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

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Was she really crying on the phone to grandma?”

  “Yeah. I think he’s making her go to a therapist or something for her gambling addiction.”

  Sydney looks at the ceiling and shakes her head. “When did we confirm that there was an actual gambling addiction? I remember Bryan trying to say that and I also remember Camille saying that it wasn’t true.”

  “Girl, I don’t know. She and Bryan are super churchy anyway. Why doesn’t she just take it to the king or something?”

  Sydney’s laugh comes out sounding like a snort. “You been listening to Gospel music?”

  “No honey! They play an inspirational song on my favorite radio station right before they do the gossip.”

  For some reason this is insanely funny to Sydney. She doubles over with laughter and tears fill her eyes. She’s laughing so hard she can barely catch her breath.

  “Don’t start choking. You know I can’t help you with my gut full of human.”

  “Okay, okay. Well, since the only Jesus you get is on the radio station before the gossip, I’m going to pray for our sister. I think we need to do a better job of being there for her.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh. “She needs to communicate with me. I can’t just read her mind, and neither can you.”

  “Well, the reason for this lunch was my situation,” Sydney says. “Let’s not forget. I need a plan on how to deal with Fatima!”

  “You’re going to continue to do what you’re doing. If Lucas steps to Fatima, we’ll know who he really is and then you can cut him loose. I’ll hook you up with one of Rod’s friends.”

  “Uh, no you won’t,” Sydney says. "I am not going to be doing drive-bys with you and Hailey.”

  “We don’t do drive-bys. We do reconnaissance missions.”

  Sydney slides down in her chair as the laughter returns, and I smile at her. I’m glad that she’s laughing and not thinking about her man and Fatima. That’s the whole point of these sister lunches anyway. We’re supposed to forget about our problems.

  As Makenzie walks out of the restaurant wearing a smirk on her face, I think we may need a few more of these lunches in the very near future. It looks like my problems may be just beginning.

  Chapter Seven

  Camille

  I can’t believe Dionne threw that house flipping thing up in my face. She knows that my issues with Bryan are totally off limits. Not everyone decided to marry a rich music executive who cheats. And not everyone was able to go to medical school. I wanted a man of God. Which is why I’m sitting at this tiny metal desk in an office no bigger than a closet, approving church requisitions and making a tiny paycheck.

  “Sister James, are you almost done with the check for the Nurse’s Guild? They wanted to go shopping for the food for their gala today.”

  I look up from a stack of papers at Brother Leon Taylor. His tone is all business, but he is grinning from ear to ear. When he was younger, I’m sure he was a lady killer with his smooth dark skin and still muscular physique. Who am I kidding? He’s probably still killing the ladies in this congregation!

  I nod and move a few papers around until I see the envelope with the check in it. “Here it is, Brother Leon. Tell them I’m so sorry for the delay. I stepped out of the office for a while.”

  “Did you get lunch while you were out? I can bring you back a sandwich if you want.”

  I raise my perfectly arched eyebrows. Why do I get the impression that Leon is flirting with me? I know he’s just asking if I want food, but it’s the way he asking. I touch my stomach as it growls. I am hungry. I didn’t get to eat at Busy Bee’s, and I’ve got the rest of the afternoon to be here.

  “Thank you so much! Any kind of chicken sandwich would be perfect.”

  I grab my purse to look for money and Leon puts one hand up. “It’s on me, Sister James.”

  “Stop being silly! I’ve got it,” I say as I dig for my wallet.

  “Let a man be a man for a change. I want to buy you something to eat, because you are a thick woman, and I like you thick. Can’t have you wasting away.”

  My jaw drops and I am awkwardly silent for a few long moments. Then, Leon smiles again.

  “Was that too much Sister James? Please forgive me. I sure don’t want you or your husband getting mad with me.”

  “How could we be mad at you? Well, I might get a little angry if I don’t get something in my stomach soon.”

  “I’ll be back in a few, lady!”

