“Have you decided what you’re going to wear to my mother’s birthday party? It’s not formal or anything like that, but I’m going to be a little dressy. If you want we can go somewhere fun afterward. How does dancing sound?”
“I can’t…”
I stand up from Lucas's breakfast table and march through the patio doors. I'm ready to go home. Shouldn't have missed my flight dealing with him. I could be at the casino or eating some gumbo at a dank hole-in-the-wall joint.
Instead, I'm here, sharing halfway decent scrambled eggs with the only man who's ever broken my heart.
Lucas follows me inside. He watches in silence as I collect my shoes, purse, and socks.
“What's the matter, Sydney? What are you thinking about?”
I glare at him. “You don't get to ask me what's going on in my head.”
“But, we're having a good time and then suddenly, you're tripping.”
“I'm thinking about you and Fatima. Remember her? You sure are good at remembering everything else.”
Lucas runs his hands over his curly hair, tightens his lips and sends a burst of air through his nostrils. He doesn't get to be annoyed at me or my memories.
“How many times do I have to apologize for that, Sydney?”
“How about once? You never did. You didn’t even give me the courtesy of being surprised when I caught you.”
“I’ve spent the past eight years trying to apologize to you Sydney, but you won’t let me.”
“Probably because there’s nothing that you can say that will fix what you did, Lucas. “
Lucas takes both my hands and leads me to the couch. I don’t want to sit down, I want to storm out in a rage.
“You’re right. There is nothing I can do to fix what I did. No one should have to go through the kind of pain I put you through.”
I feel the tears pool in my eyes before they spill down my face. Why can’t I be stronger? I don’t want him to see me crying.
He continues, “I made a horrible mistake. I could blame it on being young and stupid, I could try to blame Fatima for pushing up on me, but the truth is I was selfish and greedy. I wanted you and her. I was wrong. All I ever needed was you. And I still need you.”
“It’s all about you isn’t it? Always about what you need.”
“No! That’s not true, Syd. I’m so sorry for how I hurt you. I’m a different man now. I want to make you the happiest woman on the planet.”
“You don’t know how to make me happy.”
“But I want to learn, Sydney. We’ve spent the last eight years paying for my stupid mistake. Let’s not waste any more time.”
I snatch my hands away from him and stand. “You’ve got it wrong Lucas. You’ve spent the last eight years paying for your mistake. I’m absolutely fine, and I don’t need to revisit the past. I enjoyed the evening, but this is where it ends.”
Lucas lets out a long sigh. “I wish you’d take more time to think it over.”
I’ve taken plenty of time to think about this. Eight years to be exact. Lucas is right about one thing, though. It’s time for me to move on and find my own Mr. Right.
~11~
Dionne
“Since the initial prescription we gave you didn’t work, Mrs. Knight, we’re going to try a drug called Follistim.”
“Follistim?” I ask, not liking the name of the drug. It sounds like a disease and not a solution.
Hailey squeezes my hand. She’s with me because Dr. Baines is her gynecologist. Hailey came to her for treatments and got pregnant with twin boys. Now she’s set for life, or at least until her boys are eighteen, if her husband decides to take off with a stripper.
I need that same insurance in my life, so I called her as soon as I left Camille at the airport. I’ve discovered that a baby is my necessary, and it’s time to let this life occur – by any and all means.
“That’s the drug I was telling you about,” Hailey says. “They can inject you with that one.”
Dr. Baines says, “That’s right. It can be injected, and it can also be used on men if the issue is low sperm count. Has your husband been tested?”
I shake my head. Rod has no idea we’re trying to have a baby, so why would I bring him to the fertility clinic? Plus, it’s obvious that there’s nothing wrong with his sperm count. Daddy’s baby girl proves that his little swimmers are doing the job.
“Rod is fine. It’s me. I don’t ovulate frequently enough to predict when I can get pregnant.” I repeat verbatim what my last doctor told me.
