Deadly Charm (4 page)

“You sho' got a lotta food, gal.”

“
Excuse
me?”
Me. Lou. Parking lot. Now
.

Old smoothie said, “That's because she's pregnant.”

I
DIDN'T KNOW
who would get worse whiplash, me or Rocky, the way our heads snapped up to look at Thunder. My heart dropped to my shoes and did a drum cadence. Rocky's mouth opened, but no sound came out. I, however, had plenty to say.

“I'm not
pregnant
!” I said it like he'd called me a dirty name.

He turned on the charm. “Bell, you're positively radiant with child.”

Rocky stared at me like I'd grown a third head. “I thought she looked that way because she's not possessed anymore.”

Ezekiel laughed. “Oh, she's possessed all right.”

I started sputtering before I finally got out, “Mr. Thunder. I'm not pregnant. I happen to have a difficult time getting pregnant, and—”

“Her husband left her.”

Make that
Rocky
, Lou, and me in the parking lot. I'd take 'em both.

I shot lasers out of my eyes at Rocky—only, they didn't really exist, so he remained unharmed.

“What I was going to say”—I frowned at Rocky—“was that
I don't appreciate your…” His what? Fake prophecy? Bald-faced lie? Insensitive lack of insight?

“But her husband still loves her.” That from puppy eyes.

“He sure does, Rocky,” Ezekiel said and then turned to me. “And he'll be restored to his rightful place as the head of his family.
God
,” he said—and because of his accent it sounded like
Gawd
, “is going to give you above and beyond all that you ask for. Thus saith the Lord.” He did a little jerk, made a sound like “ha-ba-ba-shondo,” and threw his hands in the air. “Hallelujah.”

“I'm not pregnant!” I screeched. My mind riffled through my calendar and marked off the three pitiful days that I had my period
after
I made love with my husband. Days that I cried bitterly because I'd been profoundly disappointed at its appearance.

Sister Lou cut her eyes at me. “Thank God you got some of them demons out then.” She looked at me with pure disgust. “Pregnant
and
fulla demons.”

Before I could come up with an appropriately scathing reply, Ezekiel Thunder covered my hand with his. He leaned in so he could whisper in my ear. “Now, don't you mind Sissy. She means well.” His breath tickled my ear.

I knew “Sissy” to be an old Southern endearment. I wondered if Lou could be his natural sister.

“She gets a little excited.” His drawl extended the
sigh
sound in “excited.” Honestly, if he'd nibbled my ear, I wouldn't have been surprised. The man could probably seduce a fruitcake. He pulled himself away from me and touched my chin with his thumb and forefinger—a tender gesture. Almost fatherly.
Almost
. If I didn't know he pitched snake oil and was subtly hitting on me as well, I might have liked him.

“Isn't he great, babe?”

I rolled my eyes at Rocky.

Again, Thunder's eyes met mine and seemed to permeate me. “God heard your cries like He heard Rebekah's. You
hayave
”—and yes, he stretched out “have” over two syllables—“the desire of your heart.”

Dear God, I
have
cried like Rebekah
.

His words caressed me like a pair of soft, skilled hands, but I knew this kind of man—this unholy hustler in his alligator shoes and suit expensive enough to feed a multitude. For a moment I felt confused. Oh, he was good. Intellectually, I knew I should feel angry, but his words were smooth and warm.

I wanted to believe him. The realization shamed me. Everyone around us seemed to disappear. My eyes locked with his. I could feel something inside of me wail and moan, and I couldn't quiet it. I whispered in my astonishment, “Why are you doing this to me?”

He squeezed my hand. “God heard you.” Ezekiel Thunder reached up and stroked my braids, his every move hypnotic.

Without thinking, my hand went to my belly. “Endometriosis. I can't…”

“God can.” He grinned like a used-car salesman. “Of course, Jazz had a lot to do with it, too.” He winked at me again. When he said my husband's name, I snapped out of the weird dreamy state I'd been plunged into. A hot, suffocating anger surged within me. Its force took my breath for a moment.

Ezekiel Thunder sickened me. Confusion battled with a new bout of nausea in my gut. Heat rushed to my face. One way or another, I was about to lose it.

I spoke slowly, to keep my rage from roaring out. “How did you know my husband's name is…”

Rocky must have told him!

