Bed of Lies by Shelly Ellis Page B

of pillows. A bandage was on her right cheek. Her left eye was bruised and swollen like someone had punched her. A younger woman in a pair of skintight jeans and black knee-high boots with towering high heels paced back and forth in front of the older woman’s hospital bed. She was dressed like she had just walked out of a night club.
    â€œWhatever, Ma!” Skintight Jeans shouted, dropping a hand to her hip and pushing out her chest over her low-cut, sequined top. “Like I said, don’t try to pin this on me. Because I ain’t—”
    â€œExcuse me, ladies,” Dante said, striding into the room. He glanced between the two women. “I hope you don’t mind if I interrupt, but—”
    â€œWho the hell are you?” the younger woman snapped. Her burgundy lips curled with a sneer.
    â€œIt would behoove you not to speak so loudly about the accident,” he continued, “especially here in the hospital. We wouldn’t want everyone to hear. And from what I understand, Terrence Murdoch is also on this floor.”
    He likely would get moved to a private room in one of the nicer parts of the hospital, but for now, he and Mavis were both in the recovery ward.
    â€œYou definitely wouldn’t want him to hear all of this,” Dante said.
    The younger woman fell silent while the older woman’s eyes pooled with tears.
    â€œI-I can’t remember what happened, but I know I was in such a . . . such a rush to get to Tasha,” the woman murmured, her voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t mean to go through that stop sign! I wasn’t trying to—”
    â€œSsshhh,” Dante whispered, stopping her midsentence. He walked toward the bed and raised a finger to his lips. He then removed his wool coat and tossed it over the plastic handrail. “Your name is Mavis, right?”
    She hesitated, then nodded.
    â€œWell, Mavis, my name is Dante Turner. I’m a lawyer with the law offices of Nutter, McElroy, and Ailey, and I’m going to offer you some free legal advice: Don’t confess to something you didn’t do.”
    She frowned and fisted the bed sheets in her hands. “But I-I don’t know for sure if I didn’t do it. I mean, I-I think I—”
    â€œMavis”—he placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze—“you’re a caring woman. I can tell. You have the best of intentions. But, believe me, you don’t want to accept responsibility for what happened today. Do you know the other driver in the accident?”
    Her frown deepened and she slowly shook her head.
    â€œWhat the hell difference does that make?” the younger woman barked. “Who the hell cares?”
    â€œRenee, don’t be so rude,” Mavis admonished, though Renee waved away her chastising. “He’s only trying to help.”
    â€œYeah, I bet he is,” Renee snapped, tossing her long ebony weave over her shoulder.
    â€œShe’s right, I am trying to help. And you should care who the other driver is,” Dante said, shifting his gaze to Renee. “His name is Terrence Murdoch of Murdoch Conglomerated, a multimillion-dollar company that specializes in food products and restaurant franchises. Terrence comes from money— lots of money. And if he and his family decided to unleash their lawyers on you for the accident, your mother would end up in the poorhouse. They’d find a way to destroy her.”
    â€œOh Lord,” Mavis whispered. She looked visibly shaken. She started trembling again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Please tell him I didn’t mean to—”
    â€œMavis, I told you to stop apologizing,” Dante repeated. “You weren’t the cause of that accident. As far as I’m concerned, he was the one who went through the intersection and hit you , and that’s what you should say in court.”
    â€œCourt?” Renee raised an eyebrow and