More Lies and Alibis (Using Lies as Alibis #2) (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Camille

“Do you think you can help me…be happy?”

Dr. King taps her ink pen on the side of her journal, as I ease back onto the couch.  There, I said it.  I hope she can help me.

Because I think, Lord help me, that I might kill
Bryan if he tries to sell my house.

“Happiness means different things to different people, Camille.  What does happiness mean to you?”

I breathe deeply and carefully choose my response.  “It means that I can have what God wants me to have.  It means me doing exactly what I’m on this earth to do, and enjoying my life.”

“And what’s keeping you from that now?”

“Rules.  My husband and his rules.  He feels that God has empowered him to be the priest of our home, which I don’t disagree with, but
he
thinks that means he has absolute power over me.”

“Is this new?  Has Bryan always acted like that?  Was he like that before you married him?”

Dr. King’s questions feel like an attack.  A flurry of things that I haven’t thought of before. 

“Bryan hasn’t always been this way.  He just started this when I had my…um…legal troubles.”

“So his reaction was to come up with rules.”

I nod.  “He’s acting like I’m a child that needs punishing.  I am not a child.”

“You’re not.  Tell me, what are you on this earth to do?” Dr. King asks.

I look at the floor and then up again.  “I-I don’t know.”

“Since happiness to you means walking in your purpose, then you’ll need to discover that.  I can’t tell you that.”

“I see.”

“Or when you say, ‘doing exactly what I’m on this earth to do’, are you just repeating things you’ve heard in a sermon or at a women’s conference?”

I clear my throat and frown.  “It sounds right, doesn’t it?”

“It does, but I want it to be more than just words for you.”

“Are you happy, Dr. King?”

She nods.  “Today, I am, but not every day.  Sometimes I am sad and frustrated.  Sometimes my spirit is restless.”

Well, I need a new therapist then.  If she’s not happy, how in the world is she going to guide me?

“Maybe it’s Bryan.  Maybe I don’t want to be married to him anymore.  He seems to hate me anyway.  He called me manipulative and deceptive right to my face and then read the definitions out the dictionary like I didn’t know what those words meant.”

Dr. King frowns
.  “I don’t like that.  If I may be frank, it sounds like emotional abuse.”

Finally, she’s starting to understand where I’m coming from. 
At first, I thought she was on Bryan’s side. 

“It fe
lt like abuse when he said it.”

“Did you tell him as much?”

“Oh no.  I don’t like arguing with him.  I usually let the Lord fight my battles when it comes to Bryan, but he said that he was putting our house on the market.  I love my house.  I don’t want to sell it.”

For some reason I’m spilling my guts to Dr. King.  I didn’t have to tell her about him selling the house, but I need her to understand why Bryan is on my nerves so much.

Dr. King taps her pen on the notebook again and then scribbles down a few words.  “And you stated your objection to selling the home?  Did he provide you with any alternatives?”

“
No.”

“
Do you think there
are
any options that you’d share with Bryan?”

“
Yes.  I would like to get a different job, outside of the church.  I think if I make more money we can keep the house.”

“But you don’t think your husband will like this?”

“I don’t think he’ll let me.  Even though we don’t make a lot of money, Bryan thinks we’re called to be in ministry.”

Dr. King gets up and walks over to the stove and puts on a pot of water.  “Remember the first day you were here and we talked about choices?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t just about the questionable choices you’ve made in the past, but it’s about the choices you’re going to make for your future as well.”

“So are you telling me to get a different job?”

She smiles.  “I’m telling you to ma
ke a choice about your future.”

I like the way Dr. King never comes out and tells me to do anything.  She doesn’t judge either.  But I need her to tell me what to do.  I don’
t know how to choose.  Bingo made me happy, especially when I won.  And everyone thinks that’s all wrong.

Dr. King walks over with a cup of tea and hands it to me.  “Happiness is a product of your situation and environment,” she says.  “Joy is a fruit of the
Holy Spirit.  What you want, Carmen, is joy.  Joy doesn’t disappear when you go through a valley.”

“Is that what this is?  A valley?”

Dr. King nods.  “I think so.  A temporary place.”

