The Perfect Mistress by Reshonda Tate Billingsley Page B

body and it’s like I lose all good sense.”
    â€œSo that’s all I was to you?” Callie said, her voice trembling. “A booty call?”
    â€œCome on, Callie. You know you were more than that to me. But my wife—it’s different. I’m not losing my family.”
    â€œWe can be a family,” she pleaded. Lauren had never seen her act so desperate.
    â€œI’m about to gather up my daughter and we’re going home. And I’m going to fix things with my wife. With my family. Be the man that they deserve.”
    So that was what had been wrong with her father all day. He missed her mother.
    â€œNo, you’re not going anywhere,” she said.
    Callie grabbed Vernon’s hand. He snatched it away. They had a small scuffle and then Callie reached for her purse, lying open on the hall table. She reached inside and pulled out a small handgun.
    â€œYou’re not leaving me!” she cried angrily. “I told you if I can’t have you, nobody can!”
    Vernon backed away, putting his hands up. “Callie, what the hell are you doing? Put that down.”
    â€œNo,” she said, her hands shaking.
    He shook his head. “I’m going to get my daughter and we’re out of here.”
    Lauren was dumbfounded. Her father was acting like Callie didn’t have a gun standing there pointing at his chest.
    â€œWhyyyyy?” she wailed.
    Vernon sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told you I need to go make things right with my wife. My wife needs my help, not me to abandon her.”
    â€œYour wife is a depressed nutcase.”
    If Miss Callie didn’t have a handgun, Lauren would’ve stepped out and told her not to talk that way about her mother.
    â€œI’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s over. For good. I just pray she’ll take me back. I—”
    His words were cut short by a firecracker sound. At first Lauren didn’t register that Callie had actually pulled the trigger. Lauren screamed as her father toppled against the wall, blood covering his chest.
    â€œDaddy!” Lauren screamed, darting out of the guest room and toward her father. She reached him just as he extended an arm toward her.
    â€œI . . . I’m sorry. I love you,” he whispered. “T-Tell your mother I love her with . . .” He struggled to get his words out. “. . . all my soul and I-I’m sorry,” he added before closing his eyes for good.
    â€œDaddy, no! Daddy! Daddy!” she cried as she fell across his bloody chest. “What did you do to my daddy?” she said, looking up at Callie, who was standing there, her face streaked with tears as her hands trembled in fear. “You killed my daddy!”
    Callie didn’t say a word. She gasped at Vernon’s slumped corpse in horror and then turned the gun, pointed it at her own head, and pulled the trigger.

H er heart was lying in an eighty-four-inch-long titanium box. As many times as she’d wished Vernon Robinson dead, now all Joyce wanted was to climb in that box and forever sleep right next to him.
    The organist played a mournful tune as someone stood at the front of the church and said something about her husband.
    The past few days had passed in a daze and today was no exception. Joyce was perched in the front pew, knees locked together, trying desperately not to pass out.
    Julian sat on one side of her. He looked so regal in his army uniform. But his face could have been carved out of stone. So far he had refused to shed a single tear.
    Lauren and Velma sat on the other side of Joyce. As the organ got louder, Lauren reached for Joyce’s hand. Instinctively, she shrank away and snuggled closer to Julian.
    Joyce knew that she shouldn’t act like that toward her daughter, but her heart was cold. She wanted to tell Lauren to go be comforted by Callie’s people. She was sure some of them sat