More Lies and Alibis (Using Lies as Alibis #2) (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

Dionne

Why is someone ringing our doorbell like crazy at one o’clock in the morning?  This baby just let me get to sleep a few minutes ago, and now I’m awake again.  Ugh!  Rod is already climbing out of the bed.  I flashback to him getting shot, and I get nervous.  They never did find out who was responsible for that.

“Rod, be careful.  Who do you think it is?”

“It’s Peach.  She’s been blowing up my phone for the past hour.”

Oh, of course it’s Peach.  Rodeisha is still here and worn out from our shopping trip, photo shoot and playing in the princess bedroom
that Rod has furnished for her.  It’s the first night she ever spent in the room since Peach wouldn’t let her stay over before. 

Rod pulls on his robe, and goes into the lockbox for his gun.  This makes me sit up in the bed.

“Rod…”

“Lie down, Dee.  Don’t worry.”

Outside, Peach starts screaming at the top of her lungs.  “Rod!  Brang my baby out here!  Didn’t nobody say she could spend the night with you!  I’m fixin’ ta call the police if you don’t brang her out here!”

Seriously, she’s talking about calling the police?  That baby has told us enough to have her removed from Peach’s home, and she’s threatening to bring the law into this mess? 

When Rod opens the bedroom door, Rodeisha is standing outside crying.  He scoops her up into his arms.

“Daddy, is mommy mad at you?”

“No, honey.  She’s just tired because it’s so late.  Why don’t you climb into bed with Ms. Dionne, and try to go back to sleep.”

Rod puts Rodeisha in our bed and she scampers up next to me and snuggles
under our comforter.  I’m sure Peach wouldn’t like this.  Hell, I wouldn’t like it if the roles were reversed.  But she’s downstairs clowning and scaring this baby half to death, so it’s her fault.

Rod goes downstairs, but leaves our bedroom door open. 
I slide out of the bed and hold a finger to my lips for Rodeisha to be quiet.  I want to be able to hear this entire conversation.  As soon as Rod opens the front door, Peach’s voice rings through the house.

She screams.  “Get my baby’s stuff, and bring her downstairs now, Rod.  You know I’m the custodial parent.”

“You smell like alcohol,” Rod says.  “You’re not taking my child anywhere in your condition.”

“I’m not leaving without my baby!  You better bring her to me, Rod!”

“Or what?  You’ll tell the police your nanny dropped her off because you were out shaking your behind for a bunch of NFL players?”

“How I make my money is none of your business,” Peach says, bringing the volume of her voice down a notch.

“I’m giving you enough money that you don’t have to do it, Peach.  Why don’t you stay home with my daughter and raise her like you got some sense?” Rod says.

“You don’t get to control me with your money!  You said you were leaving her and that
we
were going to be a family.”

A long pause from Rod.  Too long.

“Peach, all of that is different now,” Rod says.  “I don’t remember our time together.  I told you that.”

“There is a lot you claim you don’t remember Rod.  I think you need a little bit of help with that.”

This makes me perk up.  I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think that was a threat.

“Why don’t you go home and sleep off that alcohol?  Come and get Rodeisha in the morning.  She’s fine, and you’re upsetting her,” Rod says.

“I’m upsetting her?  You’re upsetting her, Rod!  Before you had your little accident you were in her life way more than you are now.”  Peach says between sobs. 

Nothing about her tears make me feel sympathetic.  This is what happens when you open your legs to a married man.  It’s a shame that Rodeisha has to suffer in all of this.  I have to say that little girl is growing on me.  Probably because she looks nothing like her trifling mother.

“What is
this
?” Peach’s voice now has a shrill and hysterical tone that makes me wonder what she’s talking about.

“What does it look like?  It’s our family portrait.”

My lips form a small ‘o’.  The photographer was able to get us a poster size proof before printing the final portrait for our baby shower.  He has to retouch and photoshop a few things, but even untouched the poster looks incredible. 

“So you think you’re going to just erase me, huh?” Peach asks.

Rod is silent.  I need him to speak up and say,
“Yeah, trick.  You’re erased.”

