The Side Effects of You Read online

  The Side Effects of You

  Anna Black

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One - Andrea Young

  Chapter Two - Samantha Cooper

  Chapter Three - Josephina Ramirez

  Chapter Four - Andrea

  Chapter Five - Samantha

  Chapter Six - Andrea

  Chapter Seven - Josephina

  Chapter Eight - Samantha

  Chapter Nine - Andrea

  Chapter Ten - Josephina

  Chapter Eleven - Samantha

  Chapter Twelve - Josephina

  Chapter Thirteen - Andrea

  Chapter Fourteen - Samantha

  Chapter Fifteen - Josephina

  Chapter Sixteen - Andrea

  Chapter Seventeen - Samantha

  Chapter Eighteen - Andrea

  Chapter Nineteen - Josephina

  Chapter Twenty - Samantha

  Chapter Twenty-one - Andrea

  Chapter Twenty-two - Samantha

  Chapter Twenty-three - Josephina

  Chapter Twenty-four - Andrea

  Chapter Twenty-five - Samantha

  Chapter Twenty-six - Andrea

  Chapter Twenty-seven - Josephina

  Chapter Twenty-eight - Andrea

  Chapter Twenty-nine - Samantha

  Chapter Thirty - Andrea

  Chapter Thirty-one - Samantha

  Chapter Thirty-two - Josephina

  Chapter Thirty-three - Andrea

  Chapter Thirty-four - Josephina

  Chapter Thirty-five - Andrea

  Chapter Thirty-six - Samantha

  Chapter Thirty-seven - Josephina

  Chapter Thirty-eight - Andrea

  Chapter Thirty-nine - Samantha

  Chapter Forty - Andrea

  Chapter Forty-one - Josephina

  Chapter Forty-two - Andrea

  Chapter Forty-three - Josephina

  Urban Books, LLC

  97 N 18th Street

  Wyandanch, NY 11798

  The Side Effects of You

  Copyright © 2016 Anna Black

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6228-6744-8

  ISBN 10: 1-62286-876-5

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Chapter One

  Andrea Young

  I stood at the stove in my kitchen, preparing dinner for my family. It was my routine, nothing different from what I had done the night before and the night before that. I had been married for ten years to my husband, Jeremiah, and during that time, I had given him two children and had taken in Kelly, his daughter from his previous relationship with his ex, Regina.

  Kelly was now fifteen; my daughter Lena, eight; and J.J., which was short for Jeremiah Jr., was five. My babies were my source of happiness—and three of the reasons I hadn’t packed my bags, got in my car, and just driven away. I wanted a new life, a new start, a do over, to be absolutely honest. I was tired of taking care of everything and everybody and no one taking care of me.

  I was a wife, mother, housekeeper, listener, problem solver, cook, maid, first lady and, my least favorite of all, my husband’s doormat. It had taken me a year after getting married to realize that Jeremiah and I weren’t compatible. But instead of listening to that little voice of reason in my head, which said, Leave his ass, I had stayed and had ended up pregnant with Lena. At the time, I had used the birth of my daughter to fill the void I had in my marriage and to deal with the loss of my mother.

  Although we were raising Kelly, when my baby Lena came along, I fell in love. All the things that I hated and didn’t like about myself and my life somehow became a distant memory when I held her in my arms. My world was all right because of my angel, and I honestly believed at that time that God had enough mercy on me to give me someone to love who loved me back.

  I didn’t have to impress Lena, say the right things, watch my tone, or hold my true opinion inside. She loved me for me. She didn’t know my flaws, of course, but each and every time she saw me, she’d smile and laugh. I made her happy, something I rarely did for Jeremiah. Yet I still stayed.

  As Lena grew up, she still adored me, but when her little brother came along, she became a little jealous. And since I didn’t let her mistreat her baby brother, she turned to Jeremiah, and they began to bond. Now she was Daddy’s little girl, and nothing I said was fair or right. J.J. was still young, still trying to find his way, but he was definitely not a mama’s boy. He didn’t like kisses or baths or anything that didn’t move on wheels. I swore that kid was going to be a mechanic, a NASCAR driver or, worse, a car salesman. Either way, I didn’t see us becoming close, at least not anytime soon. Lastly, there was my stepdaughter, Kelly. Since her mother was still in her life, there was little room for me, and she played us against each other. A miserable, losing situation for me.

  Work, however, was great. I was doing what I had been born to do, and I loved it. I was a hair and makeup artist. I finally owned my own salon, but after all that I had accomplished, Jeremiah still looked down on me.

  Over the years, I had gone from a size twelve to a twenty-two, but I still had a great sense of style, and hands down, I was gorgeous. Short, yes. I was short, five-three, with the prettiest hazel eyes and the deepest dimples. Being a stylist, I changed my look often, but now I was finally wearing my hair natural. This was best beauty decision I’d ever made for myself. Clothes . . . I had racks of them, big girl or not. I loved to look good, but somehow I didn’t look good anymore to my husband.

