Memoirs of a SideChick: v

By kayelee c carter

The SideChick Hustle Vol. 1

Tired of all the judgment and guilt that come with being a side chick?

Dating a married man is seen as wrong and unnecessarily complicated when in reality it's so simple. It all comes down to attraction, just like any other relationship. Married men get back into the datin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaye Bankks
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087965475

Book preview

1

What you are about to enjoy is historical fiction. Some dates and names were changed, and some were not. If you see your likeness within some of these stories, smile in knowing that I left out most of the details…..

Memoirs of a SideChick

Chapter 1

I am not sure what time it was, but I did know that it was too damn early for my phone to be ringing back to back like this. The sun had barely started to rise and it felt like I had only been to sleep a few minutes. I ran my hand across the bed next to me feeling for my phone and came up empty-handed. I tried to stay as sleepy as I could through the ringing so that after it stopped I could fall back into my coma. After a few minutes, the ringing stopped I relaxed into my pillow and fell fast asleep. I was extremely exhausted after a night out with the guys. Our guys' nights were always eventful, and the night before was no exception. Every month I and a few of my guy friends would get together for dinner, drinks, and someone would plan some type of activity afterward that always involved even more drinking, a lot of marijuana, and on occasion a little coke, depending on the availability of that guy and of course strippers. I will call them strippers because they did actually show up to dance, but these ladies sold more pussy than danced on these guys' nights. The phone started ringing again waking me up instantly.

What the fuck! I screamed, as I threw the covers off of me and swung my legs to the side of the bed. I was still drunk as fuck. I sat up too fast and the room started spinning.

Damn,

I placed my head in my hand praying for the phone to stop ringing. I could hear it, but I didn’t know where the ringing was coming from. A little more awake, I remembered tossing my purse on the chaise in my bedroom. By this time the ringing had stopped again. I walked over to the chaise and grabbed my purse determined to put an end to this nonsense and immediately curse out whoever was bothering me at this ungodly hour. I opened my red Louis Vuitton Alma bag and out poured hundreds of crumbled-up dollar bills. A flash of a scene from a few hours ago crept into my mind. I laughed it off, determined not to become too awake with thoughts of possible regret from the evening, and dumped the rest of the ones onto the floor in search of my phone. Still no phone in sight. Ready to go back to bed, and under the assumption that a motherfucker better know better than to call me back to back three times in a damn row to get me to pick up, I threw my purse back on the chaise and laid down in bed. Ring!!!! I know whoever this is better be damn dying. I jumped out of bed this time, ready to find the damn phone before it stopped ringing. The ring was coming from the corner, under the clothes that I took off and threw on the floor when I came in the door. I tossed those clothes wildly everywhere voraciously in search of the ringing nightmare. The caller ID said Paul. Now, why was my ex’s lawyer calling me? I looked at the time and it was 4:30 am. I had only been home an hour. Still very tipsy, and now very fully awake, I turned my phone on silent, grabbed my blunt out of the ashtray, and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water. Why was Paul calling at 4:30? It had been months since we had spoken. I met Paul a few years ago when my boyfriend at the time caught a case for distribution. My man lost his case. His lawyer wanted and got his girl. Yes, I ain’t shit. Our love affair ended just as quickly as it began. It didn’t end on a bad note, it was actually quite the opposite. We were just busy, and it was fun while it lasted. I missed a call from Paul a few days ago, but I thought nothing of it because I didn’t hear back from him. Now at 4:30 in the morning, he had called now more than 3 times. The blunt was apparently what I needed, my mind was off of Paul, off of my ex, off of all the shit that just went down at guys' night, and was back on getting to sleep. I walked back into my room put the blunt in the ashtray, looked over at the pile of ones on the floor shook my head climbed into the bed closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

More than a few hours later I was awakened by a loud knock on my door. I lived in a loft in the Central West End of St. Louis, Mo. It was a fabulous 3 bedroom 2.5 bath two story at the dead end of Taylor. It was a modified minimansion converted into 3 apartments, and I had the top two levels. There was no way to get to my front door without passing through several doors at either entrance. The home built in the 1800s did not have a way for me to buzz a guest into my place, so to avoid having to walk down 4 flights of stairs to allow a negligible amount of company I would let have access to my home, I gave out a few keys to my best friend and my sister. They both had the keys to the outside door, but they still had to knock when they got to my front door. I did not feel like getting out of bed to answer, because whichever heffa this was at my door did not prequalify this visit with a phone call letting me know why they needed to come over at…? I didn’t know the time. I lifted my head off of my pillow a little and felt a little less tipsy than I did earlier. I laid back on the pillow for a second hoping that maybe if I was quiet whoever it was would go away.

