1

Nova

Y ou just need to leave him,” I flatly said to Misa, while swirling pasta around my fork before stuffing it in my mouth.

“I can’t! You know I can’t.” She sniffled, barely touching her lunch.

There we sat outside at Luciano’s, an Italian eatery in downtown D.C., eating lunch and talking about her philandering husband.

Misa was a beautiful woman, but since getting married and spitting out a few babies, she had let herself go. I remembered telling her, she had to keep it tight, if she didn’t want that fine ass husband of hers to look outside of home for some pussy.

But she didn’t listen. She swore up and down he loved her for who she was no matter what.

My response was, “What does love have to do with his dick?”

Men can love you and still want to fuck other bitches. Your job is to keep him so satisfied so that he is too caught up in you to sleep around.

But Misa didn’t keep up with her looks to keep him interested. And what the hell was her excuse? It wasn’t like she had to work. My ass worked, sometimes 60 hour work weeks. And I still managed to keep my body looking good, hair done, food on the table, and pussy or mouth on his dick. Granted, I had no kids yet, but work took up just as much time.

“I just can’t believe he would do this to me! I supported him through law school! If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even be an assistant district attorney. And he does this to me!” Her tears had dried, but the anger still lingered.

I paused from scarfing down the fettuccine alfredo that lay on my plate to look her in her sad eyes.

She had a cute round face, the color of burnt sienna. Her skin was so smooth and unblemished; it looked as if she were wearing foundation. But that was the only thing she had going for her.

The three babies she popped out for her asshole husband had left her skinny-fat. She never had much boobs or butt, but the babies made everything sag. Her naturally long hair was never done. She kept it swooped in a ponytail. And she stayed in baggy t-shirts and unflattering yoga pants.

I had tried to tell her before, but it never worked. And now wasn’t the time. What she needed now was encouragement.

“Just leave him, Misa. You are beautiful, talented, and intelligent. You don’t need him.”

“I can’t leave him. The kids are in really good daycares and I can’t afford it without him. Where will I live? What will I drive? You know I signed a pre-nup.”

Shaking my head, I took a sip of the ice water in my glass. Women were so dumb. This was why I could never be fully dependent on a man.

Sure, my husband and I were a power couple. But if he left, I would be okay. You had to have a career and never ever sign a pre-nup! If he cheated, you needed to be taking his ass to the cleaners.

“Is he only cheating with one girl? And do you know who it is?” I prodded.

“Yeah, that I know of. She’s the only one who’s been texting him and calling him. I finally followed him one day, and he went to a hotel to see her.”

“You have to get rid of her. Just kill her ass,” I joked while laughing. It lightened the mood, forcing Misa into giggling.

“I wish. That little bitch knows he’s married yet she still runs around with him.”

“I hate those kind of women! Side chicks and mistresses. Get your own man, you pathetic broads!” I fussed.

I really did hate those bitches. They break up homes every day. I know it’s really the man’s fault, but if there weren’t so many of those hoes who willingly slept with married men, there wouldn’t be nearly as big of a problem.

Sometimes, I wished all of those bitches would just die. I know that’s terrible. I need help, pray for me. I laughed to myself.

“Well girl, I know you have to get back to work. I don’t want to hold you up.”

“Yeah, let me head back to the office so I can wrap up this press release. Maybe we can catch up this weekend for a spa day?” I suggested. With all the stress she was dealing with, she needed it.

“I’ll see if I can get someone to watch the kids.”

“Let me know,” I replied, while we waited for the check to come.


A fter lunch , I sashayed down the crowded sidewalk to get back to my building. My leopard Loubous clicked along the cement, while I switched my curvy ass. Niggas broke their necks to catch a glimpse of the fat ass walking before them.

I was a naturally a thick girl. In spite of some of the cosmetic surgery I had I was definitely still considered a BBW. Right after college, I went and got liposuction around my midsection and had the fat transferred to my tits and my ass, giving me a bodacious hour-glass figure. I was thick in all the right places.

