Torn Between Two Lovers

by Carl Weber

  Peter was becoming more animated as he spoke, like he was enjoying the storytelling, proud of his ability to track down my lovers and destroy them—and me.

  “You know I didn’t even realize he was your friend Loraine’s husband until I showed up at their house.” He shook his index finger at me. “You know, you’re really not a nice person, Jerome. I mean, you can say whatever you want about me, but that’s some pretty low shit, fucking your best friend’s husband.”

  “It wasn’t something I planned to happen. But sometimes we do things we wouldn’t necessarily do for love.”

  He nodded his understanding. “You know, I was thinking the same thing as I shot Big Poppa’s ass.”

  Tears were rolling down my face at this point. “Why?” was all I could manage to say.

  He rolled his eyes and spoke to me like an impatient parent scolding his child. “How many times do I have to tell you? If I can’t have you, then no one will. No one takes what belongs to me!”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? No one took anything from you. They didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

  “They took you from me, Jerome. Don’t you understand? We’re supposed to be together. They were getting in the way of you being with me!”

  “You’re crazy. We will never be together.”

  He leaned back casually against the railing. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Sooner or later, you’ll understand that there is no one else for you. The next man you try to get with, I’ll kill him too. I’ll kill them all if they get between us.”

  So this was Peter’s plan for the rest of my life: stalk me forever and destroy anyone I get close to, until I came back to him. It was time to put an end to this insanity.

  “Then you leave me no choice. I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” I took a step toward him.

  “You and what army?” He easily pushed me off with a derisive laugh. “You can’t stop me. You never could—that’s why your precious little Ron and Big Poppa are dead now.”

  I stomped my foot and screamed, “I’ve heard enough, Peter!”

  My outburst took Peter momentarily by surprise, but it had the desired effect. I looked up at the man who had heard my signal and was quickly advancing on Peter from behind.

  Peter turned to look in the direction of my gaze just in time to see the man reach out for him. He grabbed Peter by the collar and lifted him into the air. I moved quickly to his side and seized Peter’s feet.

  “You remember Freddie, don’t you, Peter? You thought it was pretty funny when his wife was chasing him around Outback, didn’t you?”

  “Wait!” Peter yelled, sounding on the verge of tears. “Jerome, I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore. Please don’t do this! I can’t swim!”

  “Oh, it’s not the water you have to worry about; it’s the rocks,” Freddie mocked as Peter went over the side. “Bon voyage, motherfucker.”

  We heard Peter’s screams all the way down. Then, silence. It was over.

  “Man, I almost didn’t think you were going to give me the signal,” Freddie said.

  “Yeah, you know, for a second I thought about backing out, trying to convince him to turn himself in. But in the end, it never would have worked. That crazy motherfucker would have been chasing me for the rest of my life.”

  Freddie shook his head. “Damn shame.” He looked over the edge, down into the darkness. “You think he’s dead?”

  “If the rocks didn’t get him, the rapids will.” I stepped away from the railing. I was ready to go home. “Did you take care of all the loose ends?” I asked as Freddie and I started walking.

  “Yeah. This guy didn’t even have any firewalls protecting his computer.”

  When I met Freddie and learned he was a computer whiz, I never could have imagined that I’d be asking him to put his skills to use in this way. I guess we never really know where life will lead us, do we?

  “Half an hour ago,” Freddie explained, “everyone on his Facebook page got an update that he was sick of life and didn’t want to live anymore.”

  I drew in a deep, refreshing breath of night air. “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem, Jerome. That son of a bitch deserved it. We still on for Thursday afternoon?”

  “Freddie, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to need a little time before I can go down that road again.”

  “Hey, after all you’ve been through, I totally understand.”

  Dear Readers,

  Wow! I hope you enjoyed reading Big Girls Do Cry and Torn Between Two Lovers as much as I enjoyed writing them. I have to admit I’m a little tired now. For you folks that say I don’t write them fast enough, well, I want you to know that putting out two books in one year is not an easy task, but I do hope to put out two books next year also.

  So, I hope you’ll look out for my new church drama, The Choir Director, in late January or early February 2011, where we meet smooth-talking Anthony Mackie and the women who love him. Then, later in the year, look out for something new and a bit edgier, with the first installment of The Family Business, a trilogy like none you’ve ever read. Who are the Dumpsons, and why does everyone fear them?

  Well, that’s it for me. Again, I hope you enjoyed my latest works. If you get a chance, hit me up on urbanbooks@hotmail.com, or visit my web site at www.carlweber.net. Until then, be safe, and leave the drama to me.

  Peace,

  Carl Weber

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS

  CARL WEBER

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The following questions are designed to facilitate discussion

  in and among reading groups.

  Did you think Leon was involved with his therapist at first?