Bitch, open the door I know you hear me I have to pee!!! Sierra yelled through the door as she began to knock hard and fast with the door key. Sighing and shaking my head at my crazy-ass best friend, I got up and unlocked my door, and walked back towards my bedroom.

Bitch about damn time! she exclaimed as she dropped her Dior bag onto the floor and bolted to the bathroom while unzipping her pants. I guess she had to go too damn bad to shut the door because after hearing her pee for what seemed like 5 minutes straight,

Damn girl, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Shut up, 'cause you were almost about to have to mop piss off your foyer with your slow ass. We both laughed. When she finished in the bathroom she collected her purse that she had thrown on the floor and walked back towards my bedroom. Looking over at the pile of ones on the floor she asked So you’re a stripper now? laughing to herself.

I rolled my eyes and said, Bitch, I guess I was last night.

I don’t know why she felt the need to dig, but I was not in the mood this morning for her judgment.

I guess she caught the attitude in my response, Girl, you know I was playing, what did you do last night?

I dialed back my attitude a little, smiled to myself thinking about all the events from the night before, Girl, guys night.

Sierra shook her head, thinking, how I could be the only woman invited to guys' night. With a tone of curiosity and a look of amusement,

So, what happened?

The night before started out like any other Friday night out for me. I was excited for this guy’s night in particular because, for the past two months, I had been out of town on the nights that the guys got together. Mario called me early in the week to let me know that the guys would be getting together that Friday and that it was Gregg’s turn to host the event. I didn’t know Gregg that well, he had been in the military and just retired, returning back to St. Louis. He was best friends with Davis, another one of the Guys. I had known Davis and his wife Chyna for a number of years. Our guys group is actually part of a couple’s group. It consists of about 10 couples in various degrees of relationship. On occasion we would get together for a couples night, sometimes the wives got together, and other times it was the guys. I am no longer a couple in our couple group, after my marriage ended, I stayed friendly with our group of friends and my ex-husband went on with his life. I get along well enough with the wives of my guy friends, but I am rarely invited to the girl's night out with the wives. I am always invited to the guy's nights. I am not a girl’s, girl. I will be the first to honestly admit that. I love, and have respect for women. But the type of energy that it requires for me to be a friend, or for these women to consider me a true friend, I don’t have to give. Their husbands, on the other hand, are happy that I show up ready to have fun. I don’t judge anything that they do, and I know that what happens at guys' nights, stays at guys' nights.

Gregg, I replied to Sierra’s question.

Who is that?

There wasn’t a man, situationship, or sneaky link that I didn’t tell my friend about. I shook my head to let her know not to expect a juicy story about Gregg. And went into the particulars of the events from the night before.

You know my friend Davis right? Chyna’s husband.

I know Davis. I am still surprised he and Chyna are still married the way she act.

Anyway, that’s their business, and ain’t Chyna your friend too.

That’s your friend, and just because we are friendly doesn’t mean that I am going to co-sign her being a hoe when she is married.

She isn’t married to you, so why do you give a fuck? You stay faithful to Brian’s cheating ass, that’s your business, you wanna talk about that.

Bitch, fuck you.

Fuck you.

Brian would beat my ass if I ever thought about cheating on him, your friend's husband don’t care that she is a hoe, my man gives a fuck about me and my pussy.

You sound stupid as fuck, and I am not arguing with you about Davis and Chyna if you don’t like her don’t come out with us no more, bitch you sound a little jelly. I joked.

Now let me finish this damn story.

Gregg is Davis’s best friend. He hosted the guys' night last night.

She looked over at the pile of ones on the floor and waited patiently for me to tell her the story. Bitch roll up!

Tossing a bag of weed and some wraps to Sierra. Although my tipsy had faded a little, it was still only 8:30 in the morning. I hadn’t had a good 3 hours of sleep from the night before, and regardless of how I felt, after relaying this story, me and my bestie would get straight to business. I knew that this was the reason for her showing up at my place this morning. I had purposefully set my appointments for later in the afternoon so that I could sleep in this morning, but this bitch had other plans. I walked into the kitchen and she followed sitting at the table and breaking down the blunt.

So we all met up at Il Cielo I started.

I opened the refrigerator and grabbed bacon and a few eggs. I had an open bottle of Bellaire so I poured two glasses of champagne, put a little papaya juice to change the color, and slid a glass to Sierra.

Well, Gregg didn’t know that I would be there.

