Can I Get a Witness?

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “Vanessa,” he began when she didn’t reply, “how am I supposed to help you if you won’t even take my advice into consideration? I know you do some work with your sorority, but you’ve got to get some major charitable experience.” Disappointment was spread all across his face.

  “No, no, Lee,” Vanessa replied, racking her brain to come up with something. “I’m on top of things. I…I have begun working with The Mason House.” Rosolyn’s job was the only thing that could come to mind. “My sister runs it and it’s just a wonderful agency.”

  A bright smile replaced his disappointment. “Wonderful. I’ve heard great things about them.” He looked around again, then said in an undertone, “Make sure and get some photos of you hanging around with some of the kids. And find the crappiest-looking ones you can. Nothing like a sad-faced, scrappy-looking kid to woo the voters.” He winked as he walked off.

  “So, if you hate Thomas so much, why are you acting like everything is fine?” Ida said, walking up as Senator Johnson left.

  Vanessa was flustered. “Oh, that,” she said, feigning indifference. “I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

  “Umphh,” Ida said, leading the way out to the parking lot, “whatever you say. And since when did you start working with The Mason House?”

  “Did you eavesdrop on my whole conversation?” Vanessa snapped.

  “I sure did,” Ida said stiffly. “Y’all didn’t look like you were up to any good. And you know I like to know what’s going on.”

  Vanessa shook her head, deciding to let the subject drop before her aunt asked any more questions.

  “Rosolyn said she’ll catch up with us later. She has some stuff to do around the church,” Ida said as they headed out the double doors. She got to the bottom of the steps, hesitated, then said, “You know it’s a shame the way you just tuned out God’s word today.”

  “Aunt Ida, please. I don’t know why I let you drag me to church today anyway,” Vanessa replied, passing her aunt on the sidewalk.

  “I’m trying to save your soul, get you to go to church and pray on a regular basis,” Ida said reprovingly.

  “Auntie, you know I’m busy.” They reached her car, and she hit the remote, unlocking the doors.

  Ida climbed in. “Yeah, I know. Too busy for church. Too busy for your husband. Too busy for the feeble old woman who raised you.” She raised a warning finger. “You’d better watch yourself. You’re gon’ get to Heaven, ask the Lord to come open the Pearly Gates and let you in, and He’s gon’ say, ‘I can’t do it right now. I’m too busy.’”

  Vanessa smiled at her aunt, who was sitting there looking like she was preaching the Word of God herself. She decided to just let the conversation drop. She’d never get her aunt to see her point of view anyway.

  R. Kelly’s song “When a Woman’s Fed Up” began playing on the radio as they pulled out of the church parking lot. Vanessa turned up the volume and began singing along, at least to the chorus, which was all she knew.

  “When a woman’s fed up, it ain’t nothing you can do about it,” she sang.

  Ida cut her eyes at Vanessa, then reached over and pushed the tune button until it hit 92.1. “Shake the Devil Off” by Dorothy Norwood began blaring through the car. “Now, that’s what you need to be listening to,” Ida said matter-of-factly.

  Vanessa groaned but left the radio alone. Both that song and another after it had wrapped up before Ida started on her again. “You know, I ain’t no psychologist or nothing. But what you’re feeling ain’t healthy. I know Thomas wronged you, but you have to forgive the wrongdoing, the wrongdoer, and move on.”

  “Ha!” Vanessa laughed. “Not gonna happen. I won’t be able to move on until Thomas gets his.”

  Ida shook her head as Vanessa pulled up in front of Rosolyn’s house. She turned to Vanessa just as she was about to step out of the car. “Seeking revenge only deepens the hole in your heart. It prevents you from moving forward. I’m gonna pray for you, baby girl.”

  Vanessa didn’t respond as her aunt headed up the walkway. She knew her aunt’s intentions were good, but nobody could understand the pain she was feeling. The only thing that could make this pain go away was revenge.

