Nathan took a step back, proud.
Mary felt sick to her stomach. Whatever disdain she had for Rachel was negated by the fact that the woman had helped her out in a time of need. When Mary was arrested, they were about to put little Lester in foster care, and since Mary herself had grown up in the horrible foster care system, she’d begged Rachel to take him in. Mary had caused major havoc with Rachel, lying by saying the baby was Lester’s, so she hadn’t expected Rachel to do it. But Rachel put aside all of her hatred and took Lester Jr. into her home as her own. It was bad enough that they were going to take him back, but Mary couldn’t fathom that they were going to do it in such a public manner.
“I don’t want to do that,” Mary said softly. She hoped to appeal to his humane side. If he even had one, because more and more, she was starting to think he didn’t.
“Too late, it’s done.” Nathan walked back around behind his desk. “You’ll thank me later. Close the door on your way out.” He sat down and started eating his breakfast while he looked at his computer screen, her cue that this conversation was over.
Chapter
TWENTY-THREE
Rachel
Rachel enjoyed being on neutral ground when it came to filming this show. They weren’t at Jasmine and Hosea’s church and they weren’t at Mary and her bootleg preacher husband’s church.
Rev. Moses Woodruff had invited the First Ladies to his church to honor them as part of a women’s day program. Of course, he was probably just trying to get some publicity as well, but Rachel didn’t care. She was in neutral territory.
Rev. Woodruff took the podium. “Church, we are honored to have in our midst today three fabulous ladies, including the First Lady of our very own American Baptist Coalition.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes and Rachel stood and did a small pageant wave. Mary sat on the other side of Jasmine, because even in the Lord’s house, Rachel wasn’t trying to mask her disgust for that woman.
Reverend Woodruff continued, “I know some of you are wondering about the cameras, but if you read your emails, you’d see we are filming today. We are happy to be part of a new reality show. So, if you have a warrant or you’re supposed to be at work, I suggest you move to the back of the church.”
Chuckles filled the sanctuary as several people turned to look at the three cameras positioned throughout the church.
“And since it is Women’s Day,” Rev. Woodruff continued, “what better way to commemorate the event than to have an anointing word from the First Ladies.”
Rachel looked around the room. Were there some other First Ladies here? Maybe he was talking about his wife, the portly woman who sat in front of them in the gigantic, fruit-filled hat (Who even wore those anymore?)
“Sisters?” Rev. Woodruff said, motioning for them to come up to the pulpit.
Jasmine leaned over to Rachel. “I think he’s talking about you.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow but didn’t move.
“I see Satan is trying to keep you ladies in your seats.” He laughed when they still didn’t move. “Come on up.”
Rachel turned to Jasmine. “He said ladies. Plural. Come on.”
“I’m not going up there,” Jasmine replied.
“If I have to go, you’re going,” Rachel whispered, pulling Jasmine’s arm.
“And do what?” Jasmine whispered as she stepped out into the aisle behind Rachel.
“I don’t know,” Rachel whispered back. “Maybe he just wants to give us a word of thanks for being here.”
Rachel smiled again as all eyes were on them. She should’ve known they would have to speak. This was being taped, after all.
Mary stood and made her way out into the aisle as well.
“I’m coming, too,” Mary said.
Rachel ignored her and led the way up to the pulpit.
“All right, family. I’m sure they’re not as long winded as yours truly, but I can’t wait to be blessed with the word from these women.” Reverend Woodruff stepped aside and then pointed to the podium for them to step up.
Jasmine folded her arms and planted her feet firmly to let Rachel know she wouldn’t be uttering a word. Rachel saw Mary move toward the mike and since she wasn’t about to let that harlot steal the show, Rachel stepped forward.
But what word was she supposed to give?
Rachel took a deep breath. She could do this. As First Lady of the ABC, she spoke all the time.
“Greetings, family and friends,” Rachel began. “We just want to thank you for opening your doors to us. We know that when you hear ‘reality TV,’ you might be a little worried, but we want to assure you that we are all about uplifting His holy name.”