“Well, because your ovaries do still work, Follistim can be quite effective.”
“Good! Can I get the shot today?”
“We typically give the injection on the second day of your menstrual cycle.”
“Perfect! That is today.” This is the truth. I cried for an hour when my period came yesterday.
“Well, before we proceed, there are side effects. Here is a brochure that outlines them all. The most common are ovarian cysts and stomach pain. You also increase your chances of having a multiple birth, which would make you a high risk pregnancy.”
And without the pregnancy, I see myself with a high risk of being broke as a joke.
I take the brochure and flip through the pages, not really reading carefully, because I know what I have to do.
“Can we just dispense with all this and do the injection?” I ask. “I have another appointment.”
“But I really should run a battery of tests and complete some blood work.”
I hand Dr. Baines a folder. “These are my records from my previous gynecologist. Also, I would love to come to you for my care during my pregnancy and delivery. This is all very stressful for me, and I’ve been through all the tests.”
Hailey strokes Dr. Baines arm. “Yes, Trish, do it for me as a favor, please? We’ll make sure to monitor Dionne closely and let you know if anything goes wrong.”
Dr. Baines frowns. She is Hailey’s soror, and clearly there were lines to read between in the request.
“I’m going to lose my license dealing with you, Hailey.”
Hailey grins. “But you wouldn’t even have this practice if it wasn’t for me.”
“I’ll have my nurse come in to give the injection. Call me immediately if you start to suffer from any of the more serious side effects.”
A huge grin bursts across my face. I’m getting the injection! “Of course, doctor. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Dr. Baines leaves the examination room in a huff, and slams the door shut.
Hailey does a curtsy in the middle of the room. “Thank you! Thank you very much!”
“I do have to give props where they are due. Girl, you got some serious connections.”
“That’s how I roll. And as soon as you pop those babies out, I’m gonna have my plastic surgeon on hand to give you a tummy tuck before you leave the hospital.”
I touch my stomach and imagine it stretched to capacity with a gut full of human. Even though my baby will secure my financial situation, it will also be loved! It will be the first grandchild for my mother and my sisters are going to spoil it rotten. I can only hope that Rod is going to be happy as well. There’s nothing worse than a disgruntled father.
Well, maybe there is something worse than a disgruntled father. A fighting mad, clear stiletto heel wearing, pole twirling, baby mama named Peach.
~12~
Camille
When Dionne plans a trip, she really knows how to do it big! She booked a suite at the Harrah’s casino in New Orleans and because those two heffas bailed on me, I get it all to myself! She even put money on the books for me so I don’t have to spend too much of my own money.
It’s a blessing to have a rich sister.
My first stop is the slot machines, because I don’t really know how to play anything else. I’m afraid of blackjack, craps and poker. Plus they have a slot machine called Party Gras! That’s what I’m talking about.
I slide onto the little stool in front o
f my first machine. It takes nickels and I’ve got a huge bucket of them.
My cell phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and frown when I see the number in the caller ID. It’s Bryan. Ugh. I’m not talking to him until he repents from his bad attitude. He wasn’t happy about this trip, but he knows better than to come between me and my sisters.
I focus on the beautiful machine in front of me. The lights and bells make it look like a self-contained celebration! God knows I need some celebration in my life!
I slide the first nickel into the slot and pull the lever. I watch the pictures of fruit whiz past. The first one stops - a bunch of bananas. The second one stops – another bunch of bananas. The third one stops – and it’s a bunch of bananas!
I hit the jackpot on my first time!
Coins are flowing out of the machine like water from the rock when God blessed the Israelites! I jump down from the stool to collect the coins as they fall, littering the floor around the machine like gold colored manna.
God. Is. Able.
When I take my winnings up to the little window to turn them in, the clerk tells me that I’ve won the daily jackpot of fifteen thousand dollars. I can’t wait to get to my room and call Bryan. I can pay off my car with this money.
