Read Online Who's That Lady? by Andrea Jackson - Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t think when she was this close to Key’s scrumptious body. Her flight instinct kicked into gear.
    Easing from the bed, she stood still and waited until the missiles finished exploding inside her head. Then she tiptoed from the bedroom, closing the door after her.
    Reaching the living room, she paused to analyze her physical condition. Could she make it home, or would it be easier to simply lie down here on the floor and die? A quick look around the room made her shudder. Not here . She couldn’t die here amidst the evidence of her disgrace. Articles of clothing were scattered haphazardly across the furnishings. She found one of her socks hanging from a lampshade. The snaps closing the waist of her jeans had been ripped. Her sweater was turned inside out and tangled up with Key’s shirt. Her bra, found in between the couch cushions, had been torn open at the clasps in back. What was even more mortifying was the realization that both her bra and panties were the kind Shonté deemed “grandmomma drawers” —serviceable, double-thick, stretchy cotton. Boring beige. Her only consolation was in knowing Key had never actually seen them, thank God. She shoved the underwear into her pocket and grabbed her purse.
    The sight of Key’s sneakers tumbled near the bedroom door almost brought her to tears. They had been so pristine and white when he picked her up. Key’s only concession to vanity was his unending supply of white athletic shoes. He never wore a pair more than a few times, giving them away when the first scuff marred them. These were totally ruined. The soles showed black scrapes and cuts, as well as several noxious looking stains on white leather.
    Well, the next stop for these shoes was the trash can. Would her friendship with Key be trashed along with them?
    She tore her attention from the shoes and dialed a cab on her cell phone, then waited for it outside in the cold pre-dawn darkness.
    At home, she tried to sneak quietly into the house and get to her room, but when she opened the front door, Shonté rushed out of the kitchen in the camisole and boxer shorts she slept in. Her long hair floated in an unkempt cloud and her small eyes were wide, her nose shiny.
    “Where have you been?” Shonté’s voice shrilled like a nagging wife.
    Crystal winced. The sound hit her like the shattering explosion of automatic weapons. “Please, not so loud,” she begged.
    “Are you all right?” Shonté asked, instantly concerned.
    “Yes, yes. I just need to lie down in a dark room for a little while,” Crystal muttered.
    Shonté’s brows rose toward her hairline and her mouth fell open. “You’re hung over!”
    Crystal clutched her ears. “Is that what this is? It feels like death by inches.”
    “You got drunk and spent the night with someone? Crystal! How could you?” Shont é’s expression struggled between shock and disbelief.
    Crystal grimaced and started toward the stairs. Shonté followed.
    “Who is he?”
    “It doesn’t matter. It will never happen again.” She couldn’t bear the questions her friend would ask if she knew Crystal had been with Key.
    “ A one night stand?” Shonté’s screech set off the bombs in Crystal’s head again. “You spent the night with some man you don’t care about?”
    Ooh, that hurt. Which was more humiliating: letting her think she didn’t know her bed partner or confessing a ‘hit-it-and-quit-it’ with her brother? Crystal’s brain twisted away from the attempt to think rationally. “I know, I know,” she muttered. “But I really need to sleep now, Shonté.”
    “But Crystal, you’ve been lecturing me about Trevor all this time. Now you turn around and sleep with some man you don’t even know? I hope you at least used a condom!”
    Crystal plowed to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. She managed to remain nearly upright by bracing herself with a hand on the step at waist level. She groaned. Had they used any? She didn’t even carry them with