  Leon winks at me on his way out of my office and I burst into a flurry of giggles. I guess I still have a little something. Leon thinks I’m attractive and wants to buy me food! I feel a brand new bunch of giggles begin.

  The laughter stops suddenly when Bryan pokes his head into my office. I actually feel my eyebrows come together in a frown.

  “Camille, make sure you come straight home after work this evening. I want to sit down and talk about the budget.”

  I swallow hard. I have been avoiding this conversation for weeks. Bryan went to some financial freedom class and he is determined for us to live the fabulous life without him getting a job outside of the church.

  “What is there to talk about? As long as the bills are paid we’re fine.”

  He lifts and eyebrow and folds his arms across his growing midsection. When did that potbelly get there? He needs to hit the gym. Looks like we’re both thick.

  “The bills are barely paid, and that’s not okay. We need to do better and we can.”

  “Sure, Bryan. I was planning on coming straight home anyway.”

  It’s not like I have anything to do. It is bingo night down at the VFW hall, but I’m sure Bryan would not approve of that, so home is pretty much the only place I have to go.

  “Okay, I will see you later on. I just want to tell you that I’m proud of you for getting help with your gambling addiction. God is going to bless you for that, and our marriage.”

  I’m almost one hundred percent sure the smile I’m trying to give looks just like a grimace. I have no gambling addiction. And now that I think about it, I think Bryan is on assignment for the enemy.

  “God is still in the blessing business,” I reply. “He is not a man that He should lie. The Bible says that I will be the head and not the tail, and I still believe that.”

  Bryan gives me a confused looking stare. He may not know what I’m talking about, but I do. This is me reminding the devil that I’m going to prosper, no matter what. Bryan can participate if he wants to, or he can get behind me. I’m good either way.

  “Camille, I’m not sure what you mean by that. I feel like you’re trying to send me a message or something. I believe everything the Bible says. Including the fact that I am the head of our household. I have done you a disservice by not being the husband you needed and I accept that. We’re going into a new year, and I plan to change all of that.”

  After a long pause, as if to let his words sink in, Bryan nods slowly. “I’ll let you get back to your work, Camille. I look forward to our discussion this evening.”

  Bryan’s words feel like a threat. Somehow, I get the feeling that this little discussion isn’t going to be in my favor. I need to call my prayer circle.

  Chapter Eight

  Sydney

  Lunch with my sisters was too short, but I’m glad they had time for my little mini-crisis. They just confirmed what I already know. Lucas isn’t thinking about Fatima.

  So why is he all up in her face as I walk into the ER?

  I feel myself speed up when I see them leaned over the nurses’ station, their attention to something on the counter. About a hundred scenarios go through my mind. Are they reminiscing? Remembering the last time they were together? As I approach, Fatima looks at Lucas and laughs.

  What to do? Should I bust up their conversation? No. That will make me seem desperate or pressed, and I am neither.

  I quietly step around Lucas and Fatima and reach for Stephanie’s chart on the desk in front of Connie. They don’t even not
ice me. I feel a fire starting in the pit of my stomach, but I hold it together for the moment. I’ll wait until Lucas and I am alone to explode.

  Connie stares at me with wide eyes. “Doctor Baker, it seems like Stephanie is responding well to the steroid and antibiotic treatment.”

  At the mention of my name Lucas and Fatima snap out of their amusing conversation and stare at me. His mouth opens a little, but apparently not enough for an explanation to come out, because he doesn’t make a sound. She smiles…no…smirks, and that expression is like kerosene on the fire inside me.

  I ignore them both. “That’s wonderful, Connie. I’m glad we didn’t put her through unnecessary surgery. I suspect that the silicone has compromised her immune system.”

  “Lucas and I were just discussing your case, Sydney,” Fatima says. “Even though she is responding to your treatment, it is best to go in and remove the silicone while we can. I looked at the scans, and the silicone is clumped in areas where it can be easily removed. If it continues to separate, it can move to other areas of her body.”

