God Don't Make No Mistakes

Book 0: GOD

by Mary Monroe

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

In the sparkling conclusion to Mary Monroe's bestselling God series, two forever friends face their biggest betrayals yet and learn that putting your trust in the wrong hands can change your life forever. . . These days, Annette Goode Davis has a full plate--literally and figuratively. Although she's trying to reconcile with her husband, Pee Wee, she's still seeing other men on the side. A woman's got to cover her bases, right? With her love life hopping, Annette should be pleased as punch. Instead, the stress has her eating everything in sight and packing on the pounds. Meanwhile, Annette's best friend, Rhoda O'Toole, has her hands full dealing with her wild child daughter, Jade. When Jade's antics almost cost Rhoda her man, Rhoda throws her out. But Jade soon finds a way to make Rhoda regret her choice. . . Annette thanks her lucky stars that her daughter, Charlotte, has her head on straight. And she's doubly blessed to have a strait-laced neighbor look after Charlotte when she's caught up in Pee Wee and Rhoda's problems. But when Annette's world is rocked by a terrible revelation, she'll discover that appearances can be very, very deceiving--and she'll have to summon every ounce of strength to protect the ones she loves. "Monroe is a masterful storyteller." -- Philadelphia Inquirer

Release date: March 1, 2012

Publisher: Dafina

Print pages: 385

Sample

Eight months earlier

MY MOTHER HAD TOLD ME YEARS AGO THAT IF I EVER GOT married, I’d better keep a parachute nearby, because I was probably going to have to jump out of the relationship sooner or later. A parachute wouldn’t have done me much good. A trampoline was what I needed. I did a lot of bouncing back and forth with Pee Wee, my estranged husband. Despite our bitter breakup several months ago, he still spent a lot of time in bed with me.

“I guess I still got it, huh?” Pee Wee asked with an anxious look on his dark, still-handsome face. Except for his receding hairline and that spare tire around his waist, he was still attractive for a man of forty-eight.

“Still got what?” I asked, with my eyes on the five crisp $100 bills that he had dropped onto the nightstand next to my bed, just before he dropped his pants. Even though I had a high-paying job and we didn’t have a financial arrangement, he gave me a couple thousand dollars a month for me to spend on myself and our daughter, Charlotte.

Pee Wee’s eyes got wide. “Don’t mess with me, woman. You know what I’m talkin’ about. Judging from the way you was whoopin’ and hollerin’ in that damn bed a few minutes ago, I know I’m still handlin’ my manly job well for a man my age,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes and gave him an exasperated look. “So it’s a job to you now,” I pouted. The last thing I wanted to hear was the implication that sex with me was a “job,” because that’s exactly what it had been to me at one time. I had made my money working as a prostitute during my teens. When my husband pulled out the $500 a few minutes ago, it brought back some painful memories. “You make me feel like a prostitute.. . .”

Pee Wee shook his head, rolled his eyes, and glanced at his watch. “Look, I got to get to my shop and open up. I got a lot of hair to cut today. So if you are tryin’ to tell me somethin’, hurry up and tell me.”

“I did tell you something.”

“So what if I do make you feel like a prostitute? Whores need love too.”

I threw up my hands. “If I were you, I’d stop while I was ahead,” I warned. I rubbed the back of my neck and sucked in some air. We had had conversations similar to this one so many times that I felt like I was rehearsing for a play. “Look, I think we can still work things out and not do . . . this,” I told him, patting the bed and hoping that he wouldn’t agree with my last statement. “Every time you come over here now, we end up in bed. You don’t have to sleep with me, and you don’t have to pay me to do it. That’s why I suggested we still date other people, until we can decide if we want to reconcile or not.”

Pee Wee gave me a confused look. “Don’t you enjoy these little get-togethers as much as I do?”

“I do, but I don’t want you to think that we have to do it.”

He gave me another confused look, this time blinking so hard and fast I thought something had got caught in his eye. “Why? Do you not want to make love with me? You don’t find me attractive anymore?” he asked.

“Don’t be so sensitive,” I scolded. “You know I enjoy making love with you. I always have.”

“Then why we talkin’ all this crap, baby? You know that the money I give to you is for my daughter. I ain’t payin’ you to make love with me. I ain’t never paid for no pussy before in my life, and I never will. Not even with you.”

