’t have any reason to.

  What would possess this nigga to go through my shit? He straight violated me. What was he looking for? Who is he?

  “Sierra and her son are living in the Atlanta area,” Albert’s voice played back in my mind!

  “No. Ain’t no way. He can’t be Sierra’s son. That boy can’t be nothing but a little over twenty-something. Hell no!” I trie
d to convince myself. I needed to find out what was going on, but how? I already went through his belongings, searched the house from top to bottom and found no evidence of anything discriminating. Quickly, I gulped my drink as I racked my brain for answers.

  After a few moments, it came to me. The one person that was related to him—she should be able to set my mind at rest. I dialed Natasha’s number.

  After a few rings, she picked up.

  “Hello, who this?” she answered with an attitude.

  “Girl, this Shayna, your old bunkie.”

  “Oh shoot, Shayna, what the heck you doing out, girl?”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you one of these days, but I’m here in ATL.”

  “You lying. What you doing in the A, girl? I thought you were from New York.”

  “Yo’ cousin convinced me to come out here, and that’s correct. I was born and raised in New York.”

  “Girl, stop playing. I knew he was crazy, but I had no idea you were too. I see he’s really into you if he got you out here wit’ him.”

  “Really . . . Natasha, tell me how come he has a Jamaican accent, and you don’t? I thought y’all grew up together.”

  “Yeah, well, umm, he grew up ’round his father’s side of the family.”

  “Hmm, really? Why don’t I believe you? I’ve spent years with you; we talked about everything and not once did you mention a cousin named Alonzo. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Shayna, are you accusing me of something? If so, come out and say it. All this beating around the bush, I ain’t got time for it,” she replied angrily.

  “No, I’m not accusing you of anything, at least not yet. But I know you is a fucking liar. I know y’all ain’t no cousins. What I don’t know is, who is he and why y’all lying.”

  “Listen, bitch, unless you got proof that he ain’t my motherfucking cousin, don’t call my phone accusing me of shit. I’ve never disrespected you in any way. Maybe you are too used to fucked-up-ass niggas that you can’t accept a real nigga. I’m done talkin’ to yo’ ass,” she said.

  The dial tone rang out in my ear. I chuckled to myself. That bitch is a poor liar. I can see a lying bitch from a mile away, I thought.

  Alonzo or whatever your name is, what is your business with me? What the fuck had I gotten myself into? Wait, I must be trippin’; I been here with this nigga. If he wanted to kill me, he could have by now. Maybe I’m paranoid . . . or am I just ignoring the signs?

  * * *

  I showered and dressed. I needed to get me a gun. I knew I couldn’t walk up in no store and get one. I needed to come up with a plan first ...

  After sucking and sliding this pussy over on Albert’s cock, he agreed to get me a gun. It took a little convincing. I had no problem showin’ him the bruise on my arm from my boyfriend roughing me up. He was just another lame-ass nigga trying to rescue a damsel in distress.

  Albert got me a 9mm semiautomatic pistol. He handed it to me after we left the gun store. I took it out of the box and admired it. I hadn’t held a gun in years, and just the sight sent electric shocks throughout my body.

  “Be careful wit’ that, pretty lady. Guns are nothing to be played wit’ and only use it if your life is in danger.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. I only need this to scare him off when he tries to beat me,” I burst out crying.

  “I don’t know this fella, but he has no business hitting on a lady like you. I have some friends in DeKalb County Police Headquarters that I can call up for a favor if you want. He better watch out.”

  “Oh, thank you, but I don’t think it’ll go that far.”

  “Okay, pretty lady. I gotta go meet up wit’ this client.”

  He drove me back to where the truck was parked.

  “Thank you again, Albert.” I winked at him, got out of his car, and walked over to the truck.

  Quickly, I wiped my tears and got into the truck. I marveled at the sight of my new toy. Oh, I felt like the old me again. For a minute, I’d felt vulnerable because I had no protection. This was all I needed so niggas or bitches could know . . . I was not a bitch to be played with!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sierra Rogers

  For days, Azir lay heavily on my mind; each time that I cut on the television, there seemed to be more news about Dwayne’s death. I continued to pray to God; I needed him to protect my only child. I was considering asking him to leave Atlanta, maybe visit England where his father’s side of the family was or go back to Jamaica. Atlanta wasn’t the place for him, and the last thing I needed was for him to be wrapped up in some bullshit he had nothing to do with. I needed to talk with him but not over the phone. I needed to see him.

  I jumped up and grabbed my purse. Azir had written down his address the last time he came over. I fumbled around until I found the piece of paper.