  “Basically, in a few years, she could be facing even bigger problems, like necrosis and loss of limbs,” Lucas says.

  “The two of you were discussing my case without me? My pager didn’t go off.”

  Lucas’s jaw tightens. “Actually, we were discussing my patient, Jewel. I removed a silicone embolism from her brain and one that was about to migrate there. Fatima is going to scrub in with me to remove as much silicone as we can from Jewel.”

  “And then you decided a course of treatment for my patient as well?” I ask.

  “Well, no, but I thought…” Lucas says.

  “He thought, well…I approached him,” Fatima says. “I believed he’d have a better chance of convincing you to change your mind than I would.”

  I draw my eyebrows together tightly, my anger almost exclusively for Lucas. First of all, that he would even entertain a conversation about my patient without consulting me first is a professional discourtesy. Worse than a boyfriend infraction. Second of all, he’s talking about me behind my back to Fatima? The girl who ended our relationship eight years ago? I don’t care if she was up for a Nobel Prize in medicine for fixing booty shots, she should be off limits.

  “Lucas, do you disagree with my treatment plan for my patient?” I ask.

  “Not necessarily. I just think you should seriously consider the surgical option if it makes sense.”

  Without responding, I snatch Stephanie’s chart and storm down the hallway toward the on call room. In my mind, I go over my reasons for treating Stephanie with steroids. It’s safer, less invasive, and effective. It’s always better not to cut.

  I push the door to the on call room open and lie down on the twin bed that we sometimes use for naps. I open Stephanie’s chart and look at the scans. Fatima is right about one thing. The silicone is clumped together. There is a mass of it that has migrated to her mid-thigh and another huge mass in her back that probably caused the lung embolism that brought her to the hospital.

  I could probably remove both of them without causing too much trauma. I could get someone in plastics to scrub in and do some reconstructive surgery of the buttocks as well.

  Why does Fatima have to be right?

  Lucas pokes his head into the room. “Syd…”

  “Don’t say anything to me.”

  He steps inside and closes the door behind him. “This has nothing to do with us you know. It’s all about the patient.”

  “Is it? Because you two seemed pretty cozy when I walked up. You didn’t even know I was there. Seems like you always get amnesia concerning me when Fatima is around.”

  Lucas sits down on the edge of the bed and puts my feet in his lap. I pull my legs away and sit up in the bed.

  “We have to work with her, Sydney. What she’s saying about your patient is true, and you know it. We took an oath.”

  “You don’t have to remind me about our oath.”

  “So, you’re considering the surgery?”

  “If I am, she’s not scrubbing in with me.”

  Lucas closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Seriously? When have you ever surgically removed silicone from a patient? She’s done this before.”

  “Are you doubting my skills? Because I’ve removed foreign bodies, tumors and aneurysms. I can do this.”

  “I know you can, but it won’t hurt to include her on this. You may find that you make a good team.”

  “No thank you. If I do it, I’m going to have someone from plastics scrub in. I would ask if you want to, but…”

  “I want to.”

  “But, you’re so team Fatima that I think I’ve changed my mind.”

  Lucas clears his throat and gives me one of his intense gazes. Those gray eyes are pretty mesmerizing even when I’m angry with him.

  “You know I’m all yours, right?” he asks.

  I take my time responding, because I don’t know if that’s a fact. Can someone really belong to another person? If Fatima decides to pursue Lucas again can I be sure that he won’t go astray just like he did before?

  “I hope you’re faithful now,” I finally reply, “because I can’t go through that kind of pain again.”

  Lucas yanks my legs forward until I’m sitting in his lap. He touches his forehead and nose to mine. “She has nothing I want. It’s all about you.”

  He covers my neck with little kisses that start a different fire in an entirely different part of my body. And now, I’m not concerned about Fatima or even my patient. I’m thinking about extinguishing the flame.

  Chapter Nine

  Dionne

  I knew it was coming. The trueblackgossip.com blog post on me and Rod. And Peach. And Daddy’s Little Girl. It’s actually taken longer than I thought it would. I think I’m handling it pretty well. I haven’t broken anything, or thrown any laptops.

