Side Chick Secrets: I Want Her Man

By Jessica M.

A dusty, thirsty, chick who one keeps around strictly for beating up the hot box. You usually have to gas her up by alluding to the possibility of a relationship in the near future in order to keep getting what’s between her legs. She’s a throwaway broad who a nigga never intentionally expects to ever wife. Side-chicks are usually cool with their status as the jump off due to the fact that they either have no shame or they are merely blinded by love. (Urban dictionary.com)

Egypt, Paris, and London James are three sisters doomed from the time they entered the world. Being the side piece’s children leads each of them on the road to discovering exactly who they are as women.

Egypt, the oldest of the three sisters, finds herself in a similar situation as her mother; the side chick. While she hated to believe that her boyfriend was anything like her father, she continued a downhill relationship with the very fine, sexy, but also very married, Moses Malone. Moses. Unlike her father, Moses never rendered promises to leave his wife, but Egypt plans to do anything necessary to leave her side chick status behind and become the main chick on the arm of her man. Little does she know, Moses’ wife, Marlee, is a force to be reckoned with and will not give up her man so easily. Doing anything she has to do to ensure she never loses her husband, Marlee is willing to use secrets from Moses’ past and present to make sure no one, including the side chick, steals what is rightfully hers. Just like side piece status had a meaning to Egypt, wifey status took reign in Marlee’s eyes.

Paris James, the middle sister, hot-headed, determined, and a fashion boutique owner was hell on wheels. What happened between her mother and father left her drained, disgusted, and bitter. She was hell bent on never being anyone’s side chick, and in order to make sure of it, she swore off men period. Promising herself she’d never deal with a man and risk dealing with heartbreak like her father had inflicted on their mother, she lived her life dating and sexing women only. Would this secure her heart, or will she discover that even females knew how to play the same games as niggas did?

London James, the baby girl of the bunch, was always sheltered and protected by her older siblings, but unbeknownst to them, just like the fall out of their parents wreaked havoc on them, it did the same to her. Keeping her personal life low key from her siblings and grandparents, London found herself swooped in by an older man who plays on her naivety and her innocence. While everyone deals with their own issues, the baby of the family deals with inner demons and outward sins in private, driving her to make some choices that no young girl should have to face alone.

While each of these young women struggle to find out who they are as women, everything goes back to the choices made in their childhood. Were they old enough to know better and do better now? Yes, they were, but what they saw and experienced in their daily lives had molded them into what they became. And what each of them saw in their early years was their mother put on the back burner for their father’s wife and other kids.

In this nail-biting, gripping, on the edge urban tale of three sisters, who based what they knew about love from their side chick mother and unfaithful father, they learn quickly that their past can make or break them. Secrets, lies, and betrayal will either rip them apart or make them stick together like glue. Let’s take a ride and see how side chick secrets can change lives… especially when you want someone else’s man!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leo Sullivan Presents
• Release date: Mar 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781648541254

Book preview

Side Chick Secrets

I Want Her Man

Jessica M

© 2019

Published by Leo Sullivan Presents

www.leolsullivan.com

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All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

Contents

Other Books By Jessica M.

Acknowledgments

Eygpt

Eygpt

Moses

Marlee

Egypt

Angie

Paris

Egypt

Moses

Marlee

Dale James Jr. (DJ)

Egypt

Moses

Dj

Marlee

Egypt

Paris

London

Marlee

Paris

Angie

Moses

Marlee

London

Egypt

Marlee

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Dedication

I dedicate this book to the females who realize they are better than being number two, three or four, in a nigga’s life. We all deserve to be the only one, not just number one.

I dedicate this book to the women who realize they deserve wifey status and nothing less.

I dedicate this book to the side chicks who don’t know their worth. Sweetheart, you’re better than that. Get your own man, you deserve that. And God wants more for you.

And for anyone who may think this book is like all the other side chick books you are wrong. I have no plan to bash side chicks because there wouldn’t be any side chicks if there weren’t men cheating on their women. Men are wrong too, I know this. So, I have no plans to bash anyone. Instead, I plan to shed light on how generational curses, upbringings, and environments can sometimes have a negative impact on people and the choices they make as adults.

As always, my books have a message, and like all the others, I pray you catch it.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

~We can only do better when we know better~

Other Books By Jessica M.

