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“Stupid bitch,” he’d spat, before storming out of their villa.
That night LaQuandra had barely slept. She tried to convince herself that Isaiah’s violent outburst had been unwarranted, that he was dead wrong for attacking her like that, but she’d known she’d gone too far. And she had to admit to herself that Isaiah had let her get away with a whole lot more than any other man would have probably done. But, shit, she’d put up with a whole lot more of Isaiah’s shit than the average bitch would.
Still, she’d known she’d fucked up the moment she’d grabbed his face and dug her nails into his cheeks. That bitch Cassandra was winning. The thought of her completely losing Isaiah to his ratchet-ass BM made her sick to her stomach.
And she was scared of that possibility.
LaQuandra blinked Brenda in as her voice pulled her from out of her reverie. “You know I’m not judging you, girl,” Brenda added. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Krista . . .”
LaQuandra rolled her eyes, but she was glad Brenda had used her discretion and waited for a time when Krista wasn’t in the midst. That self-righteous bitch would do nothing but judge her.
Brenda reached up and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear, then rubbed her hands together. “So what’s the tea, girl? Did your husband whoop that ass? Because I know I would have, if I’d been him. No man I know would have ever taken what you did lightly. I mean, it’s fucked up how he pushed you to the floor. Now I didn’t agree with that. I don’t subscribe to a man beating on his woman in the streets. But, b-b-baaaby, behind closed doors, your ass would have gotten handed to you on a stick. You a bold bitch, girl, to go in on your man like that out in public.”
The only good thing about Brenda’s long-winded diatribe was that it had given LaQuandra a chance to gulp back the rest of her Mimosa and conjure a reply that would, hopefully, shut her up.
LaQuandra’s throat threatened to close up, but she managed, “He didn’t push me. I tripped. And Isaiah doesn’t beat my ass. Trust.”
Oh. Brenda tilted her head and rapidly batted her mink lashes. Now she was certain what she had seen. But, okay, if LaQuandra wanted to go there with her, who was she to tell her otherwise? It was her truth. Her story.
Who was she to try to rewrite it the way she’d seen it?
Brenda looked out toward the ocean for a bit, and allowed LaQuandra a moment to sit in her delusions while she sipped her drink. She knew she had her own problems, but, shit, Brenda was more than happy to have them rather than to have those that LaQuandra was faced with. A man cheating on you and beating your ass was way too much drama.
It needed to be one or the other. Not both.
Brenda brought her gaze back to LaQuandra; she wanted to change the subject to something a bit more light-hearted, but she couldn’t let go of the question that nagged at her. Brenda knew it was none of her business, but she was nosey. So instead, she dug deeper into the matter, to the question that suddenly became more pressing to her.
“You really think he’s still sleeping with his son’s mother?”
Dread crowded LaQuandra’s chest. “I know he is. I just can’t prove it.”
Brenda shook her head. “What are you gonna do?”
LaQuandra drained the other two flutes before setting them back down. And then she gave her head a tilt.
What was she going to do? Good question. She hadn’t quite figured that part out, yet. But she knew without a doubt what she wasn’t going to do.
LaQuandra’s gaze hardened. “I’m not letting that bitch have my man.”
“Good luck, sweetie,” clung to Brenda’s tongue. But she gave LaQuandra a half-smile instead, reaching over and putting her hand over hers.
Thirty-Two
“So tell me,” Dr. Dangerfield started as she crossed her legs. “How are things going for the two of you?”
Krista’s body stiffened. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be here today. This was actually her first session with Kendall. And it was a week ago today that she’d brushed off her individual session with Dr. Dangerfield. Oh, well. She didn’t need any one-on-one time with this woman—not like the damaged ones—LaQuandra—Krista believed. Her marriage wasn’t troubled like the others, yet she still felt a bit on edge.
Kendall half-smiled. “It’s going—”
Krista shot him a look, cutting him o
ff. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean, Kendall?”
“C’mon, baby. Don’t get defensive. All it means is that we’re here taking in everything. If you had let me finish, you would have heard me say it was going good.”
Oh.
Krista shifted in her seat.
