The Plug's Wife (5 page)

  “Lay down,” Summer instructed seductively.  Jesse did as he was told.  The cold, hard floor stung his back and ass cheeks.  He didn’t care.  He wanted her.  Needed her.  Summer rose like Aphrodite before him, completely naked.  Her perfect C cups breasts, small waist and thick legs were indeed otherworldly.  She straddled him again, this time skin to skin. 

Summer lowered her body onto his, throwing her head back as he filled her completely. She rocked her hips, feeling his girth take up all of her space. 

“Don’t wait for me! Cum now!” she growled as she grinded him so hard he lost his breath.  Jesse gasped for breath as Summer swirled, rocked, and grinded on his dick.  Her insides throbbed with every inch of him. 

Summer glanced down at Jesse to find his eyes tightly shut. “Look at me,” she instructed, lifting his face to meet hers.  “Look into my eyes.”  Jesse’s eyes opened wide.  Summer had him under her spell and she knew it. 

She pumped up and down fast, slamming her body into his.  “Is everything mine?  You, this, and all that you have?” It was an important question for her.  Jesse couldn’t catch his breath to answer.  Summer stopped moving but she squeezed the muscles inside her vagina around his manhood. 

“Shit! Oh God!” he huffed. 

“Answer me!” she barked, squeezing again. 

“Yes! Everything is yours, baby.  Everything I have,” Jesse proclaimed just as he exploded inside of her.  Summer smiled and followed his lead, wetting him with her juices.  She collapsed on top of him, her body rising with each heave of his chest.  Silence enveloped them. 

Summer swiped roughly at her tears now, angry at the memories.  How could she have been so easily duped into thinking any man was perfect?  She hadn’t been able to let her tears fall at the funeral, but now that she was alone the floodgates opened up.  Her head pounded and she wished she could take some more of her pain meds to ease the drumbeat playing between her ears.  The pills helped dull both her physical and emotional trauma.  Grabbing her thick, white, chenille robe from the end of her bed, she slid her feet into her soft, fuzzy slippers.  She needed some water from the kitchen downstairs.  She couldn’t remember when the last time was that she ate or drank.

Summer paused at the sound of hushed voices coming from the living room.  Slowly, she crept forward to listen. 

“Look, word on the streets ain’t good.  They sayin’ Jesse stole a boat load of shit from Cardinale…I’m talkin’ kilos…not one or two bricks.  A whole fuckin’ shipment.  They sayin’ Cardinale might’ve got wind that JB was cooperating with the feds n’ shit.  Psssh, it ain’t lookin’ good for us if these rumors stick.  Everybody thinkin’ Cardinale sent those sparks to that wedding.” Scrap spoke urgently in his usual raspy, movie narrator voice. 

Summer bit down on her bottom lip, listening intently.  She wanted to hear their theories about Jesse’s death.

“It could’ve been anybody that shot JB.  Ya’ll saw how cocky JB was in the last few months.  I’m not sayin’ it wasn’t Cardinale, but that just ain’t the man’s style.  JB was bugging right before he got mirked. He even came down on me one night and hit me in my fucking jaw.  He was always stressed about some shit lately.  But me, I had too much love for him to harm a hair on his head,” Doon chimed in. 

Summer raised an eyebrow. 
Why did Doon feel the need to say Jesse had hit him, but in the same breath say he wouldn’t hurt Jesse back
?  Summer’s eyes went squinty. There was a lot more to this story. 

“I don’t give a fuck who he owed and who was mad at him.  Or who believed he was talking to the feds, I still respect that man as boss.  He was for the hood.  That man did for everybody.  As big as JB got with his business, even with the connect to Cardinale, JB never forgot where he came from.  Word to my unborn kids, when I find out who did it, I’m mirking the first thing breathing. That’s my word,” Billy gritted out.  Summer loved Billy—he was truly loyal to the end.