I didn’t see any reason to remind Pee Wee about the times he’d told me that when he was in the army, he and every other member of his platoon had paid Vietnamese prostitutes for sex.

“You don’t need to make our situation no messier than it already is,” he reminded.

“I know, I know. It’s just that every time you come over here, we . . . uh . . . we end up in bed and you hand me some money. Just like I was still a . . .” Pee Wee knew that I had once worked as a prostitute. Even though that dark episode had occurred more than thirty years ago, I knew that he probably still thought about it as much as I did.

“Let’s not bring up the past. We already have enough to deal with in the present. My mechanic is comin’ by the house next week to take a look under the hood of your car to see why you keep hearin’ that buzzin’ noise. Do you need any yard work or anything else done around the house, baby?”

“No, I don’t need anything like that,” I told him.

“Well,” he yawned as he rubbed his chest and licked his lips. “I’m feelin’ real good. Even better than the last time I was here. Thank you very much!” he exclaimed with a wink. “Is there anything else we need to discuss before I leave?”

“Since you asked, there is just this one other thing.” I locked eyes with Pee Wee. Then the words rolled out of my mouth like marbles. “Will you tell your whore to stop calling my house?”

His jaw dropped so fast I was surprised it didn’t lock in place. “What? I—I ain’t got no whore! You know you are the only woman that I’m involved with these days!” he yelled.

I gasped. “Is that right?” I asked, patting the side of my head. I usually wore my medium-length hair in braids, but lately I’d been getting by with a mild perm and a French twist. It had come undone during my ten-minute romp with Pee Wee. I could feel clumps of my hair standing up on my head, pointing in all directions. I must have looked like Don King.

“But . . . but . . . I . . . I,” Pee Wee stuttered.

“Well, the woman I’m talking about is a straight-up whore! Your whore!”

I could see that my outburst had surprised Pee Wee. It had been a while since I had mentioned the woman whom he left me for last March. He folded his arms and a frightened look appeared on his face. He knew that he had to be careful about what he said to me, unless he wanted to deal with my wrath. The day that he had brought his mistress to my house to tell me that he was leaving me and moving in with her, I’d knocked out one of his teeth. And I had given his mistress a thorough, well-deserved ass whupping with my rolling pin.

“Are you talkin’ about Lizzie Stovall?” he asked dumbly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Who else would I be talking about?” I hollered, giving him an incredulous look. “Lizzie is the only one that I am aware of! Was there another one?”

“No! No, there was no other woman other than Lizzie. You know better. You know I don’t lie to you.”

My eyes got as big as saucers and I gasped. “You’re lying now.”

“Aw, Annette, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” I barked, giving him a critical look. “Whether I do or not, it doesn’t matter. The thing is, that woman called here last week—several times—and she called again yesterday.”

“She did? Uh, what did she want?”

“She was trying to catch up with you, fool! She claims she’s been trying to reach you for days.”

“Oh. Well, it’s over between me and her, and has been since she left me and moved in with Peabo Boykin. If she calls here again, just hang up on her. That ought to stop her.”

“Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?” I snapped. “But until you talk to her, she’s going to keep calling here.”

“I . . . I . . . I’ll look into it,” Pee Wee stammered, waving his hands in the air. I could see that he was nervous and anxious to get away from me now. His hands were shaking so hard that when he squatted down to put his shoes back on, he put them on the wrong feet.

PEE WEE GAVE ME A DRY LOOK AND SHOOK HIS HEAD. THEN with a jerk, he turned and scurried across the floor like a frightened rat. He tripped on the area rug on the floor at the foot of my bed. He didn’t like it when I brought up Lizzie’s name.

“You don’t have anything else to say to me?” I wanted to know, looking at him from the corner of my eye as he was about to flee.

Pee Wee’s hand was on the doorknob, clutching it like it was trying to escape. He didn’t even bother to turn around and look at me. He shook his head again. “I’ll call you,” he yelled over his shoulder, literally running out of my upstairs bedroom. He clip-clopped down the hardwood stairs so fast and hard, you would have thought that the cops were chasing him. This was the first time that he had left without kissing me good-bye.

As soon as I heard Pee Wee shut my front door, I got up and went to the window with the sheet wrapped around me. I raked my fingers through my hair, holding several strands away from my eyes so I could see him better. I watched him scramble into his red Firebird.

