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are extras in the freezer in the basement and in the pantry.”
    I knew that I had to talk to Pee Wee again soon. He hadn’t called since I hung up on him earlier, but I knew that it was just a matter of time before I heard from him again. Lizzie’s pregnancy had already become a major thorn in my side, and it had not even been twenty-four hours since she’d dropped her bombshell.
    I was tempted to call Pee Wee up, but I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted to say to him next. In the meantime, I was looking forward to getting out of the house for a few hours—and with another man. I knew that if I kept myself busy and distracted, I would spend less time sitting around fuming about Lizzie.
    In spite of Lillimae’s unexpected appearance, this felt like one of my blackest Fridays ever. But it was just the beginning of one of the most destructive, multilayered catastrophes in my life.

CHAPTER 10
    â€œY OUR SISTER LILLIMAE SURE SEEMS LIKE A REAL NICE LADY. Her Southern accent is almost as cute as your girl Rhoda’s is. Now, your sister is way on the heavy side, but a lot of men like a woman with a set of nice healthy ham hocks below her waist. I didn’t know you had folks still down in Florida,” Roscoe said with a curious look on his face. “She got out of that dangerous state just in time, huh? Down there the folks are getting shot up on the street in broad daylight, and by people that they don’t even know.”
    The world-famous fashion designer Gianni Versace had been gunned down a week ago. Each day since then, the TV and radio reported every new development. Today’s news had announced that Versace’s alleged assassin had taken the coward’s way out and committed suicide by shooting himself in the head on somebody’s unoccupied houseboat. Lillimae had enjoyed a cup of coffee in the News Café where Versace had read his last newspaper and consumed his last cup of cappuccino. Tears formed in her eyes when she told me how he had eagerly autographed a napkin for her just as she was about to begin her mail delivery responsibilities on that fateful morning.
    â€œYes, my sister got out of that dangerous state in time,” I agreed. “It’s a shame about Versace getting shot down like that in front of his own house,” I lamented.
    â€œWell, that just goes to show you that death does not discriminate between the rich and the poor. That dago designer had more money than God, and it still didn’t keep him from getting shot down in the street like a brother in the ’hood.”
    Roscoe had arrived right on time, like he always did. His punctuality was one of the things that I liked about him. Within five minutes after I had introduced him to Lillimae, they started drinking wine and chatting like they’d known each other for years. “We could have brought your sister along with us,” Roscoe said as he backed his shiny black Camry out of my driveway. “I wouldn’t have minded her company at all. But I didn’t know you had white kinfolk.”
    â€œShe and I have the same father,” I explained. I was not in the mood to elaborate, but Roscoe was one of the nosiest men I knew, so he didn’t let up until I had told him the whole story. When I told him that my parents had resumed their relationship after a thirty-year separation, he almost drove into a streetlight.
    â€œDamn! Your mama must be one understanding woman to take back a man who left her for another woman, married her, and had kids with her.”
    â€œI don’t know if my mother is what most people would call ‘understanding,’ ” I said with a chuckle.
    â€œShit! She must be. I know how you sisters can be—especially sisters you and your mama’s age. Y’all don’t take no mess like a man making babies with another woman too lightly. I mean, take you for instance.”
    â€œFor instance what?” The conversation was