More Lies and Alibis (Using Lies as Alibis #2) (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Camille

I can’t believe Dionne threw that house flipping thing up in my face.  She knows that my issues with Bryan are totally off limits.  Not everyone decided to marry a rich music executive who cheats.  And not everyone was able to go to medical school.  I wanted a man of God.  Which is why I’m sitting at this tiny metal desk in an office no bigger than a closet, approving church requisitions and making a tiny paycheck.

“Sister James, are you almost done with the check for the Nurse’s Guild?  They wanted to go shopping for the food for their gala today.”

I look up from a stack of papers at Brother Leon Taylor.  His tone is all business, but he is grinning from ear to ear.  When he was younger, I’m sure he was a lady killer with his smooth dark skin and still muscular physique. Who am I kidding?  He’s probably still killing the ladies in this congregation! 

I nod and move a few papers around until I see the envelope with the check in it.  “Here it is, Brother Leon.  Tell them I’
m so sorry for the delay.  I stepped out of the office for a while.”

“Did you get lunch while you were out?  I can bring you back a sandwich if you want.”

I raise my perfectly arched eyebrows.  Why do I get the impression that Leon is flirting with me?  I know he’s just asking if I want food, but it’s the way he asking.  I touch my stomach as it growls.  I
am
hungry.  I didn’t get to eat at Busy Bee’s, and I’ve got the rest of the afternoon to be here. 

“Thank you so much!  Any kind of chicken sandwich would be perfect.”

I grab my purse to look for money and Leon puts one hand up.  “It’s on me, Sister James.”

“Stop being silly!  I’ve got it,” I say as I dig for my wallet.

“Let a man be a man for a change.  I want to buy you something to eat, because you are a thick woman, and I like you thick.  Can’t have you wasting away.”

My jaw drops and I am awkwardly silent for a few long moments. 
Then, Leon smiles again.

“Was that too much Sister James?  Please forgive me.  I sure don’t want you or your husband getting mad with me.”

“How could we be mad at you?  Well, I might get a little angry if I don’t get something in my stomach soon.”

“I’ll be back in a few, lady!”

Leon winks at me on his way out of my office and I burst into a flurry of giggles.  I guess I still have a little something.  Leon thinks I’m attractive and wants to buy me food!  I feel a brand new bunch of giggles begin.

The laughter stops suddenly when Bryan pokes his head into my office.  I actually feel my eyebrows come together in a frown. 

“Camille, make sure you come straight home after work this evening.  I want to sit down and talk about the budget.”

I swallow hard.  I have been avoiding this conversation for weeks.  Bryan went to some financial freedom class and he is determined for us to live the fabulous life without him getting a job outside of the church.

“What is there to talk about?  As long as the bills are paid we’re fine.”

He lifts and eyebrow and folds his arms across his growing midsection.  When did that potbelly get there?  He needs to hit the gym.  Looks like we’re both thick.

“The bills are barely paid, and that’s not okay.  We need to do better and we can.”

“Sure, Bryan.  I was planning on coming straight home anyway.”

It’s not like I have anything to do.  It is bingo night down at the VFW hall, but I’m sure Bryan would not approve of that, so home is pretty much the only place I have to go.

“Okay, I will see you later on.  I just want to tell you that I’m proud of you for getting help with your gambling addiction.  God is going to bless you for that, and our marriage.”

I’m almost one hundred percent sure the smile I’m trying to give looks just like a grimace.  I have no gambling addiction.  And now that I think about it, I think Bryan is on assignment for the enemy. 

“God is still in the blessing business,” I reply.  “He is not a man that He should lie.  The Bible says that I will be the head and not the tail, and I still believe that.”

Bryan gives me a confused looking stare. 
He
may not know what I’m talking about, but I do.  This is me reminding the devil that I’m going to prosper, no matter what.  Bryan can participate if he wants to, or he can get behind me.  I’m good either way.

“Camille, I’
m not sure what you mean by that.  I feel like you’re trying to send me a message or something.  I believe everything the Bible says.  Including the fact that I am the head of our household.  I have done you a disservice by not being the husband you needed and I accept that.  We’re going into a new year, and I plan to change all of that.”

After a long pause, as if to let his words sink in, Bryan nods slowly.  “I’ll let you get back to your work, Camille.  I look forward to our discussion this evening.”