It was only seven-thirty. It had rained a few hours earlier, so it was a chilly day for July. Because of the low, dark gray clouds hovering in the sky, it felt and looked like it was much later.

I released a loud breath and eased back down on the bed. I didn’t need to be at work until nine, but I usually went in earlier just so I could be prepared for any unexpected issues. You could expect just about anything to happen at Mizelle’s Collection Agency. A couple of weeks ago, I got caught up in a ruckus between two of the women who reported to me as bill collectors. The night before, Rita Lockett had discovered that Beverly Hawkins was dating her fiancé. Rita had come to work early to confront Beverly. It didn’t take long for things to escalate into a violent physical altercation between the two angry women. They had hurled staplers, paperweights, and other desktop items at one another. I got scared when Beverly picked up a letter opener, but I quickly wrestled it from her hand. Had I not been present at the time, there was no telling how much damage they might have done. I had no choice but to fire both employees. I had been going in an hour early all this week, but two days ago, the temp agency that we worked with sent me a young Asian man. Not only was he extremely personable, he was so efficient that he got us all caught up before noon on his first day. It was because of Daniel Hong that I didn’t think it would be a problem if I took my time going in today.

I was even thinking about taking the day off. I needed to get my nails done, I needed a facial, and I wanted to run a few errands that I had been putting off. I also wanted to treat myself to a nice lunch and a movie. Afterward, I could come back home, put on my robe, and kick back on my couch with a large margarita. I couldn’t get that comfortable at home on the weekend or in the evening because that was when most people dropped in on me unannounced. Another inducement for me to take the day off was that I would not have to rush home to cook dinner today like I usually did. I still had some of the barbecue in the freezer left over from the Fourth of July cookout that I had hosted a couple of weeks ago.

I already regretted the harsh way that I had jumped on Pee Wee about Lizzie calling my house. It wasn’t his fault that she was such a bold-ass bitch. As a matter of fact, I was even thinking about calling him up and offering to take him out to dinner as my way of apologizing. In spite of our separation, we still had one of the strongest relationships in town. I knew people who had never been separated who didn’t have a relationship as strong and hopeful as ours. I couldn’t deny the fact that Pee Wee was the best thing that had ever happened to me, as far as men were concerned. One reason I thought it was in my best interest to get back with him was because despite his cheating, he was still a good man. He was dependable, successful, generous, hardworking, smart, and family oriented. I was all of those same things myself, so I felt that I was just as good of a catch as he was.

I decided that it would be smart for me to wait a couple of hours before I called him. I didn’t want to seem too eager. And I wanted him to cool off a little so that when he heard my voice, he wouldn’t get defensive. In the meantime, I planned to relax in my bed for a few more minutes.

Before I could get comfortable and finish reading the latest edition of Jet magazine, the telephone on the nightstand rang. I looked at the clock next to the telephone. “Now who in the world is calling my house this time of morning?” I asked myself out loud. Unless it was my mother or my best friend Rhoda, the only time my phone rang this early was when somebody dialed my number by mistake.

The telephone in my bedroom didn’t have caller ID, so I had no idea who was calling me at this ungodly hour. It was none of the above. To my everlasting horror, it was Lizzie Stovall again, the woman who had broken up my home.

I was so taken aback, there was only one thing I could think to say. “Well, speak of the devil!” I shrieked.

“Whatever!” Lizzie hissed. She sucked on her teeth before continuing. I didn’t know if that was because she was tuning up her mouth to say something I didn’t want to hear, which would be anything that slid out of her mouth, or because she was nervous. “Annette, I advise you not to hang up on me like you did the last time I called.” This woman had no shame whatsoever!

“What the hell—” I almost choked on my words just as she cut me off.

“Let me speak to Pee Wee. And don’t fix your lips to lie to me like you usually do and tell me he’s not there. I just passed your house a little while ago and I saw his car parked out front,” Lizzie snarled, her words striking my ears like rocks. “Like I told you the last time I called, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for several days! I am not going to stop until I reach him. You can tell him that. The sooner he talks to me, the sooner I can stop bothering you.”

“Bothering me? Woman, as long as you live in this town you will be bothering me. You didn’t care about bothering me when you were fucking my husband! Well, I’ve got news for you. Just hearing your name bothers me these days!”

