Bessie's Revenge: An explosive story of broken love, a woman's worth, and an incomplete past that may doom her future.

By Kareem Howell

It's an explosive story of a broken trusted love placed in a man who truly didn't deserve it and couldn't appreciate the just values of a strong woman's worth.

Bessie's history with her husband, Jack, soon becomes a part of her past that she finds to be hard to place behind her. She goes against her own rules as a woman and becomes disloyal to her heart when it comes to standing by her man Jack.

In the midst of Jack's distrust and cheating ways, Bessie soon finds herself at a crossroad where she's forced to make a life-changing decision that ends in heartbreak and divorce but pays off in revenge, in bittersweet ways that only a woman of hurt and brokenness could relate to.

In the workplace and throughout the walls of the courthouse, she's as well-grounded as could be expected. However, in her own personal life outside the workplace, she's stuck between her unfaithful, cheating husband and her heart. In the end, Bessie finds herself leading by example.

Jack, on the other hand, finds himself caught up in ways that he never could have imagined: living a double life, charged with the murder of a woman that he barely knew, and in desperate need of the woman help who he set out to break only to realize in the end sometimes the cover-up is worse than telling the lie, and that the grass was actually greener at home the whole time with the woman that he grown out of love with.

If one tells the truth, it becomes a part of one's past. If you lie, it becomes a part of your future. For Jack, he had to learn this lesson the hard way through a physical beating that very well could have cost him everything, including his life. The question is, how much revenge is satisfying to a woman who has been scarred by her man? How much revenge is satisfying to a woman such as Bessie?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638816485

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Bessie's Revenge

An explosive story of broken love, a woman’s worth, and an incomplete past that may doom her future.

Kareem Howell

Copyright © 2021 Kareem Howell

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-63881-647-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-648-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Monday, February 9, 2009

Monday, March 2, 2009

Book 2

An incomplete past may doom her future.

Meet Bessie Revenge!

To my mother, Ms. Bessie Spencer, who taught me to dream big

Acknowledgments

My dad, Perry Howell, who never let me down.

My baby sister Doris Kidd, who’s my heart.

My big sister Sandro and big brother Tim Spencer, who always believed in me.

My little brother Morris Kidd—so much love, bro.

Special thanks to Ms. Jane Eichwald of Ambler Document Processing, who typed my book into a fine manuscript and who was generous with her time and patience with me. Most importantly, she has a good heart and is an honest person. I can’t say that about everyone and be speaking from my heart. I am grateful. Thank you, Ms. Jane Eichwald.

Monday, February 2, 2009

1:45 a.m.

Jack slowed his wife’s black CL550 Mercedes-Benz down and turned the corner that his house was located on. He brought the car to a very slow pace, cruising at approximately ten mph…going over the story in his head that he created and would try to convince his wife to believe.

Jack was nervous. He slowly reached his right hand over and turned down the Jazz X Radio station he had been listening to, trying to calm and relax his nerves.

His eyes glanced up at the dashboard clock, which read 1:45 a.m.

Damn! Jack, you’re a fuckin’ shithead! he cursed out loud, classifying himself. How in the hell could he be so stupid and lose track of the time, he thought as the car slowly approached the big white house that he shared with his wife and better half, Bessie Spencer. His right foot crossed over from the gas pedal to the brake pad. He pressed down, and the car came to a dead stop directly in front of his house.

Jack took a deep breath and held it in. He looked out of the passenger-side window of the car at the house and noticed that the front porch light was on. The deep breath came out of his lungs slowly, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach with fear.

Oh, well, he whispered to himself, listening to the internal voice speaking to him inside of his head, repeating what he already knew and actually felt inside of his heart—that his wife would be leaving him this time for sure.

Jack turned the steering wheel to the right and eased the car into the driveway. He shut off the headlights and sat there staring at the house, as if expecting his wife to come running out within the minute. After waiting for a few moments, nothing happened, no movement at all as far as he could tell.

Jack went over the story once more in his mind, speaking out calmly in his deep voice, filling the compartment of the car. Baby, I got robbed by two men. Damn, he thought, that sounded too soft. There’s no way in hell his wife would believe him if he came into the house with a lie sounding like that. He quickly dismissed it and tried again.

Baby! You’re never going to believe what happened to me tonight. Two Hispanic men came into Carry’s Market with guns and held the damn place up. Shit! Was so crazy. Scared the hell out of me.

For the first time in hours, he smiled. The story sounded good, and the tone of his voice sounded just right. All he needed to do now was sell it to his wife, and his black ass would be in the clear. He thought about the story once more and thought, With the right act, she’ll have to believe me. Yeah, he’ll have her eating the lie right out of the palm of his hand.

Jack killed the car engine, took one more peak at the dashboard clock, which now read 1:59 a.m. He removed the car keys from the ignition and shouldered the car door open, stepping out into the cool morning air, closing the door quietly behind him.

Jack walked around the back of the car, making his way over to the house. He tiptoed his way up the front six wooden steps and eased his house key into the bolt lock, unlocking the door.

Turning the doorknob softly to the left, he pushed the door open slowly, being extremely careful not to make a sound.

Jack took another deep breath, letting it out hard and fast, then quietly stepped into the dark living room of his residence. The house was quiet. He stood completely still for a few moments, listening to the darkness that surrounded him. He closed the front door softly behind him and locking the top bolt lock back into place. He thought maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to do any explaining to his wife tonight Well, this morning.

Just as Jack turned back around and started to walk through the dark living room, he tripped over something in his pathway and fell hard to the carpet floor.