Bryan’s words feel like a threat.  Somehow, I get the feeling that this little discussion isn’t going to be in my favor.  I need to call my prayer circle.

Chapter Eight

Sydney

Lunch with my sisters was too short, but I’m glad they had time for my little mini-crisis.  They just confirmed what I already know.  Lucas isn’t thinking about Fatima. 

So why is he all up in her face as I walk into the ER?

I feel myself speed up when I see them leaned over the nurses’ station, their attention to something on the counter.  About a hundred scenarios go through my mind.  Are they reminiscing?  Remembering the last time they were together?  As I approach, Fatima looks at Lucas and laughs. 

What to do?  Should I bust up their conversation?  No.  That will make me seem desperate or pressed, and I am neither. 

I quietly step around Lucas and Fatima and reach for Stephanie’s chart on the desk in front of Connie.  They don’t even notice me.  I feel a fire starting in the pit of my stomach, but I hold it together for the moment.  I’ll wait until Lucas and I am alone to explode.

Connie stares at me with wide eyes.  “Doctor Baker, it seems like
Stephanie is responding well to the steroid and antibiotic treatment.”

At the mention of my name Lucas and Fatima snap out of their amusing conversation and stare at me.  His mouth opens a little, but apparently not enough for an explanation to come out, because he doesn’t make a sound.  She smiles…no…smirks, and that expression is like kerosene on the fire inside me. 

I ignore them both.  “That’s wonderful, Connie.  I’m glad we didn’t put her through unnecessary surgery.  I suspect that the silicone has compromised her immune system.”

“Lucas and I were just discussing your case, Sydney,” Fatima says.  “Even though she is responding to your treatment, it is best to go in and remove the silicone while we can.  I looked at the scans, and the silicone is clumped in areas where it can be easily removed.  If it continues to separate, it can move to other areas of her body.”

“Basically, in a few years, she could be facing even bigger problems, like necrosis and loss of limbs,” Lucas says. 

“The two of you were discussing my case without me?  My pager didn’t go off.”

Lucas’s jaw tightens.  “Actually, we were discussing my patient, Jewel.  I removed a silicone embolism from her brain and one that was about to migrate there.  Fatima is going to scrub in with me to remove as much silicone as we can from Jewel.”

“And then you decided a course of treatment for my patient as well?” I ask.

“Well, no, but I thought…” Lucas says.

“He thought, well…I approached him,” Fatima says.  “I
believed he’d have a better chance of convincing you to change your mind than I would.”

I draw my eyebrows together tightly, my anger almost exclusively for Lucas.  First of all, that he would even entertain a conversation about my patient without consulting me first is a professional discourtesy.  Worse than a boyfriend infraction. 
Second of all, he’s talking about me behind my back to Fatima?  The girl who ended our relationship eight years ago?  I don’t care if she was up for a Nobel Prize in medicine for fixing booty shots, she should be off limits.

“Lucas, do you disagree with my treatment plan for
my
patient?” I ask.

“Not necessarily.  I just think you should seriously consider the surgical option if it makes sense.”

Without responding, I snatch Stephanie’s chart and storm down the hallway toward the on call room.  In my mind, I go over my reasons for treating Stephanie with steroids.  It’s safer, less invasive, and effective.  It’s always better not to cut.

I push the door to the on call room open and lie down on the twin bed that we sometimes use for naps.  I open
Stephanie’s chart and look at the scans.  Fatima is right about one thing.  The silicone is clumped together.  There is a mass of it that has migrated to her mid-thigh and another huge mass in her back that probably caused the lung embolism that brought her to the hospital.

I could probably remove both of them without causing too much trauma.  I could get someone in plastics to scrub in and do some reconstructive surgery of the buttocks as well. 

Why does Fatima have to be right?

Lucas pokes his head into the room.  “Syd…”

“Don’t say anything to me.”

He steps inside and closes the door behind him.  “This has nothing to do with us you know.  It’s all about the patient.”

“Is it?  Because you two seemed pretty cozy when I walked up.  You didn’t even know I was there.  Seems like you always get amnesia concerning me when Fatima is around.”

Lucas sits down on the edge of the bed and puts my feet in his lap.  I pull my legs away and sit up in the bed.

“We have to work with her, Sydney.  What she’s saying about your patient is true, and you know it.  We took an oath.”

“You don’t have to remind me about our oath
.”

