by E. N. Joy
I Can Do Better All By Myself:
New Day Divas Series Book Five
E.N. Joy
www.urbanchristianonline.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books by E.N. Joy
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Stupid!!!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Reader’s Group Guide Questions
About the Author
The “Still Divas” Series - Coming 2012
UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB! - www.uchisglorybookclub.net
WHAT WE BELIEVE:
Copyright Page
Other Books by E.N. Joy
Me, Myself and Him
She Who Finds A Husband
Been There, Prayed That
Love, Honor or Stray
Trying To Stay Saved
Even Sinners Have Souls
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
Even Sinners Have Souls Too
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
Even Sinners Still Have Souls
(Edited by E.N. Joy)
The Secret Olivia Told Me
(children’s book written under the name N. Joy)
Dedication
This book, this entire series, almost everything I’ve ever written since my first published title, is made possible because of Earth Jallow with Down to Earth Public Relations. Mother Earth, you were there when I self-published my very first title back in 1998. You have done everything with and for me besides write the books yourself (although you treated them as if you’d written them yourself). You set up my book signings for me. You went to my book signings with me. You even drove me state to state to and from the book signings.
You were with me when there were lines of people wanting to get a book signed by me. You were there when there were only a handful of people wanting to get a book signed by me. You were there when nobody wanted to get a book signed by me. I could not have asked for nor been blessed with a more fitting PR person than yourself. But most importantly, I could not have asked for nor been blessed with a more fitting sista-girlfriend such as yourself. Your support is truly priceless. We’re like Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince back in the day. I’m the rapper; you’re the DJ.
I know God has called you to do so much more than PR for authors such as myself, but I pray He’ll still allow you to be a viable part of my literary career as you move forth mightily in your own destiny.
Stay blessed, because you already are!
Acknowledgements
I’d like to acknowledge my mother-in-law, Gwen Marsh (Ross), who just loves me to no end. She drives back and forth from Toledo to Columbus, Ohio, to keep the kids for me while I go on book events. Gas round trip—fifty dollars. McDonald’s for all the kids on the way—fifteen dollars. The support for going through such extremes just so that your daughter-in-law makes the New York Times Bestseller’s list—Priceless. You are priceless indeed.
I can’t leave out my sisters-in-law who hold it down when granny has to go to work and the kids are in Toledo: Nicole Ross Byrd, NyGale, and Nichelle. I love you all!!!
And for the new hair braider, Cousin Kee-Kee. Love ya!
I love you too T-Town nieces and nephews. The kids would be bored without you there.
Last, but not least, I have to give a shout out to the artist who brings each and every diva to life with the wonderful covers he has designed for the entire series, Charlton “CP the Artist” Palmer. Charlton even took some photos of me and created portraits of the photos to appear on the book covers. He is truly an artistic genius, and anyone who wants to experience his work should visit him at www.cptheartist.com.
Stupid!!!
I’m a stupid, stupid girl. I live in La-La Land, that secluded place where the wife is madly in love with her husband and vice versa. Where she wants to shout it out from the mountaintop for the entire population of 10,001 to hear. Where she hopes the echo will be him shouting the same back in return.
In the real world, though, I’m the only one starring in this stupid act. It’s a one-woman show. He always forgets his lines because he never shows up for rehearsal. I always have to ad-lib; fill in for him. There’s even been a time or two where I’ve had to feed him his lines. “This is what you’re supposed to think. This is what you’re supposed to say. This is how you’re supposed to feel.”
He still couldn’t deliver them properly though. Sometimes I wonder if he even read the script before agreeing to take on the part. If he even knows his role, the character I made him up in my mind to be.
Come to think of it, did he even audition? Or did I just give him the part, hoping, praying, wishing he would eventually get into character?
Nonetheless, when it’s all over, when the curtain drops, when we take our final bow, there won’t be a standing ovation and the reviews won’t be that great.
Instead of marriage counseling, perhaps we should have signed up for acting lessons, because that’s what this entire thing has been—an act. A comedy. One big joke. But if that’s the case, why am I crying instead of laughing?
Stupid tears. Stupid, stupid tears. But what else did you expect out of a stupid, stupid girl... like me?
—Written by E.N. Joy
For New Day Diva, Paige Dickenson
Chapter One
Paige had no idea how long she had been sitting in her car outside of her best friend’s house. She had no idea until Tamarra told her. That wasn’t until after Tamarra scared the living daylights out of her when she wrapped on the driver-side window.
