Read Online Mistress, Inc. by Niobia Bryant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Niobia Bryant
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brokenly through her tears. “And there are things no one knows. Things I will carry to my grave. But why should this baby suffer? I don’t deserve this baby.”
And there was the truth.
Suddenly, Jessa felt Revered Dobbins’s presence near her and she looked up as he took her hand in his and knelt.
“That baby, even in the midst of the darkness of your life, is a blessing. God has blessed you, Jessa, and only you can write the story of your life that will be told.”
Jessa nodded, but her doubts nipped at her.
“I’m going to give you some Scriptures that I want you to read every day. But right now I want to pray with you, child. Can we pray?”
Jessa lowered her head and closed her eyes, tightening her grasp on Reverend Dobbins’s hands as he began to pray for her strength and serenity in a low voice that was meant for just them and God to hear.
Jessa returned to her beautiful home in Richmond Hills, among the neighbors who scorned her, just as confused as ever. Was she ready to have this baby? Was she ready to take the walk to being saved? How often would her anger and need for revenge cause her to backslide? How many times could God truly forgive?
She pulled up to her mailbox and was surprised to find nothing but a business card when she reached her hand in for the mail. Frowning, she reached up to turn on the interior light as she looked down at it. “V INCENT G RANT . I NSURANCE A GENT ,” Jessa read aloud.
Jessa tossed it onto her passenger seat, assuming a random insurance agent was going house to house to sell premiums. When she reached up to turn off the interior light, she noticed handwriting on the back of the card that had flipped over when she tossed it. Frowning again, she picked it up.
She read aloud again:
“Perhaps this time we could dine together at the Terrace Room. Call me.”
She immediately thought of the man at the restaurant that day trying to get her attention before his wife, woman, or whatever walked up. She suspected he was also the one who sent the note to her that day. “And now he had his happy ass to my house? ”
Jessa turned her car onto the driveway and grabbed her cell phone. She blocked her number and dialed his cell phone.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Grant, this is Jessa Bell,” she said, shutting off the Jag and climbing out of it to stride up the drive to her front door. “I don’t know how in the hell you got inside Richmond Hills—”
“I live here. Me and my wife just moved in around the corner about a month ago,” he said.
“What the fuck ever? Didn’t you just say you were married, so why the hell are you dropping notes in my mailbox?” she snapped.
“Oh. I assumed you didn’t care—”
“You assumed wrong,” Jessa told him in a hard voice, her heart pounding just as hard.
“I just wanted to try some pussy that was good enough to make a nigga wanna kill you,” he said. “Sheee-it.”
Jessa pulled the phone from her face as she walked inside her house. “My patience is just as short as your penis, so stay the hell away from me, freak.”
She ended the call and fought the urge to throw her phone against a wall.
You brought this on yourself. You made them think you are a serial mistress. The eternal side-chick.
Kicking off her heels, Jessa jumped a little when her landline phone rang suddenly, echoing inside the spacious house. She padded barefoot into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless from its base on the granite countertop. She looked down at it and didn’t recognize the number but knew it was a New York area code.
Jessa answered it. “Hello.”
“Hello, is this Jessa Bell?” a female voice asked.
“Yes ... and you are?” Jessa asked coolly, her guard immediately up.
“My name is Myra Moseley and I am with Power Up Publicity,” she began, her voice husky and refined but with a tinge of a street vibe around the edges.
Another Aria, Jessa thought. “I’m not sure why you would be calling me, Myra?” Jessa said,
And there was the truth.
Suddenly, Jessa felt Revered Dobbins’s presence near her and she looked up as he took her hand in his and knelt.
“That baby, even in the midst of the darkness of your life, is a blessing. God has blessed you, Jessa, and only you can write the story of your life that will be told.”
Jessa nodded, but her doubts nipped at her.
“I’m going to give you some Scriptures that I want you to read every day. But right now I want to pray with you, child. Can we pray?”
Jessa lowered her head and closed her eyes, tightening her grasp on Reverend Dobbins’s hands as he began to pray for her strength and serenity in a low voice that was meant for just them and God to hear.
Jessa returned to her beautiful home in Richmond Hills, among the neighbors who scorned her, just as confused as ever. Was she ready to have this baby? Was she ready to take the walk to being saved? How often would her anger and need for revenge cause her to backslide? How many times could God truly forgive?
She pulled up to her mailbox and was surprised to find nothing but a business card when she reached her hand in for the mail. Frowning, she reached up to turn on the interior light as she looked down at it. “V INCENT G RANT . I NSURANCE A GENT ,” Jessa read aloud.
Jessa tossed it onto her passenger seat, assuming a random insurance agent was going house to house to sell premiums. When she reached up to turn off the interior light, she noticed handwriting on the back of the card that had flipped over when she tossed it. Frowning again, she picked it up.
She read aloud again:
“Perhaps this time we could dine together at the Terrace Room. Call me.”
She immediately thought of the man at the restaurant that day trying to get her attention before his wife, woman, or whatever walked up. She suspected he was also the one who sent the note to her that day. “And now he had his happy ass to my house? ”
Jessa turned her car onto the driveway and grabbed her cell phone. She blocked her number and dialed his cell phone.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Grant, this is Jessa Bell,” she said, shutting off the Jag and climbing out of it to stride up the drive to her front door. “I don’t know how in the hell you got inside Richmond Hills—”
“I live here. Me and my wife just moved in around the corner about a month ago,” he said.
“What the fuck ever? Didn’t you just say you were married, so why the hell are you dropping notes in my mailbox?” she snapped.
“Oh. I assumed you didn’t care—”
“You assumed wrong,” Jessa told him in a hard voice, her heart pounding just as hard.
“I just wanted to try some pussy that was good enough to make a nigga wanna kill you,” he said. “Sheee-it.”
Jessa pulled the phone from her face as she walked inside her house. “My patience is just as short as your penis, so stay the hell away from me, freak.”
She ended the call and fought the urge to throw her phone against a wall.
You brought this on yourself. You made them think you are a serial mistress. The eternal side-chick.
Kicking off her heels, Jessa jumped a little when her landline phone rang suddenly, echoing inside the spacious house. She padded barefoot into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless from its base on the granite countertop. She looked down at it and didn’t recognize the number but knew it was a New York area code.
Jessa answered it. “Hello.”
“Hello, is this Jessa Bell?” a female voice asked.
“Yes ... and you are?” Jessa asked coolly, her guard immediately up.
“My name is Myra Moseley and I am with Power Up Publicity,” she began, her voice husky and refined but with a tinge of a street vibe around the edges.
Another Aria, Jessa thought. “I’m not sure why you would be calling me, Myra?” Jessa said,
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