“ Ya’ll need to keep your voices low.  His wife ain’t dead, she’s asleep.  This ain’t the time or place for speculating.  I’m sayin’ we in JB’s crib.  Show some respect, if not for her, at least for the dead.  C’mon.  We have our usual at the Bridge with all of our distributors soon.  They all worried about their supplier being gone.  Setting them at ease is what’s important right now.  We can’t lose business, I mean, JB gone, but shit must go on.  Who shot JB is a mystery, but if it must be discussed, we’ll do it somewhere else,” Mitch chastised.  He wasn’t comfortable with all this open talk. Who knew, the feds might even be bugging the place. 

“I don’t trust nobody.  Everybody is a suspect to me until we find Jesse’s murderer,” Billy chimed in. 

“Can’t you just chill?” Mitch scolded. 

Marco intervened before things turned ugly.  “A’ight, this ain’t the time or the place.  But one last thing…did you get JB’s phone for Cardinale’s contact?  I mean, you said you was gonna work on it.  Not only is the dudes that buy their supply worried about this shit, the streets drying up too, and you know who is anxiously waiting to fill the gaps.  Even if Jesse did steal from Cardinale, we gonna have to negotiate some kind of truce with that man. He’s our only source.  If we don’t move fast, we all gonna lose and the rival Mexicans, the Colombians or the Jamaicans gonna come put our asses out of business,” Marco addressed the crew. 

“Give me another day.  Summer is grieving.  She still picking up the pieces of her fucking life. Let’s not be insensitive.  I don’t wanna just come out an ask for her dead husband’s phone and contact list without a good explanation.  The detectives gave her the bag with JB’s shit in it.  I’m sure the phone was in the bag.  I’ll get to it,” Mitch assured the crew.  “In the meantime, run your legitimate businesses like JB would want and keep your fucking eyes and ears open.  We still don’t know if we got a killer amongst us.” 

Summer heard them slapping their hands together and filing out as the meeting ended.  She ducked back inside her bedroom before they spotted her in the hallway.  The less they thought she knew, the better.

Summer’s left fist was clenched so tight her nails dug moon shaped craters into her palm.  Summer’ legs were unsteady as she tiptoed backwards towards her bed. Summer crawled back into bed and willed herself to calm down.  Her heart was batting like a wild moth under her rib cage. 
What were you doing, Jesse?  The feds?  Stealing kilos?  Pissing off suppliers and distributors?
Jesse was not the man she believed him to be. She had truly married a stranger. 

Summer rushed into the walk-in closet that she was to share with her husband. Most of their belongings were still in boxes.  On top of one of Jesse’s boxes sat a brown paper bag with a white police evidence sticker still affixed to the outside.  The detectives had handed the bag over to Summer after they interviewed her for a third time. 

There hadn’t been any leads or clues in finding suspects. They asked her to give them a call if she thought of anything significant that might help them find the culprit.  That was out of the question for her.  Summer would find out who was to blame and deal with the situation without the help of the cops. 

With shaky hands, Summer tore at the red evidence tape that sealed the bag shut.  Summer unfolded the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor.  She eased herself down on the floor to sort through the pile of her husband’s personal items.  Her heart sank.  The first thing she picked up was Jesse’s blood stained wedding band.  He’d only worn it about fifteen minutes before he was shot. 

Summer held the ring up to her face.  She read the inscription on the inside of the band. 
Partners in Crime Forever. 
That’s what Jesse had always said, that she was his
partner in crime
.  He had told her that he wasn’t big on stupid pet names like
baby, honey,
and
sweetheart
.  And she definitely wasn’t the soft type to appreciate those terms of endearment.  When Jesse would come home, he would say, “So what did my partner in crime get into today?”  That always made Summer smile.

Summer slid the ring onto her thumb.  It was too big even for the fattest finger on her hand.  She made a note to herself to get a necklace and wear it around her neck. 

Summer lifted Jesse’s wallet.  It was swollen with cash and cards.  Summer held the
Hermes
wallet up to her face and inhaled.  It smelled like fine leather and
Creed
cologne, Jesse’s signature scent. 
JB loved the finer things in life
.  She picked through the compartments of the wallet, taking out bankcards, credit cards and business cards. Tucked deep into the fold, Summer found a worn, wallet-sized picture.  She squinted her eyes into dashes as she looked down into the baby’s face.  Even though it was a newborn in the picture, Summer knew it was the same boy from the funeral home.  His features were remarkably similar to Jesse’s.  She flipped the picture over. 
Jesse Banks, Jr.  March 3, 2010. 
Summer clasped her hand over her mouth. 
How could he have hid something like this from her?
  She bit into her bottom lip until she drew blood.  Her suspicions had been correct.  Jesse had a son while they were together and had never bothered to tell her about it.  Even worse, the child had been born on the same day she claimed was her birthday.  The hairs on her neck prickled and something in the center of her chest tightened.  She wondered if this was what a broken heart felt like. 