“Jesus!” Paige yelled out. She was calling on the name of Jesus all right, but not just because her best friend had frightened her. “Jesus!” Paige said again; this time as if she were summoning Him down from heaven for help. “Jesus!”
“Paige, girl, are you okay in there?” Tamarra asked through the window.
Without replying, Paige stared straight ahead.
“Paige, do you hear me?” Tamarra cupped her hands around her oval-shaped face and pressed against the window.
Still, Tamarra heard no reply from Paige, but she did hear the clicking of the locks. Tamarra went to open the driver’s door, but that’s when she realized the car doors were locked. “Paige, unlock the doors,” Tamarra said as she wig
gled the handle. “You locked the doors instead of unlocked them.”
Tamarra wasn’t telling Paige anything she didn’t already know. She knew she’d just locked the doors. She meant to do that. As a matter of fact, she wished she’d locked them sooner—like as soon as she had pulled up. She couldn’t believe she’d been sitting there in the late-night hours with the doors unlocked, especially after what had just happened to her. But still staring straight ahead, Paige realized that it was better late than never.
“Paige. Paige,” Tamarra continued to call out, but now there was a hint of worry behind her tone. “Unlock the door,” she ordered. “Unlock the door, sweetheart.” Realizing her voice was getting a little loud, Tamarra thought she might sweeten up her request a bit by adding a term of endearment at the end of it.
“Sweetheart,” Paige mumbled under her lips. She then turned her head to face Tamarra. “He called me that too.”
Tamarra’s hand immediately flew over her mouth in shock once she saw Paige’s face. “Paige, oh my God. Wha ... what happened?” Now Tamarra frantically began trying to open the car door.
Paige just turned her head and stared straight ahead. Tears began to fall from her eyes, one drop at a time. The hot tears glided over the deep dimples in her dark chocolate skin.
Her eyes weren’t the only ones leaking the salty liquid. Tears now made their way down Tamarra’s oak with a gloss finish complexion. After seeing her best friend’s face, she was beside herself. In a panicked style, she ran her hands down her shoulder-length hair that she wore natural. She didn’t know if she was really doing it out of panic and nervousness, or if she just wasn’t used to the length yet since having let it grow out.
“Paige, let me in this car right now,” Tamarra demanded. Tears continued to flow from her eyes as she still made attempts at opening the door. She had to get her best friend out of the car. Something wasn’t right. Something was very, very wrong. It was as if Paige had just driven her car into a lake, and slowly but surely, the car was filling up with water. Paige was drowning inside. Tamarra had to save her.
“Come on, please unlock the door,” Tamarra begged. “It’s one-thirty in the morning. I know something’s going on. You’ve been sitting out here over an hour.” Tamarra knew this because one of her neighbors had told her so. It was her neighbor’s phone call informing her that a car had been parked outside of her house since around midnight that had awakened her out of a good sleep. Her neighbor also informed her that someone was sitting in the car. Tamarra was a little frightened by this news at first. She didn’t know if she had a stalker or what. Once she got out of bed, inched over to her window, and peeked through the curtains, she realized it was Paige’s car. She breathed a sigh of relief, then told her neighbor that she recognized the car, the person in it, and everything was okay.
Putting on nothing but a housecoat to protect her from the evening air of the last days of spring, Tamarra quickly walked outside. She stopped and put on the pair of flip-flops she kept by the side door that she always threw on if she had to go do some lawn watering or whatnot. But right now, the fact that she was standing outside in a robe and flip-flops was the last thing on her mind. Getting Paige out of that car was the first—the only thought.
“Paige, honey, you’ve got to get out of that car and come inside the house. We’ve got to get your face taken care of,” Tamarra said.
Paige, as if having an epiphany, raised her hand and touched her face. It was swollen; her cheek. It was swollen; her eye. It was swollen; her lip. Even when it came to her hand; it was swollen too. Paige began to cry at the touch. She’d never felt this way before; in so much pain. She’d never felt this way before; either internally or externally.
“Paige, you’re hurt. We have to get you inside. I can’t just let you sit out here. So if you don’t unlock the door, I’m going to have to call the police because I’m scared, Paige. I’m scared,” Tamarra confessed as her voice cracked and more tears spilled from her eyes.
Paige shook her head, signaling that she didn’t want the police called. Then lowering her hand from her face, Paige turned to look at Tamarra. The expression on her face was questioning. It was questioning Tamarra. “Can you believe this? Is this really me?” Paige’s eyes asked her best friend.
“Who did this to you, Paige? Did somebody hurt you?” Tamarra inquired.
Paige turned her face away in shame.