I sit back on the couch and slowly sip my tea.  Are my problems with Bryan only temporary? 
I would like to think that they are, but every day I find myself thinking about making a permanent solution.  Walking away from it all. 

Maybe then I’ll discover this joy that Dr. King is talking about.

Chapter Fifteen

Dionne

Hailey and I are nearly done with the preparations for my all-white baby shower/New Year’s party.  Honestly, when you have as many millions as we have, it’s pretty easy to put on a star studded affair.  You just pick up the phone and people start
scrambling.

If it wasn’t for Hailey and my sisters I wouldn’t be in a party mood at all.  I haven’t said a word to Rod all day, since his revelations from last night.  He doesn’t have amnesia.  Never did. 
How can I believe anything he says?

“Is the photo where you want it ma’am?”

I gaze at the larger-than-life photograph of our “family”.  In the photo Rod stands behind me with his arms wrapped around my belly, and Rodeisha is in front of me holding her daddy’s hand with a huge smile on her face.  Because Rodeisha looks just like Rod, she doesn’t look out of place at all.  The photo looks like love.

And it’s all a lie.

When I don’t reply to the worker, Hailey says, “It’s fine.  Thank you.”

Hailey pulls me into my serenity room, and as soon as she closes the door, my shoulders start to shake.  She hugs me.

“Honey, what’s wrong?  Your party is tomorrow night!  We can’t have a hormonal breakdown.”

“It’s not hormonal.  It’s Rod.  He doesn’t have amnesia.”

Her eyes widen.  “Is he still talking about leaving you?”

“No, but it just felt so much better to think he’d forgotten everything that went on with Peach.  If he could forget, then I could.  He was planning to leave me.  What if he loved her?  What if that hasn’t gone?”

Hailey strokes my back softly.  It does little to comfort me. 

“Just be glad you’ve got this baby on the way.  And with his indiscretions, he’ll have to pay you very handsomely in alimony and child support.  Let him leave.  But enjoy this moment.  Today, you are
still
A-list, and that tramp is still a jump-off and a hoe.”

“I just want to know what she has on him.  I know it’s more than that fake booty.  When he talks about her it’s almost as if he thinks his hands are tied.  Why would he feel that way?”

“You’re thinking too hard, girl!  We know exactly what we’re getting ourselves into when we marry rich men.”

Hailey cannot speak for me.  She married a rich man, I didn’t.  I married an up and coming producer.  True enough I will be financially set if he does decide to leave me now, that’s not the way I wanted my marriage or my life to turn out.  I actually love my man.

Plus, I don’t just want a cash settlement.  I look over at the stack of gifts piled on the table in our grand parlor.  Gifts from artists and celebrities all over the world who respect and have love for Rod.  I want the life.  I want the connections.  I want the accolades.

“Shoot, if I were you and my husband was leaving, I’d take that settlement an
d start my own thing.  What do you know how to do?” Hailey asks.

I laugh out loud.  “Plan parties and vacations.”

“You think that’s nothing?  Humph.  I’m thinking A-list Events by Dionne Knight has a nice ring to it.  Think about it, you won’t even have to invest too much into marketing.  You’ve got everyone’s name and number in your phone.”

“I could plan
experiences
girl!” I say.  “Like bachelorette parties and weddings!”

“I could be your partner,” Hailey says.  “And we could land a reality show.  We don’t need these men to be stars.  We shine bright like diamonds, baby!”

“You leaving your man too?”

Hailey shakes her head.  “No, but he’s got two crumb snatchers in Atlanta that he thinks I don’t know about.  I may not have a choice.”

“Is everybody’s man cheating?  Dang!”

Hailey shrugs.  “Pitfalls of being married to ballers.  Maybe we should get regular guys.”

I look at my girl and we both burst into laughter.  She and I both know,
that’s
not about to happen anytime soon.  What would I look like with a regular man after being married to Rod?  Stupid.  And I don’t do stupid.  I leave that for the chicks who like to flip around on stripper poles.

Chapter Sixteen

Camille

I feel empowered after my session with Dr. King.  I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to be doing, but I know that Bryan is about to get a piece of my mind.  I’m done apologizing for my mistake.  It’s already covered under the blood of Jesus, so he’s just gonna have to get over it. 

And I’m keeping my house. 