“So, you’re considering the surgery?”

“If I am, she’s not scrubbing in with me.”

Lucas closes his eyes and shakes his head.  “Seriously?  When have you ever surgically removed silicone from a patient?  She’s done this before.”

“Are you doubting my skills?  Because I’ve removed foreign bodies, tumors and aneurysms.  I can do this.”

“I know you can, but it won’t hurt to include her on this.  You may find that you make a good team.”

“No thank you.  If I do it, I’m going to have someone from plastics scrub in.  I would ask if you want to, but…”

“I want to.”

“But, you’re so team Fatima that I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Lucas clears his throat and gives me one of his intense gazes.  Those gray eyes are pretty mesmerizing even when I’m angry with him.

“You know I’m all yours, right?” he asks.

I take my time responding, because I don’t know if that’s a fact.  Can someone really belong to another person?  If Fatima decides to pursue Lucas again can I be sure that he won’t go astray just like he did before? 

“I hope you’re faithful now,” I finally reply, “because I can’t go through that kind of pain again.”

Lucas yanks my legs forward until I’m sitting in his lap.  He touches his forehead and nose to mine.  “She has nothing I want.  It’s all about you.”

He covers my neck with little kisses that start a different fire in an entirely different part of my body.  And now, I’m not concerned about Fatima or even my patient.  I’m thinking about extinguishing the flame. 

Chapter Nine

Dionne

I knew it was coming.  The trueblackgossip.com blog post on me and Rod.  And Peach.  And Daddy’s Little Girl.  It’s actually taken longer than I thought it would.  I think I’m handling it pretty well.  I haven’t broken anything, or thrown any laptops.

Rod, on the other hand is tripping.  He’s on the phone with his lawyer, as I sit in my serenity room.  I can hear him yelling, and it’s messing with my peaceful quiet time.

“Tell her I will fight her for full custody!  She strips and gives head in the VIP room.  Tell her I can get my daughter if I want to!  If she talks to the bloggers again, she won’t ever get another penny from me.”

My lips turn downward at the edges as I listen to Rod’s rant.  She performs favors for men in the VIP room, and yet he was planning to leave me for her.  I guess she knows what she’s doing.  Maybe she should teach a class. 

I
should be tripping after reading this, though.  I think the only thing keeping me from exploding is the fact that I’m carrying a baby in my belly that can’t be stressed out by Rod’s foolishness.

Does Dionne Knight know about this?

Last week, in a not-so-blind, blind item, we told trueblackgossipers about a high powered music mogul who was hiding a love child.  Out of respect for the baby’s mother who is a FOTB (that’s friend of the blog for you newbies) we have kept her identity and the mogul’s a secret.  But now, the baby’s mother is mad as hell that the mogul has gone back on all his promises, and she is spilling major tea.  Not the herbal kind with honey!  No, this tea has been steeped all day and you’re about to get it straight with no sugar.

The baby’s mother is a very popular Atlanta stripper named Peach.  Some of you may remember her as the highest paid girl at Booty Meat in Birmingham, Alabama.  But Peach moved to the ATL so that she could be close to the father of her child and is now working at Club Hurricane.  You’ve seen Peach on our blog before.  Think back.  That’s right, now you remember and if you do
n’t click the link on the right to go to the story.  Anyhoo, for those of you who are up to speed, Peach has been steady rockin’ all night long with Atlanta’s own, Rod Knight.  First comes love, then comes a baby carriage, then comes a divorce that never was and a confidentiality agreement.  I told y’all this tea was steaming hot!

You see, Rod promised Peach that they were going to get married and she has the ring and a copy of his divorce papers that were filed in Cobb County, but when Rod Knight got shot and lost his memory, he went running back into the arms of his wife Dionne, and they’ve got a brand new crumb snatcher on the way.

I heard from some very reliable snitches that Rod Knight has been planning, for some time now, to leave the recording industry for good.  Before he was shot, he became a part owner of Club Hurricane, and is probably responsible for getting his baby mama the gig at what has now become the most popular strip club in America.  Snitches also tell me that Dionne has no clue her husband has dealings with the club.  She’s probably finding out, right now, with all of the other trueblackgossipers!  Be careful not to burn your tongue with this tea, y’all!  

