God Don't Make No Mistakes

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Authors: Mary Monroe

BOOK: God Don't Make No Mistakes
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Also by Mary Monroe
Mama Ruby
 
God Ain't Through Yet
 
God Ain't Blind
 
The Company We Keep
 
She Had It Coming
 
Deliver Me from Evil
 
God Don't Play
 
In Sheep's Clothing
 
Red Light Wives
 
God Still Don't Like Ugly
 
Gonna Lay Down My Burdens
 
God Don't Like Ugly
 
The Upper Room
 
“Nightmare in Paradise” in
Borrow Trouble
 
 
 
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
GOD DON'T MAKE NO MISTAKES
MARY MONROE
KENSINGTON BOOKS
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
This book is dedicated to my fans.
Acknowledgments
To my readers, old and new, I sincerely appreciate your support.
I especially thank all of my readers in the various branches of the military, not just for reading my books, but for protecting our country and trying to make the world a better place for everyone.
To the book clubs, libraries, and bookstores throughout the world, thank you for promoting my books and for blessing me with so many new fans through the first social network: word of mouth.
The folks at Kensington Publishing have made it possible for me to live the dream life of a best-selling author. To my editor, Selena James; my publicists, Adeola Saul and Karen Auerbach; the folks in the sales department; Steven Zacharius, Laurie Parkin, and everyone else involved, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
With sympathy and eternal respect, a belated thanks to the late great Walter Zacharius. He was one of a kind and I will miss him dearly.
To my agent, Andrew Stuart, I can't thank you enough for representing me with so much vigor.
Thanks to Lauretta Pierce for maintaining my Web site and for being such a good friend.
To all of my new fans reading my work for the first time with this book,
brace yourselves!
Please continue to send your comments and suggestions by e-mailing me at [email protected] or by visiting my Web site,
www.MaryMonroe.org
. You can also communicate with me on Facebook and Twitter.
 
All the best,
Mary Monroe
June 2012
PROLOGUE
March 1998
 
E
XCERPT FROM
THE RICHLAND, OHIO REVIEW
NEWSPAPER
:
L
OCAL
W
OMAN
A
RRESTED IN
W
ORLDWIDE
C
HILD
P
ORNO
R
ING
Federal investigators dismantled an international network of pedophiles and pornographers who exchanged sexually explicit videos and photographs of children on a regular basis. At the center of the investigation is a Richland child-care provider and Sunday-school teacher; a single mother of three daughters all under the age of thirteen.
Harrietta Jameson, 46, was arrested in her home last night following a brief investigation. Evidence indicates that Jameson was the mastermind of a network that specialized in graphic images of the sexual abuse of children under the age of ten, including infants.
More than fifty people have been charged so far, including thirty arrested in the United States, Canada, Germany, Sweden, Nigeria, Italy, and France. The organization used a server in Cleveland, Ohio, that Jameson maintained to upload material, solicit new members, and collect “membership” dues. Authorities estimate that about five hundred people were members of the organization and more than one hundred were “pending.” Some of the victims have been identified as the investigation continues ...
“I don't believe my eyes!” Annette hollered. She was so horrified she held the newspaper away from her face like it was contaminated. She could not believe that what she had just read about one of her friends—one that she had trusted to look after her child—was true. But it was ...
CHAPTER 1
Eight months earlier
 
 
M
Y 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.

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