I imagined my mom smiling at the pastor's analogy. The thought made me smile a bit too.
“Sister Clarke found Jesus in her last hours. Hallelujah! Now she's been rewarded with the ultimate prize, the ultimate joy, the ultimate peace. And God wants to give that same peace to each one of you.”
Pastor Paul Porcher called for those who didn't know the Lord to come to the altar. I watched as he held his hand forward, inviting people to join him at the altar. Slowly, people stood, one by one, and made their way to the front of the church. Within moments, thirteen people stood around my mother's shiny black coffin. And minutes later, they prayed the Sinner's Prayer with Pastor Porcher and accepted Christ.
A tear of joy trickled down my face. Even in death, my mother was doing the same thing she'd done during her last days on earth—winning souls for Christ. How marvelous.
As we filed out of the sanctuary, the faces around me blurred. My eyes were awash with tears. When I got to the door and saw my mom's casket being loaded into the hearse, I lost my balance. Someone caught me, saving me from falling to the ground.
I turned to thank my rescuer and found myself staring into the face of my ex.
“I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” Devyn said, still holding me.
“Devyn!” I cried out. “Thank you so much for being here today.”
I didn't know how he'd found out, how he knew I needed him to be there. But his presence comforted me. It filled a deep emotional void.
“I don't know what you're doing afterward,” he said, looking around as if he were unsure that he should be speaking.
I shook my head. “Just going back to my mom's.”
“I'll meet you over there.” He kissed my cheek.
I knew that there were many watching, wondering and whispering. But I didn't care. It felt good to have Devyn there. It felt good to have someone to lean on.
After we returned from the cemetery, Devyn drew me away from the lingering mourners and took me to his apartment.
“I just want to help you in any way that I can, Zoe,” he said, touching my face softly and leading me to a room in the back. “Whatever I can do for you, I will do.”
As Devyn gazed into my weary, red eyes, I realized that I was alone with him in his bedroom. I couldn't believe I was here—never did I imagine this. And I was sure Aisha, wherever she was, couldn't imagine this either.
Yet, there we stood, eyeing each other. I was vulnerable. Staring at his gorgeous body, I desperately wanted him to comfort me physically. I had lost so much of myself that day. I needed something to reassure me that I was still alive. I melted into his warm embrace. Was this how my mother had felt in the long, lonely years after my father died? Had she wanted comfort from a man's embrace?
“I know this has been difficult for you,” he said as he eased me toward the bed. “But I don't want you to think about any of that right now. I just want you to remember how it used to be with us. How good it used to feel. I want to make you feel good again, sweetheart.” He gently placed his lips against mine.
I pulled back. “What about Aisha? And your baby?”
Devyn rubbed my tired arms. “That baby ain't mine, Zoe. You were right about that girl. She is crazy. I made a big mistake choosing her over you.” His hands moved to my face. “You're the one who made me everything I am. You helped me reach my goals. All Aisha wanted was to get into my pockets, sit at home and live off me with another man's kid.”
Devyn kissed my neck, my forehead, my nose, then worked his tongue into my mouth. The kiss felt so familiar, and I suddenly realized how much I had missed it. I responded. Our tongues fell into a rhythmic flow as they twirled around each other.
He unbuttoned my blouse and then placed my hands on his fly. I knew what he wanted me to do. I pulled down the zipper in one deft, well-practiced move.
Before I knew it, we were standing, wearing only our underwear. As we embraced, I felt revived. Oh, how I had missed his touch. The thought of pleasing him physically engulfed my mind. In that moment of hot passion, I was caught up in a whirlwind. It was a crazy, sexy love typhoon.
Chapter 13
As Devyn slipped my bra strap over my shoulder, the good feeling started to bother me. His sensuous kisses became irritating.
All of a sudden, I wanted him away from me. “Stop!” I yelled, wondering what I had been thinking. “I can't do this. I don't love you. I don't want you.”