Something that I didn’t know and didn’t want to know was the details of Lizzie’s affair with my husband—like exactly when it started or which one of them initiated the affair. But the one thing that I really didn’t want to know was where they’d slept together the first time. The thought of her sleazy ass stretched out in my bed was unbearable. If I ever found out that they had been tacky enough to fuck in my bed, I would not be responsible for my actions. There was just no telling what I would do to Lizzie—and Pee Wee—even though their relationship was over.

Or was it?

“Are you still fucking my husband?” Even if she was, I didn’t expect her to admit it. But I had to ask anyway.

“Annette, you’ve got some nerve asking me that. How dare you!” Lizzie erupted.

I could not believe how calm I managed to sound. “Well, are you?”

“No, I am not still fucking your husband! I wouldn’t let that man touch me again even if he had healing hands!”

My pulse was racing and my eyes were burning. I had balled my free hand into a fist. “Why did you call my house again? Why do you keep calling here? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time these days? Can’t you find another innocent woman to torture?” I jeered.

“You innocent? That’s a joke! You’ve got a lot of nerve to even think of yourself as innocent—”

“Get your ass off this phone, bitch!” I hollered. “You’re about to make my bowels move!”

“I will hang up when I am good and ready. Look, I know you’re still jealous of me, but I can’t help that. It is what it is. I gave your man something that you weren’t giving him, and probably never did. That was some good loving. The very first time he was with me, he realized what he’d been missing.”

These were the last words that a scorned woman—especially a scorned black woman—wanted to hear. If Lizzie had been standing in my room saying that shit to my face, she would be stretched out on the floor by now with my fist mauling the side of her head. I couldn’t imagine what Pee Wee had said to her for her to think that I didn’t give him what he needed in the bedroom before she slid into our lives. I didn’t believe what she had just said for one minute—at least not her version.

“Hmmm. Then tell me, why is he not still with you? Why is he coming over here to be with me whenever I let him? And I can assure you that we do a lot more than just talk when he’s here. Does that sound like I don’t know how to give him what he needs?” I taunted.

“Whatever, Annette. I just need to talk to Pee Wee.”

“Pee Wee is not here, goddammit!” I roared. “And let me tell you again—”

“You’re a damn liar! He is there! Now, you look, girl! I am not in the mood for any of your shit this early in the morning!”

I hated profanity. It was crude. I didn’t like it when people cussed in my presence, and I didn’t like to cuss myself. But under the present circumstances, there was no reason for me to act like a “lady” with Lizzie.

“Now, you look, bitch! If you don’t want to deal with my shit this early in the morning, don’t call my fucking house this early in the morning!”

There was a long moment of silence. I wasn’t even sure that Lizzie was still on the line. I was just about to hang up when I heard her spit out a few sobs. Then she started to wheeze and cough like she was choking on some air. I had heard enough. I slammed the telephone back in its cradle. I felt like I was on fire now, so I needed to get out of the house as soon as possible. I no longer considered playing hooky from work. I couldn’t wait to get to my office.

Just as I was about to go to my closet and pick out what I was going to wear to work, Lizzie called back. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Annette.”

“Look, bitch, I’m going to hang up again. This time I’m going to leave the phone off the hook, so don’t waste any more of your time calling here again,” I told her.

“Don’t you hang up on me! I advise you to put Pee Wee on this telephone, Annette,” she ordered in a voice that was dripping with a combination of anger and desperation.

“I advise you to go straight to hell.”

“Let me ask you again. May I speak to Pee Wee? I don’t want to keep calling your house any more than you want me to, but I don’t have any other choices.” She had toned down her voice, but that made no difference to me. “This is really important. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be trying to get in touch with Pee Wee this hard.”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you need to talk to my husband about? I can tell him, and if he wants to talk to you about it, he’ll call you.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lizzie mumbled in an ominous tone. It sounded like she had a mouthful of food, or that her hand was covering part of her mouth. “And believe me, you won’t like it.”

LIZZIE’S LAST WORDS HAD PIQUED MY INTEREST. AND BECAUSE OF the snooty way she had spoken those words, I felt that I needed to know right now what it was that she wanted to talk to my husband about.

“Look, Lizzie, if you want to tell me what it is that you need to talk to my husband about, that’s fine with me. I will track him down and make him call you back. That is, if he wants to talk to you. I’m willing to do just about anything if it’ll make you stop calling here.”

