Right as Reign Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  RIGHT AS REIGN. Copyright © 2020 by Jessyca B. Vample

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  ISBN: 978-1-7374279-4-0 (Hardcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-7374279-2-6 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-7374279-3-3 (ebook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021913978

  Author name: J.B. Vample, 1981

  Title: Right as Reign

  First edition

  Published by: Jessyca B. Vample

  Imprint: Jessyca Vample Publishing

  Address: PO BOX 21313, Philadelphia PA, 19141

  Email: [email protected]

  Website: jbvample.com

  For Marlene, my dearly departed grandmother. I miss your physical form terribly, but I feel your spirit every day.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Also by J.B. Vample

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Sitting on her queen-sized bed with her back against the plush pillows, Reign Price held her pink and gold ballpoint pen to her spiral notebook. The soft bedroom light illuminated the empty lines as she gathered her thoughts. Within a moment, she began to write:

  How many times can you say the words “I’m fine” before you believe them as truth?

  Hell, I’ve asked myself this question more times than I can count, yet I still don’t have the answer.

  The cell phone vibrating on her nightstand stalled her hand. She grabbed it. Clicking the message icon, she read the text.

  Sure.

  Reign narrowed her eyes at the cold, short reply. Glancing at the eleven o’clock time flashing on the bedside clock, she scoffed. She’d waited nearly three hours for her boyfriend’s reply to her ‘Hey babe, are we still on for tomorrow?’ text. The call she had made to him before that, went unanswered.

  “Thanks for taking your sweet fuckin’ time answering me,” she muttered. Gritting her teeth, she typed out a response.

  Okay, see you then. Love you, goodnight.

  After hitting send, she waited a moment for a response. When one didn’t come through, Reign shook her head. “That’s fine,” she huffed, tossing it back on the dresser with frustration. Missing the dresser completely, the sleek black phone tumbled to the carpeted floor. She eyed the fallen object with deadpan eyes for a long moment before pinching the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily.

  Returning her focus to her book, her hand began to glide across the paper once again:

  Today, I felt like crying.

  Yesterday, I became so frustrated that I wanted to throw something.

  Yet when posed with the question, “How are you?” the only answer that I could give was… “I’m fine.”

  Telling that lie, while holding my true feelings inside, is a habit that I can’t seem to shake.

  But then again, why would I want to shake it? It works for me.

  And what is the point of sharing your feelings if it doesn’t change anything?

  Telling someone that I’m feeling sad, won’t make me any less sad. So, why even bother?

  Even when I do try, things don’t change. So again, why even bother?

  As the neatly penned words filled the page, Reign felt her frustrations come to a head with the sting of tears behind her eyes. Hand still resting on the paper, Reign squeezed them shut, forcing the tears to a halt. “Stop it,” she hissed. “Don’t let it get to you.” Taking another deep, long breath, she opened her eyes. Her tears were gone; her writing resumed.

  Despite my logic, I often wonder if this way of handling things is crazy. Is trying to convince myself that I’m okay all the time—that I’m happy—crazy?

  I guess the better question would be, is it even possible to be completely happy? Can one be content in every aspect of their life—love life, family, friendships, career—is true happiness even attainable?

  I don’t have the answer to that question either. Even if I did, I’m not sure I’d really want to know for fear of being disappointed…Another feeling that’s not foreign to me, and yet another feeling that I hide.

  Setting the pen down, Reign held the book to her face, reading the words that she’d just poured out—her latest journal entry. At thirty-two years old, Reign had written more journal entries than she could possibly count; not that she’d ever tried.

  She used them to release whatever was pent up inside of her. The things she couldn’t bring herself to speak out loud: her thoughts, her hopes, her dreams, her desires. In those moments, her pen became her voice, her notebook a listening ear. Journaling was Reign’s solace, her outlet. After every completed entry, she felt lighter—or at least she could convince herself that she had. This evening’s writing session was no different.

  Eyes heavy, Reign exhaled deeply. Closing her notebook, she placed it and the pen in the drawer of her nightstand, before turning off her bedside lamp.

  Chapter One

  Reign jotted line after line into her notebook, pausing only to adjust the rose gold watch on her slender wrist. Shaking her wrist to maneuver the slim time piece back into place, she noticed the time. “Damn it, it’s after eight.”

  She’d zoned out while writing and lost track.

  If there was one thing that Reign despised more than time getting away from her, it was having to
stop writing in the middle of a thought.

