Surviving the Chase

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  Sydney did as instructed. With each opening and closing, the palm of her hand tightened, then relaxed. Flashes of her altercation with Austyn Greene invaded her thoughts. It was as if she could feel the scalpel as it sliced through her palm.

  The sharp surgical instrument cut clean, but when the paramedics arrived, her blood was everywhere, including all over Donathan. The hand surgeon reached for the magnifying lamp affixed to the wall, continuing his extensive scrutiny for what seemed like an eternity. He made eye contact.

  “I’m very pleased with your progress, Dr. James. There’s no sign of infection, and the cut is healing nicely. I’d like to refer you to a few sessions of heat therapy, then you should be good as new.”

  Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Heat therapy? How long will that take?”

  The doctor smiled, then shook his head. “Doctors make the worst patients. Remember, it’s your dominant surgical hand, Dr. James,” he said, brushing his finger along the scar line. “Your hand needs to be better than new. Heat therapy will reduce any internal inflammation, further stimulate the healing process, and lessen the buildup of scar tissue.”

  “When can I go back to work?”

  “Let’s give it another three weeks.”

  “Three weeks! You can’t be serious,” she blurted out.

  There was no way in hell she could take another day, much less three whole weeks, cooped up in the house with Donathan. His withdrawn, moody, and unpredictable behavior drove her crazy. Before Miles Day, sex had never been a problem in their relationship. She and Donathan could touch, tease, and taste one another all day long without either growing tired, but something had clearly changed. One minute he treated her like a breakable doll, waiting on her hand and foot; the next they screwed like jackrabbits. It seemed like he was in the midst of an invisible competition, with something to prove—and determined to fuck her senseless.

  The doctor interrupted her internal pity party.

  “Here’s the deal. I will allow you back into the hospital on light duty, if—”

  “I promise to do whatever you say, Dr. Lawrence.”

  “No surgery yet, and once you complete the physical therapy, I’ll need to take one more look at your hand before I release you completely, without modifications.”

  “Thank you, Jesus,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  “My assistant will schedule another appointment for you for about four weeks out, and I’ll also have her draw up the work release forms. Take them to your employer, and I’m sure they’ll have you back on the hospital schedule before you leave the building.”

  The hand surgeon turned to exit the room, but stopped short when he reached the door. He pivoted to face her. “Dr. James, I can’t tell you how lucky you are. The cut was clean and left minimal nerve damage. A half of an inch deeper, and there would have been some serious implications for your surgical career.”

  The door to the exam room swung closed, and Sydney waited in silence. Over the past few weeks she, too, had wondered what if a thousand times. What if Austyn Greene had severed the nerves in her dominant hand? What she saw when she arrived at Austyn’s apartment would be forever etched in her memory. A paralyzed Donathan sprawled unnaturally across the floor and a crazy woman wielding a carbon steel surgical blade. If she hadn’t intervened when she did, Donathan would have been the latest victim in Austyn Greene’s string of unthinkable crimes... he might even be dead. If she had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing, even if the outcome had been catastrophic for her.

  After what seemed like a never-ending lecture on all the things she couldn’t do, Sydney left the doctor’s office with her paperwork in hand and made a beeline straight to Children’s Hospital. By the time she turned into the doctors’ parking lot, her nerves were frayed. She’d been so eager to turn in the release paperwork so she could get back to her patients, she hadn’t thought this all the way through. What would it be like facing her coworkers after they witnessed the Lois-the-Pie-Queen showdown between Miles and Donathan? Not to mention her husband being the lead story on most of the Bay Area news outlets over the past few weeks.

  The anxiety in her gut bubbled as she picked up the doctor’s release off the passenger seat and made her way inside the building. On the elevator ride up to the HR department, Sydney fidgeted, searching her mind for a recent memory of the last time she’d seen a patient. The sweet little girl who’d been viciously attacked by the neighbor’s dogs came to mind. The child had been given a diagnosis of never being able to walk again, but the last time Sydney examined her, the little girl used a walker to take her first steps. Sydney sighed heavily. If only her personal life wasn’t so complicated. The situation with Donathan made her joy of practicing medicine come with a heavy dose of shame and embarrassment.