“That’s fine with me. The only reason I keep calling your house is because Pee Wee changed his cell phone number and the number at the apartment. When I try to reach him at his barbershop, they always tell me that he just left or he’s too busy to come to the telephone,” Lizzie whined. “I even tried to go talk to him at the old apartment last week, but he had the locks changed. He wouldn’t even answer the door when I knocked. I left him a note in his mailbox. I even sent him another note by registered mail and he signed for it—so I know he received it. I still have not heard a word from him! What else can I do but call your house and hope to catch him there?”

It dawned on me that whatever it was that Lizzie needed to talk to Pee Wee about, it might affect me in some way. That being the case, now I was even more interested in hearing whatever that was before I hung up. Knowing her, there was just no telling what it was. I knew that she was living with another man now, and that she was working for his nephew. I seriously doubted that she wanted to move back in with Pee Wee. I had heard that she was not too happy with her new job, so it was fairly reasonable for me to assume that she wanted to beg Pee Wee to rehire her. What else could be so urgent for her to be trying so hard to get in touch with him?

There was no way in hell that I was going to let my husband rehire this woman. I’d do everything in my power, except burn his barbershop to the ground, to prevent that from happening.

I was the one who had practically forced Pee Wee to hire this backstabbing home wrecker in the first place. If he was crazy enough to put her back on his payroll, his relationship with me would be dead in the water immediately this time.

I was really curious now. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what it is you need to talk to my husband about? That is, if you don’t mind.”

Lizzie hesitated for a few seconds. “I think you should hear it from him. You just tell Pee Wee that if he doesn’t call me back by the end of today, he will be hearing from my attorney.” There was a threatening tone in her voice that chilled me to the bone.

Attorney?

I was no longer just curious. Now I was also frightened. A sharp pain shot through my stomach like a ball of fire. Why would Lizzie need an attorney? And why in the world would she use that word in the same sentence with my husband’s name?

“Did you just say that my husband can talk to your attorney?”

“That’s exactly what I just said! If he won’t talk to me, he’ll be hearing from my attorney. And after today, that’s the way it’s going to be. I won’t waste any more of my time trying to reach him.”

“What do you need an attorney for?” That was one thing that I needed to know before I got off the telephone. Had something happened while Lizzie was doing manicures at Pee Wee’s barbershop that constituted legal action? Money! This ruckus that this no-good heifer was causing had to be about money! What else could it be? “Why, you greedy bitch,” I snarled in a loud voice, hoping I sounded as menacing as I felt. “You don’t know when to quit, do you? I know for a fact that my husband gave you a generous severance package when you left. If you think you’re going to get paid again, you’re wrong.”

Lizzie let out a dry laugh. “As usual, you are too stupid to figure out what is really going on. No wonder it was so easy for me to take your man.”

“Good-bye, slut—”

“Don’t you hang up yet!”

I didn’t care what it was Lizzie had to say now. I was not going to let her verbally assault me any longer. I was going to hang up on her again, but when she cut me off, I decided to continue listening. I didn’t think our conversation could get any worse.

But it did.

“This is not about money, Annette. Well, not directly.” She paused and cleared her throat. “It will eventually involve money . . .”

“I can’t imagine how.” As far as I knew, when Lizzie quit working for Pee Wee, she got everything that she had coming and then some. Not just two weeks’ severance pay; he had also paid her for vacation time that she had not even earned. What more could this miserable beast want?

“When you see your husband, you tell him that I said we need to discuss my future.”

Her attorney and now her future? Something told me that this was a lot more serious than I thought.

“Your what?” I guffawed. “What in the hell does my husband have to do with your future, woman? You’ve got some goddamn nerve! First you con me into helping you get a job at my husband’s barbershop and you wasted no time hopping into bed with him. Then you went behind his back and screwed his rival’s uncle, and moved in with that man! I’ve known some skanks in my life, but you give the ordinary skanks a bad name!”

“Are you finished?”

“Hell yeah, I’m finished. Are you?”

“All right, bitch. I didn’t want to drop this bombshell on you before I told Pee Wee, but now I’ll be happy to tell you why I need to talk to your husband. I just wish I could see your face when you hear it.”

“You’ve got exactly one minute to tell me and then I’m hanging up this telephone whether you’ve said it all or not,” I warned.

“I don’t need a minute.” Lizzie sniffed. Then she immediately announced in a mocking tone that made my blood boil: “I’m pregnant and your husband is the father of my child.”