Rachel glanced back at Jasmine for help.
Jasmine smiled, then mouthed, “You got this.”
Ugh. Rachel couldn’t believe Jasmine was just gonna leave her out there like this.
She turned back to the crowd. “Our goal is to bring more people to Christ through this show and we hope that you will support it. Thank you.”
Rachel was just about to step away from the podium when she noticed Reverend Woodruff sit down and open his bible.
“Well, go on, sister. Tell us what verse you’re going to preach from today.”
Preach? “You want me to preach?” Rachel yelled before catching herself and saying, “I mean, we thought we were just saying hi.”
“Um, no. That’s what Women’s Day is all about.” The reverend looked confused as he glanced out into the audience. That’s when Rachel noticed Natasia, who was standing in the back with a smirk on her face. Now, this all made sense. This heifer thought she was slick. She was trying to make Rachel and Jasmine look like fools.
Rachel turned back to the pastor. “Umm, well, ah, we weren’t quite prepared.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re the First Lady of the ABC, you’re always prepared with a word.”
“Yeah,” Jasmine echoed. “You’re always prepared, Madame First Lady.”
Rachel wanted to hit her in her Botoxed eye. She was standing there smirking, too, like she was enjoying this.
Rev. Woodruff tapped his watch. “We’re ready for our word. The Falcons game comes on at two.”
Rachel turned back to the podium as the congregation erupted in laughter. She could do this. Between her father and her husband, she’d listened to enough sermons to come up with something on her own.
She began. “The word of God says . . .”
“Tell us what it says, sister!” someone shouted.
I will if you’ll give me a chance to talk, Rachel wanted to say. Instead, she just said, “The word of God says be faithful. What is faith? Faith is like taking that first step without seeing the whole staircase.” She paused. Why in the world was she drawing a blank? “It’s ummm, it’s ah, it’s about asking not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country.” Jasmine let out a loud cough. Rachel turned around and glared at her. Was she trying not to laugh?
Rachel took a deep breath. “We come to you today as women of faith, as women who had been through the storm. We love the Lord!” She looked around at the sea of faces just staring at her. Rachel had never in her life felt nervous. You can do this, she told herself. “Yes, we love Him,” she continued. “And if loving God is wrong, I don’t wanna be right!” That elicited some “amens” and eased Rachel’s nerves some.
“And when your faith is wavering, just do what James Fortune says and hold on! Don’t let anyone stand in judgment of you and your faith. Tell them you can do it all because it’s the God in you! Let them know that what they can’t see, is you on your knees, so the next time they ask you, just tell them it’s the God in me!” Rachel was getting into it as her voice rose.
“God is faithful, he may not come when you want him, but he’ll be there right on time.” She held her hands up to the ceiling. “Don’t be ashamed to tell someone to take you to the King, even if you don’t have much to bring.” She smiled, relaxed, and looked back o
ut at the congregation, many of whom were now looking at her crazy. That made her nerves flare up again.
“So, umm, just stay faithful,” she continued, “As Jesus told Paul in the Bible, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing will be impossible for you.”
Jasmine eased up behind her and whispered, “I think he was talking to Abraham.”
“Like you know,” Rachel hissed.
“Hosea just did a bible study on that,” Jasmine replied. “That’s how I know.”
Rachel pointed to the podium. “Then you take over since you’re a biblical scholar.”
“Actually, ladies,” Reverend Woodruff stepped in, “It was Peter that Jesus was talking to when He said that.” He nudged them aside and stepped up to the podium. Rachel wanted to cry tears of relief. “Sometimes you have multiple interpretations of a particular passage, but that’s the beauty of the word of God. His message never wavers. . . .”
A deacon stepped up and smiled as he held out his hand. “Ladies, I’ll help you back to your seats.”
Rachel couldn’t hear the rest of the sermon, she was so furious—at Jasmine for leaving her out there like that, and at Reverend Woodruff for interrupting her when she was just getting into it. As she glanced back at the sick smirk on Natasia’s face, her anger intensified. Natasia had tried, and almost succeeded, at making her look like a fool.
