Diary of a Mad First Lady (34 page)

I got into bed, closed my eyes, and dreamt terrifying dreams of Michelle trying to kill me.

Chapter Thirty-three

Michelle

Last night was the most restless night I’d had in all of my life. After my meeting with Solomon, I drove home in a daze. The events of the night quickly took their toll on me. I knew I had to be tired because when I got home, Chanice was putting DJ to bed—something I always did—and I thought nothing of it.

In a zombie-like state, I went to my bedroom and submerged into my sea of comfort, hoping to gain some sense out of everything I’d learned.

Darvin had tried to reach me several times on my cell while I was talking to Solomon, but I’d missed his calls. He finally resorted to leaving a message—expressing his displeasure at not being able to reach me—and to let me know he’d left his battery charger in the car when I dropped him off at the airport. I tried to reach him back via the hotel’s number, but I’d only gotten his suite’s voicemail system. It frustrated me to my wit’s end, but I didn’t want to share with him the information about Daphne by way of a message; I wanted to tell him myself.

This morning, I’d gotten up, made a phone call to Florida, dressed DJ, and was now sitting in church, listening to Mount Zion’s senior assistant pastor, Scott Randall, begin his sermon.

However, my thoughts were far away from this morning’s message. My mind was solely focused on confronting Daphne Carlton when she waltzed her behind up in the sanctuary. I was going to take the microphone, expose her for who she really was, and then have the police to haul her lying, trifling butt away.

I had already spoken to the chief elders, Chanice, and a few other key people in leadership, to let them know what was going on. Security had been contacted, and they were on standby. Although I couldn’t have her arrested on the charges of impersonating someone who didn’t exist, I could at least have her locked up for violating our restraining order.

I was furious, to say the least. I was blowing hell’s inferno from my nostrils. I shivered at the thought of Dawn Carlton actually being Daphne Carlton. She was brilliant, and had played us all for fools. She somehow convinced us that she was a twin, when according to the phone call I made to her mother this morning, she had no sisters.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak with Ms. Carlton, please?”

“This is she. How can I help you?”

“This is Michelle Johnson. You don’t know me—”

She interrupted. “I know who you are.”

Taken aback, I stammered for my next words. “Well, I was calling about your daughter, Dawn.”

“You mean Daphne.”

“No, your other daughter, Dawn.”

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have a daughter named Dawn. I have one daughter, and her name is Daphne.”

After the reality of what was going on set in, Daphne’s mother told me all about how she’d tried to convince her silly daughter to leave us alone, and how she knew one day this would all backfire on her. And she couldn’t have been more right.

It was almost the end of Pastor Randall’s sermon, and Daphne still had not made an appearance. It was unusual for her not to have been here by now. Maybe she’d gotten word that she was about to be out in the open, and had tucked her tails and ran. Or maybe . . .

“First Lady, are you going to go out and greet visitors today?” Chanice asked, cutting into my thoughts.

“No,” I said firmly. “Did you notice whether or not Daphne walked in?”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t. I will ask Elder Spencer.”

Chanice beckoned for the elder, and after conversing with him for a moment, we discovered that Daphne had not shown up for service—not this service, or the one before it. Something seemed very strange about that.

After service had ended, I went to my office and retreated to my couch.

Why hadn’t Daphne shown up? Did she leave town? Did she discover I was about to bring her down? It was all driving me insane.

“First Lady, I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you.”

“That’s the thing, Chanice. You are not me. You don’t know what this woman had done to me, my family, and our church. So, please, do not give me unsolicited advice right now. I need to think.”

Chanice resigned and walked out of the office to give me some time alone. That was one of the things I loved about her. She was able to know what to do without me having to tell her.

I had to think. I glanced at the desk clock; it was almost time for Darvin to be getting up to preach at Bethelite’s second service. I thought about calling the church, but I didn’t want to alter his train of thought before his message. However, I needed to talk to him before the night service. I had been in the game long enough to know that he would probably be busy all the way up to the evening service with brunches, meetings, and other things the church had planned for him to do. I was afraid that I wouldn’t get the opportunity to tell him what was going on. Knowing Daphne, she was planning something. And I knew enough about her twisted mind to know that if I didn’t move swiftly, she would destroy us all.

A thought occurred to me. I walked to the door and opened it.

“Chanice, get my mother on the phone. Tell her to meet me at her house in an hour. Let her know that I need her to keep DJ overnight. Afterward, find Sabrina and tell her that I want her to book me on the next flight to Baltimore.”

Chapter Thirty-four

Michelle

The plane ride to Baltimore had been smooth, unlike my nerves.

