Tainted Love (Book 1) by Ghiselle St. James Read Free Book Online Page A

your friend.” He shrugs his shoulders, amusement marring his face.
    He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket with a lighter, lighting it up. He puffs up and I have a sudden itch. Haven’t smoked in years and I don’t plan on starting back any bad habit.
    Stone-faced, I re-focus my attention to cartoons. As I speak to him, my tone is icy. “If anything happens to Rachel, you won’t find me cute. ”
    He bristles. I know he’s frowning. “Excuse me?”
    “I know you heard me.”
    Rachel breaks the icy atmosphere as she enters the living room. “Ready, Ryan?”
    I turn to see her looking stunning, as usual, in tight blue jeans, tight white t-shirt, and white platform heels.
    “Yeah, I’m ready,” Mr. Dark and Mysterious answers, circling Rachel’s hips then pulling her in for a hard kiss on her lips. He stares at me as he massacres her mouth and rubs his palms over the cheeks of her ass.
    I scoff, turning around. Already I know that this guy and I won’t be getting along.
    “Have a great day, Rae,” I bid as Rachel leaves with Ryan. He gives me a curt nod and I respond with pursed lips and darkening eyes.
    I swear to God if he lets anything happen to her, I’ll be on his ass like flies on dead carcass.
    Silence fills the apartment, despite the cartoons running on the TV. I am alone. I have to busy myself before I start thinking. I hate being left with my thoughts. My past always resurfaces and I’m always left feeling lousy. I turn the TV off and carry the empty plate and bottle to the kitchen. I stare at the living room from the kitchen as I drain a half bottle of water I had taken from the refrigerator.
    I think I’ll do some cleaning.
    Pushing off from the kitchen counter, I go in search of my iPod. If I am going to clean this place, I’ll need some tunes. I find the iPod already in the dock, so I turn it on, boosting the volume on the speakers. I select my 60s playlist, my usual Sunday tunes. It’s all Motown.
    “I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go,” I sing as the music comes on. I strut into my room, bopping my head to the beat, to start my cleaning spree there.
    After an hour and a half I am throu gh cleaning the entire apartment and, as tired as I am, I resolve to do some laundry.
    “I’ll be there. With a love that will shelter you,” I croon, taking the iPod from the dock and plugging in my earphones.
    I grab my cell phone and the duffle bag with Rachel’s and my dirty laundry, as well as laundry detergent and fabric softener. I head to the elevator, locking the door behind me – the Laundromat across the street being my desired destination.
    The Laundromat is uncharacteristically empty. Thank God for small miracles. I load a few washing machines with clothes, slipping my tokens in. That way I’ll be done quicker and will be able to sleep the rest of the day. I perch on one of the washing machines close to the entrance, flipping through a Seventeen magazine I’d seen on a chair when I first came in.
    The Supremes drones on in my ears singing about their love and wondering where it went, making me wiggle my bottom, ready to dance. I just love Oldies soul. Rachel would always say that that was the black in me. Before my birth mother got arrested, she had told me that my father was black; Jamaican actually. He was a drug dealer and was shot and killed by the police as he tried to escape being arrested. It had been his third strike, so they’d have put him away even longer that time.
    I shake off the memories of my past, not wanting to drudge up anything that would spoil my Sunday alone , and step outside the Laundromat to get the morning paper from the newsstand, declining to get a gossip magazine. Mr. Farzani always tries to get me to see who’s on the latest cover, who’s dating who, who’s cheated on whom. I tell him the same thing every time, “Not interested.”
    I’ve found myself in those magazines a few times too many as a socialite, and I don’t