Read Online Dirty Rotten Liar by Noire - Free Book Online Page A

know everything about me, Madam Mink! Yeah I look damn good in a hot-pink dress but I ain’t nobody’s faggot! Besides”—he pursed his extra-glossy lips and batted his eyelashes—“when I feel like being on the bottom, I’m a bottom. And when a fool gets too fly and I need to be on top, then I gets my ass up on top! Now call Bunni,” he demanded, and reached into his bra and passed me his cell phone. “Call her,” Peaches said. “And tell her to meet us at JFK.”
    A chill went through me as I thought about that killer look I’d seen in Gutta’s eyes. And then I grabbed that phone and did exactly what the hell Peaches said.
    Â 
    With Dy-Nasty out of her hair, Selah headed back to the visitor’s lounge and got down to business. Seeing Viceroy wide awake and sitting up in bed like that had shocked the shit out of her, but now that he was alert she wanted to make sure her husband was as comfortable as possible. The male nurse had said Viceroy would be downstairs in therapy for quite a bit, and it was going to take at least two hours for the jet to get Dy-Nasty to Dallas and then fly back with Barron and Dane, so there were a couple of key things Selah could do while she waited.
    She relaxed in an armchair and took her cell phone out of her purse and got to punching in some numbers. She knew her husband, and she knew what he liked. No matter how far they’d crawled away from the ghetto or how much money they had stacked over the years, there were certain things about Viceroy that would never change. He still got his hair cut by Harvey, the slick-talking Houston barber who’d been edging him up since he was a kid.
    Selah called Harvey real quick and told him she was going to send a car to pick him up so he could come to the hospital and give Viceroy a nice trim, and then she arranged to have a professional manicurist brought over from an exclusive Houston spa to give her husband a much-needed hot eyebrow wax and a professional shave.
    An hour and a half later, Viceroy’s fingernails had been cut and cleaned up, and his feet had been soaked, buffed, oiled, and massaged. A shopping service had delivered a bag filled with a rich man’s luxury items. It contained his favorite cologne and all of his expensive personal hygiene items, along with copies of every top business magazine in the country.
    Selah put in a few more calls and had several pairs of satin pajamas and smoking jackets sent to Viceroy’s private room, and while he was downstairs in therapy the plain cotton hospital sheets had been switched out with a brand-new set that had two-thousand-count Egyptian fibers.
    Selah was mentally exhausted when a nurse poked her head in the waiting room and said the doctors wanted to talk to her. She was led to a small conference room where Viceroy’s doctors were waiting for her.
    â€œHow was your visit with your husband?” the internist wanted to know.
    Selah shook her head in disbelief. “It was amazing. Simply amazing. You guys are miracle workers. You brought Viceroy back from the grave!”
    â€œWell,” the neurologist cautioned, “Mr. Dominion has come a long way but he’s not completely out of the woods yet. The brain is a very delicate organ and it can take quite a long time to heal. I advise you and your family to take it slow and be very patient as your husband recovers. Try not to bombard him with complex issues or overtire him with anything that might pose a challenge to his memory or his emotions.”
    The doctor placed his hand on Selah’s arm and lowered his voice. “I would also strongly advise you against placing any heavy demands on Mr. Dominion right now, such as leading a global enterprise like Dominion Oil. Give him time. It’s likely that his cognitive functioning will return to normal rather quickly, but his emotional centers were badly damaged, and that kind of healing may take a little