I retrieved my bags from baggage claim, and proceeded to the rental car zone. Sabrina had taken care of my arrangements for me, and in no time, I was making my way to the Marriott hotel. Ann had given me Darvin’s hotel room number, and I planned to go there first.

MapQuest led me straight to the hotel without getting lost. I got out, left my car with the valet, and went inside. At the desk, I requested an extra key to Darvin’s room.

“I’m Mrs. Johnson, and I need an extra key to my suite, nineteen thirty-four.”

“Sure, Mrs. Johnson,” the clerk said. She looked into computer, and then frowned. “Wait a minute. I have you listed in suite nineteen thirty-one. Are you sure that your suite number is nineteen thirty-four?” she asked, confused.

“Yes. The room is listed in the name of Darvin Johnson, and I’m his wife.”

With that, she looked at me as if I’d spoken a different language. She input something else into the computer.

“Can I see your ID please?” she asked.

I was getting agitated, but I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and presented it.

“Hmm. Mrs. Johnson,” she said, handing my license back to me, “there’s a slight little issue here. You are right. You are in nineteen thirty-four, but for some reason, there are two suites listed under Darvin Johnson. I guess you’re also in nineteen thirty-one,” she joked. “I’m sorry for the confusion.

Let me get you that key.”

She walked away as my head began to throb. I kept telling myself not to panic or get prematurely upset, but why were there two suites in Darvin’s name? I knew for a fact that his armor bearer did not travel with him, because I had been the one to drive him to the airport. Besides that, I’d seen his armor bearer, Shadar, at church earlier this morning. Darvin had insisted he go alone, because he didn’t want Shadar all up in the air about his reason for being in Baltimore.

She came back and gave me the key.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Johnson? I’m about to end my shift, but would be glad to assist you with anything further.”

I forced a smile. “No. That will be all.”

I managed to pick up my feet and walk toward the elevator. Inside, I pressed the button for the nineteenth floor.

Once to the suite’s door, I held my breath, not knowing what to expect when I walked in.

I dropped the key card in the lock, and at the prompt of the green light, opened the door. The scent of Darvin’s H
I
M-istry cologne was still lingering in the room. I inhaled. I’d missed him in the short period of time we’d been away from each other.

My sacred moment was interrupted when I caught a glimpse of a receipt lying on the desk. I picked it up as if it had leprosy.

My fear suddenly became my reality. Darvin had dined with someone last night in the hotel’s restaurant, and I was sure that someone was occupying suite nineteen thirty-one.

I was so shaken; I backed into the bed and helplessly sat down. I stared at the receipt, trying to will away the notion that Darvin had been with another woman. A part of me wanted to convince myself that it was harmless—maybe someone from the church. But I knew better. Only a woman would order a grilled chicken Caesar salad for an entrée. Only a woman would care to eat so light. A woman who was watching her weight.

The light in the room grew dim. My head was spinning and my heart was pounding faster than the speed of light. I could have sworn that the room was closing in on me, as rage was being injected into me by the syringe of hatred. I had come all this way only to find out that my husband was cheating on me. Was it that woman from months ago, who he’d admitted to almost sleeping with? I remembered him saying how supportive she was. Maybe since I had refused to accompany him, he’d relied on her for encouragement.

This just couldn’t be. My emotions were playing on a see-saw in my heart, and my soul ached at its core.

The sound of something being slid under the door made me snap out of my pain for a moment. I went to the door and picked up the white envelope. I flipped it over and saw the red-lipstick imprint of a woman’s lips plastered on it.

I opened the envelope and read its contents:

Dear Pastor,

By the time you read this, you will have already accepted Bethelite’s invitation to become their next pastor. Service was phenomenal this morning—I’ve never been so proud in my life. I heard that you were meeting with the search team to discuss the transition (a little birdie told me), and so I know you won’t have time to talk before you preach the evening service.

However, I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your success. If you are willing, take the key inside and meet me at midnight in the hotel’s penthouse for a small celebration dinner. Last night’s dinner started out wonderfully, but things seemed to take a turn for the worse. Let me make it up to you. No strings attached. No funny business. Just dinner. You deserve it.

By the way, after you make the big announcement tonight to accept the church, I will have a big one for you as well. Oh, what the heck—I’ll tell you now. I’m planning to relocate here to assist you however I can.

Remember, I told you last night that I’m a lifelong supporter of your ministry, and that means wherever you go, I’ll be there. And I’ll be there to serve in whatever capacity you may need me.

Okay, enough for now. I’ll tell you the rest later. See you at tonight’s service. Well, I’ll see you, but you won’t see me. (smile)