A No Good Love Affair 1, 2, & 3

Risking It All For Love 1, 2, & 3

I Need A Boss In My Life 1, 2, & 3

I Still Need A Boss In My Life ( Follow- Up)

Catching Feelings For A Boss 1 & 2

Feenin’ For His Love 1 & 2

An Urban Love Story Gone Wrong 1 & 2

Shawty Fell In Love With A Savage 1 & 2

Love Under Fire 1 & 2

Saved By A Thug’s Love 1 & 2

Acknowledgments

Short and sweet this go around, I promise. LOL! To my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, he will always get acknowledged. If not for his grace and mercy I wouldn’t be here, let alone writing books, and for that I’m forever grateful.

To my husband, mom, and kids, I love you, and I do what I do to show you that dreams still do come true. We are never too old to dream. Book 23 WOW!

To my LSP family, I’m grateful for the shared wisdom and blessed to be a part of a hard-working team. What we have is a gift, and we are using it well. To Leo, my publisher, thank you for giving me a chance. I appreciate you. I pray God continues to give you wisdom to share with others and blesses you and your family abundantly. To Tina, the world’s best editor, mentor, and friend. You are heaven sent and I thank Him for you over and over and over and over again. You make this writing thing easy to do. Love you to pieces boo!

Last, but not least, thank you to every reader who took and will take a chance on me. There are a million authors, but you 1-clicked mine, and you didn’t have to. Thank you all so much.

Grateful,

Jessica M.

Eygpt

Ten Years Ago…2009

H urry up, Eygpt! Get London and Paris ready for bed before your father comes.

My mom playfully hit my bottom as I ran from the kitchen and down the hallway to my sibling’s room to deliver the message from our mother.

At the tender age of twelve, I was the oldest of the bunch. It was three of us, two years apart, living with our mother on the best side of Knoxville, Tennessee. Our father, Dale James, made sure we had the best of everything, except for him. We shared our father with Tiff and her two boys, Dale Junior (DJ) and Dalon. While our mother, Willow, was a good mother with a good head on her shoulders, her judgment when it came to the opposite sex was off. In her defense, though, she never had a fighting chance. We are what we see. You’ll get what I mean later.

Anyway, our mother met our father at the University of Tennessee when she was eighteen years old majoring in education with a minor in child and family studies. She loved people, and that had always been her dream, but once she made things official with our father, she quit school to make him happy. It didn't take long for everyone to know that our father was controlling and wanted to run every aspect of our mother’s life.

Our father was the star on the UT football team and famous, of course, amongst the ladies, my mother being one of them. Living a sheltered life, my mother decided to live a little when she attended college, meaning dabbling in drugs here and there and dabbling in men too. Would I call her a hoe? Nah, I wouldn’t go that far, but she made sure to tell me that being sheltered by my grandpa William and our granny Cheryl was the worst thing they could’ve ever done to her, and that’s why, at even twelve, she gave me somewhat freedom to make my own decisions.

Being the eldest of my sisters, it made me and my mother not only mother and daughter, but also best friends. Some may think that she let me in on too much, but oh well, I loved the life lessons my mother taught me. Unfortunately, I didn’t follow them all.

My mother lit up like a Christmas tree whenever my father came over. Tonight was no different. We only had him as our father on the day before or after the holidays, on our birthdays, and sometimes on the weekend. But our mother had him a few hours here and there in between. See, my mother and father had been together for years, but he had always belonged to Tiffany. She was his off again on again girlfriend when my mother met my father in college, and today she was his wife. My mother claimed she was devastated that my father actually chose to wife Tiffany instead of her, but in my head, I was like, why? She knew he was with her when he met her, and he never mentioned leaving. So, Ma, why you mad? Was what I wanted to ask, but for the sake of not hurting her feelings, I left well enough alone.

Tiff knew about my mother, and my mother knew about Tiff. My brothers knew about me and my sisters. We were like one big, happy family, but not together. Tiff and my mother knew their boundaries, and they knew my dad didn’t play that disrespectful bullshit as I’ve heard him say numerous times to my mother. Tiff and my mother used to fight all day, every day, according to my mother, until she became pregnant with me, and Tiff became pregnant with Dale Junior. My father claimed they knew about each other and he wouldn’t have his kids growing up with ghetto ass parents as he called it, so they needed to cut that shit out.