  Rubbing her eye with her hand, she stifled a yawn. I definitely should’ve gone to bed earlier, she thought. Work, paired with her late-night journaling session, had her exhausted.

  Stretching her neck from side to side, she paused short of capping her pen to glance out her kitchen window, taking in the early morning backdrop—what she could see of it anyway. The complex next to her apartment blocked most of her view of the Arizona mountains.

  Turning away, Reign reached out to close her notebook, but a beep from her cell interrupted her. Grabbing the phone from the table, she tapped the message icon to open it.

  I’m on my way to you. Left my earrings at home, can I borrow a pair of yours?

  Reign scrunched her face. “Seriously?” She set the phone back down. “At least say good morning first.” Rolling her light brown eyes, she reached for a piece of apricot jam covered toast. As she did, her elbow bumped against her mug of coffee, knocking it over.

  She bolted from her seat as the warm liquid splashed across the kitchen table, her open notebook, and her clothes. “Shit!”

  “What happened? Are you okay?” A panicked voice asked, barreling through the kitchen door.

  Reign glanced over, annoyance clear on her face. “I’m fine Mom, I just spilled coffee all over myself.”

  Approaching the counter, Vivian Price shook her head, grabbing the roll of paper towels from the holder. “You know, you could’ve reacted to that accident without using profanity,” she said. “You know how I feel about that.”

  Reign rolled her eyes again. “While it wasn’t my intention for you to hear my profane outburst, surely you should know that I curse by now,” she ground out. “And trust me, what I just said is nothing compared to other words that I’ve used.”

  Walking to the table with one eyebrow raised, Vivian shot her daughter a challenging look. “Such as?”

  “Funny, understanding, caring, and kind,” Reign quickly answered, tucking some of her bust length curled, dark brown hair behind her ears.

  Her mother was perplexed for only a moment before realization set in; she let out a quick gasp, then pointed a warning finger. “Watch it, smart mouth.”

  Reign chuckled.

  Vivian couldn’t help but chuckle herself. Her daughter had always been smart—book and mouth wise. Tearing several sheets of paper towels from the roll, she began wiping the spilled coffee from the table. Reign placed a gentle hand onto hers, stopping her.

  “It’s okay, I’ll clean it.” Tearing sheets from the roll, a small sigh escaped Reign’s glossed lips. “I’m so tired of this tiny table. I barely have room to do anything but eat. I’m always knocking stuff over,” she complained, cleaning the mess.

  Despite her daughter’s protests, Vivian grabbed a dishrag to assist. “Well, hopefully you’ll get a bigger one once you find your house.”

  “Yeah well, a house can’t come fast enough. I outgrew this one-bedroom apartment like three years ago.”

  “I hear you baby,” Vivian soothed. “I feel a little bad that I stayed over here last night.”

  Reign looked at her mother; her brow furrowed slightly. “Why?”

  “Because you gave me your room.” She picked up Reign’s phone, handing it to her. “I told you, I would’ve been fine on the couch.”

  “Mom, you’re sixty, you would not have been fine on the couch.” Reign retrieved her coffee-stained notebook from the table. “I had no problem sleeping on it. I preferred for you to stay anyway. It was too late for you to drive home.”

  Reign often had visits from her mother, but rarely did they turn into an overnight stay.

  “Dear, we only live in Scottsdale,” Vivian pointed out, amused. “It’s twenty minutes away.”

  Reign cut her eye. “Still.” She held up her book, examining the damage.

  Vivian watched with sympathetic eyes. “Messed it up pretty badly, huh?”

  Reign sighed. “It’s fine. Not like anybody is ever going to read anything written in here anyway.” She wiped as much coffee as she could from the sheets, then touched the wet fabric of her dress. “Ugh, I have to go change.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can’t even see the coffee stain on your clothes.” Vivian gestured to her outfit. “All that black you have on.”

  Reign peered down at her black short-sleeved knee length, fitted dress. “Ah yes, mornings with you would not be complete without you trying to talk me out of wearing dark clothes,” she jeered. “Like high school all over again.”

  “I’m just saying, there are so many other colors in the world that you’d look so nice in.” Vivian shrugged. “One would think that black was your favorite color.”

  People who pay close enough attention to me would know that that’s not true. Reign eyed her mother—a woman whom she shared the same light brown complexion, dark hair, delicate features and, stunning beauty with. “Mom, I love you and I’m saying this with the upmost respect,” Reign began. Her mother stared at her with anticipation. “Lay off.”

  Vivian waved a hand in Reign’s direction. “Okay fine,” she relented. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to criticize. You look good in anything you put on. Always have.”

