Page 18 of Ex- Factor
I wasn’t playing cards. That’s what I was supposed to be doing, but instead, I was watching her.
Eshe.
She was drunk off tequila and whatever else she and Angel could find.
They were on the makeshift stage in my backyard, leaned into each other on the mic, screaming out “Not Gon’ Cry” like it was a personal testimony.
They were off-key, too loud, but having the time of their lives.
I just smiled into my drink like a man too far gone to care.
Eshe was it for me. There would be no other women.
I didn’t want to love anybody else. Didn’t even see the point in trying.
She knew it, and I felt like she was playing with my feelings a little bit. She knew how I felt but wasn’t giving in fully. She took what I gave her—attention, protection, comfort, maybe even sex—but kept her heart guarded.
Watching her dance around how I felt stung a bit.
But I still gave her what she wanted when she asked.
I didn’t throw parties. I liked other people’s parties—fucking up their shit, leaving messes for them to clean.
But Eshe asked me to with that mouth of hers, and I could never say no because of what she could do with it. I groaned low in my throat.
Now my house was full of people, some I barely knew, music shaking the windows, and Eshe glowing in the center of it all.
“You’re staring at her again.”
I turned. Naomi was back—smudged lip gloss, crooked ponytail, with a woman standing behind her in all black and a scowl. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where.
“Who’s this?” I cut in before Naomi could ramble.
“Me and Jonas were leaving,” she slurred, jerking a thumb toward the door. “And she was just… there. Knocking. Demanding to talk to the owner.” Naomi rolled her eyes. “So I brought her to you. You’re welcome.”
I looked at her again and immediately knew why I recognized her.
Sinica.
Eshe’s ex-best friend. The one who married her ex.
I snorted. “We’re neighbors?” Of course we were. Life loved its little jokes. I knew she was there to complain. I could see the Karen all over her face.
Sinica smiled like she tasted something bitter. “A few houses down. I was going to call the police about the noise—”
I cut her off. “It’s nine o’clock. Ordinance says no noise complaints until after eleven on Saturdays. Look it up. Go home, lady.” I waved her off.
Her mouth twitched. “Rude.”
“To you? Correct.” If Eshe didn’t like her, I hated her.
Sinica sucked her teeth, spun on her heel, and stalked off.
Naomi laughed, glassy-eyed, and walked off behind her.
Not two minutes later, she was back. This time with Donte. Tall. Smug. Dressed like he’d just stepped out of a magazine shoot in a polo and tailored pants. I ground my teeth. His eyes locked onto Eshe first, and for a second, his face flashed with emotions. Hunger. Regret. Fury. Love. Hate.
I was on my feet before my brain caught up, the alcohol in my veins burning off like fog under a blowtorch. My tipsiness dissipated.
“Rolling in the deep,” Eshe sang loudly.
“And you had my heart inside of your hand,” Angel sang even louder.
I stopped in front of Donte. He looked me up and down. And then he shoved me. Just like that. No words. No reason.
Big mistake.
I lunged forward, shoving him so hard he stumbled into a table. Cups toppled. Someone yelped.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snarled.
“Who are you to talk to my wife like you did?” he shot back, chest heaving.
The music cut.
A hush rolled over the backyard.
Somebody from the party stepped in front of us, but I had tunnel vision—could only see him and his smug, punchable face. He had broken Eshe’s heart.
I looked over, and Eshe was stumbling our way barefoot, mic still in hand, hair wild, eyes narrowing as she took it all in. She was sweating, so I knew she had had too much to drink.
She stopped in front of Donte. Stared at him, then at Sinica. “What the fuck is this?” Her words were slurred, but the venom in them was crystal clear. “Why are y’all even here?”
Sinica spoke first. “I came to ask—”
Eshe cut her off. “Shut up, bitch. I can’t even have one night? One night without y’all fucking it up for me?”
She was yelling now.
“You married my man,” she pointed at Sinica, “and now you can’t even let me be happy without him and sing some fucking karaoke? I hate y’all. I really do.”
Sinica rolled her eyes like none of it mattered.
CRACK.
The slap echoed. Sinica’s head snapped sideways, her hand flying to her cheek. For a second, no one breathed.
Sinica’s eyes went wide, and she took a step backward like she was scared Eshe would do it again. Donte stepped forward to say something.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” she hissed.
She turned like it was over. She got about ten feet away, then turned around. And launched the mic at Donte’s face.
It hit him square in the mouth. Blood leaked from his lip.
He started in her direction. I didn’t even get to step forward. Angel’s cousin blocked him, sizing him up. Everybody loved Eshe within just a few months.
“Nigga, go that way,” he said, pointing Donte toward the door.
Angel cheered.
Cassius laughed so hard he almost dropped his drink.
Everything felt surreal.
Especially when people circled in, pushing Donte and Sinica toward the door, talking shit the whole way. I didn’t have to say a word.
Eshe picked up the mic like nothing happened.
“DJ, run it back,” she said.
The Adele song picked up where she left off, and Eshe was back to singing, arms around Angel—loud, terrible, happy.
I watched her.
She didn’t look back to find out what happened to Donte. She was smiling again.
I should’ve been happy. She’d won.
But she didn’t look to me either. It was like neither of us really mattered.
And I wondered.
Why had she slapped Sinica and mentioned her stealing her man? Was it because there was still something she hadn’t let go of when it came to Donte?
But she had also hit him too, my brain reasoned.
I didn’t like asking myself any of these questions.
Didn’t like wondering if her life with him wasn’t fully buried yet.
But I didn’t say anything.
I wouldn’t force her to let him go until she was ready.
Even if it meant sitting here, wondering how long it’d take for her past to stop knocking on the door.