In public, Tiff was never to approach or acknowledge our mother and vice versa. My dad had the best dick game alive or something because what he said went with no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

My father laid down the law to us, and he meant it. He was a loving and caring father most days, but he didn’t play when it came to Tiff, Dale Junior, or Dalon. He always said he loved us, but they were his real family. Whatever that shit meant. Fucked up, I know! But my mother put up with his shit, so what could we do?

She claimed my father made sure we had any and everything we ever needed or wanted, and we didn’t want to mess that up. While, he was a UT football star, he got hurt his senior year. Now he was the football coach of the very team he loved. In his spare time, he designed buildings for prominent business owners all over the world. He majored in architecture, and he made hella money as my sister, Paris, would say.

Paris was two years under me at ten, and London was two years under her at eight. As you can see, our mother loved to travel, hence the names, but she claimed those were the places my father took her on their secret getaways and the places we were conceived. I’m not sure how true that is, but that’s what she said. Let Tiff tell it, our father was a cheap fuck, her words, not mine, so he ain’t took my mom no damn where. Who knows who’s telling the truth?

When I burst through the door to the room my sisters shared, they were playing games on the iPad.

Hey, hurry and get in the shower. Dad’s coming, and you know how mama gets. I chuckled while leaning on the entrance of the room.

Paris sucked her teeth. She was always the hard headed one. My mother claimed she got that shit from our daddy. Her nasty attitude and her stubbornness was just like our daddy, she said. Paris didn’t vibe well with our father. My mother always joked that they were two peas in a pod, but Paris said she couldn’t stand his ass because she was sick of our mom being runner up. At ten, Paris acted older than I was. Sometimes, I’d catch her staring at our father with lips turned up, eyebrows wrinkled, and a mug that would send you straight to hell. I always tried to tell her they were grown and that wasn’t our problem, but she didn’t care. She called our mother lame and weak for putting up with his shit. Though I agreed most times, I’d never admit that to anyone. Our mother did what she could, I guess.

So, who cares? Paris scoffed and rolled her eyes but continued to play the game on the iPad.

Ma cares, Paris. Go shower and get in bed. You know Daddy doesn’t like us up late.

Yeah, yeah, he doesn’t give a damn if we’re up late when he’s home with Tiff.

Walking close up on her, I kneeled to get face to face with her. As hard as Paris always tried to be, she knew I didn’t play with her ass.

Go, Paris. Right now! I said through gritted teeth.

Whatever. She tossed the iPad next to her.

After hopping up to get her things to shower, she went off to the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom and slammed the door. Rolling my eyes, I sat on the edge of the bed next to our baby sister London. London was only eight, so she kind of did whatever we said and went with the flow. London was still a baby at heart, liking dolls and video games. Our father knew that, so he was able to easily have her heart. London loved our dad despite the circumstances.

You okay? I asked as she moved next to me.

Yeah. So, Daddy’s coming? Her face lit up.

She knew that no matter what when Dad showed up, he always had something for her.

Yeah, go shower.

She hopped off the bed and headed across the hall to my bedroom to shower.

Sitting and waiting to talk to Paris about her attitude was our reality. We were the kids of the other woman. The side chick. We got our father’s leftovers. His left-over time, money, and love. I often wondered why our mother dealt with him for so long and acted like what they had was normal. She not only had one kid with a married, taken man, but three.

After a few minutes, Paris emerged from the bathroom with her night clothes on. Her hair was wrapped in a towel that sat neatly on top of her head. Our skin was a caramel tone due to our mother’s black father and white mother, and of course, we got our long ass, touching our butts curly mane from her as well. Our father was blacker than tar, giving him the nickname Black.

Dale Black James. That’s our father.

Why are you still here and not kissing our mother’s ass to make her feel better about what she’s doing? Paris mocked as she bent forward to put lotion on her legs.

I hate it too, Paris, but she’s still our mother. She chose this life, not us, and it’s not our business.

Oh, but it is our business, and it’s our fucking life. It became our business when she had our asses. I can’t wait to get old enough to leave. She pouted.

Jumping up in Paris’ face, I shoved her, making her hit the wall of the bedroom.

Don’t fucking hit me again, Eygpt! You’re not my mother! she screamed while rubbing her arm.

Watch your mouth! I let you slide because I know you hate not seeing Daddy when you want to, and you hate what Mama let him do. But, you’re ten, so act like it.

Leaving her on the floor crying, I went to see