  Reign shook her head, amused. Her mother was right. With her tall and toned figure, curves in all the right places, Reign did look good in any outfit that she wore. “Thank you,” she replied. “But if you really want to bug somebody, go bug Cyn about that man’s apartment she’s spending all of her time in, instead of her dorm.”

  Vivian gasped. “Your sister is not shacking up with some boy!”

  Reign raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, okay.” She grabbed her pen from the table, then headed for the kitchen exit.

  Vivian followed Reign’s progress. “You shouldn’t lie on your sister.”

  “I’m not lying,” Reign maintained.

  Vivian shook her head as Reign disappeared into the living room. “Have a good day at work. Love you baby.”

  “Love you too and don’t clean anything else, I’ll do it when I get back,” Reign hurled back. “Call me when you get home.”

  Vivian chuckled to herself. “She can’t tell me what to do.”

  “It’s about time,” Marcy Stevens ground out, tossing her hands in the air. She’d grown tired of standing at the bottom step of Reign’s apartment complex. “Fifteen minutes is too long to have me waiting out here in this heat. You know that brown sugar melts in the sun.”

  Reign stepped off the last stair. Meeting Marcy’s height, her frustration was clear. “It’s too early for your complaining, Marcy.”

  Marcy waved a dismissive hand Reign’s way. “It’s not, it’s hot.”

  Reign shook her head. “I don’t know why you insist on complaining about the heat like it’s not hot ninety percent of the time.” she said. “We live in Arizona; you should be used to it by now.”

  Marcy ran a hand over her hair, then used the same hand to fan her face. “Trust me, I’m not. It’s only May and it feels like hell,” she grunted. “Anyway, did you bring the earrings?”

  Reign dug into her black handbag, retrieving a pair of sterling silver hoop earrings. “Do me a favor, give these back.”

  Marcy grabbed the earrings from Reign’s hand, placing a hoop into her earlobe. “Why did you say that like I never give your stuff back?” she questioned, offended as she put the other earring in.

  “Because you don’t.” Reign threw back. The two women began walking along the sidewalk. “You’ve been borrowing my things since college, and I have yet to receive any of what I’ve loaned back.”

  “And yet you still give me stuff when I ask,” Marcy countered, unfazed.

  “Yeah, I’ll add stopping that to my to-do list,” Reign sneered, earning a chuckle from Marcy. “Anyway, you never walk to work, what made you decide to do it today?”
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  Marcy adjusted the large designer satchel on her shoulder. Hesitating to speak for a moment, she smoothed her hand down her white sleeveless top. The plunging neckline of the casual top, paired with the yellow floral printed pants, accentuated Marcy’s voluptuous figure. “I just… I figured I’d save a few bucks today. The ride shares everyday were getting a little expensive,” she finally explained. “And we both know that I don’t do buses so…”

  Reign continued her stride with Marcy in tow. “Oh okay,”

  “But I’ll tell you, this will be the first and last time I walk anywhere that’s more than five minutes away,” Marcy scoffed. “My pretty feet and these designer sandals were not made for it.” She gestured to the bright yellow strappy stiletto sandals which displayed her manicured toes. “You like these shoes? I just got them the other day.” She gestured to her purse. “And this bag.”

  Reign’s eyes skimmed the shoes and matching bag. “They’re nice.”

  Marcy grinned, adjusting the bag once again. “This designer is expensive as hell, but well worth it.”

  Reign just gave a nod, but did not respond further.

  While walking to work wasn’t Marcy’s routine, it certainly was Reign’s; she lived within a half-hour walking distance from her place of employment in downtown Phoenix. She didn’t own a car and unlike Marcy, Reign refused to pay for ride shares to and from work. Besides, she typically enjoyed the moment of solitude before busy days at the office.

  Letting out a whine, Marcy paused her steps to adjust her sandal strap. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and her feet were already killing her. “Ugh, I don’t see how you do this every day,” she complained, catching back up to Reign.

  Reign resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Please, be quiet. “I don’t mind it,” she replied, even toned.

  Marcy flung her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I do. I need a car.”

  “Then buy one, Mar,” Reign suggested, tone not changing.

  Marcy side-eyed Reign, making a face. “Girl please, I have a man, I will not be paying for my own car.” She waved a hand. “No, like these shoes and bag, my car will be a gift.”

  Reign shook her head but didn’t bother replying. She’d known Marcy a long time; her being spoiled wasn’t anything new.