4: New Year’s Threesome

LILY-ROSE'S POV

"Motherfucker," I hissed, my eyes snapping open as the sharp tip of a designer heel dug into my ribs.

"Uh oh. Mommy said a bad word."

I blinked and saw my four-year-old, Dustin, crouching over me. He had a cute, toothless smile. He was the image of me, with his bright red hair, deep green eyes, and a face full of tiny freckles.

"Mommy, you said a bad word," he repeated.

I sat up, my back aching against the wall. "I'm sorry, buddy. Mommy didn't mean it."

"Did we get robbed?" J.R. asked. At eight years old, he was already my little protector. He stood there with that same shock of red hair and those green eyes, staring at the wreckage of the living room.

"No, baby," I said, my head throbbing from the wine and rum. "Mommy just felt like redecorating."

"Well, the place looks like shit," my six-year-old, Tommy, piped up. He was the only one with spiked red hair. No matter how many times I brushed it, it just wouldn't stay down.

"Thomas!"

The voice of the devil herself sliced through the room.

I looked up to see Bernice Fowler, my monster-in-law. She stood there like a platinum-blonde ice queen, her blue eyes cold and judgmental. She was holding my youngest, Penny, another little redhead, rocking her to sleep like nothing in the world was wrong.

The contrast was sickening.

The Fowlers were all pale, blonde, and blue-eyed, old-money royalty.

Then there was me and my four fire-headed kids. The trailer-park stains on their family tree.

"Should I kick you again, Lily? Get up and clean this pigsty," Bernice snapped. Her gaze dropped to the two empty Appleton Rum bottles by my feet. "Have you been drinking?"

"So what if I have?"

"Your mother was an alcoholic, whoring junkie," Bernice sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I see. Look at you, rolling around in filth while my son is out providing for you."

The boys looked back and forth between us, their little faces tight with worry.

"Mommy, please don't fight with Grandma," J.R. whispered as he ran into my arms. The other two boys followed, burying their red heads into my chest.

My heart cracked and then softened.

My kids were the only thing that didn't feel broken.

"It's okay, little ones. I won't argue with her. I promise."

Bernice watched the scene closely.

"I'll put Penny in her crib," she said. "Then I'll call someone to help you clean this up. You're in no state to function."

She paused before leaving.

"And Lily," she added, not looking back. "Pull yourself together. You embarrass yourself when you fall apart."

I sent the boys upstairs to their rooms to unpack. I hated Bernice's guts, but I swallowed my rage because I knew one thing for sure. Bernice thrived on weakness, so I knew I needed to get my shit together.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed my best friend, Addison.

She picked up on the first ring, but she wasn't saying hello.

"Ahhh... fuck... yes," Addy moaned into the receiver. "Bitch, this better be good."

"I need to book an appointment," I said, ignoring the wet, rhythmic sounds bleeding through the phone.

"I bet you dooooo... ohhhh—ahhhh," she hissed, her voice breathy and strained. "You haven't had a wax or a facial since before you were pregnant with Pennayyy. Yes, right there. Don't stop, you little fucker. Lick it. Lick it good. Suck this pussy just like you should."

Addy ran The Hedonism Spa, the best private spot for miles.

Clearly, she practiced what she preached.

"Should I call back when you're finished?" I asked flatly.

"No... no... I'm almost close," she gasped. I heard a muffled grunt from a man. "Oh, Baljitttttt. More tongue, yes."

A few seconds of frantic groaning followed before a man's voice came through, thick with an Indian accent and heavy satisfaction. "Hmmm, my little munchkin, you had a large one, heh."

"Yes I did. Now leave, Baljit. You have a dinner to prepare," Addy dismissed him. I heard someone shuffle out of the room. "Lil, are you still there?"

"Yes," I said, leaning my head back against the wall. "You're sleeping with your private chef now?"

"I'm not sleeping with him," she corrected, sounding like she was lighting a cigarette. "I pay him to cook and to eat my box when I'm stressed. It's a business arrangement. Now, what's up?"

"I wish I had someone to eat me out too," I muttered.

"You have a husband."

"Not anymore."

"You finally decided to leave that jerk?"

"Other way around. I'll tell you everything when I see you. When are you available?"

I heard her typing. "I can give you the full service on New Year's Eve. Say 9:00 a.m.?"

"Cool. See you then."

I hung up and started picking up the larger pieces of glass before the cleaning crew arrived.

A few minutes later, Bernice walked back into the room.

She stopped short when she saw the stack of photos I had left on the mantel, the ones of Jimmy burying himself in his twenty-one-year-old secretary.

Bernice picked one up, glanced at her son's bare ass, and scoffed. Then she tossed it back down like it was trash.

"Don't tell me this is why you're acting this way," she said calmly. "This is the cause of your unraveling. Oh, please."

"You knew, didn't you?" I whispered.

"I suspected," she replied. "Men like my son don't stay faithful for long. But I'll give you this, you kept him on a leash nine years longer than I expected. I truly thought he would have stepped out on you long before now."

My hands trembled. "Your son is cheating on me, and that's all you can say?"

"Yes, he's cheating on you, so what am I supposed to do? Put him over my lap and spank him?" she asked plainly. "Don't worry about what me or others will say or think. The question is, what will you do?"

"Can't you see what I've done already?" My voice cracked. "I'm heartbroken and angry."

Bernice turned to face me fully now, her eyes sharp, intelligent, ruthless. "Heartache and anger don't win cases, Lily-Rose. Strategy does," she said. "So you learn my son is diddling inside some little slut's cunt, you don't go and destroy your children's home. That makes you seem vulnerable and foolish."

"I just snapped when I saw those photos," I started to cry.

She gripped my shoulders. "Come on, Lily-Rose. Quit the waterworks. I might not like you because of where you're from, but I never took you for a weak woman. Grow some balls and make your demands."

I froze.

My jaw dropped.

"Are you... are you saying I should divorce your son?"

Bernice crossed her arms over her chest, her blue eyes sharp. "I'm saying the Fowlers don't lose. You might not be one by blood, but you are one nonetheless. If you're going to leave, take him for everything he's got."

She let me go and straightened her shoulders. I wiped my eyes with my blouse.

"That's it. Don't sit around and cry like a trailer-park girl. Stand up and act like the woman who made my son disobey me for the first time in his life when he went against my orders and married you," she added coolly. "That shows me you're not weak. You've just forgotten who you are."