The Plug's Wife Read Online Free PDF

over Jesse’s picture.  How fucking disrespectful of this bitch to be crying over a man that is not hers. Summer fumed silently.  She was very good at remembering faces and she’d definitely seen this slut before, she just couldn’t remember where at that moment.  “Your guess is as good as mine.  There’s been a whole bunch of bitches here screaming over JB today.  They probably exes that wish they could be you…the legally married wife ,” Caralina placated. 
    Summer did not appreciate her friend’s running commentary during the funeral services.  She filed that away in her mental Rolodex. 
    “How many?” Summer asked, her eyebrows arched at Caralina. 
    “How many what?  Exes? Or bitches crying over him in general?” Caralina asked, her voice faltering.  Summer gave her friend a hard stare.
    “Uhhhh….I’ve seen about three or four so far.  But don’t quote me on that,” Caralina replied, her voice jumpy.  Summer watched Scrap move the screaming hoochie away from Jesse’s casket. 
    “Nah ma, we ain’t having none of that in here today.  Keep it moving,” Scrap said brusquely as he guided the woman towards the exit.
    Summer sat like a queen in the first row designated for family and close friends.  A woman’s statuesque frame emerged from the crowd, dressed in a black silk pants suit that fit her like a glove.  Summer watched the woman gracefully saunter up to Jesse’s casket.  The woman’s hair was pulled back in a classy chignon and her blemish-free cocoa skin gleamed under the funeral home lights.  Her features were model-like—high cheekbones, pouty lips, and dark, intriguing eyes.  Summer instantly felt a pang of jealousy.  The beautiful woman was holding the hand of a small boy, no older than three or four years old.  When they stopped at the casket, the woman shuffled the little boy in front of her and pointed to Jesse’s image.  She kneeled and whispered something in the little boy’s ear.  The little boy looked up at the portrait and then at casket with confused eyes.  He was clearly too young to understand.  The woman roughly swiped away her own tears, her jaw firmly set like she had wired it shut to keep from saying to Jesse’s image what had intended to tell Jesse when he was alive. 
    Bat-sized flutters rippled through Summer’s stomach.  She quickly averted her eyes from the little boy’s chubby face.  He was still a baby, but his features were shockingly familiar.
    “C’mon baby.  It’s time to go now,” the woman whispered to the boy, grabbing his hand as she got to her feet.  When they turned to exit, the woman looked down at Summer through hooded eyes. 
    A cold chill shot down Summer’s spine.  She instantly hated the woman whose faced she would never forget her.   
    “Who the fuck was that?  She is fucking beautiful and the kid…too damn cute,” Caralina whispered, making matters worse. 
    Summer buried her face in her one good hand, trying to keep her composure.
    “What’s wrong, Summer? Did I say something wrong?”  Caralina probed, not entirely heartless. 
    Anger welled up inside of Summer like hot lava threatening to erupt.  If Jesse were alive at this moment, she would probably have killed him herself.
     
    Summer knew Jesse was a good guy. In fact, that was one of the compelling reasons for marrying him.  During his brief life, Jesse had given back to the community where he was from, donating generously to help folks pay their rent, send their kids to school, buy clothes, and even get a lawyer when necessary.  Summer wondered if the people Jesse had helped showed up to the funeral because they were truly grateful or because they wanted to continue to tap into the Jesse Banks money tree posthumously. 
    Representatives from charitable organizations also attended to offer their condolences.  Summer heard their real underlying intentions in their words.  Let’s stay in touch. Let us know how we can be of service. Jesse