  Was Loraine wrong for taking Leon to the same spa her and Michael visited?

  Would you have told your spouse if you found out that you were sexually molested as a child?

  At any time did you think Michael was losing it?

  Were you happy when Jerome and Ron hooked back up? Or did you think Jerome should have left him alone?

  What were your thoughts when Michael first purchased the gun? Was there ever a time you thought he’d used it?

  Was Loraine wrong for breaking up Michael’s relationship with Celeste?

  Have you ever had a stalker?

  Did you know who Big Poppa was? Were you surprised at all?

  Who do you think Big Poppa really loved?

  What would you do if you found out that your dying spouse was unfaithful?

  What was your opinion of Peter? Did he get what he deserved?

  On a scale of one to ten, what did you think of this book?

  Which character or characters would you like to see again?

  What is your favorite Carl Weber book?

  Carl Weber takes readers back to church with

  The Choir Director

  Coming in February 2011 from Dafina Books

  Prologue

  I stepped off the elevator and onto the third-floor hospice unit of Jamaica Hospital, holding my wife’s hand. As Monique and I walked down the hall, I recognized the pungent odor of medical disinfectant. It didn’t matter what hospice I visited; the smell was always the same, and it seemed to embed itself in my nostrils. I hated it because it always reminded me of the imminent deaths of the people in the rooms around me. Oh, I learned to tolerate it over the years, especially since visiting people in their last days was part of the job of being pastor of First Jamaica Ministries, the largest church in Queens, New York. But today’s visit wasn’t to just any old parishioner on their deathbed. No, today’s visit was with my best friend, James Black, who was dying of cancer.

  “T. K., Monique, get your behinds in here,” James coughed out when he saw us standing in the entrance to his room.

  Despite his condition, it was obvious he was glad to see us. As we entered the room, Monique’s grip tightened around my hand as she struggled to hold back her surprise at ju
st how bad James looked. I had tried to prepare my wife before we arrived, but words couldn’t describe how badly my good friend had deteriorated.

  This was the first time Monique had seen him since he pled guilty to murder charges a little over a year ago. I still couldn’t believe he’d gone to jail for a crime he hadn’t even committed. He’d been given a twenty-year sentence, but I pulled some strings after a recent visit when I heard his prognosis, and he was released for medical reasons. The cancer had taken a vibrant, six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound man and virtually turned him into a talking skeleton. Even more unbelievable was the fact that his hair was completely white. He seemed to have aged twenty years in a year’s time.

  It didn’t take my wife long to gather her composure. In a matter of seconds, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around James to give him a kiss on the cheek. She shot me a pointed look when she spotted a picture of his two grown children sitting on the night table beside his bed. Monique hated the idea that his daughter and son were both missing in action and hadn’t come to see their father once since his arrest. I couldn’t say I blamed her, but I knew a little more about the situation than she did. I’d made a promise to James not to share what I knew, even with her.

  “So, Monique, how are you?” James asked as she took a seat in the chair beside his bed. “You’re looking good as ever.” He turned his head toward me and winked. “No offense, old friend, but your wife just gets finer and you get older.”

  “None taken.” I chuckled. “I think she looks pretty good myself. That’s why I married her, remember? And as far as getting old, well, I’m like a bottle of wine. I get better with time.”

  “Mmph, you sure do, honey.” Monique gave me a smile, then turned her attention back to James. “To answer your question, I’m doing fine. What about you? How you doing? You look good.”

  James laughed. “Girl, I swear, you have fit right into that first lady’s role, haven’t you?”

  I watched my beautiful wife blush.

  James spoke gently to her. “Now, I know I look like crap, so you don’t have to lie to me, Mo.” He sighed. “I know my best days are behind me. I’ve made my peace with that a long time ago. I’m ready to die.”

  “Who said anything about you dying? You’re probably going to outlive us all, you old coot.” I was trying to break up the mood in a way only a true friend could do.

  “If I do live that long, it’s only to be a pain in your ass, T. K.,” he joked, forcing himself to sit up. My wife helped him by propping a pillow behind his neck. “But seriously, I’m tired and I’m ready to go home. I just hope the Lord’s willing to let me in the door.”

  I hated to hear him say things like that, so I tried to offer him some encouragement. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, James. I think you’ve sacrificed enough, don’t you? The Lord—”

  James shot me a glance that basically said, Let’s not go there. I nodded my head out of respect for his condition and his feelings, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. That man had sacrificed his entire life for the love of his family and had been willing to die in a jail cell because of it.

  James quickly changed the subject. “So, Mo, how about him? He taking care of you the way he’s supposed to?”