  We hadn’t made love in over two years. Sad, but true. It had been a year since we slept in the same bed, but somehow when I brought up the subject of divorce, we ended up in a yelling match. I could never understand how he wanted to stay married when he didn’t want to be with me. I sometimes believed it was because he was the head pastor at our church. He’d say, “I can’t teach my flock the values of marriage and how God hates divorce and then turn around and get one.”

  But he still refused to love me. He still refused to be kind to me. Not that he was pure evil. He was just not there. There was no fun, no loving, and no affection. We watched movies as a family, went out to eat as a family, and ate supper at the dinner table together, but after the kids were down, he went to the spare room on the main floor and I slept alone upstairs, in our master.

  Yes, I had tried to turn on the sexy. Yes, I had tried to entice him, but nothing had worked, and I’d felt like a fool for trying to make him do the things he just didn’t want to do.

  “Dinner is ready,” I called out.

  The kids rushed to the table.

  “Did you guys wash your hands?” I asked.

  They all headed to the bathroom to do something I reminded them to do every single night.

  “I’ll pass on dinner, Mama Ann. I’m going to Bianca’s for dinner,” Kelly informed me.

  “Since when, Kel? Why can’t you have dinner with your family?”

  “Mom, I have a project due in three days, and Bianca and I
have to finish it up. I already cleared it with Mrs. Wright. She said we can eat while we work on our homework.”

  “What are they having?”

  “Beggars Pizza,” she answered.

  That was why she wanted to go. Beggars was not only the kids’ favorite; it was also mine.

  “Okay. Go. Just make sure you call when you are ready to come home. I don’t want you walking, young lady.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said. She shot out the door, and my other two kids took their seats at the table.

  As I set the table, my husband walked in, wearing a suit instead of the shorts and tank he had had on an hour before.

  “Going somewhere?” I asked.

  He straightened his tie and then smoothed his jacket. “Yes. Sister Thompson called and asked me to come by to pray over her grandson. He has a fever, and it won’t come down.”

  “Well, you know we all have the power to pray over our children,” I said smartly. “She can anoint him and pray for him, and you can pray to God from right here.”

  “Yes, you are correct, Ann, but not every saint is blessed with healing hands.”

  “According to the Word of God, all of us have the power to heal.”

  “Let’s not do this, Ann. I’ll be home later.” He shut me up, as usual, and kissed the kids. “Where’s Kel?”

  “She went to Bianca’s.”

  “You permitted that on a school night?”

  “Yes. She has a project. At least that is what she said.”

  “Make sure she’s home before bedtime.”

  “Will you be home before bedtime?”

  “Please put my plate in the warmer,” he said, not answering my question, and then he walked out.

  I took me a moment to get myself together. Lord God, you are all-knowing. I’m not. How long must I suffer this arrogant man, Lord Jesus? I was miserable, and I wanted a new life. I wanted a man who adored me, who wanted to be with me, who wanted to hold me and spend some romantic time with me.

  I wanted to wear a smile behind my smile, instead of the frown that was buried beneath the curled-up corners of my lips. I was the first lady of our church and the go-to person for our members. I was on top of my career, my children, and my home. I was spread so thin, and I just wanted God to either take me home or give me my heart’s desires, because I no longer wanted to be in the Young house. I wanted to be free. I wanted a new love. Someone who wanted me.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Jeremiah Jr. said, snapping me back to the dinner table.

  For a moment, I had been absent, the troubles in my life taking over my mind, but now I moved quickly and carried the dish of potatoes to the table. Then I sat and ate with the only two people who I knew loved me for me, Lena and J.J.

  I reached for their little hands. “Okay. Bow your heads and let us pray.”

  Chapter Two

  Samantha Cooper

  I sat patiently and waited for my appointment at Sassy Styles. I hadn’t wanted to go, but I had gotten a gift certificate from my staff, and I’d promised I’d redeem it. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I needed this appointment. I hadn’t been to the salon in over six years, and even though I put a box relaxer on my hair every eight weeks, I hadn’t had a trim, a haircut, or a professional styling in ages. I probably had six or seven inches of split ends on my head.

  I had fallen into a dull routine of pressed powder, eyeliner, lip gloss, and my hair pulled back into a bun. Yes, that was my look, even for church and some of the social events my friends invited me to. I was divorced and hadn’t dated in years, because my ex-husband had given me a gift called herpes.

  I still didn’t believe it, even though my doctor had diagnosed me with it. It had taken that first outbreak to let me know that I was truly infected. It had hurt like a motherfucker, and I had decided then that I’d never have sex again, because I didn’t want anyone to get it from me. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to disclose my affliction to anyone, so I’d walked away from the dating scene completely.

  None of my friends knew why I had turned into a dateless prude, so they spent a lot of time trying to convince me to get back out there and meet people. They all were under the impression that I was scared from my marriage with Charles and that I was just too afraid to get hurt again, but that wasn’t it. I just didn’t want to spread this horrible, painful virus to anyone else.