  “C’mon, girl, you can do this,” she muttered before stepping off the elevator.

  She had to take back control of her life, but her game plan for now was to drop the paperwork off to Human Resources and make it back to her car without talking to anybody. She thought about Miles, and guilt rose in the pit of her belly. He hadn’t returned any of her phone calls, which was surprising. Over the past few months, he had been there for her during her marital troubles in ways her closest friends weren’t. The last time she saw him, he and Donathan were exchanging blows, and she had yet to confirm from Miles himself that he was okay. After all, she was the reason they were fighting in the first place.

  “Sydney?”

  The sound of her name oozed through the air like a snake slithering across the floor. Sydney continued to maneuver the maze of hallways toward Human Resources, pretending not to hear the voice, although she did. Of all the people she could have encountered today, why did it have to be Julia Stevens’s trouble-making ass?

  “Sydney James?” she called again in a high-pitched voice. “Oh my goodness! Is it you?”

  Sydney stopped, turned around, and faced the false epitome of perfection. Full-face makeup, designer attire, not a single strand of fiery-red hair out of place. Even her lab coat fit her like it had been custom-tailored.

  “You were the last person I expected to see up here.”

  Julia Stevens was a rail-thin woman, and if her attitude wasn’t so nasty, she could be considered pretty in a rigid sort of way. She hailed from Boston, the daughter of a very wealthy businessman, and at every turn she made sure everyone was well aware of that fact.

  “Why is that? I do work here.”

  “Well, I mean you’ve been missing in action for weeks, and after that little fiasco at Lois the Pie Queen and that other situation, I don’t blame you.” Julia leaned in close and lowered her voice. “People have been whispering, if you know what I mean. Especially with you and Miles both being MIA at the same time. I keep telling him it’s time to get back to work.”

  Sydney’s heart constricted. If Miles wasn’t working, where was he? Did Donathan hurt him? Was he okay? Returning to work definitely wasn’t as appealing as it had been a few hours ago. She didn’t know if she could tolerate daily encounters like this with Julia and the stares and whispers from her colleagues. But work was the one constant in her life that could keep her sane right now.

  “Excuse me, but are we watching the same news? The stations I watch have been very clear that my husband and I were both victims of a vicious crime, so there’s nothing to whisper about.”

  Sydney’s eyes found her feet. She knew that was a lie before she finished the sentence. The news stations had been brutal and muddy. In fact, a few outlets were still camped outside her home, impeding her comings and goings. They wanted Donathan’s side of the story, but up until now, he’d refused to say a single word.

  “That’s all fine and dandy, but that doesn’t stop hospital gossip.” Julia reached for her hand, but Sydney jerked it away. “How’s the hand?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but my hand is fine.”

  “No need to get testy,” Julia said with a feeble chuckle.


  The two stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Julia continued, “Well, I’m due in surgery. We’ll continue this little chat at another time. Toodles.”

  Julia hurried off, and Sydney stood frozen, staring at the white lab coat flapping behind her. She couldn’t believe the nerve of that red-haired bitch pretending to be concerned about her well-being. She knew Julia was the ringleader of all the gossip and whispers. This was a clear indication of the type of harassment to come. She made her way to HR and turned in the paperwork, all the while questioning in her mind what she was going to do about it.

  Feeling sorry for herself, Sydney hurried home, only to be greeted by the paparazzi posted at the front gate.

  “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. Something had to be done about this craziness. When Donathan got home this evening, they were going to talk. They needed another plan to get these reporters to stop acting like vultures circling a carcass.

  Once inside, Sydney kicked off her shoes and stopped off at the wine cellar to grab a bottle of LVE, an exclusive collection from the singer John Legend before making her way to the kitchen. She couldn’t get the bottle of Chardonnay uncorked fast enough to savor the buttery flavors. Her tolerance for alcohol told her not to have more than one glass, but taking large gulps she quickly downed two and immediately felt light-headed.