Wait a minute. I’m not telling Bryan anything. He is a dream killer and a blessing blocker. He wants to get in the way of what God is doing in my life.
I mean really, if God is opening the windows of heavens for my finances, wouldn’t it be a sin not to receive?
~13~
Dionne
It has been three hours since my injection, and so far, I don’t feel any side effects. I feel perfectly fine. I dropped Hailey off at home, because I have another…errand.
There was no way I was going to New Orleans without Sydney. Camille gets on my nerves and she’s boring as what. Once she gets through blowing through all of the money I left on the books and all of the money she has with her, she’ll be home and back to fussing at me and Syd about our lives.
I am somewhat curious about Sydney bailing like that though. She seemed pretty pumped about kicking it with me this weekend for her birthday. It’s not like she’s got a man to spend it with, so she might as well be with her sisters. I was kidding with Camille about Sydney sinning. That is not like Syd at all.
Unless…she does have a man. The first thing that popped into my head when Sydney sent me that text, is what could’ve kept me from an all-expenses paid trip to New Orleans. Yeah, it’s either a man or one of those patients at the hospital.
My random thoughts about my sisters cease and desist when the Lexus SUV pulls into the driveway of Peach’s decked out town house. I didn’t have to bribe or convince the security guard at the gate today, because there wasn’t one there. I just followed another car in to the gated community, and parked in the for sale property across the street from Peach.
I watch as Peach walks down her driveway, picks up her newspaper and checks the mail like she’s a regular soccer mom. Who knew hoes cared about current events? Who knew hoes could read?
Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m doing here. I don’t know if I want a confrontation with this chick. I really don’t do drama that well. I’m too classy for all that. But finding out that I’m not carrying Rod’s baby has left me feeling desperate.
What if I can’t ever have a child for Rod? Then what am I going to do if he decides to leave? He was smart enough to make me sign a prenup, but now I wish I had refused. Rod was crazy about me back then – he would’ve still married me.
So now, I’m going to do what I should’ve done when I first found out about this tramp. I’m gonna tell that jump off to learn her place.
As Peach heads back up the driveway, I walk across the street. I’m wearing flats this time in case I have to get rowdy.
“Peach! I need a word with you.”
She spins on one of her stiletto heels and faces me as I approach. She stands akimbo looking like a stripper version of black Wonder Woman, but the smile on her face is what causes me to feel faintly alarmed.
“Dionne,” she says. “It took you long enough. I’ve been expecting a visit from you for years.”
Years. Years?
“I see you looking real crazy right now, so allow me to elaborate,” Peach continues. “I’ve been with Rod for four years. The only reason I don’t have him full-time is because I don’t want him full-time. So before you start tripping, I need you to know that I’m the one who saved your marriage.”
She’s talking, but all I hear is noise. I’m calculating, reminiscing and remembering. Four years ago.
Four years ago, Rod and I were in a good place. If Rod was cheating, it wasn’t even on my radar. He had just crossed the fifty million mark on all of his combined assets. We moved into our mansion, and he bought me a fabulous eight carat princess-cut, pink diamond ring for our anniversary.
Four years ago Rod promised me that he was leaving all of the groupies behind and that it was all about us. We were going to start a family four years ago.
But four years ago he was starting a family with a weave wearing stripper.
Finally, I compose myself enough to respond. “You won’t ever take my place.”
Peach laughs. “Did you hear anything I said? I don’t want your place. Look at what I have. My home, my cars, my clothes, vacations, shopping sprees. Paid for by Rod. My daughter goes to private school and has a nanny. And I don’t have to pick up Rod’s dirty drawers.”
“My maids do that.” My response sounds lame to my own ears, as did my declaration. She obviously doesn’t want to be married to Rod, or to take my place.
But if she doesn’t want any of that, then what does she want? I’ve never heard of a side piece that wants to stay a side piece forever.
“You know what? Girl, bye! I thought you were coming over here like a real woman. You haven’t even told me to step off. If you had, maybe I would respect your tired self. I see now why Rod is creeping. You ain’t got no fire.”