The anger I held at bay exploded out of me. I stood, knocking my chair out from behind me. “Listen here, Mr. Thunder. I don't know what Rocky told you about me, but I can assure you that I'm not pregnant and doubt if I ever will be. If you're under the impression your little
word of garbage
rather than
word of knowledge
is going to get an offering out of me, think again. You can play your head games with the poor desperate souls gathered here who need to believe there's some truth in your prophe
lying
. But I'm not one of them.”

He simply smiled with his perfect teeth and said, “Jesus said, ‘If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.'” I couldn't tell if he'd said it for my benefit or because by now we'd gotten an audience with everyone in the room staring at us.

I reminded him, “The devil can quote Scripture.”

Sister Lou stood up, probably to cast more demons out of me, but Ezekiel stopped her by moving one finger. She sank back down to her seat.

I turned to walk away. Where I'd go, I didn't know.

At that moment, Madam Thunder swept into the room like a tornado, little Zeekie in tow. The older woman who'd held the baby earlier when I'd talked to him walked behind her as if she were doing surveillance on her.

Mrs. Thunder walked up to her husband and shoved the child into his arms. “Take him.” Apparently she had the maternal instincts of a Nazi war criminal.

I took a deep breath and chastised myself for my uncharitable
thoughts.
Forgive me, Lord. Any mother can get tired
. I had judged everyone present and found them wanting before I even walked through the door. I turned to Rocky. “May we please leave?”

Rocky stood. Just then sweet Baby Thunder called my name.

“Bay-yell.” He had his father's accent. From his father's lap, he reached his arms up, and Ezekiel Thunder picked up the boy and handed him to me. I took the little bundle of fun and squeezed him.

Little Zeekie put both hands on my cheeks and blew a raspberry on my lips with his wet mouth. My heart felt like it would burst from hope deferred.
Oh, God, please, if there's any way I can still have a child
…I imagined my body as hollow as a drum, the once-deafening sound of my biological clock now empty white noise. A tear slipped down my cheek. My throat constricted. I could barely croak out, “Rocky.”

I guess First Lady Thunder misread me. She snatched the little boy away so roughly he cried.

I added her to the list of people I'd give a beatdown to. Ezekiel Thunder seized that moment to grab my hand.

“You have a tumor, Bell. It will cause a lot of problems.”

I jerked my hand away from him. He couldn't know. God wouldn't have told this awful man what I hadn't even shared with my own doctor or with my sister, who was also a medical doctor, even though she worked with dead people.

I began to shake with rage. It was all I could do not to disobey the scriptures and lay hands on him
suddenly
! I turned on my heels and exited the room as quickly as I could. I stormed down the hallway, ignoring the ghosts of children past that haunted
me in the little school. My lungs burned, and my heart felt like it would jump out of my chest. I had to remind myself to breathe in and out.

That insensitive cow wife of his has a baby, but I get a tumor! And I'm
not
pregnant! And never will be
.

It felt so unfair.
How did that awful man know about my tumor? Nobody knows
.

All the terrible things that I'd ever done flooded my memory. I'd left Jesus for Adam. I'd opened up more than my heart to that nutjob. God
gave
me a baby, and I let Adam kill her. I didn't let Jazz help me. Love me. Now a tumor inhabited my belly. I hadn't told a soul about it, knowing that through my neglect I was committing suicide on the layaway plan. Who was I to ask God for help?

Confusion covered me like a burka. Thunder's words beat upon my brain.

You have a tumor
.

You're positively radiant with child
.

With child
.

But I'd had my period. I couldn't be…

I heard Rocky call “Babe” from somewhere behind me. I didn't turn around. I snatched my cell phone out of my coat pocket and punched 411 for directory assistance. The operator could barely get out, “Information, what—”

“Yellow Cab, please. I'm in Inkster, Michigan.” I didn't know if Inkster had a Yellow Cab company, but everywhere else on Earth seemed to.

Except Inkster. I sighed. “Any old cab will do. I just need to get outta here.”

She must have heard the distress in my voice. The operator connected me to Big Four Cab, and I managed to squeak out my location through my sobbing. I tore out of the double doors, past the big, beefy guards, and into the icy night air.

Rocky trailed behind me until he trotted up to take my hand. “Babe, come back. He didn't mean to upset you. He said to tell you he's sorry. You don't have to call a cab. I'll take you home.”

I put my phone away without canceling my cab. “Look around, Rocky.”

He looked, confused. “What?”

“Do you notice something different?”

“Um. Nooooo.”

