Chapter Johnnie #3
What about what that motherfucker was doing to Johnnie and Kendall’s marriage?
Kendall belonged to Johnnie. No one else could have her. Ever. Not Christopher and not Mortician.
“Lucas isn’t here, Johnnie,” Bailey said after Johnnie rang the bell five minutes later and she answered the door. “I thought he was at the club with you.”
Bailey was a gorgeous woman. A little insecure about herself, something that was becoming increasingly evident as the years went on.
Johnnie never knew what she considered herself: black, mixed, or biracial.
Not that it mattered. If he’d wanted her, he could’ve had her.
He was almost certain K-P would’ve preferred him with Bailey rather than Mortician.
Johnnie saw that motherfucker’s interest though and stepped aside. Competition was a healthy part of life. It kept the mind functioning at a high level and the body working to maximum capacity. He hadn’t wanted to humiliate Mortician and send him away with his tail between his legs.
Unlike Megan, Bailey was smart enough to keep her options open.
But Johnnie was already smitten with Kendall, so Bailey hadn’t stood a chance with him.
Besides, Johnnie didn’t want to put in all the effort it would’ve taken to win Megan for himself.
If he’d truly wanted that little cunt, she would’ve been his.
Fuck her.
Didn’t she—and Bailey—realize he was leagues better than Mortician and Christopher for her—them—or any woman?
“Johnnie, Lucas isn’t here,” Bailey repeated, tightening her pretty robe, fumes of alcohol wafting from her.
“I’m not here to see him, sweetheart.”
Hesitation crossed her face and she glanced over her shoulder, then leaned her head against the door. “You aren’t?”
Johnnie shook his head. “I want to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” She opened the door wider and indicated he enter. “Would you like a drink? I went through a bottle of wine already, so I was thinking about moving to vodka.”
Closing the door behind him, Johnnie said, “If you have Scotch, I’d love a drink.”
“That can be arranged.”
The house wasn’t the palace Kendall had created for Johnnie and their kids. It had warm, earthy colors, more suited to an average suburban house than a family with the type of money Mortician had.
He’d always said he was a simple man. Bailey’s decorations reflected that because she’d considered his tastes when she was so much classier. Johnnie couldn’t understand what she saw in Mortician.
“Follow me,” she said in her sweet voice, a pretty smile curving her lips.
Maybe Johnnie should fuck her to show Mortician and Kendall how such a betrayal felt.
The curve of Bailey’s waist drew Johnnie’s attention to the sway of her hips and the outline of her ass. If she wore anything underneath that robe, it was next to nothing.
In the kitchen, she turned to him, just inches away, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. Her dark hair was swept up but stray strands escaped and prompted Johnnie to tuck the most tempting pieces behind her ear.
She didn’t pull away or ask him to leave.
He smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. She really was fucking exquisite.
“I…have a seat,” she told him. “I’ll get our drinks.”
“All right, sweetheart,” he murmured, following her instructions.
Once he sat, he watched her every move, admired the curve of her slender neck, the movement of her hands, the way her nipples beaded against the silk of her robe.
She set his glass in front of him and then slid into the bench across from him. He almost invited her to sit on his lap.
She was taller than Megan, but shorter than Kendall.
Kendall. His beautiful Kendall. So tall and gorgeous.
She hid her fear and pain with anger and antics.
Bailey was just falling apart, a woman caught between two worlds, and not truly belonging to either, so she ignored her Black and White sides and existed, pretended she was neither, instead of claiming one.
Had she wanted, she could’ve said she was White and no one would’ve questioned her. It was only Mortician who said she had a little coffee in her cream.
Smiling, Johnnie sipped his drink and eyed her. “How are you, Bailey?”
“I’ve been better,” she said, picking up her own glass, filled with amber liquid, and tasting.
“What happened to your taste for vodka?”
She shrugged. “It’s too much trouble finding the vodka. Besides, Lucas loves it. I only wanted some because I miss him.”
“I understand.”
“I wish you’d never shared with me all that you did. It upset me so much and it just made things worse between me and everyone, especially my husband.”
Johnnie pretended to wince. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“Thank you. I think,” she said, drinking again.
Johnnie laughed. “Honesty is always the best policy.”
“You’re right.”
“I’ve known you for almost two decades, pretty girl,” he said, purposely using Mortician’s nickname for her. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Her lower lip trembled and her nose reddened. “I know. You’re a good man. Despite what Meggie thinks.”
“Your cousin,” he reminded her just to upset her a little more.