Suddenly, a question occurs to me. “If you’re such a bad chick, and all your bills are paid, then why are you still flipping around a pole every night?”
“Because I love it. Every man that steps into that club worships me. Including your man.”
Peach’s cell phone rings. And she answers it. “Hi baby… Your wife’s out of town? Of course you can come over for lunch. I’ll make that shrimp pasta you love.”
Peach looks at me and holds a finger up to her lips for me to be quiet. Then she mouths the words, It’s Rod. I feel as if I’m sinking. Shock, anger and pain swirl around in my stomach until the numbness returns.
“Rodeisha is at pre-K. Her nanny dropped her off this morning.”
Rodeisha? How ghetto. How typical of a chick who prefers being a mistress over being a wife.
I want to scream out loud so that Rod can hear me, but something tells me that if he knows that I’m here, I’ll lose any upper hand that I have. I don’t want Rod to know that I know…not yet. Peach seems to know her power too, because she’s not snitching to Rod that I’m at her doorstep. Maybe she thinks drama might impact her cash flow.
Peach disconnects the phone and puts it back in her Chanel bag. “Look, Dionne. I don’t want any drama with you. I’m not trying to take your husband, and you are not hurting financially. You stay over here in Atlanta living it up, and I’ll do my thing in Birmingham. If Rod gets me to where I want to be in my music career, I might just go away.”
She might go away? I’m supposed to accept that?
“I’ll stay in Atlanta, if you stay away from the paparazzi with my husband.”
Peach shakes her head. “No can do. I need headlines for my career. Did you hear me say I’m trying to blow up?”
“Okay, then. I’m going home to tell Rod that you sought me out and told me all about your little love seed.”
Now Peach bursts into laughter. “I have surveillance cameras all over my property, ‘cause a girl like me gets a few…stalk
ers. I have the video of the first time you and your friend came over here. And how are you gonna explain to Rod that you aren’t out of town? That is what he thinks, right?”
I stand in front of this laughing trick, feeling totally foolish. I don’t have a backup plan. Shoot, I don’t have a plan at all.
“Look,” Peach says, “I don’t know why you came here. Do you want to fight or something? You want me to pull your expensive weave out and break some acrylic nails.”
I don’t have a weave.
Nor acrylic nails.
Peach continues, “Face it honey, we’re sister wives. It goes down like this all over the world. As long as everyone is taken care of, I don’t see why we both can’t live the way we want to live.”
The more this chick talks, the more I want to choke the life out of her. But I wouldn’t want the surveillance cameras to catch that.
“No ma’am. You can go ahead with that sister wife mess. You are not my sister or Rod’s wife. He’s only got one wife – me. I suggest you start saving your money, because when Rod kicks you to the curb, you’ll have to get by on his child support checks.”
Now it’s her turn to be speechless. Peach acts like she’s holding all of the cards and all of the power in between those two massive butt cheeks. But I know where the real power lies – inside Rod’s wallet.
And her access to my husband’s money is about to be severely restricted.
~14~
Camille
“Honey, these Belgian waffles are really good. Does this breakfast mean you aren't mad at me anymore?”
I watch Bryan sit at our kitchen table, gorging himself on waffles. Being so greedy that butter and syrup dribble down his chin and onto his shirt.
Bryan is asking me if I'm mad at him because I haven't really spoken much to him since before I escaped to New Orleans for my sister's birthday. But my not speaking has nothing to do with me being angry.
I'm afraid that if I say too many words, or have too many conversations, that the secret I have will come spilling out of my mouth. I can’t let him know about my winnings. I’m up to forty thousand now, but soon, I am going to multiply that while God’s given me a golden touch. I’ve talked to my friend Lenora who is about to get me into real estate investment. She’s made close to a million dollars buying and reselling property. She said the money comes in so quickly that she can barely keep up with the deposits.
Lies and Alibis Page 5