He looked at me, but only for a moment before he tried to cover my mouth with his. I pushed him away. Now I knew how Chase had felt when I had pushed myself on him.
“Come on, babe. Let me make you feel good.” It was as if he were ignoring my words.
I pulled up my bra strap. “I'm sorry, Devyn.”
As I put my blouse back on and buttoned it, Devyn continued to try to convince me. “Look, I know you had a thing with Chase, but he's a big football star now. He can get some anywhere. I'm sure you ain't nowhere in his thoughts.”
I looked at Devyn as if he were crazy. I wanted to slap that boy. Tell him to shut up. Tell him he didn't know what he was talking about. But his words sounded too close to the truth. Chase probably wasn't thinking of me.
I pulled on my stockings, praying for strength. Praying for the Lord to come to me and help me understand all of this.
It worked, because I suddenly realized that it wasn't sex I needed to make me feel whole. It wasn't Devyn or Chase. I needed to be happy with me because I was a child of God, not somebody's girlfriend. I longed for the deep, abiding pleasure of God's Word, not the temporary pleasure of sin.
I looked around for my skirt and found it draped over the back of the headboard. As I reached for it, I heard the front door open and slam into a wall.
“Devyn! Where are you?”
Oh, great! I thought at the sound of Aisha's voice. I struggled into my skirt.
“You best not have that wench in here,” Aisha screamed, her footsteps stomping closer. “I done heard you was comforting her at her mama's funeral, but she better not be in my house!”
With a cocky grin, Devyn opened the bedroom door. He was still only dressed in his underwear.
Aisha stood in the doorway, her tummy bulging under a maternity top that hugged her middle. She glared at Devyn, then turned her eyes to me. Before I could do anything, she flew at me like a maniac. She had me pinned up against the wall, her hands gripping my neck.
“I'm gonna kill you for messin' wit' my man.”
Aisha was sweating profusely. She had to be on something—speed, heroin, crack. I wasn't sure. I managed to squeeze away from her grasp and searched desperately for my shoes. I noticed them halfway under the bed, and lunged for them. When I stood up, shoes in hand, Aisha pulled a 9mm pistol from her purse and aimed it at me with shaky hands.
“Aisha, put that gun down!” Devyn shouted, positioning himself between this crazy woman and me.
“Don't tell me what to do, boy. You just step back. I'm gonna shoot you too before I let you be with another!” She wagged the gun in his face.
With her focus on him, I dashed for the phone. Before I could dial, she growled, “Don't even think about it!” Her red-rimmed eyes glared at me like a wild animal's.
I felt like I was in the middle of a movie. This chick was about to shoot me over Devyn, and I didn't even want him. Maybe if I told her that, she'd let me go. But I knew the drugs in her system probably wouldn't allow her really to hear me.
The wild woman shoved past Devyn and pressed the pistol against my temple, forcing my head back.
“Aisha,” I mumbled, “I just lost my mom.”
“Yeah, and you about to join her,” she said as she cocked the hammer.
I closed my eyes and sent up a quick, panicked prayer. Lord, help me, please. I know I got myself into this mess just by coming up here with Devyn. Please, Lord, don't let me die!
“Girl,” Devyn yelled. “Quit being stupid! Give me the gun. I ain't gonna ask you no more, Aisha! Give me the gun. Now!”
She turned, removing the barrel from my temple and pointed the gun at him. “You want it? Here!”
A deafening explosion ripped through the room. I screamed, horror coursing through my veins. Devyn stood, staring at Aisha with wide eyes. He turned and stared at the jagged hole in the wall behind him.
I wondered if she was simply trying to scare him or if she was just a bad shot.
“Why, you crazy—” Devyn charged toward Aisha. She kept the gun aimed at him, but her hands quivered. She looked too scared to move.
Devyn took advantage of her uncertainty and tackled her. The gun flew across the floor. While the two of them scurried, trying to reach it, I stood frozen.