  She reached out to take my hand as she answered him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man. I couldn’t have asked for a better life.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” James nodded his approval. “Are those wenches in the church treating you all right? They’re not trying to run over you, are they? ’Cause all you have to do is kick one of them in the ass and the rest will fall right in line,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve got them right where I want them.” Monique and I had had a rocky start to our relationship, because certain members of the church—mostly female—thought her rumored past was too dicey for her to be considered a candidate for the role of first lady after my first wife died. She was strong, though, and had withstood the storm. Now she was well respected and loved by most church members. Even those who had been adamantly against our marriage knew enough to treat her cordially now, and they kept their opinions to themselves.

  “Besides,” she continued, “we have bigger problems than that at the church. With—” She stopped when I squeezed her hand, signaling for her to shut up, but it was too late. James’s body might have been failing him, but his mind was still sharp as ever.

  He sat up straight as a board, ignoring the pain. There were three things James loved most in this world: his two children and our church. He knew the ins and outs of church politics like nobody’s business. He’d been both a deacon and a member of the board of trustees just as long as I’d been pastor, and we made quite a formidable team. But now, with him being sick, I didn’t have the heart to tell him what we had built together over the years was crumbling.

  “What’s going on at the church, T. K.?” He was staring directly at me, and his eyes did not budge from my face.

  “It’s nothing, James, seriously. I can handle it.” I glanced down at my wife, who was trying to apologize with her eyes. I loved her to death, but just this once I wished she would have kept her big mouth shut.

  When I turned back to James, he was still staring at me, waiting for an answer.

  “What, do I look stupid? If it was nothing, you would have told me by now. Now, spill it. I wanna know what’s going on at my church.”

  My church. He was still claiming ownership in our church, despite the fact that most of our members had turned their backs on him when he was arrested for murder. If they only knew how selfless he really was.

  I began to pace back and forth in front of his bed. “James, you’ve got other things to worry about. You don’t need this nonsense. You need to concentrate on your health.”

  “Dammit, T. K. I’m dying. The only thing I got left is that church. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to make some calls and find out myself?”

  “Tell him, honey,” Monique prodded. “You two have always worked well together. Maybe he can help.”

  “Thank you, Mo,” James said matter-of-factly.

  I paced for a short while before I finally sat down next to my wife and looked at my friend, ready to tell him the truth. “The church is in trouble financially. We’re down about thirty-five percent in attendance and almost forty-two percent in revenue. The board’s already voted to close down the school next year.”

  “What? I built that school,” he said angrily. “We had plenty of money put aside in the school fund before I went to jail.”

  “Priorities changed when you left, James. I tried to keep things simple, but Trustee Wilcox was voted chairman, and he pushed to have money averted to the building of a new senior center.” I could see James running the numbers through his head. He’d always been good with figures, which was why he’d been elected chairman of the board of trustees despite his reputation as a womanizer.

  “You gotta be kidding me. What’s he trying to do, bankrupt the church?”

  “In his defense, things were going pretty well until attendance dropped.”

  “Why did attendance drop?” he asked. “What happened that pissed everybody off? People don’t just stop going to church.”

  “They do when the choir director’s trying to sleep with their husbands and sons.” Monique was trying to hold back a laugh. The situation definitely wasn’t funny, but just like plenty of other people, my wife had a weakness for gossip.

  “Oh Lord, it was Jackie, wasn’t it?” James asked with a frown. I nodded. “I told you we needed to get rid of that SOB years ago, T. K.”

  “Yeah, you did.” There was nothing I hated more than listening to one of James’s I-told-you-so lectures. “I just wish I had listened to you. That man’s wife has got the whole congregation in an uproar.”

  “What’s going on?” James asked, though I was sure he already understood the basic facts of the situation.

>   “His wife found his journal. Turns out all those rumors about him were true,” I admitted. “And she didn’t waste any time spreading the news either.”

  Jackie Robinson Moss had been our choir director for almost seven years. He was married to one of the deaconesses, but for years, there had been rumors about him having homosexual affairs with members of the congregation and choir. When his wife discovered the journal he kept, detailing all of the affairs, she gave copies to the wives of the ten men whose sexual escapades were included in the pages.

  I felt badly for his wife, and part of me could understand why she reacted the way she did. You can imagine how devastating the discovery must have been for her, and, well, misery does love company. Unfortunately, her coping method left me with a huge problem on my hands. Word spread quickly, and within two weeks, the entire choir disbanded, even though Jackie had already been fired and was no longer attending the church. My wife and I have been trying to put it back together to no avail. I never knew how hard a choir director’s job was until then.

  “Now no one is willing to be a part of the choir,” I said as I finished summing up the turmoil we’d been struggling with. “Now, I’m a heck of a preacher if I do say so myself, James, but nothing goes better with the Word than song and music. Our choir has always been a cornerstone of our church. Matter of fact, wasn’t it you who once told me that half the people in pews on Sunday were there to hear the choir?”