  “Samantha Cooper,” a young beauty called out. It was as though she had appeared out of thin air.

  “Yes?” I stood.

  “Come this way. Andrea is ready for you.”

  I got up and followed her. I secretly admired the salon’s decor and thanked God that my staff had set me up with such an upscale place. The last thing I needed was to get a makeover from some ghetto-fabulous joint.

  “Have a seat here,” the young woman offered. I sat in the empty seat she pointed to, near the shampoo bowls.

  “Thank you.” I looked around and wondered why there were two waiting areas. I could have stayed in front. It reminded me of the doctor’s office. The nurse called you back so you could wait an additional ten minutes, which you spent rereading all the posters on the walls ten times.

  She put her hand on the shoulder of another young lady who had approached. “Amanda here is going to drape you, and Andrea will be out in a second to consult with you. Would you care for a drink? We have bottled water, sparkling water, flavored water, red wine, white wine, champagne, and strawberry daiquiris.”

  I smiled. I’d had no idea it would be that upscale. “White wine will be great. How much is it?”

  “It comes with your service, ma’am. There’s no extra charge.”

  “Get outta here,” I said and waved my hand.

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s included. I’ll have it out to you in a flash,” she said before walking away.

  “Please stand,” Amanda instructed.

  I stood. Amanda slipped the robe on over my clothes. Just then a beautiful, voluptuous sister approached me. She extended a hand.

  “Hi. I’m Andrea Young, the owner of Sassy Styles. I’ll be your stylist today.”

  “So nice to meet you.”

  “Do you have an idea what you would like to have done today? Did you bring any magazines or pictures?”

  “Actually, no. I came only because my staff and crew felt sorry for me, so they all chipped in and gave me a gift card, and here I am. They said you were the best, so I’m up for suggestions.”

  The young beauty returned with my wine. “Here you are, Miss Cooper.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thanks, Nicole,” Andrea said to the young lady before she hurried off. “So I see you have relaxed hair and your ends are severely damaged.”

  “Yes, I relaxed it, like, a week ago.”

  “Okay, well, I will have my assistant, Monica, shampoo and deep condition you. While you enjoy your wine and conditioner, I’ll have her give you a stylebook to look through, and we’ll go from there. Now, I’m not saying you have to look for an exact style, but at least find something you like or a look you may want to try, and I’ll tailor it to you.”

  “Wow. Thanks, Andrea. I’m excited. This place is lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  I got up and followed Monica to the shampoo bowls and then to the dryer. During the twenty-minute conditioning treatment, I looked through a stylebook and got a refill on my wine. Two was my limit, because I had to drive home, but I savored the flavor. I could tell the wine wasn’t a house brand. I owned a restaurant, and I knew good wine from cheap wine. I was definitely going to come back here.

  “Come this way, Miss Cooper, so I can rinse you,” Monica said when the twenty minutes had elapsed.

  When I was finally in the stylist chair, I made a bold choice. “I like this,” I told Andrea, pointing to a short, tapered style in the stylebook. It was time for a change. I had never tried short hair, but I felt like I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to walk into my restaurant and look as good as some of my pa
trons. I handed her the book. She took a glance at it and then put it to the side.

  “Now, as a stylist, I know you can rock this haircut, but I have to ask you three times if you are sure before I can proceed. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Samantha, are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Samantha, are you absolutely sure you want this drastic change?”

  “One hundred and ten percent sure.” I hoped it wasn’t the white wine talking.

  By the time she was done with the cut, I felt brand new. “Before you put that foam on, can I touch it? I mean, I can see the difference already, and I’m loving it,” I said.

  “Yes. You sure can.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair and played around with it for a moment. “Oh, my God, this is beautiful. I love it. I love it.” It looked so good, and it wasn’t even finished.

  “It does fit you well. I’d love to do your eyebrows, and since you have a nice piece of change on your gift card, I’d love to do your makeup too.”

  “Let’s do it.” I was so excited.

  When it was all done, I looked beautiful. I looked like my old self, the person I used to be before Charles took my life from me.

  “You are beautiful,” Andrea said, complimenting me. “Your man is going to be blown away.”

  “Well, I don’t have one of those, but I know my staff and customers will be. I may never, ever have another man.”

  “Don’t think like that. You are beautiful, Samantha, and we are not meant to be alone. God has someone for all of us. You just have to wait on the Lord.”

  “Listen, I don’t get into all that religious mumbo jumbo. I lost faith in God years ago. I have always done the right thing. At least I thought I did. My crime was falling in love and marrying a man who was no good for me. Now I’m scarred for life.”

  “Don’t say that. Bad things happen to good people, and I’ll tell you firsthand that life isn’t all perfect or fair, but you should never stop believing.”

  “Yeah, well, God has cursed my body. I never cheated.” My eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t deserve the cards I was dealt.”