  5202 Abbey Street, Conyers, Georgia

  I grabbed my keys, ran down the stairs, and jumped into my car.

  I cut the music on high so I could tune out some of the thoughts that were running through my mind, put his address in the GPS, and headed to his condo.

  I tried calling him so I could tell him I was on my way to see him, but his phone went straight to voice mail. I sent out a text to him. Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled up at the address. These were some nice condos, and they looked brand new, I thought. I kept calling him but still didn’t get any answer, which was strange. I’ve never called him when he never answered or texted me back. My stomach started to get queasy.

  “God, where is my son?” I asked.

  I got out and went to ring his bell numerous times, but still no answer. I stood outside for a few minutes, then walked back to my car. I sat in the car and kept redialing his number, but there was still no answer.

  I was getting worried; I wished he’d pick up his phone or text me so I would know he was all right. I held my head up and looked around. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the figure of a woman. I swore that she looked like . . . I laughed to myself. Sierra, you trippin’, I thought. I watched as she walked over to Azir’s door; I wanted to jump out to make sure she was going to ring the correct doorbell. Only to my astonishment, she didn’t ring the doorbell. She pushed a key in, opened the door, and shut it behind her.

  “Who the fuck was that entering my son’s home?” I asked myself. I decided to sit tight, even though everything in me was yelling to go see who that was. I anxiously sat in my car with my seat laid back. Ten minutes later, this same woman exited the home and walked toward my car. “What the fuck?” I yelled. Shayna . . . No! What the hell was Shayna, the bitch that tried to kill me, doing at my son’s house? I watched as she jumped in Azir’s truck. I wanted to jump out of my car and approach her, but common sense told me not to. I needed to find out what was going on here. Again, I looked down at the piece of paper where Azir wrote his address.

  5202 Abbey Street, Conyers, Georgia

  None of this made sense. All I knew was that something was not fucking right. I thought that bitch was in the feds and wasn’t supposed to be released for another ten years.

  Maybe Azir made a mistake when he wrote the address down; but no, I knew his truck, and the license plate matched his. I knew this for sure because he’s on my insurance. I watched as she drove out of the subdivision.

  There were still no calls or texts from Azir. There was no need to hang around. I drove like a madwoman all the way back to Stone Mountain. I sped into my driveway, parked, and jumped out. I hurriedly opened the door and ran into the house.

  “You all right? What’s wrong?” Jeanette asked.

  “I need to check something online real quick.” I jumped on the Internet and typed in Bureau of Prisons’ inmate locator. I typed in Shayna Jackson and her federal identification number, which I got from my lawyer years ago.

  Inmate released.

  I blinked twice and read it again. Nothing changed. It said “Inmate released” right in front of my eyes. I felt tears well up in m
y eyes, and my chest tightened. Quickly, I grabbed my cell and called my lawyer back in Richmond. He wasn’t in, so I asked his secretary if she knew anything about Shayna Jackson’s early release from prison. She told me the office was informed that she was released early, based off an incident that happened at the prison. She also told me that the news was so big, weeks ago, it was all over CNN. I thanked her and hung up the phone. So these motherfuckers knew this bitch was released and nobody bothered to let the victim know? This fucking justice system was a damn joke.

  “Man, nooo! Nooo!” I screamed out and threw the computer into the wall, leaving a big hole there and breaking the screen.

  Jeanette rushed into the den and looked at me, then looked at the hole I put in the wall.

  “Sierra, what’s going on? Talk to me. Did something happen to Azir?” She looked at me frantically.

  “What’s going on is that bitch Shayna is out of prison and is here in Georgia—at my son’s house!”

  “What? Sierra, are you sure? You seen her with your own two eyes? Maybe you just paranoid, baby. That bitch put you through so much.”

  I stood up and walked over to the window and stared outside, looking at nothing in particular.

  “I was missing Azir something serious. I called his phone, but he didn’t answer. When I got there, he wasn’t home. So I sat in the car waiting, and I saw a woman with the same facial features as Shayna. She opened Azir’s door. I still wasn’t sure it was her. I sat and waited; then she came back out, and that’s when I saw her face clearly, and to prove I’m not trippin’, she jumped in Azir’s truck. I know his truck and his license plate. Jeanette, I’m telling you, this sick bitch is here in Georgia and around my child.”

  “Have you heard from Azir?”

  “No. I’ve been calling him nonstop, but he’s not answering my calls or my texts; so unlike him. Jeanette, this bitch shot me twice. I will not sit around and wait for her to hurt me, my son, or you. I checked the fed’s Web site, and it said ‘released.’ I am not trippin’.”