“I swear if you don’t bring my baby down here now, as God is my witness, I’m gonna bring all my family over here and y’all really don’t want that.”

“You just make sure my child doesn’t witness any of your activities with your new sponsors.  My daughter shouldn’t know what goes on in an adult’s bedroom.  With what I know right now, you could lose custody of Rodeisha.  Think on that while you’re making all your threats.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Peach asks.  “Rodeisha!  Rodeisha!  Come on out baby.  Daddy time is over.  It’s time to go home.”

“Come back when you’re sober.  No police officer in the state of Georgia is going to do anything to me for preventing a drunk driving incident.  I will call you a cab.” Rod says. 

“My friends are in the car, Rod!  We have a designated driver.”

“I need to see her and make sure she’s not as drunk as you are.”

Grandmere Batiste appears at my bedroom door and ushers me out of the way.  “Don’t go downstairs, Dionne.  You don’t have to give her the satisfaction of seeing your face.”

Grandmere holds her hand out to Rodeisha and she scrambles out of the bed. 

“Come on honey,” my grandmother says.  “We’re going to pack up your things really quickly so that your mother can stop making a commotion.”

Right before they leave the room, Rodeisha hugs me.  “I had fun Ms. Dionne.”

“I had fun with you too.”

I hug her back and kiss the top of her head.  Although I don’t pray much, I also say a little prayer that Rodeisha is okay. 

“I know you are listening Dionne!” Peach says.  “You think you can take my baby?  She ain’t yours, ain’t neva gonna be yours.”

I follow my grandmother’s advice and I don’t let her see my face, nor do I respond.  I don’t have anything to say to her anyway.  I remember how confident she was when I first confronted her about sleeping with my husband.  She laughed in my face.  If I wanted to, I could do the laughing now, but I pity her instead. 

Finally Rodeisha is downstairs with Peach.  Peach says, “Ooh, baby, I was so afraid when I didn’t know where you were.”

“I was with Daddy and Ms. Dionne.  You didn’t have to worry.”

“Yeah, I see.  And you been taking pictures too,” Peach says.

“Yes, Mommy!  Next time we can all take pictures together, so Mommy and Daddy can be in it.”

Peach is silent for so long that I think they’re gone. 

“That’s not gonna happen, baby,” Peach finally says. 

I hear another voice downstairs.  It must be Peach’s “designated driver”. 

“Rod,” the female voice says, “I haven’t had any drinks tonight.  I’m the one driving.”

There is a very long pause.  “I guess you’re okay,” Rod finally replies.  “I swear if something happens to my daughter…”

“Ain’t nothing gonna happen Rod!  This is
my
baby!” Peach says.

It takes a long time for Rod to come back upstairs, and I’m already in bed when he comes back into the bedroom.  He has a pained expression on his face which makes me wonder what’s bothering him.

“Why did you let her take Rodeisha after everything she told us?” I ask as Rod gets in on his side of the bed.

“Because she’s her mother.  She has primary custody.”

“But Rodeisha is yours too!  You let her go back into that dangerous environment.”

Rod’s left hand becomes a fist that he pounds into the mattress.  “You think I don’t know that?  What do you think would’ve happened if we called the police on Peach?”

“They would’ve given you temporary custody.”

“No, Dionne.  Once the police run a check on me, they would call a social worker out here and put her in foster
care at least for the night.  I’d rather she be with Peach than in some stranger’s home.”

“Rod…what do you mean?  What would they find?”

Rod closes his eyes tightly and blows air out of his mouth.  “Dionne, there are some things you don’t know about me.  I’ve kept you in the dark on purpose in case it all went bad.”

“In case all
what
went bad?”

“Come on Dee!” Rod says in a frustrated tone.  “You don’t think me getting shot was an accident do you?”

Something doesn’t feel right about this conversation.  I mean this is Rod talking to me, and he’s never kept this many secrets.  Or at least I never thought he did.

Then, it hits me.  I know what doesn’t feel right about this.

“Rod, do you really have amnesia?” I ask, fearing the answer.

There is a long silence.  Rod stares forward into the dark of our bedroom, and I hold my belly as the baby kicks.  His lack of response tells me everything I need to know, but I won’t believe it yet.  Not until he says it.

