Page 55 of False Start
“Let’s introduce you around,” Devon offers and goes around the table. I can’t keep up with the names and faces, but there’s Kirstyn, Livia, Rachel, Margie, Polly, and Priscilla, the blonde who answered the door. Color me intimidated as fuck. I grew up around football players. Being dropped into a snake pit of women doesn’t appeal to me. Every single woman stares back at me, judging and picking me apart, and not saying a word.
A beautiful woman with caramel skin and long black hair finally stands from the table and walks toward us with her hand outstretched. “Livia. The big, bald guy is mine.”
Her husband joins us and shakes my hand as well. “Demarion Jefferies.”
I become quite taken with the couple, and it takes me a moment to realize not one other couple bothered to speak to me. And as soon as Demarion engages me in conversation, Bryant eases off toward the table to talk to Devon. I quickly find I’m comfortable with Demarion and Livia and lose track of Bryant for close to half an hour. When I look up, he’s not anywhere near the pool or outside for that matter.
“Uh oh,” Livia murmurs into her cup as she turns it up and looks toward the house.
“Leave it alone,” Demarion warns her.
Livia smacks her lips and lifts a brow. “Excuse me, but somebody needs to warn the girl.”
“It’s not our marriage.”
I’m not going to sit around and wait for these two to decide whether or not I learn whatever knowledge they have. I haul ass inside and Kirstyn, short, skinny, and also very blond steps in front of me with a huge, fake grin on her face. “Hey, Zhanna, right?”
“Move.”
“I know it must be tough.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s that?”
“Knowing you’re just the starter wife.”
I think of a million things to say to her. I think about slapping her in her rude little mouth, but I restrain myself. I take a step toward her, and get in her face. “I know you don’t know this, but I’m not the girl you want to fuck with. I give zero fucks about the damage I’m going to do to you if you don’t get out of my fucking way.”
I shove her to the side when she doesn’t do as she’s told, and then I go inside to find my husband. He’s alone in the living area with Priscilla, and the woman is tracing the tattoos on his arm and giggling at everything he says. It looks really bad. She’s touching my husband, and he’s allowing her to do it. He’s not stopping her from touching my tattoos. If the situation were reversed, I don’t know if Bryant could maintain his cool, but it’s exactly what I do.
After I unglue myself from the spot, I walk right past them, and my own husband is so invested in the cleavage in front of him that he doesn’t notice. And then I go outside and grab my purse from his SUV. I pull my phone from my purse and use an app to call a driver.
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to scream or fight. I’ll take my ride home and let that motherfucker wonder where I’m at. Twenty minutes later, the car service arrives. I take one last look at the brick mansion behind me and flip it the bird before I climb inside the vehicle.
By the time I arrive at our home, almost an hour has passed and still no word from Bryant. In the past hour, my own husband hasn’t looked for me to know I’m gone. He took me to a house where I know no one, and then he deserted me for tits on a stick. So the tears come. I dash them away, only to have more fall behind it.
Thirty minutes after I get home, Bryant calls my phone. I almost pick up just to tell him to go fuck himself, but I restrain myself. Let him figure it out, because if the tables were turned, he would’ve lost his shit. No man or woman wants to walk in on their significant other being touched inappropriately by another person.
After a few more calls, my husband begins texting.
Bryant: Baby?
Bryant: I’m getting worried. Where are you?
I don’t feel completely bad for making him worry, but I put him out of his misery out of courtesy.
Zhanna: I’m at home.
He calls. I immediately decline his call.
Bryant: What the fuck is going on, Z? Why aren’t you picking up your phone?
Zhanna: Do I have your attention now?
Bryant: ?
Zhanna: I’ll be in our bed if you decide you can unwrap yourself from your current company. Do not join me tonight. I don’ t want to see or speak to you. We’ll talk in the morning.
Bryant: What’s this about?