“Your truck. It's gone.”

Rocky stood there, mouth agape, scratching his blond dreadlocks.

I sighed. “I told you to lock your doors.”

So much for the protection those two Goliaths offered. I felt sorry for Rock, but he was with his people. He'd find a way home, and his insurance would cover the truck. I didn't even want to offer to share my cab with him.

He used his cell phone to call the police. We waited outside in the freezing air, even though Rocky didn't have his coat on. By the time the police arrived, so had my cab.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

I felt so vulnerable, I actually wished he'd call me babe. “As soon as I'm far away from here.”

“I'm so sorry,” he said. “I wanted God to speak to you.”

“It was a very foolish choice for you to make for me, Rocky. I knew I shouldn't have come.”

“Sorry. Babe…” I don't know what would have trailed behind that “Babe,” but I didn't want to find out.

“Not sorrier than I am, Rocky.”

“Let me pay for your cab.”

“That's okay. I just wanna go.”

He nodded, sadness brimming in those hound dog eyes.

Cost me sixty dollars to get home. I couldn't afford it, but it felt like the best money I'd ever spent.

Thunder was right. I didn't leave there like I came.

F
INALLY, IT'S
F
RIDAY
. Friday means that the next day I wouldn't have to see anybody at the Washtenaw County Jail
or
my private practice. It means I could stay up until the wee hours of the morning watching season after season of
Columbo
on DVD. I could eat popcorn, Oreos, and Cold Stone Creamery Berry Berry Berry Good ice cream with nobody to tell me, “You should stop. You're getting fat.”

This particular Friday had the distinction of being the day after I'd gotten the golden zillions braids taken out of my hair. I had my hair dyed off-black again—the closest I could get to my natural color, sans the streaks of gray—and walked out with a new set of braids that had taken three braiders four hours to weave onto my head. They looked fabulous, though. Long, tiny, flowing braids with the ends loose, falling just below my shoulders in soft, curly waves. The style, romantic and versatile, required little upkeep and allowed for Charlie's Angels–like hair shaking.

I arrived at my office parking lot, excited about showing my new hairdo to Maggie, my secretary, when a sinking feeling came over me—sinking as in the
Titanic
, with no fine Leonardo to take the edge off the tragedy.

I knew something wicked this way came. Every single car parked in the ridiculously small lot belonged to someone I knew.

Now what?

I shouldn't have wondered. Should have just said no, like Nancy Reagan told us in the eighties.

Go back home, Bell
. I hadn't yet touched the ice cream in my freezer. The Godiva store had plenty of chocolate-covered strawberries—just in time for Valentine's Day—and I could make it there by the time they opened. No harm, no foul. Let Maggie handle the crisis.

But, no, I soldiered on.

My heart pounded, and I took a few steps toward the building, telling myself that it was
good news
that brought my loved ones together.

Not!

Good news, my eye! It was more likely that an episode of the
Jerry Springer
show awaited me! I didn't want Jerry Springer. I wanted my client Bill, who compulsively sang Chaka Khan songs. He at least was easy to deal with.

The conspicuous absence of the blue, unmarked, police-issued Crown Victoria that my husband, Jazz, drove didn't escape my attention. Whatever they'd planned to ambush me with, Jazz wasn't in on it.

I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

I gathered my strength about me like I would pull my great-grandmother's quilt around my shoulders. If she were here, my namesake would say, “It ain't courage if you ain't scared.” Besides, if they could ambush me at work, they could ambush me
at home. I should be thankful they weren't all crowded into my apartment.

I got out of the Love Bug, fortifying myself with the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

I went with the long version. I figured it couldn't hurt since I didn't know what awaited me. I slipped quietly into the corridor of my office. The scent of a special Valentine's Day coffee blend that Maggie got from Whole Foods greeted me. It had a sumptuous chocolate and raspberry flavor that made my toes curl inside my shoes. In a good way. It occurred to me that my heightened senses probably meant I'd been overcome by hormones and was now in the throes of a biological nightmare intent on barring me from motherhood for good. My poor, ailing biological clock. Every now and then I'd hear a cough or sputter from it as it marched in a funeral procession toward its premature death. Most days I pretended not to hear it. My marriage had crashed and burned. Why not my reproductive organs, too?

Nary a soul was at Maggie's desk. I'd hoped to find her holding court in the reception area as per usual, ready to give me a full report on what I'd be walking into.

“Maggie?”