I rode to Il Cielo with Mario that night. On most guys' nights out I did not drive. The men in our friend group did treat me like I was a friend, one of the guys, but I treated myself like a lady at all times, regardless of what was going on around me. So the guys respected me in that way and always made sure that I was taken care of, in any way that I needed. These were not friends with benefits, although on occasion a line or two may have been crossed with a few of them. I respected their relationships with their wives, and I am not the type of woman to play in a chick's face. If you know that I am hanging out with your husband, then be assured that I am not fucking him. Mario was married the longest out of our couple group. He and his wife were couple goals, to most people. I knew that their bond was unbreakable, but the way that Mario carried on, let’s just say that I couldn’t be his wife. She may have suspected that he was up to no good when he was outside, but nothing or no one ever came to her door with any information. The wives knew better than to come to me and ask me anything about their husbands. This was the reason Chyna and I became close, Davis wasn’t as respectful of his wife as Mario was to Nancy. Davis has been caught several times, and he and Chyna break up to make up. I love them together and always hope they work it out, but when Chyna saw that she couldn’t get information out of me on the particulars of guys' nights, she asked to go out with just me and my friends. This request was met with a side eye because the wives hang out weekly, go on girls' trips, and plan couples vacations, which they always exclude me from, now Chyna is calling me to hang out. I said yes, of course. Why not. Well, Chyna showed her ass, knowing that I would never tell Davis. I ended up having to give her an alibi that night saying that she slept over at my house. I have no idea where she was, and she and I never brought it up again. It was as though it didn’t happen. She didn’t go home, she didn’t tell me that that was her plan. I just got a call from Davis,

Is Chyna with you, her phone is going straight to voicemail.

Yes, she is sleep

I responded without thinking. I didn’t even bother trying to get a story straight with her, I knew better than to get involved in that nonsense. I also knew enough about what Davis had going on that I did not feel guilty helping Chyna.

Mario walked to the door holding it open for me, he turned to see Davis walking towards us with our other friend Kevin. Kevin had two wives, and all three of them were miserable. He and I actually dated for a couple of months a few years ago. He was married at that time too, he was just a liar then. He apparently was never going to stop cheating and she was never going to leave him, so they found a wife. Kevin's face lit up when he saw me standing there with Mario. He loved to reminisce about what we could have been whenever he sees me. I looked up at Mario and we laughed thinking the same thing, Here we go. Kevin can't afford the wives that he has, and he also can't afford to keep up with the rest of his friends in this particular group, but he pretends that he can. We all know that Kevin’s nights are sponsored by a few of the guys, but who am I to judge? Do you think I would go out with a group of 10 men and have to pay for anything? Most certainly not, so the fact that Kevin doesn’t pay either doesn’t bother me. What bother’s me is him trying to shoot his shot like I don’t know that he’s broke.

Hey boys, I said to Davis and Kevin as they approached. Both gave me a hug, kissed my cheek then walked over to Mario and dapped him up.

You look beautiful, Davis said as he turned back to face me.

Thanks, love.

I saw Kevin staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I chose to not acknowledge this. It was ok that he was crushing on me, I am used to it. My not acknowledging it at any point in the evening will mean that I will not have to have a drunken conversation with him later letting him know that he can keep his wives and leave me alone. I let him think I don't see him and we all can have fun. Mike and Reed were the next two to show up. Followed by Lamont and Harold and lastly Gregg. We were at the rooftop bar when Gregg walked in. Mario was trying to impress the rest of the guys by talking about an expensive purchase that he just made and showing them pictures on his phone. I wasn’t really paying attention. What had my attention was the fine-ass bartender. Unfortunately, this being the start of guys' night, it was too early for me to be on my heaux shenanigans, so I diverted my attention back to the conversation as Gregg walked up and greeted the group. He was speaking to all of his friends but his eyes were on me. I was a little uncomfortable because most of these dudes with an exception of Kevin’s ass knew better than to hit on me. I was one of the guys. I was never to be made to feel uncomfortable in this group. Mario seeing what was happening said,

Gregg this is Kaye, Kaye this is Gregg.

It’s nice to meet you.

Gregg shook my hand but didn’t respond. I chuckled to myself because he was about to catch whatever was about to fly out of my mouth when Davis said,

Oh, y’all never met. Kaye is one of the guys Gregg, she missed the last few guy’s nights because she was out of town.

I really didn’t give a fuck who this man was, to be honest. Just as long as he knew that I was one of the guys, we would get along. Gregg was not my type anyway. As a proud Marine, all he knew how to do was follow rules. My spirit is a little too free for the likes of Gregg, but boy did he try, the whole night to get and keep my attention.

Dinner was rowdy, and Mario and Davis got into a heated debate over something that had gone on earlier in the week