No Regret

No Regret

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published By:

Sandra D. Paul on Smashwords

Shutterstock / paintings

No Regret

Copyright 2015 Sandra D. Paul

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserve above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by means (electronic, mechanical, photo copying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is the work of fiction. Names, characters places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

License Notes

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***

A beautiful and loyal woman name Sasha meets and marries her college sweetheart Tariq, but his torrid affairs with random females leads to her unplanned, impulsive behavior and murder.

How much can Sasha endure dealing with her trifling husband Tariq and his side chicks? She knows in her heart she’s had enough. Instead of her having a nervous breakdown, she decides to take a different approach in dealing with Tariq’s infidelities. Did her unpredictable action spiral his life out of control and cost two people their lives? How long can a sister stay in character before she breaks? Who will confess first to clear their conscience?

No Regret is a dramatic thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat - trying to keep up with all the lies and deception that destroys a marriage. You’ll feel the pain and revenge of Sasha with every page turn.

***

Book Is Dedicated…

For the Side Chick:

Wake Up! The truth hurts.

There may never be a happily ever after.

Karma is a bitch!

For the Main Chick:

Step up your game.

If you feel you’re invested whole heartedly, work it out - give it a second life.

Stop being predictable and complacent.

For the Undecided Chick:

Focus.

Narrow your standards and stick to them.

Make a decision, already.

Every decision you make is an executive one.

Learn to live with it - no regret.

***

Chapter 1

Sasha

"Deny, deny, deny! You make me sick. I can’t believe your trifling ass." I smash his head into the steering wheel. We start swerving. Out the corner of my eye, I see bright lights and hear a loud horn heading in our direction. I hit my head on the passenger side window from Tariq’s quick jerk of the wheel that lands us back into our lane. An eighteen wheeler speeds past us on the two-way street - still blowing its horn. Smoke erupts from the tires - the trucker keeps control of it. The horn momentarily muffles our voices.

Damn it, Sasha! Tariq yells after stopping the car on the shoulder of the road. Our heads bounce back in an upright position. Are you crazy? He says while raising his hand in defense at the same time as I start pounding him with my purse after it drops in my lap from the dashboard. Other cars begin to blow their horn as they pass us on the side of the road. We are blocking half the lane. I take my cup of water from the cup holder and throw it on him, soaking his face in guilt. I am so hurt and angry. My mind starts racing on how many ways I can hurt him. An internal category-four hurricane was forming at a hundred and thirty miles an hour inside my head. Tariq couldn’t see it but I was going to make sure he felt it. I am going to shut him down tonight. I take my shoe off and try to bust him upside his head, but, he grabs my hand in midair and presses down on my wrist. I drop my shoe and he throws it on the back seat. At this point, I am so out of control and yelling from the top of my lungs. I see his lips moving, but can’t hear a word he’s saying. I hear a hard knock on the window and snap out of my hurricane state. Tariq lets my hand go and I sit back in my chair to compose myself. He wipes off his wet face with his hand and rolls down the window.

Is everything okay, man? It was my cousin George. I thought this was your car. Do you need a jump or something? I look back into George’s car and see her sitting in it. George parks right under the street light. We’re okay, George, I interrupt. Tariq and I are just talking. Promise, we’re fine. George gives us a long stare and walks back to his car. We both conjure up a fake smile as they slowly drives past us. His girl gave us no eye contact and kept looking straight ahead. Once they are in front of us, we was at it again.

Hell yeah, I’m crazy! I finally answer him while reaching for my shoe on the back seat. I grab it and put it back on my foot. My behavior has drop to a tropical storm. I still want to destroy anything in my path. I lean forward in my seat and let the visor down to check my face. We head home. I try to comfort my conscious for I did not want the kids to see me looking like a mad woman.

What are you talking about? Tariq responds as he takes his handkerchief from inside his coat pocket to wipe off his soaked shirt.

You stood there in my face and flirted with that bitch in George’s car at the party. I let the visor up and sit back in my seat. I just didn’t understand why he kept flirting with her in my face. I can’t look in his direction anymore, I thought, clinching my teeth and staring out the passenger window. Please don’t say another word to me. Let’s just go home. I’m done with you and this tonight. That’s all I can blurt out. I so want to kick his ass out this car. Tariq adjusts himself in his seat and pulls back onto the road. We sit in silence the rest of the way home.

We pull into the driveway. I feel a slight throbbing in my head from bumping it on the window, but it didn’t stop my rage on Tariq. I can’t take this anymore! You are always out here embarrassing me, I bark as I slam the car door. I dash ahead of him to the front door, as if we are racing each other in the Kentucky Derby.

What are you talking about, Sasha? We were just talking and enjoying the music, Tariq explains, galloping up the walkway behind me. And we can’t go anywhere without you accusing me of messing around, he adds, staying in stride with my every step.

I glance back at him. "I do know this, Tariq - those bitches are going to be the death of you. I am tired of your bull shit!"

What does that mean? He stares at me. His face is glowing under the porch light, gleaming back like a child’s innocent stare - free of sin or guilt. I did not let it fluster me. I ignore him and we walk into the house.

Hey kids, we’re home! I scream while taking off my jacket before walking into the family room to let Amber know we are back from my brother’s Elijah birthday party. Tariq dashes upstairs to the bedroom, stomping like he had just gotten a spanking for being bad. I stand there in the foyer, exercising my breathing techniques for a few seconds that Vonda, of all people, taught me. She says I hold too much in and I’m going to end up killing somebody one day. She may be right. Tariq took me there tonight. I want to stick a pitch fork through his heart. Vonda is my big sister with all the answers - and no man. Everyone likes her except Tariq. He despises her whole identity. She speaks her mind and leaves nothing to the imagination. He can’t catch a break when she’s around. No love lost between those two.

When I’ve had enough of Tariq’s crap, my voice trembles and it feels like my head is going to explode. So, I want to make sure the kids can’t detect my voice shaking or me being upset. I practice my breathing techniques quietly in the foyer for a few more seconds. Vonda says it’s always good to take long, deep breaths when you need to calm yourself after surviving a horrific storm.

Mommy! Mommy! Tyree and Sierra yells when they see me enter the family room, but, they continue playing.

I take a last, long breath before I speak. Thanks, Amber. Were they any trouble while we were gone? I ask and force a smile on my face.

No, Mrs. Johnson. They were angels as always, Amber shares as she walks over to the love seat and puts on her jacket.

Here you go, Amber. My hand slightly trembling while reaching into my pocket for her money. I gave you an extra ten dollars since we were thirty minutes late.

Thanks, Mrs. Johnson. I appreciate it. She stares at my hand momentarily, recognizing my tremble and remains silent. She reaches down and grabs her book bag and heads to the front door. Her zero-size frame has no problem lifting her over-pack book bag. I’ll fasten the bottom lock behind me, Mrs. Johnson. Call me if you need me next weekend.

I will Amber. What grade are you in now, I ask before she makes it out the room. I want to take my mind off Tariq so I begin small talk with her. Not that I didn’t care about her, but I know doing this will help release some of my anger before talking with the kids.

Tenth, Amber answer.

Oh my God! Time knows it can creep up on you. I remember when you were five years old, I reminisce. Tariq and I had just moved into the neighborhood. We were so happy when we bought this house. If