  Rod, on the other hand is tripping. He’s on the phone with his lawyer, as I sit in my serenity room. I can hear him yelling, and it’s messing with my peaceful quiet time.

  “Tell her I will fight her for full custody! She strips and gives head in the VIP room. Tell her I can get my daughter if I want to! If she talks to the bloggers again, she won’t ever get another penny from me.”

  My lips turn downward at the edges as I listen to Rod’s rant. She performs favors for men in the VIP room, and yet he was planning to leave me for her. I guess she knows what she’s doing. Maybe she should teach a class.

  I should be tripping after reading this, though. I think the only thing keeping me from exploding is the fact that I’m carrying a baby in my belly that can’t be stressed out by Rod’s foolishness.

  Does Dionne Knight know about this?

  Last week, in a not-so-blind, blind item, we told trueblackgossipers about a high powered music mogul who was hiding a love child. Out of respect for the baby’s mother who is a FOTB (that’s friend of the blog for you newbies) we have kept her identity and the mogul’s a secret. But now, the baby’s mother is mad as hell that the mogul has gone back on all his promises, and she is spilling major tea. Not the herbal kind with honey! No, this tea has been steeped all day and you’re about to get it straight with no sugar.

  The baby’s mother is a very popular Atlanta stripper named Peach. Some of you may remember her as the highest paid girl at Booty Meat in Birmingham, Alabama. But Peach moved to the ATL so that she could be close to the father of her child and is now working at Club Hurricane. You’ve seen Peach on our blog before. Think back. That’s right, now you remember and if you don’t click the link on the right to go to the story. Anyhoo, for those of you who are up to speed, Peach has been steady rockin’ all night long with Atlanta’s own, Rod Knight. First comes love, then comes a baby carriage, then comes a divorce that never was and a confidentiality agreement. I told y’all this tea was steaming hot!

  You see, Rod promised Peach that they were going to get married and she has the ring and a copy of his divorce papers that were filed in Cobb
County, but when Rod Knight got shot and lost his memory, he went running back into the arms of his wife Dionne, and they’ve got a brand new crumb snatcher on the way.

  I heard from some very reliable snitches that Rod Knight has been planning, for some time now, to leave the recording industry for good. Before he was shot, he became a part owner of Club Hurricane, and is probably responsible for getting his baby mama the gig at what has now become the most popular strip club in America. Snitches also tell me that Dionne has no clue her husband has dealings with the club. She’s probably finding out, right now, with all of the other trueblackgossipers! Be careful not to burn your tongue with this tea, y’all!

  Peach is not going out like a sucka though – she wants more than a top spot at a strip club. She’s gunning for wife status. And if she doesn’t get it, she’s going to sue Rod to keep Dionne away from her and Rod’s beautiful little girl, Rodeisha. Peach has no intention of letting her child become a big sister to Rod’s new bundle of joy. All she wants is the fabulous life Rod promised her when he was going to divorce Dionne.

  I ran into Dionne at Busy Bee’s yesterday, and she is looking completely radiant in the last stages of her pregnancy. A very, VERY, reliable snitch told me that they are having a very exclusive all-white baby shower/New Year’s party at their mansion to celebrate the baby’s arrival. I wonder if Peach and Rodeisha are on the guest list. Maybe I can be Peach’s plus one.

  Even though Makenzie’s writing has improved over the years, her jokes don’t strike me as funny. I know Rod and I are in a good place right now, but there is no way in hell I should be finding out things like this on a blog.

  My best friend Hailey and I did some snooping and found out the terms of his confidentiality agreement with Peach. Not only does she get a whopping twenty thousand dollars a month in child support, she also gets an additional twenty thousand dollars for her silence. She is dumb! Why would she mess up that money? I hope she hasn’t really fallen in love with him. That’s the first rule a jump-off needs to learn. Never fall in love.