The next thirty minutes had to be the longest of Rachel’s life. She couldn’t wait to get out of there and hated that they had agreed to film the Women’s Meet and Greet afterward.
“ ‘What they can’t see is you on your knees’? Really, Rachel?” Jasmine laughed as they walked back to the room where the meet and greet was being held.
The cameras were getting set up in the back, so they weren’t rolling yet and Jasmine was going all the way in. “You combined the New Testament with R&B, gospel, and presidential addresses,” Jasmine said, cracking up.
“I’m just glad you find this amusing,” Rachel snapped. “At least I didn’t chicken out.”
“Whatever. I know a setup when I see one, and I wasn’t about to fall for it,” she replied.
Rachel glanced around the room for Natasia. She wanted to give that woman a piece of her mind before the cameras clicked back on. “Well, Natasia is your girl and you need to get her in check.”
“You’re the one talking about it’s your show. Check her yourself.”
Rachel threw up her hand at Jasmine. “Whatever, Jasmine. Don’t talk to me.”
“Why, because every day you smile?” Jasmine laughed. “Or because the Lord will never leave nor forsake you, isn’t that what it says in the Old Testament?”
“I don’t know, you were there when they wrote the Old Testament. You tell me. And while you laughing, you know as much as me, talking about Abraham. He wasn’t even alive at the same time as Jesus. Didn’t y’all used to date, though?”
“Say what you want, when the show airs, I won’t be the one looking like a fool in the pulpit.”
“I just got nervous and I was caught off guard,” Rachel protested. “Jesus taught in parables and that’s what I was trying to do.”
“Is that what you were trying to do?”
“Whatever, Jasmine. The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again.” Rachel cocked her head at Jasmine. “Proverbs 24:16. Bam!”
“Well, someone has been on BibleGateway.com,” Jasmine quipped.
Rachel rolled her eyes. She was done with Jasmine. All she knew was that fiasco today could not air. She was better than that and her gut told her that wasn’t a good look.
Rachel glanced around and spotted Natasia near the door. She was just about to march over there when Sonny announced, “Ladies, stand by. We’re about to roll in five.”
“I need a minute,” Rachel told him.
“No can do,” Sonny said, stepping out of the way as Chauncey began filming.
Rachel exhaled in frustration. She’d have to talk to Natasia later. She plastered on a smile as women started filing into the room. Rachel and Jasmine—Mary had disappeared—smiled as they greeted the women.
After a few minutes, Rachel saw Mary standing in a corner looking nervous. Why was she over there? But then, a tall, thin woman in a navy business suit stepped in front of Rachel.
“Are you Rachel Jackson Adams?” she asked.
Rachel stared at her, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed Chauncey zoom in. In fact, two of the cameras were positioned in her direction and the third was pointed at Mary.
“Ma’am, are you Rachel Jackson Adams?” the woman repeated.
Jasmine stepped up next to her. “What’s going on?”
Rachel didn’t answer her. For some reason, her stomach was in knots. Finally, she said, “I am.”
The woman handed Rachel a brown envelope. “You’ve been served.”
Rachel took the envelope, stunned. It seemed the room had grown silent and every eye was on her. Rachel slowly opened the envelope.
Petition for Sole Custody.
“What the . . . ?”
She scanned the document, not fully comprehending what she was seeing, but the words Mary and Nathan Frazier, sole custody, and Lester Adams, Jr. aka Lewis Adams stood out.
. . . Petitioners seek full custody of minor child . . .
Suddenly, Rachel forgot she was in church. She forgot cameras were rolling. She forgot all the progress she’d made in her walk with God. And she screamed as she bolted across the room toward Mary.
“I’m going to kill youuuuuuuu!”
Chapter
TWENTY-FOUR
Jasmine
Jasmine had no idea what happened. One moment, she was still chuckling inside about Rachel’s little Saturday Night Live sermon, and the next, she was watching Rachel take flight—almost literally. Rachel leaped across the room with the ferocity of a lion ready to pounce on her prey.