Summer picked up the coveted prize—Jesse’s cell phone.  It was turned off, which meant the police probably already imaged it.  Summer pressed the power button and waited for the phone to boot up.  When the phone loaded up, the lock screen read “Marrying My Partner in Crime.”  Surprisingly, Jesse didn’t require a security pass code to access his phone features.    Summer searched through Jesse’s contacts.  They all seemed to be coded with a half name and a few numbers.  Summer reviewed the contacts with the highest numbers next to their names. 
These numbers must mean something.
She tapped on a few more buttons and a calendar alert popped up:

Weekly Meeting at the Bridge

That’s what Mitch was talking about with the guys.  Jesse scheduled weekly meetings at the Bridge
.  Jesse obviously lived a double life—loving fiancé and legitimate businessman by day and furtive underboss and baby daddy by night.  Summer put the phone down next to the baby picture.  She stretched her body out on the soft carpet of the closet floor and stared up at the ceiling.  She needed to come up with a new game plan going forward.

                                                                      ***********************

Summer first suspected Jesse was into more than just legitimate imports when she arrived unexpectedly on his doorstep one night during the winter. 

Summer arrived at Jesse’s Manhattan loft on the brink of tears and quaking like a leaf in a windstorm.  She knocked on Jesse’s door so hard the skin on her stiff, wind-chapped knuckles almost bled.  Jesse pulled back the door, his face creased with irritation. 

“Summer, what’s up?” he snapped, clearly unhappy with the intrusion.  Summer hugged herself, trying to get her teeth to stop chattering.  Behind Jesse, inside the loft, Summer noticed Mitch and two Hispanic men dressed in similar styles with leather biker jackets, grungy jeans, and combat boots. 

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.  You know it’s not like me to just pop up uninvited.  Never mind, I shouldn’t have come here,” Summer said, turning away abruptly. 

Jesse’s frown eased as Summer turned to leave.  He could sense that something was amiss. 

“No, wait up.  It’s okay.  I was just taking care of some business.  Is everything alright? It’s freezing out and you’re not wearing a coat.”

Jesse stepped into the empty hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar.  Summer looked away, peering down the long, hallway, purposely avoiding his eye contact. 

“I…I…no, forget it,” Summer bungled her words, moving restlessly on her aching legs.

“How can I just forget it?  You show up here on the fly, half dressed, almost blue from frost bite, won’t even look me in the eye…” 

Summer looked up at that moment, her eyes dipping at the sides, tears ready to fall. 

Jesse put his hand on her chin and turned her face towards the light from the hallway sconce. 

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Jesse exclaimed, his deep voice going two octaves higher.  They had only been dating for about five months, but Summer felt that Jesse had been the right person to go to in this instance. 

“If you’re mad, I don’t want to tell you,” Summer whispered.  “It’s really no big deal.” 

“Hell yeah I’m mad.  Who the fuck did this to you?” Jesse growled, running his thumb lightly over the purple, green, and bluish-grey rings around Summer’s left eye.  Summer ran her tongue over her split top lip in an attempt to wipe away the salty tears that burned her open wounds.  She winced when his finger touched a particularly sensitive spot on her face. 

Jesse had a hard time keeping his composure.  Of all the women he’d come across, Summer was by far the most intriguing.  There was much more to Summer than met the eye and that kept Jesse’s interest piqued.  Summer never crowded him or made unreasonable demands.  He generally never dated a woman for more than two months, so five was definitely his all-time record.  Summer kept it real. She didn’t play hard to get or put on airs.  And she certainly didn’t divulge everything about herself, which meant she was good at keeping secrets.  Not a bad person to have around given Jesse’s line of work.