She called from inside my office, “Amanda Bell, is that you?”

“Who else would it be? Everybody else is already here.”

“Don't get smart with me.”

Honestly! I'm about to get roasted and still have to watch my mouth.

I passed through the reception area and stepped into my office.
Everybody
indeed sat in there, and by everybody, I mean all
the important people in my life, with two very notable exceptions: Jazz and my daddy.

Sasha, my mother, controlled the gathering from my favorite, way-cool purple leather office chair—which I'd bought myself as a belated birthday gift.

Both of the fine European wingback chairs Maggie had given me when I opened my office were filled, as well as the few cute, armless modern chairs usually in my reception area. Carly, in scrubs, sat in one of the wingbacks. Her black hair hung past her shoulders. An unlit cigarette dangled precariously from her mouth.

Next to her, my girlfriend Kalaya sat, tall, gloriously brown, with long legs crossed, resplendent in her class-with-sass style. She sat by her boyfriend Souldier, also known as cocoa brown, dreadlocked fineness. He also happened to be my husband's best friend. Souldier, a midnight-shift man, had probably just gotten off work. He still had on his heavy blue nylon Crime Scene Unit jacket.

My in-laws, Jack and Addie Lee Brown, were present and accounted for, along with my spiritual father, Dr. Mason May. Rocky sat next to him.

We were about to have a grueling group-therapy session. I just knew it.

“Did something bad happen? Because you all have to know it would be a terrible conflict of interest for me to see any of you as patients, even in a group session.”

Carly lit her cigarette and began to smoke furiously. I noticed she'd taken a paper cup from the kitchenette to use as an ashtray.

“We're not the crazy person in your life,” she said, puffing away.

“No comment on that,” I said. “And this is a smoke-free office, Carly.”

My mother stood up at my desk like she was about to begin a sales presentation. “This is an intervention, Bell.”

“An
intervention
?” I didn't recall abusing drugs or alcohol.
What kind of addiction do they think
…

“You're getting fat.”

“I told you,” Maggie said to my mother.

Maggie, who did not get fat and always looked fantastic, gave her a triumphant nod. The snitch.

Fortunately, a few kind loved ones averted their eyes when Ma started in on my weight, except Addie Lee, my husband's mother, who intently stared at me. Still, my defenses soared.

“You're doing an intervention because I gained a few pounds?”

“A few?” Carly quipped. “It looks like you've gained about ten, maybe twelve.”

“Seven! I've gained seven pounds.”

“Have you seen your abs?”

“I haven't seen my abs since 1987. Abs don't count. I'm
bloated
. And I'm not addicted to food.” Well, maybe ice cream, but did that mean I needed a 12-step program?

Kalaya spoke up. “We're not here about your weight, Bell, which I think looks great on you. Your mom just mentioned your weight to be…”

“Vicious?”

“Um…I was going to say motherly.”

“How 'bout
truthful
?” Sasha said, her face looking like the innocent little lamb she wasn't.

Even Rocky agreed. “You do look a little fluffy, babe.”

“
Fluffy
?” It sounded better than fat, but not much. “And don't call me babe.”

Addie threw this jewel out there. “Sweetheart, are you pregnant?”

I sputtered. They were doing a pregnancy intervention? The wicked spawns of evil.

“No!” I shouted.

Rocky supplied. “Bell's very sensitive about her pregnancy.”

“I'm not pregnant! What is this so-called intervention about? I. AM. NOT. PREGNANT!”

Sasha shook her head. “Umph, umph, umph. I
knew
someone would get pregnant. I had a dream about fish. I thought it would be your reporter friend.”

“Hey,” Kalaya said, “I'm doing the
right
thing with him.” She nodded to Souldier, crossed her arms defensively, and scowled.

“Maybe it's Carly,” I said. “She's the one with a sex life.”

“Not anymore,” Carly said. “And I wouldn't smoke if I were pregnant.”

Rocky said, tentatively, because Carly hates him, “Maybe you should put that out, with Bell being an expectant mom and all.”

I tried to reiterate. “I'm
not
pregnant.”

Addie Lee didn't buy it. “I knew you were pregnant. As soon as you walked in, I could see it all over you.” Tears welled in her eyes. Jack, who happened to be sitting near one of several boxes of Kleenex strategically positioned in my office, snatched up a tissue and handed it to her.

I tried to calm her. “I'm not pregnant, Addie Lee, honest.”