Peach is not going out like a sucka though
– she wants more than a top spot at a strip club.  She’s gunning for wife status. And if she doesn’t get it, she’s going to sue Rod to keep Dionne away from her and Rod’s beautiful little girl, Rodeisha.  Peach has no intention of letting her child become a big sister to Rod’s new bundle of joy.  All she wants is the fabulous life Rod promised her when he was going to divorce Dionne.

I ran into Dionne at Busy Bee’s yesterday, and she is looking completely radiant in the last stages of her pregnancy.  A very
, VERY, reliable snitch told me that they are having a very exclusive all-white baby shower/New Year’s party at their mansion to celebrate the baby’s arrival.  I wonder if Peach and Rodeisha are on the guest list.  Maybe I can be Peach’s plus one.

Even though Makenzie’s writing has improved over the years, her jokes don’t strike me as funny.  I know Rod and I are in a good place right now, but there is no way in hell I should be finding out things like this on a blog. 
 

My best friend Hailey and I did some snooping and found out the terms of his confidentiality agreement with Peach.  Not only does she get a whopping twenty thousand dollars a month in child support, she also gets an additional twenty thousand dollars for her silence. 
She is dumb!  Why would she mess up that money?  I hope she hasn’t really fallen in love with him.  That’s the first rule a jump-off needs to learn.  Never fall in love.

As soon as I hear Rod disconnect his call, I yell, “Rod!”

He walks into the room with a deep frown on his face.  If he’s directing that at me, he can keep it.  I’m the one that should be frowning. 

“So how far, exactly, does your amnesia go back?  I know you remember our marriage, and you don’t remember Peach or your daughter, but did you also forget your business transactions?  Did you know you were an owner in that strip club?  Is your amnesia current?  Did you forget to tell me that you got your hoe a job at
your
club?”

Rod closes his eyes tightly.  “Dionne.  Not now, babe.  I can’t take this from you too.”

Did he seriously just call me
babe
?  Oh, I see he thinks this is a game.

“
Why do you think I don’t deserve to know about this, Rod?  You got me out here looking crazy!”

“No.  I have you out here in designer clothes, jewelry, luxury cars and living in mansions.  You’ve never cared about my business before Dionne.  Yes, I am a part owner of Club Hurricane.  We inked the deal not too long after I got shot.  My lawyer presented the opportunity and I jumped on it.”

“So you did get Peach a job there?”

He shakes his head.  “No.  I have absolutely nothing to do with the day to day operations of the club.  The manager does the hiring and firing.”

“I guess she just interviews well, huh?”

Rod sighs.  “Of course, they knew she was connected to me.  She’s got some notoriety.  You may not like it, but it’s good for business.  Good business means more money for you to waste on planning parties.”

“I’m wasting money?  This is our baby shower.  We’re celebrating the birth of our child, here.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t have to be this expensive.  I just saw the florist bill.  Did you really need three hundred white orchids?  In December?”

I give Rod a blank stare.  He’s trying to turn this around on me.  It’s not my fault that his baby mama got him twisted. 

“Since we are talking about unnecessary expenditures,” I say.  “Why does Peach have a monthly allowance?”

“It’s an agreement that I made before I got shot.  My lawyer says that it is binding.  I’m not sure why we made the agreement, and not even my lawyer knows all of it.  Part of the reason, of course, was that I never wanted you to find out about Rodeisha.”

“But you were going to leave me for her.”

Rod rubs his head and sighs.  “I was divorcing you, but I didn’t want you to know about Rodeisha before the divorce was final, because you’d be able to get more money in the settlement.  That’s what my lawyer told me.”

I shake my head.  “Wow, Rod.  Really?  This is a big mess.”

“It is.  I just want to know that you have my back.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You have always held it down for me, Dee.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I was going to leave you.”

“I don’t know either.”

The doorbell rings, and although I know it’s Hailey coming over to help me with the final plans for my baby shower, I don’t move.  I’m seven months pregnant, and we’ve got too much help for me to leave my serenity space to answer the door.

Rod doesn’t move either.  I guess he doesn’t think
the help
is a wasted expense, because he acts like he can’t answer doors either.

I hear Grandma Baker’s voice.  “Well, of course you can leave her here, but don’t you want me to get the baby’s daddy first?”

Wait.  Who in the world is Grandma Baker talking to?  I know Peach didn’t bring her trifling tail over to my house with that little girl.  Rod rushes out of the room and leaves me sitting on the couch.