  Tonight she refused to eat another meal from a to-go container. The bandages were off, and Donathan wasn’t home to nag her about overdoing it. Still holding her wineglass, Sydney opened the refrigerator to survey the contents. Recyclable takeout containers covered every shelf, evidence of life at the James’s residence the past few weeks. Her cell phone chirped, and anxiety rose in her throat as she peered into her almost-empty glass before she remembered she was off work. When she fished the handset out of her purse, a text from Donathan was displayed on the screen.

  Are you home? Meeting Tony for dinner and drinks.

  Sydney placed the wineglass on the counter and tried to type with two thumbs, but the pull in the center of her right hand turned her words to gibberish. She backspaced feverishly and settled on one word.

  Yes.

  She stared at the device, awaiting his response.

  Miss Ollie’s. Want something?

  Sydney’s mouth watered at the thought of Miss Ollie’s fried chicken, seasonal greens, and garlic-oil-fried plantains, but if a good meal meant she’d have to wait up and possibly encounter one of his foul moods, she would pass. This time she used her pointer finger to respond.

  No. I’m fine.

  Are you sure? I can send you something via UberEats...

  Sydney ruminated on the offer briefly, then quickly abandoned the thought. The wait time didn’t appeal to her. She wanted something quick and something she prepared with her own two hands. She typed.

  I’m good. Enjoy your time with Tony.

  Beginning to feel the slight buzz, Sydney relinquished her wineglass, laid the phone down on the granite counter, grabbed a few eggs, and whipped up a cheese omelet in no time. Another glass of wine, a hot bath, and one of her mindless reality TV shows was just what the doctor ordered. If she were lucky, maybe Donathan would have a drink or two himself and relax. Maybe then he would come home and actually make love to her like he used to instead of pressing her about Miles.

  CHAPTER 5

  Anthony Barnes aka Tony entered the standing-room-only crowd at Liege Spirits Lounge, a popular hangout spot in downtown Oakland. He moved through the mob of people standing shoulder to shoulder until he found Donathan perched at the bar, deep in conversation with an exotic beauty. The scene reminded Tony of the time at the Richmond Country Club when he’d found his best friend deep in conversation with the crazy bitch who had tried to kill him. The two women looked nothing alike. This one appeared to be in her late twenties, short build, looked half Puerto Rican and half something else. He watched her lean into Donathan’s personal space, hanging on his every word. She batted her lashes, giggled on cue, and arched her back, making sure his free hand made contact with her perfectly round ass. This chick looked good, but Tony didn’t understand how Donathan could be so comfortable with this woman after his recent ordeal. Yeah, that ass was juicy, but as far as he was concerned, nobody could be trusted. Everybody was a suspect.

  Without making eye contact, Donathan removed his suit jacket from the bar stool next to him, and Tony took the seat. He couldn’t help wondering how he and Donathan, best friends since the age of ten, could be so close, yet as opposite as night and day when it came to women. From the time girls entered the picture, Donathan always had to have more than one. Tony, on the other hand, was single and believed in monogamous relationships. Yet despite their differences, Tony knew that no matter the circumstances, they would always have each other’s backs. Donathan raised his voice to be heard.

  “What happened to you texting me when you made it down here?”

  Tony picked up Donathan’s cell phone off the bar and held it up to display the multiple unanswered text messages. “I did.”

  * * *

  After Tony downed a few beers, they walked less than a block to Miss Ollie’s, the Caribbean soul food restaurant perched between Ninth and Tenth streets in Old Town Oakland. On a Friday night, this intersection transformed into a constant hum of cell phone conversations and people socializing on the streets while waiting for a coveted open seat at one of the establishments on each of the four corners.