My butter pecan skin was flawless and glinted underneath the sun as I trekked back to my office. The black pencil skirt I wore hugged my hips, but the tan blouse I wore was much more modest.

I couldn’t be in my office with my cleavage showing. My goal was to eventually become one of the vice presidents at the public relations firm. And I wasn’t going to get there dressing like one of these thots.

“Welcome back Ms. Shelton,” Ron, the security guard greeted me as I walked through the halls. He was always nice to me, trying to flirt.

“Hey Ron. And you know its Mrs., right?” I corrected him. I don’t play that shit. I’m a married woman who is deeply in love with my man. I rock this diamond on my fourth finger with pride.

“Excuse me! I was just wishful thinking,” he joked. Without verbally responding, I smirked and stepped on the elevator to the 12th floor, where I had my own office with a beautiful view of the city.

At only twenty-eight years old, I had made senior account executive at the firm, Ashworth Marketing. Which allowed me to lead some PR and marketing campaigns for a lot of heavy hitters that included beverage brands, apparel companies, and real estate.

Before going back into my lovely office, I stopped in the restroom to reapply my cherry colored lipstick. While in the bathroom, I primped my hair, which was cut in the mushroom bob style, similar to Rihanna’s.

I went to my hairdresser weekly to keep the hairstyle looking perfect. I don’t know who made up the lie that short hair was less maintenance. When you have a style like this, you have to keep your kitchen looking good.

After assuring my hair was perfect and my lips were on fleek, I settled back at my desk to complete the day.

“Hey Nova,” Andrea, my manager, a vice president, said when she walked into my office.

“Hi Andrea, what’s going on?”

“I just wanted to give you a kudos for the lovely job you did on the American leg of the Satori campaign. The stuff is flying off the shelves all over the country.” Andrea referred to Satori wine, a Japanese wine company that hired Ashworth to do its marketing.

It was my first assignment as an account executive, and I had done a really good job.

“Thank you! I read the reports this morning. The sales are doing well.”

“It’s all because of you. Keep up the good work, lady. One day soon you’ll be up there with me and the other big dogs,” she chuckled.

“You know that’s always been the goal.” I smiled.

“I know and you’re well on your way. I’m rooting for you,” she replied before turning away.

“Oh and before I forget. Your bonus will be in this next paycheck and I’m sure you will be pleasantly surprised.” She winked before exiting.

There was nothing like doing an amazing job and getting paid for it. As I read over the press release that I wrote for another client, my cell phone rang. It was my mother, Antoinette, also known as Toni.

“Sup ma,” I answered with the phone pressed between my ear and my shoulder.

“Nova, I need you to come over tonight. I have a surprise I want to tell the family. Bring your husband,” she gleefully said.

“It’s a little short notice, don’t you think?”

“Just come. It’s very important. You know, Nova, you only have one mother. You need to treat me right…” She went on her extended rant about how I should treat her well since she was older and could die tomorrow. Rolling my eyes, I blocked her out. I hated when she did that shit.

“Fine, I’ll be there. I’ll talk to you later,” I replied. As soon as I hung up, I phoned my husband. I hated interrupting him at work. He didn’t need any distractions. Just like me, he was also one of the youngest people at his job in an upper management position.

My baby worked for one of the top real estate development firms in the area, Durden Development. Like I said, we were a power couple, striving to be the best in our careers and lead elite lives.

“Hey sweetie,” he answered the call.

“Good afternoon, love. I won’t hold you. Please meet me at my mother’s house tonight. She said she had an important announcement and wants you there along with me.”

“What? Is she pregnant?” He laughed at his own joke.

“Boy please. She better not be. As old as she is.” I laughed back.

“You said it, not me.” He continued to chuckle.

“You implied it. But can I count on you to be there?”

“Of course. I love you. I gotta run.”

“Love you too, baby.” I hung up and returned to work.

I loved my how my husband made an effort to be there for me.