She hung up before I could respond, but the telephone suddenly got so hot in my hand I dropped it to the floor.

MY HOUSE WAS LOCATED ON REED STREET IN ONE OF THE most exclusive neighborhoods in town. It was the only place in the world where I could get as comfortable as I wanted—most of the time. The mortgage had been paid off years ago, so it was mine free and clear. I was in complete control. I could even lounge around naked like I was doing now. I had come a long way from the shabby, one-room shacks with no plumbing that I’d lived in as a child in Miami, Florida.

Next to my living room, my bedroom was the biggest room in the house, and it was in the best location. I could see most of the houses on my block from the large front window facing my king-sized bed. From the same window, I could reach out and pluck fruit from the apple tree and the cherry tree in my front yard when it was in season. The apple tree was bigger than the cherry tree. The apple tree provided a lot of shade in the summertime, and it was one of my favorite spots to relax in a lawn chair and enjoy a glass of iced tea. This residence had been my home since I was thirteen. Judge Lawson, who had employed my mother as a housekeeper for several years, had left the property to her when he died.

I had moved from the smaller bedroom at the end of the hall to this one after my mother remarried and moved out. I didn’t even like to go into my old room anymore. It held so many painful memories—everything from loneliness to rape. Even though there was not a single spot in my house where I allowed anybody to abuse or disrespect me now, my bedroom was especially sacred. I was not about to let a woman like Lizzie upset me too much on my turf. But that was exactly what she had done.

Friday was the least favorite day in the week for me. Just about everything unpleasant that had ever happened to me had happened on a Friday.

When I was just three years old, out of nowhere my father deserted my mother and me for another woman on a Friday. And it had been Friday the thirteenth at that. My life had gone downhill from there.

Before I even started elementary school, I had experienced everything from hurricanes and tornadoes to persistent bill collectors, and being harassed by the supremely dangerous Ku Klux Klan, all on Fridays.

Not long after Daddy had run off, my mother and I moved from Florida to Ohio on a Friday. I was sick with grief, and cried off and on during the whole two-day ride on that segregated train.

Mr. Boatwright, one of my mother’s Bible-thumping male acquaintances who had rented a room in our house, raped me for the first time when I was seven, on a Friday.

When I was sixteen, I discovered that I was pregnant with Mr. Boatwright’s baby on a Friday. That gloomy day also happened to be a Friday the thirteenth. My list of black Fridays seemed endless. Last year, my husband left me for Lizzie on a Friday.

Now here I was today, on another Friday, with more crap being rubbed in my face.

“Lizzie is pregnant!” I yelled into the telephone as soon as Rhoda O’Toole, my best friend of more than thirty years, answered on her end.

“By who?” she asked, sounding as stunned and disgusted as I was.

“By my husband, that’s who!” I screamed. I was glad that I was home alone. My twelve-year-old daughter, Charlotte, was at my parents’ house, but she could barge in at any time. The last thing I needed at the moment was for her to hear my end of the conversation. “What in the hell do I do now?” I was talking so loud and fast, I almost bit my tongue several times before I paused.

“Holy shit! How did you find out? Did Pee Wee tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me. That heifer had the nerve to call my house a few minutes ago to tell me herself!”

“Damn! This is the last thing I expected to hear,” Rhoda said, suddenly sounding too relaxed for me. I wanted her to be as upset as I was. “How do you know she’s tellin’ the truth?”

“Why would she make up something like that?”

“Well, I can’t answer that question. But sister-girl is our age. And the last time I checked, forty-seven was a little long in the tooth for a woman to be gettin’ pregnant.”

“Are you forgetting that Sims woman from church? She was forty-nine when she had her last baby a few months ago,” I reminded Rhoda.

“Oh yeah,” Rhoda snorted. “Well, if Lizzie is pregnant, how do you know Pee Wee is the daddy? That sister has been gettin’ around in the bedroom these past few months. She dumped Pee Wee and moved in with Peabo Boykin. Do you know when she got pregnant? When was her last period?”

“Girl, I wasn’t taking notes when she called.”

“What does Pee Wee have to say about this mess?”

“He doesn’t know yet! At least that’s what she claims. She’s been trying to catch up with him all week so she could tell him. He changed the phone number to his apartment and his cell phone,” I reported.

“So