“Tim?” I say, turning to him. “She’s not really better than me, is she?” I ask about my deputy, still feeling insecure about my job.
“Are you kidding? No one is better at your job than you,” he reassures me. “Get better and come back, we all miss you.”
Heck. He’s right. The only reason I’m out sick is because I took a pounding to my head after I got Chris to sign a long-term advertising contract with the magazine. No one is better at my job than I am. Damn straight.
“Have you seen this?” Tim asks, scrolling through his phone.
“What?” I ask.
“Jada Pinkett Smith had an affair,” he says.
“Did she?” I ask, uninterested.
“Yes, Will Smith is chiseled, funny and rich. If he can be cheated on, what hope is there for the rest of us?” he asks.
I take his phone and read the story.
“Play it,” I say. “I’d like to hear what she said, not what she is reported to have said.”
He plays the short video.
“This is it!” I say. “This is the next cover story.”
“I thought you were working on sex during Covid times,” he says.
“No. Watching men lose their minds over Will being cheated on and them finally understanding that this happens to them every day of their lives is way better,” I say with a smile.
“Better for who?” he asks wincing.
“Do you know when a woman cheats, the guy is cuckold, but there is no equivalent to the word when a woman is cheated on?” I ask Tim.
“No, I didn’t know that,” he says.
I start whistling to the tune of the theme song of the Prince of Bel Air and spit out the rhymes with a few changes in the lyrics.
Now, this is a story all about how My wife got flipped-turned upside down And I'd like to take a minute Just sit right there I'll tell you how I became the joke of a town called Bel Air
August was 20, barely born and raised On the playground was where he spent most of his days Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school But in a couple of days he was up to no good Started making trouble in my neighbourhood We got in one little fight and my wife got scared She said 'Will, I’m movin' in with August in Bel Air'
I whistled for a cab and when it came near The licence plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror If anything I could say that this cab was rare But I thought 'Nah, forget it' - 'Yo, get my wife back from Bel Air!'
I pulled up to the house about seven or eight And I yelled to August 'Yo homes smell ya later' I looked at my kingdom I was finally back To sit on my throne as her Prince of Bel Air
“You’re really good, I’m impressed,” Tim says with a smile.
“Yeah? Let’s find some cuckold men out there who forgave and forgot,” I say. “See if we can put a well-known one on the cover.”
“What happened to getting some rest until you recover?” Tim asks.
“Is this what you consider me getting rest?” I ask slipping out of my robe and straddling him.
His manhood gives me an instant salute. I love the power I have over him.
“I see you are ready for me,” I say with a cheeky laugh.
“Officer Tim, reporting for duty ma’am,” he responds, pulling me closer and grabbing my buttocks securely. “Fasten your safety belt, it will be a rough ride.”