  “I’ll be right back,” Donathan said, after they stepped inside the restaurant. He trotted off through an open door with a sign that read Restrooms.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the male greeter asked. “The wait time is over forty-five minutes if you don’t—”

  “Last name James,” Tony replied, eliminating the need for the young man to continue the rote dialogue he’d been serving up to anyone who stepped up to the wood podium with a request for dinner seating.

  The restaurant was crowded with most of the tables taken, but Tony was escorted to a table with a clear view of Washington Street, prime real estate on a Friday evening.

  But for him socializing wasn’t a priority. Since his mother’s death due to stage-four breast cancer, he’d become the sole caretaker of his fifteen-year-old sister, Najee. And he had no clue what he was doing. It was summertime, and next week he was due back at work. A babysitter was out of the question, and according to Najee she was way too old for any type of camp. What the hell was he going to do with her?

  He reflected back on how his mother, Shirley Barnes—a single mother—had single-handedly given him the very best of herself, all while working multiple jobs to keep a roof over their heads. He prayed he could do the same for his little sister. He grinned at the memory of that evening almost sixteen years ago when Shirley told him she was going to have a baby. At the time, he couldn’t believe his mother was having sex, let alone a baby at forty-three. Tony shook his head at the irony. Now he was forty-two years old, and although he wasn’t anybody’s baby daddy, he was horny as hell, and therein lay the problem.

  Even though he wasn’t the type of brother who lied to women or had multiple partners running through his house, there were a few regulars he visited from time to time. It had only been a month, but this new living situation had put a tremendous strain on his sex life. He couldn’t make a call on a whim or stay out all night anymore without making plans for the whereabouts of his sister. But to be honest, not getting laid wasn’t really about Najee or his mother.

  Payton Marie Jones was the true culprit.

  For the past six months, he had only been having sex with Payton, and in the end her lying and deceitful ass turned out to be his worst nightmare.

  “Damn, is it that bad?” Donathan said lightly before easing himself into the seat across from Tony.

  “What?” Tony said sharply.

  “Bro, the frown etched across your forehead is rippling.”

  The waiter appeared, delivering two highball glasses filled with a two-toned conco
ction decorated with cherries, pineapple, and a lime wedge on the rim, along with a shot of bourbon. “Keep the bourbon coming,” Donathan said. He raised his glass and waited for Tony to do the same.

  “Man, what is this, and when did you start drinking?”

  “Can’t come to Miss Ollie’s and not do the rum punch. Here’s to a night off and permission to feel no pain.”

  “Well, I’m glad you had sense enough to know I needed something just a little stronger than this.” Tony raised both glasses, downed the fruity mixture, and chased it with the brown liquid. He winced at the burn at the back of his throat. Bourbon was meant to be sipped slowly, but that wouldn’t be the case tonight. He placed the empty glass on the table and signaled to the waiter for another drink.

  “Man, I could drink until I’m blue in the face, which would be hard to do, but this hole in my chest ain’t going anywhere—”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Donathan admonished. “Your mom was sick for a long time, but what’s wrong with a little temporary happiness? I mean, take a serious look out the window.”

  Tony scanned the droves of thirty-something professional women heading toward the District Wine and Whiskey Lounge. Donathan was right. He was in dire need of a little temporary happiness. He made eye contact with the woman ogling him from outside the window, but the reality of his newfound responsibilities killed that buzz in an instant. Even if he and the woman agreed on the rules of engagement, he didn’t have a lot of time, and taking her to his house was definitely out of the question.

  Tony fell back into the high-backed bench and let out a deep sigh. His aunt Rosemary was home with Najee tonight, but tomorrow she was heading back to Texas, and he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do. He’d gone from living the life of a bachelor to having to move his mother and sister into his house with him. And now that his mother was gone, overnight he’d become the legal guardian of his sister—no longer responsible for just himself.

  “Man, I’m not like you. Temporary happiness scares the shit out of me, and thanks to Austyn Greene, your ass should be terrified, too,” Tony warned, then felt immediate remorse for bringing up that situation.