  Chapter 16

  Nothing about this man looked like Tiger Woods. Dionne stood unnoticed back in a corner at Boudreaux’s Restaurant. She had arrived late on purpose so that she could check Bruce out before she committed to spending an evening with him.

  He was standing over at the crowded bar, watching ESPN as he waited for her. Dionne ran her eyes up and down his body. He was the same color as Tiger and that was about it. He wasn’t ugly, but he definitely wasn’t as cute as Rosolyn made him out to be. He wore brown slacks, and a cream sweater vest with a T-shirt underneath; his small-framed glasses did give him a nerdy look. Dionne liked her men tough, and Bruce didn’t look like he could stand up to a fly.

  Dionne contemplated leaving, but then she glanced over at the bar and saw Quentin wiping down a glass. Her heart fluttered. Quentin was one of Roland’s best friends, which was why she’d chosen this restaurant to meet Bruce.

  Bruce had called her shortly after she left Rosolyn’s yesterday, and Dionne had agreed to meet him this evening so they could get to know each other. Although she had actually enjoyed their hour-long conversation—in which they had talked about their mutual love of books, music, and reality TV—she didn’t want him to get his hopes up thinking they had a real chance at being together. She’d told him as much, but he still wanted to meet. She’d told him she would be wearing a camel-colored jacket and Baby Phat jeans.

  “May I help you?” the hostess finally asked.

  “No, I see the person I’m looking for,” Dionne replied, removing the black shawl she had wrapped around her jacket in the event she decided to duck out.

  Dionne strutted over to the bar area. She moved slow and sexy, trying to give Quentin time to notice her. When she saw his eyes light up in recognition, she pretended not to see him and tapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Hello.”

  He turned around, a huge smile across his face. That stupid grin made him look like an even bigger nerd. He was lucky he had captured her with his conversation, because he dang sure couldn’t do it with his looks.

  “Dionne. You’re just as beautiful as your sister said you were.” He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem. I was just catching up on my sports news for the day.” He pointed toward a booth. “You want to take a seat?”

  Dionne led the way to the booth, sliding in while trying her best not to glance toward the bar.

  “I really enjoyed talking to you last night,” Bruce said. He’d told her all about his computer software company. He was an engineer, more on the designing side. But he repaired the computers at The Mason House as a way to give back. He was twenty-seven and single. He’d told Dionne it was not by choice. He just had yet to find the perfect woman for him.

  “I enjoyed talking to you, too,” Dionne genuinely responded. They made small talk after placing their order. For a while Dionne got lost in their conversation and forgot about Quentin. That is, until she looked up to see him standing over their table.

  “What’s up, D?” he said, his tone grim.

  “Hey, Quentin, what are you doing here?” Dionne asked innocently.

  He motioned toward his apron. “I work here, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” She motioned toward Bruce. “Quentin, this is Br—”

  “So, where’s Roland?” he asked, ignoring Bruce.

  “Nice to meet you, too, man,” Bruce chuckled. He didn’t seem at all fazed by the snub.

  Dionne raised an eyebrow. “I guess Roland is at home with his woman. As I’m sure you know, I don’t keep tabs on him anymore.”

  “That’s just temporary,” Quentin snarled. “You know you and my boy are meant to be.”

  Dionne w
as a little offended by Quentin’s blatant disrespect for Bruce. She had wanted Quentin to see her, but she didn’t appreciate the way he was acting toward her date.

  “Right now,” Bruce said, leaning forward on the table, “she’s meant to have dinner with me. So, if you don’t mind…”

  Quentin flexed his thick muscles. “Was anybody talking to you?”

  “Am I supposed to be scared, Hulk Hogan?” Bruce asked, standing up.

  Dionne stood also, putting her arm in between the two men. “Quentin, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to enjoy dinner with my friend.”

  Quentin kept his eyes fixed on Bruce. “Umph, your friend, huh?”

  “For now,” he said with confidence.

  “’Bye, Quentin,” Dionne said forcefully. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”

  Quentin kept his eyes glued to Bruce before finally walking away.

  “Say, dude, can you bring me a Heineken?” Bruce called out after him.