“Rod?”

“I don’t,” Rod finally says.  “Never did.”

“Why would Lucas lie about the diagnosis?”

“He didn’t.  My injuries
supported me having amnesia.”

“So all this time…”

“Yes.  I’ve been faking amnesia.”

I choke back tears.  “Do you really still love Peach?  Is that why you’re paying her a monthly stipend in addition to her child support?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I think you should probably answer my questions, because I’m getting real impatient, Rod.”

“No.  I don’t love Peach.  I think she was somehow tied to my shooting, but I can’t be sure.”

I think Rod is wrong.  I saw Peach in the Emergency Room when they didn’t know if Rod was going to live or die.  Her
grief was real. 

“Why the extra money then?”

“Because Peach knows things that could land me in prison for the rest of my life.”

“So you only stayed with me to protect your amnesia cover story?”

Rod clears his throat.  “That’s not the only reason, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t part of it.”

I scramble out of the bed and put on my robe.  There is no way I’m sharing a bed with him.  Our fresh start is a lie.  Everything about Rod is a lie.  But then I knew this when I found out about Peach and
Rodeisha in the first place.

“Where are you going?”  Rod asks.

“To one of the guest bedrooms.  I’m not sleeping with you.”

He shakes his head.  “No.  You stay.  Let me go.  I want you to be comfortable.  No matter what, I do love you Dionne.”

“Your actions prove otherwise.  Men who love their wives don’t plan to leave them for the sideline hoe, until the sideline hoe gets them shot.”

“You don’t think I used this whole thing as a second chance for us too?  We haven’t been right in a long time, but we used to be.
”

“I gotta admit, you tricked me, Rod.  I
did
think this was a second start for us, but I’ve been wrong about everything.”

Rod looks at me with sad eyes as he takes his favorite pillow and gets out of
the bed.  I wish my grandmothers hadn’t prayed for him.  They’re probably the reason he’s still here.  He’s here and he’s hurting me every chance he gets.  I think I need to have someone pray for
me.

Chapter Thirteen

Sydney

Lucas and I are working the night shift, and this time it’s my turn to comfort him.  Less than an hour ago, Jewel died in her sleep from a brain bleed.  Of course, Lucas is blaming himself and wondering if he missed something during her surgery.  It’s always rough on him when he loses a patient.  My man thinks he’s a superhero. 

“Baby, it’s not your fault she injected that stuff into her booty.  God rest her soul.  You did everything you could.”

Lucas shakes his head and paces the on-call room.  “No.  I should’ve done another CAT scan after surgery.  I didn’t double check.  I didn’t make sure.”

I hate that Lucas is here blaming himself for this, especially since the police have yet to apprehend that Keke person.  She should be the one carrying this load of guilt.  She killed Jewel.

I take his Lucas’s hand and pull him down next to me on the bench.  “Lucas.  You know we can’t save them all.”

He exhales deeply and sighs.  “We can’t.  What about your patient, Stephanie?  When are you operating on her?”

“Tomorrow.  I was waiting for her to respond to the antibiotics.  I think it’s safe to operate.”

Lucas puts one hand on my knee and squeezes.  “I know you can’t stand Fatima.  I understand, and no one could expect you to like her, but for Stephanie’s sake, can you please let her scrub in?”

I pull my bottom lip in and flare my nostrils.  He’s right and I know he’s right, but the thought of Fatima in the same space as me, and breathing the same air – I just don’t know if I can take it.

“I’ll scrub in too,” Lucas says. 
“You won’t have to be in there alone.”

“You don’t think I can handle a surgery with Fatima?”

“I think you can, but just in case she says anything to you to hurt you, I want to be there.  I’m not going to let her hurt you anymore.”

I love Lucas’s words, but while Fatima did hurt me, the majority of my pain was from how
he
made me feel.  But I do like that he wants me protected and safe.  I want to feel that way. 

“Thank you, babe,” I say.

My pager buzzes.  I reach down and read it.  Dang.  Stephanie just coded. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have to operate sooner rather than later,” I say.  “Stephanie coded.  Is Fatima in the hospital?”