I wanted to call her Mom like I used to, but I didn't know what Jazz had told his parents about me. I feared they thought the worst of me.

“Call me Mom,” she said, relieving my fears.

Sasha just sighed. “Aren't you a little long in the tooth to be having your first baby?”

“I'm thirty-five. Thirty-five is the new…thirty-five.”

“Didn't you say you couldn't get pregnant without some kind of procedure?” Carly jabbed.

“Yes, a procedure that I didn't have.”

Rocky chimed in, “You had sex.”

“I
married
him.
Before
we had sex.”

“You could be pregnant.”

“
Shut up!
I can't be!” I yelled at my former pastor. Again, I glanced around the room. “Why are you all here?”

“It's about Jazz,” Addie Lee said.

“This is a Jazz intervention? You think I'm addicted to Jazz?”

Souldier popped up from his chair. “No, Jazz is addicted to you, Bell. You've got to go back to him. He's…”

“A nutjob,” Jack supplied.

“Could you be a little more specific, Jack?”

“Don't call me Jack,” he said. “I'm
Dad
to you.”

“I'm sorry,
Dad
. What do you mean he's a nutjob?”

“First of all, baby. You look terrific. And Addie never calls 'em wrong. Congratulations.”

“Dad, with all due respect to Mom's track record, I'm afraid I'm not pregnant.”

Carly's cigarette smoke was starting to nauseate me. I shifted my weight on my legs. “Carly, this is a smoke-free office.”

She kept puffing. “I'm under stress, and Timothy broke up with me. Is everything about
you
?”

All attention went to her. My own intervention, and things couldn't even be about me.

“When did you and Tim break up?”

“This morning. And where was my sister when I needed her? At home, doing pregnant things instead of answering
any
of her phones.”

“I'm not pregnant! And sorry about the phones. I forgot to charge them.” Again.

Maggie shook her head, her no-longer-blond hair swinging about. Her vivid blue eyes regarded me with a look of pity. “Why, you practically need maternity clothes.”

“I do
not
need maternity clothes. I just need a size up. Maybe.”

Dad Jack added, “You certainly are acting like a pregnant woman.”

I screamed. One of those high-pitched, tormented wails like the comedian Sam Kinison used to do, God rest him. “I'm not pregnant, people, and I find it hurtful, as well as distasteful, that you're all persisting in this mass delusion because I've gained a few pounds.”

Rocky shook his head. “Elisa's the same way.”

“I said shut up, Rocky! This is not about your girlfriend. This intervention is about
me
!”

Jack scratched his head. “His girlfriend? You mean he's cheating on you already?”

“He's not cheating on me, Dad. We're not a couple.”

“But I thought Rocky was in love with you,” Addie said.

“I do love Bell, but she's married,” Rocky said.

“You young people confuse me,” Jack said. He looked at Rocky. “You mean your girlfriend doesn't mind if you're in love with a married woman?”

Kalaya answered. “No, Elisa isn't his girlfriend. Yet. See, Rocky didn't realize he loved Elisa until he caught Bell sleeping with Jazz. Really, she set him free to love again.”

“Jazz and I are married! It wasn't a sin to sleep with him.”

“Do I know you?” Rocky said to Kal.

I stomped my foot. “Hello.
My
intervention here!”

And speaking of Jazz
…When I had everyone's attention, I continued. “What did you people come here to tell me about my
husband
?”

Jack spoke up. “He's in bad shape, especially at work. It's that whole thing about Kate's murder. He's still mad because he thinks everybody turned on him. Said he gave his life to that department, and now he can see who his friends really are.”

I wasn't sure if
I
made the friends cut, despite the fact that I'd risked my life for him.

Souldier added, “And yo, he's missing you like mad, Bell.”

Carly's smoke really started getting to me. My legs felt like rubber and my stomach lurched. “Can you all be more specific? What do you mean he's in bad shape at work?”
And missing me like mad?

I stood in a room full of people who insisted I was pregnant, but could anyone offer me a seat?

“Will somebody please let me sit down,” I yelled.

“Sorry,” Jack said, scurrying out of his chair and seating me like the gentleman he usually is. “We were all so surprised to see you looking so…”

“Looking so what?” I plopped into his seat.

“Pregnant,” Carly supplied, stabbing the cigarette butt into the paper cup. “You do have that glow about you.” She stared at me. “I'm so jealous. And you do this to me just as Tim decides to leave me.”