I pull up to our garage and notice there is a car already parked here, next to Bryan’s.  It’s the middle of the day, so I didn’t even expect Bryan to be home.  Much less to have company.

Wait a minute.  I know he hasn’t brought one of those choir groupies to my home.  There are some things that I can forgive and others I have to leave at the altar. 

I storm into my house through the kitchen entrance in the garage and feel my blood start to boil when I hear a woman’s voice.  I wish I had a gun.  No, I’m glad I don’t, because I wouldn’t want to have to answer to my Lord and savior for Bryan’s actions.

I follow the voices and I can hear them in my library.  My library?  Of all the holy and sacred places in this house…

“That’s solid right there.  Look how easily it slides in and out,” Bryan says.

The woman laughs.  “I just can’t get enough of this…”

My jaw drops and I burst into the library.  “Caught!  I caught yo’ ass now!  How dare you bring this Jezebel into my house?”

Bryan gives me an unblinking stare, and the woman covers her mouth.  For a second, I’m confused because everyone is fully clothed.  And why is Bryan sliding out one of the shelves on my custom built bookcases?  Oh my goodness…

“Camille, I’d like for you to meet Mrs. Melissa Dawson.  She’s our real estate agent.  I’m preparing to put the house on the market, and I wanted to show her all of the special features and upgrades.”

“Oh,” is all I can muster. 

“I think I better leave,” Melissa says.  “We can get together…all three of us…later and discuss all of the particulars.”

“Let me show you out,” Bryan says.

She shakes her head, and grabs her briefcase.  “No, that’s unnecessary.  I’ll see myself out.”

Bryan and I stand staring at each other in silence as Melissa’s heels clack across our hardwood floors.  My heart is racing as I hear her car peel out of our driveway like she’s in a high speed police chase.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Bryan asks.

I clear my throat.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  I didn’t agree to
put my house on the market, yet here you are meeting with a real estate agent.”

“Do you know that Melissa is a member of our church?  How dare you embarrass me in front of one of our congregation?”

“Me embarrass you?  How do you think I felt when everyone in the church knew you were sleeping with a teenager?”

Bryan takes several rapid steps to close the space between us.  I shudder with fear. 

“I told you, I didn’t sleep with that girl.”  Bryan’s breath is hot and tart and I think he purposely let his saliva spray all over my face.

“You did.  You did!  Everyone knows.  You’re lucky she was a slut, because that could’ve been your baby.”

“If I want a child, I guess that’s the
only
way I’m gonna get one,” Bryan says. 

I hear Dr. King’s voice in my head saying
this sounds like abuse
.  I am sick of Bryan treating me this way.  I’m better than this!  God has called me to higher heights and deeper depths!

“I hate you!” I scream.  “You belong to your father the devil!”

WHAP!

The sound echoes through my ears as I fly backwards into the bookshelf.  My head strikes a corner as I fall to the floor.  I touch the wound and feel blood. 

I barely have time to recover before Bryan is on top of me slapping me in my face and hitting my head with his closed fist.  My first instinct is to cover my head. Each blow seems to get harder and harder, as if Bryan is truly possessed by a demon.

My second instinct is to
fight.

I shake myself free of Bryan’s grasp and grab him in his most vulnerable area.  I lock onto his crotch like my hands are a vice grip.  He tries to push me off, but is disabled by the pain.  I press in hard with my fingertips, feeling grateful that he’s wearing thin workout pants instead of jeans.  When my fingers become slick with blood, I let him go! 

While he’s yelling and writhing in pain I stumble through the front door and flag down the first car that drives down our street.  It is a pizza delivery boy.  He parks his car and jumps out.

“What happened ma’am?  Were you in an accident?”

I shake my head.  “N-no.  My husband did this.”

The teenage boy’s eyes widen and he opens his car door for me.  “Come on!  I will take you to the hospital.  Which one do you want to go to?”

“Anywhere except Atlanta General.”  My sisters cannot know about this.

As he speeds away from my house, I finally feel safe, and thank God for the boy being a
Good Samaritan.  Like an angel or something.  As my consciousness slips away, I whisper a prayer to heaven, because I need God like I’ve never needed Him before.  I know I can never go back to Bryan now.  This is the end for us…and the beginning of something else.