  Dionne fought back a laugh as Quentin threw them both disgusted looks.

  “I guess that means no,” Bruce said, sitting back down.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, smiling. “That’s my ex’s best friend.”

  “Awww, don’t sweat it. He didn’t faze me.”

  “I see that,” Dionne said, impressed by the way he’d handled himself. Bruce had surprised her. Maybe he wasn’t such a nerd after all. She sat back down, relaxed, and enjoyed the rest of her date.

  Chapter 17

  Dionne sat in front of her computer and stared at the email. Just press Send, the little voice in her head kept telling her.

  Dionne was still fuming. She’d called Roland this morning, planning to drop hints about her date with Bruce, if Quentin hadn’t already filled him in. But she never got the chance because when she’d called Roland’s house, Tasha answered the phone.

  “Roland’s busy,” she’d said after Dionne had asked to speak to him. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t call our house again, tramp!” She’d slammed the phone down in Dionne’s ear.

  Our house. The words kept ringing in Dionne’s head. Not only had Roland totally disregarded her feelings, he hadn’t even called to check on her after the fight at the mall. So he deserved whatever happened to him.

  Dionne read the email out loud for the twentieth time.

  “Dear Mrs. Lewis. You don’t know me, but I know you’re in the middle of an ugly divorce. I just thought I’d let you know that your soon to be ex, Roland, has two hidden bank accounts: one at Washington Mutual, where he has at least sixty thousand dollars, and the other with the Bank of Texas, where he has another forty-five. It is my understanding that you have no knowledge of either of those accounts, but you really should check this information out. You also may want to have the authorities and Roland’s employer look into Casper Dealings, LLC. I know for a fact that your husband has taken under-the-table money from a man known as Link, the owner of Casper Dealings, in exchange for inflating insurance claims on their various properties. I’m sure this will help bolster your case and assist you in getting what’s rightfully yours. Hope this helps, signed a concerned sister friend.”

  Dionne pressed the Send button before she lost her nerve. “There. That’ll teach Roland that he can’t just go around playing with people’s feelings.”

  Getting Roland’s wife’s email address was easy. Dionne had simply asked to use Roland’s computer and made a note of it, back when she and Roland had first gotten together and Liz had been harassing her. They’d never met face-to-face, but somehow Liz had gotten Dionne’s home number and had left several menacing messages.

  When the Message Sent icon popped up, Dionne sat back and smiled. She’d give anything to be a fly on the wall when Mrs. Lewis opened her email. Dionne didn’t too much like helping Liz out, but she didn’t mind sticking it to Roland one bit. She knew hitting Roland in his pocket would hurt him the most.

  The ringing of her telephone brought Dionne out of her vindictive thoughts. She scouted around the bedroom for her cordless phone, finally finding it under her bed, where she had flung it after talking to Tasha.

  “Hello,” Dionne said.

  “Goodness, what took you so long?” Rosolyn replied.

  “I couldn’t find my phone.” Dionne glanced at the computer screen, smiled one more time, then lay down across her bed. “What’s up?”

  “You know why I’m calling,” Rosolyn excitedly said. “How’d the date go?”

  “Hold on.” Dionne moved the phone away from her mouth. “Ummm, Bruce, you made me pancakes,” she said huskily. “After last night, I should be the one making you breakfast in bed.” Dionne held in her laugh as she put the phone back to her ear. “What were you saying, sis?”

  Silence filled the phone.

  “Hello? Ros? Are you there?”

  “I know you did not sleep with that man on the first date.” Rosolyn’s words were slow and steady.

  Dionne couldn’t hold it in any longer. “No, girl,” she said, bursting out laughing. “I’m just messing with you. Whoo, I needed that.”

  Rosolyn released a sigh of relief. “Girl, don’t play.”

  “Naw, it was cool. He actually is a nice guy.”

  “Well, I’m happy to hear that you liked him. When are you two going out again?”