Finally shaking myself out of the panic, I ran toward the front door, slipping on my shoes as I went. Just as I opened the door, I heard another shot. I stopped, my hand still on the doorknob, wondering what sound I would hear next. My heart raced as I held my breath.
Silence filled the apartment for what seemed like an eternity before I heard Devyn's voice.
“Zoe, are you still there?”
I sighed, relieved. “I'm here, Dev.”
“Call the paramedics! She's been shot in the stomach. Zoe, please, call for help!”
I looked around the living room and rushed to the phone. I dialed 911 and screamed all the information to the operator. Still on the line, I opened the front door, then ran back to the bedroom.
My stomach churned at the sight that met my eyes. Blood was splattered over the carpet, the bed, the walls. It was all over Devyn's hands and clothes.
Aisha lay in his arms, holding her belly. “My baby” she squealed. “Lord, I'm sorry. Please help my baby!”
As I looked at this girl suffering in pain, then thought about that poor innocent baby who might never be born because of its mother's actions, I realized afresh the severe consequences that often follow sin. But I didn't want to spend the time judging. All I wanted to do was whatever I could to save them both.
“We need to try to stop the bleeding,” I said, my voice shaking. I grabbed a pillow and threw it to Devyn. “Put this under her head,” I ordered. Then I raced to the bathroom and grabbed every towel I could find.
As I returned to the room, I pushed the thought from my mind that it could have been me lying there. Or it could have been Devyn. Although this girl was definitely not out of danger, I thanked God we were all still alive.
Devyn elevated Aisha's head while I lifted her top, pulled down the waistband of her pants and pressed the towels against her gaping wound.
She looked up at Devyn with tear-filled eyes. “Do you think our baby's gonna be okay?”
“Our baby's gonna be fine,” he replied.
I glared at Devyn. Before, he had tried to get with me and claimed Aisha's baby wasn't his. I wanted to call him on it, but I knew this wasn't the time. At least now I understood why she had gone to such desperate lengths. She was trying to protect her so-called family.
I heard paramedics holler from the front door.
“In here!” I called. They rushed in, pushed Devyn aside and immediately went to work on Aisha.
I picked up my purse, desperate to leave.
Devyn followed me into the hall. “Zoe, I…I don't—”
I whipped around, facing him. “Get in there and save your baby, Dev And don't bother to call me. I'll be praying for you, but this is good-bye. For good.”
“Zoe.” He tried to hug me, but I escaped his embrace and walked out the door.
Two days after my mother's funeral and the Devyn-Aisha fiasco, I was back at work. I hadn't been at my desk for more than five minutes before my boss came to my cubicle.
“I'm so sorry to hear about your mother, Zoe. You know you didn't have to come back so soon.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I needed to get busy catching up on everything. Besides, I want to be here.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything,” Mr. Ware said.
When he left my office, I leaned back in my chair. I was glad to be back in Seattle, away from everything in Miami.
I thought back over the last few days. Devyn called before I left Miami just to let me know that Aisha had delivered a baby boy. He was two months premature and was in intensive care.
He sounded happy as he told me the news, and I was actually happy for him. Devyn had always wanted a son. I hoped this little life would make him step up to the plate and take responsibility for what was his.
And it was time for me to take responsibility for my life as well. I didn't even want to think about what was going to happen next in my life. There was always something going on. I just wasn't sure what shape the next challenge would take.
I wanted to continue to look at things through God's eyes and hold on to Him for strength, like a blind man trusting his dog to lead. I was determined to learn that lesson and live it.
My thoughts were interrupted when my phone rang.
“Zoe, it's Shay.”
“Hey girl,” I exclaimed, glad to hear from my friend. I had only spoken to her for a minute when I was in Miami. “I was about to call you to see if you got my note saying I was back. I didn't want to wake you. Do you want me to cook dinner tonight? I have a lot to tell you.”
“Dinner? Zoe, haven't you heard about the rape?”
My breathing became erratic. The next challenge was rushing at me already. “What are you talking about?”
