Angela had arranged for my mother and crew to finish dinner. So I was now dressed and still thirty minutes ahead of schedule, leaving me time to be sure everything was set. As I walked past the front door, the bell sounded. I moved rapidly towards the door, pausing just a moment before opening it to finish with the cuffs of my blouse. When I pulled back on the handle, I was met with an even bigger surprise: guests I wasn’t expecting at all.
It was Erika Erceg, reality-show beauty—and Stenton’s still girlfriend—at my door for some arbitrary reason. And she wasn’t alone. She was with an equally beautiful woman of ambiguous-heritage, her sister, Emily whom I’d recognized from their show. Seeing her caused my mind to go back to the audio that had gone viral months ago when she went off on Erika for cheating on Stenton. Then that thought brought the prevailing question to mind: Why was he still with her after her alleged cheating? I hadn’t heard much of Stenton and Erika’s relationship in months. Not that I stalked them like I used to. My life had become too demanding for that old pastime.
Now, with seeing her up close, I could assess her person. Erika was shorter than me—perhaps five feet and two inches, and a size four. Her long, black, thick, silky wavy hair fell just above the crack of her rear today. She wore a black mini dress, with a black tailored motorcycle jacket and sexy black booties. Just as in all of her paparazzi shots and on the television screen, her skin was impeccably flawless and her body would make a straight woman question her sexuality. She didn’t look at me, she looked upon me. There was a difference. She was revealing her true nature at my front door.
“Hi,” I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Can I help you?” I asked with pinched brows.
It was the weakest question, but in all honesty, I wasn’t expecting this starlet at my home. She was the type that was too preoccupied with selfies, or sensual photo shoots with magazines, or sensual selfies with Stenton to be at my front door, the day of my son’s second birthday party.
Erika was privately the bane of my existence. I reveled in the baby weight gain after having Jordan, but after seeing the second picture Tynisha sent me of the two, and this particular one being the viral picture of Erika and Stenton frolicking half naked on Pinney’s Beach in Nevis, I made it my business to tone the last fifteen pounds my bundle of joy brought on.
She was the perfect hourglass figure. There were rumors of cosmetic enhancements, but it didn’t matter; Erika was a banger. And she was now in my home. And she looked incredible. All I could think about was Stenton touching her with the same desperation and need that he’d taken me with long ago. In that instant, I envisioned him pulling her abdomen into him frantically, as though his life depended on it. I could imagine his suckling on her breasts as though they produced sustenance. His tongue between the cheeks of her bountiful rear. His lips whispering promises of forever as his sacs slammed against her—
“You are…?” Erika asked haughtily.
I was so out of sorts that I didn’t address her arrogance, I only fell into it.
“Zoey.”
Her beautiful almond shaped eyes grew large. “Oh!” her breath caught. “You’re…well, I’m not sure if you know me, but I’m Stenton’s girlfriend, Erika. My friends call me Rika. Stenton invited me to celebrate little Jordan’s birthday,” she pronounced excitedly.
I noticed Emily inspecting the immediate area, taking inventory. “Nice place,” she nodded pretentiously. “Understated, but cute,” she offered on a shrug.
“Ummmm…thanks,” I replied, again, foolishly.
“Where can I find my Cinnamon Stick?” Erika asked anxiously as her eyes perused the area, gesturing her search for her man.
I was thrown, but stupidly lifted my arm towards the rear of the apartment and answered, “He’s back in JR’s room, getting him ready.”
“Thanks, hun,” she perked and began clicking her five inch heels on the marble floors in the direction of the bedrooms. Emily followed with her nose in the air, observing every detail of my home.