Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“You don’t want people thinking he’s some….” The ringleader used a racial slur.
I covered Alessandro’s ears. “How DARE you use that kind of language in front of a child!”
“F*ck!” Alessandro protested.
The women’s eyes all got huge. “Oh, my God, what HAVE you been saying around that poor little darling?”
“I’m texting Cecilia,” the second woman said, whipping out her phone. “I have to let her know the filthy things you’ve been teaching her grandchild.”
“You can’t be serious,” I gaped at them.
Five piercing sets of blue eyes scowled at me. “Of course we’re serious.”
“Marilyn, I seem to remember your child’s first words being ‘get off me, Stan,'” Antoinette said, inserting herself into the conversation.
The one called Marilyn, who I recognized as the second of my attackers, turned beat red.
Obviously not afraid of eating their own, the other four women tittered at Marilyn’s expense.
“No offense, Marilyn, but if I were married to that pig, I’d be saying that all the time, too,” the ringleader chuckled.
“Terese, has the paternity test come back on little Kenneth yet?” Antoinette asked the ringleader sweetly. “He does look an awful lot like the gardener.”
Terese turned beet red. “You watch your mouth, Antoinette Simmons. I seem to remember your house being raided by the FCC three times now. Or is it four?”
“And yet they still haven’t found anything,” Antoinette smirked. “It is a bit of a pain getting things back in order, but that three-million-dollar harassment suit we won against them does keep us warm at night.”
Terese pursed her lips so tightly I thought botox might suddenly pop out. “So, you’re siding with some moll over us, Antoinette? I thought you had more taste.”
“I’m not a moll. Molls are for mobsters,” I cut in.
“What do they call it in the mafia then, ‘prostituta’?” Marilyn asked.
The five women all snickered.
“I am not a prostitute,” I ground out.
“You’re not married to him. Are you sure you’re not his side piece?” Terese jeered.
I knew I should just walk away. Stop answering them. But the anger building in me over the past weeks over the trial and Alessandro and everything was about to boil over, and these women seemed like perfect targets. “I’m sure I’m not his side piece. I do remember you trying to be at the barbecue. Too bad he doesn’t like t*ts that can double as floatation devices.”
Terese huffed, her fake boobs barely jiggling. “Watch out, girly. It happens to all of us one day.”
“What, plastic surgery or being a pain in the ass?” I asked sweetly.
Antoinette burst out laughing.
The four women around Terese tittered a little, but one look from their leader shut them up fast.
“I hope you’re taking notes,” Terese sneered. “We don’t want you here. You or your bastard children—”
My hand flew out of its own accord. I slapped the foul-mouthed, plastic Barbie across the face.
“Becca!” Layla gasped.
“Shit,” Antoinette said.
“Shit!” Alessandro proudly showed off a new word. “Shit!”
Terese gave me a look of triumphant contempt. “I knew you were trash. And that was assault.”
“I’ll tell your husband about the gardener if you do anything stupid, Terese,” Antoinette warned her.
Terese snorted. “As if I would need to report her. There’s a mountain of evidence about what a violent bitch she is.”
“Bitch!” Alessandro echoed.
“That’s right, sweetie. Your mummy is a bitch,” Terese cooed at Alessandro.
“F*ck off, Terese. Then when you get there, f*ck off some more,” Antoinette fumed.
Terese smiled and looked at her cronies. “Ladies, our work here is done. I’m sure Becca knows she’s unwelcome. Let’s go.”
Swaying their hips and fake asses, the quintuplets went to collect their nannies, who collected their children, and left the park.
I stood, breathing hard, so angry I could hardly see straight. “Th-thank you, Antoinette,” I finally said, once I could force any words out of my mouth.
“Those women are a blemish on the neighborhood. Don’t listen to them,” Antoinette assured me.
I raked a hand over my face. “I think… I think Layla and I should go home now.”
Antoinette gave me a sympathetic look and nodded. “I understand. But hey, see you for coffee tomorrow morning?”
“Maybe another time,” I replied woodenly.
“Okay.” Antoinette patted my shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”
I nodded at Layla, and we quickly took the kids back home. Layla took Alessandro from me and brought the kids back to the nursery.
I went to the bedroom I now shared with James. He’d moved his stuff in. We weren’t pretending anymore.
Choking back a sob, I laid down on the bed and curled around a pillow.
I didn’t know I wasn’t alone.
“Baby?” James asked, poking his head out of the closet. “Becca, what’s wrong?”
I wiped my eyes and sat up. “I thought you were on a call.”
“I got off early. I was going to go meet you guys down at the park—Becca, did something happen?” James came and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“We happened,” I responded softly, swiping more at the tears that escaped my eyes.
“What do you mean by that?” James scooted back so he was sitting right next to me and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