“I think so,” Lucas says.

“Go find her.  I’m booking OR 3.  See you in there.”

I rush out of the on call room and to the nurses’ station.  Jillian is there, flipping through a chart, I’m assuming it’s Stephanie’s.

“What’s going on?  Why aren’t you with her?” I ask.

“I was coming to find you.  We need to operate.  I think some more of the silicone migrated to her lungs.  Chest sounds are not good. 

I nod as I take the chart from her hands.  “We’ve got to get that poison out of her.  Come on.”

Jillian and I rush Stephanie to the operating room, with an anesthesiologist running behind us.  I hand him the chart so he can read it by the time we get to the OR.

The anesthesiologist, Dr. Brennan, and I hurry to scrub in as the operating room nurses prepare Stephanie for surgery.  Fatima and Lucas are already scrubbing in.

“I’m glad you decided to do the right thing,” Fatima says. 

She storms into the operating room in a huff, with Dr. Brennan right behind her.  Lucas shakes his head and frowns.

“Did she really just say that to me right before I’m about to operate?” I ask. 

“Yeah, she did.  It’s all good.  Come on.  Let’s not lose this one.”

The most recent scans that Jillian ordered right after Stephanie coded show exactly what I thought they would.  She’s got another blood clot in her lungs.  This one is huge. 

“Let’s get this clot first, and then we can get the silicone deposits.”

“You’re gonna cut her chest open and then flip her on her stomach to get the silicone?” Fatima asks.  “I think you should remove the silicone first.  She’s stable.  That clot can wait a bit.”

I consider this for a moment.  “No.  We can
use laparoscopic surgery to get the clot.  If we don’t crack her chest open, we shouldn’t have a problem going in near the base of her spine to get the silicone.”

“Okay.  That sounds good,” Fatima says to my surprise.  Maybe she’s not just here to contradict everything I have to say. 

“I want her to live,” Fatima says as if she read my mind.  “This is a senseless reason to die.”

We work together feverishly on Stephanie.  First, Lucas and I remove the clot.  He’s got the steadiest hands in the hospital, so it makes sense for him to do it.  Then, Fatima and I meticulously remove
the silicone lumps.  Some of them have adhered to muscle and fat, so it is a tedious process.  The silicone remaining in her buttocks is the hardest to remove.  The pieces that have hardened are easy but the gel substance is difficult to grasp with our tools.  I suction some out with a mini-vacuum while Fatima uses a scraping motion to remove the pieces that have attached to the underlying skin tissue.

After three hours of work, the plastic surgeon comes in and does the best he can to reconstruct Stephanie’s buttocks.  Even if he does his best work tonight, Stephanie is going to need skin grafts and several reconstructive surgeries before she looks “normal” again.  She probably looked just fine before this surgery and now her young body is mutilated.

I don’t feel comfortable until Stephanie is stitched up and she’s being wheeled to recovery.  It’s then that I realize how tired I am.  I feel a crash coming on.

“Good job Sydney,” Lucas says.  “You were amazing.”

“Thank you Dr. Jeffries,” I reply with a wink.  “You are pretty amazing yourself.”

Fatima makes a gagging noise and goes to the sink to wash her hands and remove her scrubs.  Lucas and I do the same.

I stand next to Fatima at the sink and we wash our hands in silence.  It is an awkward silence, because I think both of us want to say something.

“Thanks for your help,” I say, deciding to be the adult.  “That was a pretty complex surgery.”

“You’re welcome.  I don’t know if we got all of the silicone, but I don’t know that anyone could’ve.”

Lucas
pulls off his gloves and stands next to me at the sink.  “No one could’ve gotten it all.  I think you all saved her life.”

“We all did,” I say.

Fatima chuckles.  “We make a pretty awesome threesome.”

Crickets.  Dead silence.  Like really, Fatima?  Really?

“Okay, it was a bad joke,” Fatima says.  “But I do like working with y’all.  Looking forward to being in surgery with you both again.”

Fatima dries her hands and leaves me and Lucas at the sink.  He lifts his eyebrows and smiles.

“Threesome?”

I narrow my eyes at him and growl.  “Don’t even
think
about it.”