“It's all over the news. The police said Chase raped that cheerleader.”
“What?” I nearly dropped the receiver.
“Coach Sykes is supposed to hold a press conference from your upstairs offices. What are you doin' sittin' at your desk, girl?”
I peeked over the wall of my cubicle. The rest of the staff was gone. The place was as quiet as a tomb. Now that I thought about it, I had noticed a frantic atmosphere when I came in that morning. I'd just figured, with the team doing so well, everyone was hyped about the play-offs. I never thought about the possibility of there being trouble. Especially not this kind of trouble. And not with Chase!
“Find a TV quick, girl,” Shay shouted. “The reporters are talkin' to your boy, and he's sittin' in the back of a police car.”
Hearing lots of sirens, I dropped the phone and ran to a window overlooking the parking lot between the offices and the stadium. Media vans were everywhere, surrounding a black-and-white cruiser with its lights flashing. Reporters wielding microphones followed the vehicle as it drove away. I couldn't see if Chase was in the car, but I hoped it wasn't him.
I rushed toward the conference room, shoving my way through a mass of television news crews. “Where have you been?” Mr. Ware asked, ushering me to a seat in the front row.
“I didn't know we were holding a press conference,” I said meekly.
“I was sure someone would have told you,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
Our hushed conversation was interrupted by the coach clearing his throat at the podium. A dozen microphones were planted in front of him, and cameramen flashed photos every two seconds.
“I have had the chance to speak to Chase Farr,” the coach began, “and we are firmly standing behind him. He has denied these allegations, and anyone who knows him will testify that he's a model human being, both on the field and off.”
“This is crazy,” I whispered to myself. Chase? Accused of rape? I had tried to give it to him and he turned me down. I know he would never take it from anybody. “This is a bunch of bull,” I muttered.
Coach Sykes acknowledged one of the reporters, all of whom were flailing their hands in the air, trying to ask questions.
“Sir, the Storm cheerleaders have a reputation for conducting themselves with high moral standards. Do you really think this girl is lying?”
Oh, hush, I wanted to shout. You don't even know Chase. Or that witch of a cheerleader. If you did, you'd know perfectly well which one was lying.
“We do stress to all of our cheerleaders the importance of high ethical standards,” Coach answered.
“However, I do not have direct interaction with these girls. I don't know this particular young lady personally. I hope this was all simply a misunderstanding. Until we have further details, that's all I can say at this point.”
Another reporter asked, “Coach Sykes, you've got a big game coming up this weekend. Is Chase Farr going to play?”
“We're hoping so,” Coach answered. “We need him on the field, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens. But at this time, the most important thing is for this situation to be cleared up.” He looked around the room. “One more question, and then I must get back to my team.”
Several reporters fought for the privilege. Coach Sykes chose one.
“Last week the GM said you were hoping to sign Chase Farr to an extended contract, making him one of this team's franchise players. That deal allegedly had a lucrative signing bonus. Will those negotiations be tabled until it's determined whether or not you have a criminal on your hands?”
The room buzzed. The coach's voice silenced the din. “All I can say right now is that Chase Farr is an outstanding player, and our organization would be happy to have him with us for a long time. Our other players, many of whom have been here for years, are playing to a higher level now with Chase on board. This young athlete gives an incredible amount of physical talent to this team. But more important, he also gives his heart. Chase Farr really cares about his team, his teammates and this community. He has shown us all how to step up a notch and make great things happen.”
I was thrilled to hear something positive being said about Chase in the midst of all this rubbish.
“It's a tragedy that such a man is accused of this heinous crime,” Coach Sykes continued. “Until we have some solid evidence to the contrary, I personally am going to believe he's innocent.” Coach Sykes left the podium, surrounded by insistent reporters.
I followed the reporters until they gave up chasing Coach Sykes. Then I continued to trail him down the hall. “Coach,” I said.
He turned, looking exasperated. “Yes, young lady?”
A Lova' Like No Otha' Page 16