All Jasmine had heard was that woman ask Rachel her name, then say, “You’ve been served,” and seconds after that Rachel was screaming about committing murder.
But Jasmine had no time to think or figure it out. She sprang into action, knocking aside the pastor’s wife to get to Rachel. She grabbed the hem of her jacket, right at the moment when Rachel’s fist made contact with Mary’s jaw.
Jasmine was impressed—Rachel didn’t fight like a girl. She had socked Mary with an uppercut that would’ve had Floyd Mayweather shouting, “Well done.” But Jasmine didn’t stay around to admire Rachel’s handiwork, nor did she stay to see just how much damage she’d done. At least Mary was crying, which meant that Rachel hadn’t knocked her out cold.
“I’m gonna kill you,” Rachel still hollered, even as Jasmine dragged her away.
Jasmine was breathing hard, using all of her strength to hold on to Rachel as she screamed, and kicked, and squirmed.
“I’m gonna kill you, you two-bit ho!”
Jasmine weaved through the churchwomen, ducking and dodging past the big hats with brims large enough to cause an eclipse of the sun. No one made a move to help her. They all stood frozen, staring and in shock.
And the cameras . . . still rolled.
“You ain’t nothin’ but a trailer-park tramp. And you think you’re gonna get away with this? You’re one dead slut!”
Oh, lawd, Jasmine thought. She had to get Rachel out of there before she incriminated herself any further on national TV.
“Please!” Jasmine felt like she could hardly take another breath as she looked at the women surrounding her, standing like statues. “Bathroom!” She had to yell over Rachel’s screams.
At first, no one said a thing, then Reverend Woodruff’s wife, whom Jasmine had just knocked aside, stepped forward. “This way.” She pointed toward the hall.
“Let me go,” Rachel screeched.
It would’ve been easier if Jasmine had just knocked Rachel out. But then there would’ve been two violent acts in one scene. Jasmine shook her head. This was going to be some reality show.
<
br /> It was a blessing; like Reverend Woodruff’s wife said, the bathroom was just two steps across from the room. With her right foot, Jasmine kicked the door open, then tossed Rachel inside.
“What are you doing?” Rachel hollered.
“I’m saving your reputation and your life.” She gave Rachel a gentle push, keeping her away from the door. “Get over there!” She pointed toward the corner and it must’ve been her tone that made Rachel do as she was told.
The bathroom was small, only three stalls. But like Rachel had taught her just a few days ago, Jasmine checked every one. When she was sure they were alone, Jasmine leaned against the door so that no one could get in and Rachel couldn’t get out.
Rachel huffed and puffed like she was about to blow the whole church down. “You need to let me out of here ’cause I have a murder to commit.”
Jasmine folded her arms. “Really? Haven’t you had enough of murder? I mean, that was last year’s story.”
“I’m not playin’, Jasmine, this is serious. Do you know what this is?” she cried before she tossed the papers in the air.
Jasmine caught the papers before they fell to the ground, and then scanned the pages to see what had set Rachel off.
“Oh, my God!” Jasmine exclaimed after a couple of seconds. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!” Rachel said, and then the floodgates opened and tears poured from her. “That gutter-punk trick is trying to take my baby!”
For a moment, Jasmine thought about mentioning that Lewis wasn’t really her baby, but this was not the time to get technical. “Can they do this, though? I mean, didn’t Mary sign over her rights to you?”
Rachel nodded and wailed, “Yes! But I know plenty of people who’ve adopted children and then had to fight the biological parents when they changed their minds. Oh, my God! I cannot believe this is happening.” She sobbed so hard, she began to choke.
“Okay, Rachel, you’ve got to calm down,” Jasmine said as she put her arms around Rachel.
But Rachel jerked away from her embrace. “How can you tell me that?” Her eyes were red from her fury and her fear. “How would you feel if someone tried to take Jacquie or Zaya from you?”
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