  “We’re not,” she replied, recalling his remark about them being friends for now. She liked him and really didn’t want to lead him on. “Another time, another place, he might’ve actually had a shot, but I got other things on my mind right now.”

  “Dionne,” Rosolyn said, being encouraging, “maybe Bruce can help you forget about Roland. You know, I’m not into rebound guys, but I really think he’d be good for you.”

  “Naw, I can’t forget about Roland. Not yet, anyway. Not after the way he played me,” she said, her mood souring again. “But don’t worry, I’m about to cross the river of no return with Roland. I already—” She let her words hang.

  “You already what?” Rosolyn asked.

  Dionne was itching to tell her sister what she’d just done. But at the same time, she really didn’t feel like being judged.

  “Okay,” Dionne said, deciding she couldn’t hold it in. Plus, after what she’d just learned about her sister, Rosolyn definitely was in no position to judge anyone. “Do you want to know what I was doing on the computer?”

  Uneasiness filled Rosolyn’s voice. “Why do I have the feeling this isn’t something good?”

  Dionne smiled wickedly as she flipped over on her back. “I sent Roland’s wife an email.”

  “An email? For what? And just what was in this email?” Rosolyn asked.

  Dionne shook off the melancholy mood creeping up on her. “Skeletons, which will help her win her case against her no-good husband. They go to court in three weeks.”

  A strict tone came into Rosolyn’s voice. “Dionne, what did you do?”

  Dionne didn’t sound guilty in the slightest as she said, “I just let her know some things that she didn’t know. I wanted to give her something that she could use in court. Man, I wish I could be in the back of the courtroom and see the look on his face when she drops this bomb on him.”

  Rosolyn sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, little sister.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dionne said, annoyed. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything. Yeah, Rosolyn might have slipped up and gotten pregnant by another man, but she was still a Goody Two-shoes, which was evident by the fact that she’d come clean. Guilt or not, Dionne would’ve never admitted Bryson wasn’t Henry’s child.

  “All I’m saying, Dionne, is you should have left well enough alone,” Rosolyn admonished. “I told you revenge doesn’t do anyone any good. Roland would’ve gotten his.” She might as well have been Ida, as she added, “God don’t like ugly.”

  “And neither do I. That’s why Roland had to pay. He messed with the wrong chick.”

  “I just hope you know what you�
��re doing. I’ll leave it at that.”

  “Thank you for your two cents. Now, I need to run. I’ll talk to you later.” She didn’t give Rosolyn a chance to say good-bye as she hung up the phone. She silently cursed as she fell back on the pillow. Rosolyn had spoiled her good mood.

  Chapter 18

  Vanessa glanced around the cramped facility. It saddened her to see how bare and dilapidated the inside of the building was. The paint was chipping off the bright yellow walls so badly you could barely make out the mural. The five tables positioned throughout the room all looked like they had been donated from the Civil Rights era. Still, from the looks of the young people sitting around laughing and playing various games, you wouldn’t know how run-down the place was.

  “You don’t have to look so disgusted, you know,” Rosolyn said, nudging Vanessa toward her office.

  Vanessa smiled at her sister, whose arms were filled with files. “I’m sorry. I just, well, I didn’t know things were this bad here.”

  “What? You thought I was exaggerating? I told you times are hard, and with state funding getting cut back, it’s only going to get harder.”

  “I know, but dang. It doesn’t make any sense for these kids to have to live in a place like this.”

  “Who are you telling?” Rosolyn asked. “That’s why I’m so glad that you’re going to become an advocate for the center. I’ve only been trying to get you to come down for the last year.”

  Vanessa flashed an apologetic look. “If I had known it was this bad, I would’ve come down here the first time you asked.”

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re here now.” Rosolyn smiled. “Even if you are just using us.”

  “Uh, I am not using you guys,” Vanessa protested.

  “Please. This is your big sister you’re talking to. Aunt Ida told me all about your conversation with the senator. But don’t sweat it. Use us. As long as we can get some money in the process, use us up.” Rosolyn pushed open her office door and motioned for Vanessa to follow her in.