Big Girls Do Cry by Carl Weber Read Free Book Online Page B

out, if only because I’m selfish and don’t like to share, unlike my sister, who has been in threesomes before. Banging on the walls was also out because it was only going to get me eye rolls from both of them at the breakfast table tomorrow morning. So, by letting my fingers do the walking, it was a win-win for everyone. They got theirs, and I damn sure got mine.
    Hell, it wasn’t the first time I got off listening to them, and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last. Only problem was, I was gettingsick of using my hand. Rashad, although flirtatious as hell, still hadn’t made a move on me yet. Oh, it was coming. I’d taken him down memory lane enough times in the past few weeks to assure myself of that. In fact, my sister probably owed her little lovemaking session tonight to the seeds I’d planted in her husband’s head. Sooner or later, he was going to want the real thing, not the younger imitation, but that wasn’t doing me any good right now. I hadn’t had any real dick in almost two months, and I was about due.
    I picked up the portable house phone and dialed the one person other than Rashad whom I would love to fuck. It was time to get something in motion so I could get my groove on real soon.
    “Hello?” a woman answered on the third ring. I was so taken aback by the sound of her voice that I couldn’t say anything. “Hello?” she repeated. What the hell was she doing answering his cell phone? “I know it’s you.”
    You don’t know shit, bitch, I thought. It’s a fucking blocked number.
    “I can hear your crazy-ass breathing, Isis.”
    Stay calm, girl. Don’t let this bitch get to you.
    “What, did you escape from that nuthouse again?”
    I’ll show you crazy, heifer. Just say one more thing. One more fucking thing.
    “Let me guess. You’re going to attempt suicide again, and you wanted us to know. Well, stop trying to kill yourself, for Christ’s sake, and do it. You won’t get any tears out of me. I’m sick of you calling my husband. Can’t you see he don’t want you? Why don’t you get your own man?”
    “He is my man, bitch!” I couldn’t help myself. I knew he was going to be mad later, but I just couldn’t help myself. “The only person I’m going to kill is you. And if you keep pissing me off, I’ll do it in front of your kids.”
    “Oh my God, you are one sick woman. Stop calling my husband!”
    Her name was Monica. She was a school secretary in some hick town in upstate New York, and I couldn’t stand the bitch—mainly because she was living my life, or at least the life I wouldhave had if her husband, Tony, my ex-fiancé, wasn’t such a lying son of bitch. Too bad for me that I loved him more than life itself.
    “Let me talk to Tony,” I demanded.
    “Are you out your mind?”
    Click
. The phone went dead. That wench actually hung up on me. I couldn’t stand when people did that. I dialed the number again. She answered on the first ring.
    “Nobody hangs up on me, whore.”
    “I’m calling the police. This is harassment.”
    “Call ‘em, bitch. Think I care? By the time they get to your house, you’ll be a corpse. Now put Tony on the phone!”
    Click
. She hung up again. This wench was really pissing me off. I dialed the phone again. This time it went straight to voice mail. She must have turned off his cell phone. I lay back in my bed, frustrated. I tried to calm down, but I really wanted to kill that bitch. Hell, upstate New York was only an eight-hour drive. I could be there in the morning, waiting for her to come out the door on her way to work. A smile crept up on my face as I imagined choking the life out of her.
    My cell phone rang. I reached over to the night table and looked at the caller ID. I was going to kill Tony. He was supposed to put my number under someone else’s name, but this bitch was calling me back. I hit the green button, connecting the call without saying a word.
    “Isis?” It wasn’t her; it was him. I was like a deer caught in