Goddamn it! What the hell was that? he quietly yelled, asking himself, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark to see what in the hell he had fallen over. He couldn’t make out what it was. He stood up and decided to click on some lights. Jack reached over to his left where he knew a light switch would be on the wall and flipped the switch. Light flooded the living room immediately. He looked down before him, then around him, and couldn’t believe his eyes. Seven big cardboard boxes. He knew without a doubt all of his personal possessions were inside of those boxes. His heart dropped to his stomach. Never before had his wife packed up his things when he came home during the wee hours. This was bad, and he knew it. His thoughts were immediately interrupted by his wife Bessie’s soft voice behind him.

Take your shit and get out of my house.

Jack’s entire body swung around, and he stared at his wife, eyes wide open, sitting on the living room couch in her baby-blue nightgown, legs tightly crossed, drinking from a glass with a clear liquid substance inside of it. Jack didn’t have to guess or ask what was in the glass cup.

The longneck gin bottle was sitting on the coffee table directly in front of her in plain view, half empty. Jack wasted no time. He went right into his act.

Baby! You still up, huh? Before she could provide him with an answer, he kept going. You’re not going to believe what happened to me tonight, he said in an eager voice, throwing both of his hands out in front of him, moving toward her slowly, watching her reaction closely.

Jack, please! Get out, she said calmly, taking a slow sip from her glass cup, swallowing the liquid hard, locking her big dark-brown eyes on him. Jack felt a nervous wreck but mustered up enough courage to stand before his wife and try to sell her his lie.

But, baby, could you please just hear me out, and if you still want me out, then I’ll leave. He held his breath for a full minute and decided her silence meant she was listening and waiting on him to start explaining himself.

2:08 a.m.

Bessie took another sip of her drink and shot a disgusting look over the rim of her glass at her husband, Jack.

She thought about the six years they had been married to each other—three good years and three bad years—but the truth of the matter was she still faithfully loved her husband, the man standing in front of her, tying to plead his case.

Bessie knew if he decided to walk out that front door, she would probably be the one on her hands and knees begging him to stay, but he didn’t know that. And he was the one who’s been out all night doing whatever with whomever. So let him beg, she thought.

Get out, Jack! she said, dying to really hear his excuse and see what kind of tale he had come up with this time.

She knew Jack all too well and had known he had been cheating on her for the past two and a half years, but enough was enough. She had decided to pack his shit as a scare tactic, but looking at his sorry ass before her now, she wondered how much more of Jack could she really put up with. And before she knew it, she nodded her head for him to start explaining himself.

Thank you, baby! Listen to this. Two Hispanic men came into Carry’s Market with guns and held the place up. Baby, I was scared shitless. He could tell he had her attention. One thing about his Bessie that he knew was she couldn’t deny her love for him. He saw it in her eyes the second he mentioned guns were involved and that he was scared shitless. That’s why he had chosen that story because he knew the thought of losing him to her would supersede over everything and anything else.

She leaned forward, sat her empty glass on the coffee table, uncrossed her long legs, stood up, and looked him directly into his eyes.

Jack, you are so full of shit. You smell like it. It’s coming off of you real strong, she said in a disgusting voice. Turning around and walking away from him heading toward the bedroom, he watched her closely, thinking he was out of the woods, and those boxes with his personal things in them wouldn’t be leaving this house any time soon. She stopped at the bedroom door, turned around, and again locked eyes on him. He knew what was coming before she even said anything. Don’t you even think about climbing into our bed next to me, you dog! She slammed the bedroom door behind her, and from where he stood, he heard locks turning into place and felt shame come over him, but it didn’t last long. He thought, Once again, big Jack wins.

6:30 a.m.

Bessie woke up early in the morning with a throbbing headache and an emotional heartache. She couldn’t blame Jack for her headache because her drinking the straight gin probably caused that, but Jack was truly the blame for her heartache. She thought about calling in sick, not really in the mood to be putting up with judges, prosecutor, paralegals, and the criminals whom she represented daily. Pam White, her supervisor, would assign her court cases over to Mike Reed or Michael Freeman, both of whom were well capable and qualified to appear in open court for her. The only problem with calling in sick was she’ll be stuck here in this house looking at Jack’s sorry butt all day. She decided work would be much more suitable for her and threw the covers off of her expeditiously.

As she climbed out of her bed, she looked at her alarm clock and could not believe she had forgotten to set the alarm again; the time read 6:30 a.m., giving her enough time for a quick shower and a fast breakfast. No morning exercise to get my day off on a good start and no excess time to review a pending case, she thought.

Bessie unlocked her bedroom door and stepped out into the dining room. She looked toward the living room and saw Jack asleep on the couch in all of his clothing, snoring loudly.

She turned and quickly walked to her bathroom to take a shower. By the time she was done, gotten dressed for work, had her morning coffee and a cheese bagel for breakfast, the time was 7:32 a.m.

She found Jack still passed out, on his back, mouth wide open, dead asleep. Bessie stood over him silently. Looking down into his face, she hadn’t believed one word that came out of Jack’s mouth last night or early morning. Bessie always prided herself on being such a strong woman, but when it came to her man, her husband, the no-good dog lying on her couch before her, she felt so weak.

She looked at the empty longneck gin bottle lying on the floor next to the couch turned on its side and knew he finished the bottle off for her. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one trying to drown out the pain with the hard liquor. Their marriage had been in trouble for years now, but neither of them was willing to admit it to one another. Maybe it was finally time to stop playing house and accept the harsh reality of the fact that their marriage was over, accept the harsh reality that he didn’t love her anymore. Bessie felt the warm tears rolling down her cheek and knew she had to let Jack go, but the question remained. How can I? she asked herself in her own mind.

She promised herself at that moment, when she came home from work, if she had