“It’s okay; just tell me. Did someone hurt you?”
Paige nodded.
Tamarra swallowed her cries. She already knew the answer before asking. She’d seen the answer by the look in Paige’s eyes. Tamarra, once upon a time as a young girl, had worn that same expression many times. Usually it was after she’d bathed and looked at herself in the mirror each time after her brother raped her.
“Paige, did someone ... did someone rape you ... sexually assault you?”
Once again, Paige nodded.
“Then, Paige, honey, please let me call the police. Or at least let me call Blake,” Tamarra offered, thinking that maybe her husband could talk her out of the car.
“No!” Paige yelled.
Although her harsh response had made Tamarra jump, at least Paige had finally shot off a verbal response. Before Tamarra could part her lips to say anything else, swirling red and blue lights grabbed her mind’s attention.
“Paige, the police are here,” Tamarra said through the window. “One of my neighbors must have called them. I know you didn’t want me to call them, but they’re here now. Please, Paige, talk to them. Tell them what happened to you.”
Tamarra felt as though she had some nerve. She never told the police what had happened to her. Maybe if she had reported the rapes to the police, she could have prevented other girls from being assaulted by her brother. Although she’d made a mistake, she didn’t want to sit by and watch her friend make the same one.
“Is everything okay?” an officer walked up and asked after parking his vehicle. “We got a couple complaints about a suspicious vehicle and possible disturbance,” he informed Tamarra.
“No, everything is not okay,” Tamarra was quick to say. “My friend’s been assaulted. She’s hurt, and she’s scared.” Tamarra began to break down.
“It’s okay, Miss ...” the officer stated as he waited for Tamarra to fill in the blank.
“It’s Miss Davis,” Tamarra informed him, gathering her composure. “I live here.” Tamarra pointed to her house. “I got a call from one of my neighbors not too long ago telling me that a car had been parked outside of my house for a while. When I realized it was my best friend’s, Paige, I came out. I’ve been trying to get her to come out of the car, but she won’t.” Tamarra began to break down again.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” the officer told Tamarra. “Let me see what I can do.”
Tamarra moved out of the officer’s way as he approached the driver-side door. “Hello ... Paige.” He looked at Tamarra to make sure he’d gotten the name correct. Tamarra confirmed with a nod. “I’m Officer Lavene. Your friend here is very worried about you. She says someone hurt you. Is that true?”
Without looking in the officer’s direction, Paige nodded.
“What did they do to you, Paige?” the officer asked.
This time she didn’t nod, she just looked in the officer’s direction. That’s when he saw how battered her face was.
“Did this person or persons hit you?” he asked.
Staring in the officer’s eyes, Paige nodded.
“Did they ... did they sexually assault you in any way?” he continued questioning.
Once again, Paige nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened, Paige?”
Paige nodded, but she didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay. You can go ahead and tell me. I’m the police. I’m going to help you.”
Paige’s lips never moved for what seemed like forever. Tamarra just wanted her to hurry up and tell the officer what was going on so that they could help her a
nd get a start on catching the bad guy who’d done this to her. So many things ran through Tamarra’s mind about what could have possibly happened to Paige. Had she been on that late-night Walmart run women were known to take? Had some stranger been watching her? Followed her to her car and attacked her? What had happened?
Although Tamarra thought she was going to have one of her anxiety attacks that she hadn’t had in quite some time, the officer was calm and patient. He didn’t push. He asked Paige if she could tell him what happened. She’d said she could. He waited, as if he knew eventually, when the time was right, when Paige was truly ready, she would tell him.
Tamarra could tell the officer was experienced at this kind of thing by his etiquette and relaxed demeanor in the situation. She wasn’t, though, as she stood at the back door on the driver’s side.
“Paige, please tell the officer—”
The officer held up his hand to cut Tamarra off, halting her words. He wasn’t pushing, and he didn’t want Tamarra to push either. Now they both waited.
The wait wasn’t long, just a few seconds, but with dead silence, it felt like an eternity to Tamarra. But finally, Paige spoke.
“He ... he hit me.” Paige’s lips trembled. “And ... and he raped me,” Paige cried out. “He raped me! He raped me!” She shouted over and over as she began to lose control, locked in the front seat of her car.
“It’s okay, calm down, Paige,” the officer said. “It’s okay. We’re going to take care of you.” In that instant, the officer got on his walkie-talkie and called for backup. He told the dispatch officer that he had a possible rape victim and needed female backup. Once he was assured assistance was on the way, he turned his attention back to Paige.