I shimmy my extra pregnant self off the couch and waddle into the foyer.  Just like I thought, little Rodeisha is standing there holding my grandmother’s hand.  But it’s not Peach who is standing outside my door, it’s her live-in nanny.

“Hello Mr. Knight, I do apologize for just bringing Rodeisha here, but I didn’t know what else to do.  Her mother just left her there with me.  She said it is your weekend and she has things to do.”

“We just tried to pick her up and Peach wouldn’t let her leave.  Why the change of heart now?” I ask.

“She got an important job with some professional football players here for the weekend.  Please don’t tell her I told you that.  She would be angry, but I have to go and take care of my mother.  She’s sick and the nurse is off on Sundays.”

“An important
job
?” Rod asks.

I wave my hand in the air in a dismissive motion.  “Oh, of course she can stay.  This is her home too.  Let Peach know that even though she left her child to go chase ballers, that she’s safe with her father and stepmother.”

The nanny nods.  “Thank you so much.”

Rod closes the door and frowns.  “I don’t like this.
”

“What? 
You wanted to spend some time with your daughter, and now she’s here.  Plus, she can participate in the family photo shoot we’re doing for the baby shower.”

Grandma Baker walks out of the room shaking her head.  “Lawd have mercy, Jesus.”

I look down at Rodeisha’s wide, blinking eyes.  She looks nervous.  I can only imagine the type of life she has with Peach as a mama.  Ratchet.com. 

“Do you want to go shopping for a new dress?” I ask Rodeisha. 

Her eyes light up.  “Can it be pink?” she asks.

“Well, we can get you a pink dress too, but you need a very special white one.  We’re taking pictures today.  Would you like that?”

She nods.  “A photo shoot?”

Rod
and I exchange glances.  What does a three year old know about a photo shoot?

“You know, Ms. Dionne!  When you put on your pretty panties and take a bunch of pictures!”

Rodeisha runs over to the wall, puts her palms on it and glances over her shoulder seductively. 

“Like this, Ms. Dionne!”

Suddenly, I feel sad for Rodeisha.  She deserves so much more than a life with a ghetto stripper who lets her baby watch while she does booty poses for the camera. Rod is furious.

“You’ve seen your mother taking pictures like that?”

“Mmm-hmm!  She got a calendar!” Rodeisha proclaims proudly.

I take my cell phone out of my pocket and call Hailey. 

“Hey Dionne, I know I’m late, but I’m on my way,” she says before I get the chance to say anything.

“It’s okay.  Can you come over in about two hours?  I’ve got to take Rodeisha shopping for our family photos.  We can talk about the shower after that.”

“Okay.  Look at you being the good stepmother.  Next thing you’ll be playing tea with her and braiding her hair.”

I imagine this and decide that it’
s not such a bad thing.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.  See you in a little bit, okay?”

As I press end on my cell phone, Rod
picks Rodeisha up into his arms.  He hugs her tightly and tickles her little neck with kisses.

“Daddy!
  Your beard is scratchy!”

Rod sets her down and she runs over to me.  “Are we going to get that dress now?”

I take Rodeisha’s hand and grab my purse from the foyer table.  “Yes we are!  And some hot chocolate too!”

“Motherhood looks good on you Dionne,” Rod says.

I give him a weak smile in return.  With everything I’m learning about Rod, I can’t get excited about his small kindnesses.  All I can do is make plans and exit strategies. 

“It does, doesn’t it?  You just keep that in mind when you go shopping for my push gift.”

Rod chuckles.  “Your push gift?”

“Yes.  I am partial to
designer clothes, jewelry and cars, just so you know.”

Rod walks over and kisses me on the lips.
I don’t push him away, but I don’t kiss him back.

“I know exactly what you like
,” he says.

Rodeisha giggles.  “Ooh!  Y’all bout to do it.”

Rod’s good mood immediately fades.  “What do you mean, honey?  Do what?”

She covers her hand with her mouth and continues to giggle. 

Rod squats down until he’s eye level with Rodeisha.  “Have you seen your mommy do it?” he asks.

No longer laughing, Rodeisha blinks rapidly.  “I can’t say that Daddy.  Mommy would be mad.”

“We won’t tell her, honey.  I promise.”

Rodeisha looks up at me and my grandmother, and we both give her looks of reassurance.  Rod needs to know what his child is being exposed to.