“Yes,” she spat. “My cousin.”
“That Mortician knew about.”
“He said he didn’t.”
“If Kendall and Christopher knew, then Mortician knew.”
Her face crumpled. “You’re right, Johnnie,” she whispered.
“Aren’t I always, baby?”
Vulnerability shone in her liquid gaze, her eyes more green than brown. “Are you fl-flirting with me?”
Johnnie winked at her. “Someone has been neglecting you if you have to ask that question, Bailey.”
She nodded. “He has been,” she said, knowing Johnnie knew the ‘he’ in question. “Something he’s never done in our years together. He was a notorious womanizer before he met me.”
Not exactly true, but he wouldn’t correct her. The reality wouldn’t serve his purpose.
“I’ve only ever slept with him,” Bailey continued. “Do you think he’s cheating on me, Johnnie?”
Yes! With Johnnie’s wife to boot. Sleeping with Bailey would be too fucking easy. Besides, he couldn’t exactly announce that without that motherfucker gunning for him. No, psychological torture was so much more fucking fun and effective.
“It’s very quiet in here.” Johnnie drained his glass and stood. “Can I have another drink, pretty girl?”
“Of course,” she said, and shrugged. “You’re welcomed to anything you’d like.”
“Do you mean that, Bailey?” he said huskily.
She flushed. “Within reason.”
“Only you can set those boundaries.”
Fidgeting, she averted her gaze, so Johnnie went to the cabinet where she kept the bottles of alcohol she poured into decanters. He brought the Scotch to the table and sat down again.
“Are you the only one here?”
“No,” she answered. “The boys are upstairs.”
She drained her glass and contemplated the bottle but didn’t reach for it.
“How are you and Mortician, sweetheart?” Johnnie asked, infusing his voice with as much concern as he could muster.
“We aren’t,” Bailey said, her bitterness more pronounced because of her slight slurring. “He says he wants us to work things out, then he doesn’t even try.” Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled. “I love him and miss him so much.”
After refilling his glass, Johnnie gulped his Scotch and moved in for the kill. “Unfortunately, your husband is going the way of a lot of wealthy Black men.”
“What…? I beg your pardon?”
Unlike with Megan when he homed in on her insecurity about another pregnancy, targeting Bailey’s lack of confidence because of how she looked wasn’t to save her life.
It was to reclaim his wife and save their marriage.
Besides, it was so much easier leveling his wrath at Christopher and Mortician’s wives rather than directing it at them.
“What are you talking about, Johnnie? Explain.”
“Mortician is following in the footsteps of many. Throwing you away for Kendall.”
Bailey blinked, then her bloodshot eyes widened before she shook her head. “Lucas is many things, but he isn’t a cheater.”
Almost Megan’s exact words about Christopher.
But Bailey was as easy to break as Megan.
Johnnie saw the fear in her eyes. Just like Megan, when faced with almost irrefutable proof that her motherfucker was sticking his cock in another woman, Bailey immediately backtracked.
And she wasn’t hearing what he was saying.
Frustration filled him, so he drank again and focused on her.
“How many drinks have you had tonight?”
“About the same as any other night since the evening I confronted Lucas about all the lies. A lot.”
“Is there a reason you’re drinking so much?”
“My husband hates me. My sons are angry with me. What reason do I have not to drink?”
Interesting she didn’t mention Harley. Her daughter, her problem.
“I know this will be difficult to hear, Bailey, but you have to listen to me if you want us to save our marriages.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding.
“In the Black community, you’d be celebrated for your light skin and soft hair texture, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Bailey mumbled, her cheeks reddening because they both knew she dissembled.
“Here, at the club, you’re mid-tier by most standards.” He smiled sympathetically. “Especially when you’re compared to Megan. Golden hair. Blue eyes.”
She nodded, her misery even more pronounced.
Johnnie pulled out his cell phone, so furious with Mortician he wanted to make him suffer and bring him to his fucking knees. It didn’t matter if Kendall fucked that motherfucker. He wouldn’t let her go. “Frankly, Christopher and I slept with more Black women than your husband.”
Christopher had. Johnnie had only slept with two or three.
Tears filled Bailey’s green-brown eyes and her lips trembled. “Wh-what are you saying?”
“Since he can’t have Megan, he’s made his move on Kendall. In his eyes, you’re inferior and will never measure up to the type of women he actually wants.”
Bailey began to cry in earnest.
He shoved back from the table and opened his arms. “Come here, sweetheart,” he told her, and smiled when she stood and rushed into his embrace.