by Jenna Brandt
“That’s a good idea,” Celeste said, “I think I will go do that now.”
“Text me how it goes.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll talk to you soon, Lana.”
After ending the phone call, Celeste stood up and made her way into the living room. She took a seat next to Megan and waited until the commercial before speaking.
“Megan, can I ask you something really quick?”
The black-haired girl looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow. “As long as it’s not about my bag again.”
Celeste let the snide remark slide, knowing getting defensive wouldn’t help the situation. Instead, Celeste shook her head and said, “No, I wanted to ask you to come with me to church tomorrow.”
The other girl looked surprised, as if she truly hadn’t expected the offer. She paused for a moment, before saying, “I don’t know, Celeste, I’m not a religious person. I think I’ll pass.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I go every Sunday. I would love for you to come with me any time.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, but I doubt I’ll ever be going.”
The dating show came back on. Megan’s attention turned back to the television, making it clear she was done with their conversation.
As Celeste made her way back into her room, she tried to push the disappointment from the other girl’s rejection out of her mind. She wanted to fall asleep so she could wake up and head to Journey Church the next day. She had missed last week due to being sick and couldn’t wait to catch up with everyone there.
The warmth and joy Celeste Allen looked forward to every week cascaded over her as she entered church the following morning. Grateful to be where she could relax, Celeste took a seat towards the middle of the church and sunk into the plush chair.
She glanced around the room, recognizing the regular attendees along with a few new faces. What surprised her was that a few rows up and to the left, she saw Lana’s fiancé, Bryce Montgomery, sitting with Roger Boswell.
Celeste recognized the other man from a catering job she did last year. It had been Mr. Boswell’s birthday, and not only had he been obnoxious and self-absorbed the entire night, he had let his friends ridicule Lana after setting the whole thing up to embarrass her.
Lana had forgiven Roger, claiming the former egotistical jerk was trying to change, but Celeste wasn’t buying it. Guys like that, who enjoyed flaunting their money and social status around, never changed. They could fake it for a while, but he would show his true colors again soon enough; Celeste had no doubt.
After service ended, Celeste debated about going up to Bryce. She would love to see him and talk about the wedding, but that would mean having to be around Roger. She just wasn’t in the mood after all the drama she’d been having with Megan.
Celeste turned around and headed out of the sanctuary, knowing she needed to get to her shift at The Spot before lunch time.
Before she could get away though, she heard Bryce’s familiar voice behind her. “Hey, Celeste, wait up.”
Slowly, she turned around and quirked an eyebrow at the pair of friends. “I see you brought someone with you today.”
“I did. I asked Roger to come awhile back, and he finally decided to take me up on my offer.”
Celeste crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she looked at Roger. “Is that so?”
Roger’s eyebrows shot up in shock as he said, “I figured it was worth checking out at least once, considering how much Bryce has changed because of it.”
“He didn’t change because of church; Bryce changed because he gave his life back to God. You’d be smart to follow his example, though I doubt you’re the type who would find that appealing,” she stated with an irritated tone. “It would mean giving up all the partying, the booze, the women; you know, all the stuff you live for.”
“I see Pastor Greg waving me over. He probably needs to talk to me about the wedding,” Bryce explained. “It’s a lot of logistics to fly his family out to LA for the wedding. Are you two going to be okay if I go over there?”
When both of them shrugged without another word, Bryce said, “All right, I’ll be right back,” before taking off across the lobby.
Once they were alone, Roger asked with confusion, “Geez, why are you attacking me so hard? What did I ever do to you?”
“You hurt my best friend. Anyone who could be as mean to Lana as you were, doesn’t hold much weight with me,” she clarified.
Roger nodded. “I get it. What I did to Lana was awful. I regret it very much. Luckily, both Bryce and Lana were good enough to forgive me and give me a second chance. I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful for it.”
Celeste eyed Roger skeptically as she wondered if he was being truthful. He seemed sincere, but it was possible it was just an act. She figured the best way to find out was to ask him a few more questions.
“So, since you did come today, what did you think?”
“I have to admit, I came in here jaded from my past experiences at church, but to be honest, your church is nothing like the one my parents sent me to growing up. I like this one.”
“What do you like about it?” Celeste probed.
“The people, the music, what the pastor talked about; all of it actually. There isn’t anything I don’t like, now that I think about it.”
Celeste cocked her head to the side as she listened to him go into detail about what he thought about the message. She was surprised to find herself not only agreeing with him but impressed by his observations.
“I guess you really were listening,” Celeste conceded. “Color me surprised.”
“Hey, I know I come off like I don’t have much of a brain, but I just hide it well,” Roger confessed. “It’s about time I start using it for something good.”
“I have to get going, but it was good that you came. I hope you come back.” As she said the words, Celeste realized she meant them. She wanted Roger Boswell to continue coming to Journey Church, not only for his spiritual growth, but for some reason, she secretly looked forward to the idea of seeing him again.
1
Three months later.
Roger’s new life was hard. He hadn’t expected to find himself struggling so much. Letting go of his old life in order to make room for his new one as a Christian was like walking a tightrope. Every time he thought he was making progress, his old friends seemed to jiggle the rope, causing him to falter.
Tonight was no exception. Though it was for a charitable event, it was all just smoke and mirrors. George Willmont, Roger’s previously close friend, was masterful at cleverly packaging a pretentious party to make everyone feel better about spending ten thousand dollars a plate on a meal. Roger used to be one of them, but now all he could think about was how the hundreds of thousands of dollars being raised for their former preparatory school could be better used to help fund the orphanage in South Africa that Pastor Greg mentioned last week.
“What’s going on with you, Roger? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Matilda Bronston, a vapid brunette socialite, asked with irritation. “I would have come with someone else if I knew you were going to ignore me all night.”
Roger turned his attention to the woman, more out of obligation than desire. All she wanted to do was gossip about the other guests, and complain about her food and wine. He didn’t care to listen to any of it, but he knew being mean to her wasn’t right. It wasn’t her fault he was trying to change and couldn’t stand being around the people who used to fill his life.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
Matilda leaned towards Roger like she was sharing the biggest, juiciest morsel of food in the world. “I was telling you that, Linda, George’s date for tonight, just had another nose job. Apparently, she was having a little too much recreational fun with the old one. She burnt a hole clean through it. She claims it’s because she has a deviated septum, but we all know that’s just code for too much blow.”
Roger repressed the si
gh that wanted to erupt from inside him. Why had he never noticed how annoying all his friends were? Why did he keep coming to these things, anyway?
He realized that if he stayed in his seat one more minute, he was going to say something he regretted. Roger stood up and placed his napkin next to his plate. “I need to visit the restroom. I’ll be back.”
She shrugged. “That gives me time to go take a smoke break. I’ve been trying to kick the habit, but it’s so hard. The good news, it keeps me in this size zero,” she said, wiggling her body and placing her hands on her hips as she stood up.
It was obvious she did the little dance to make Roger look at her body. Even though he would have found the idea of spending a night with her tempting three months ago, the idea of it now repulsed him.
Roger rushed from the private dining room and made his way down a hall. He found the restroom, but before he could go inside, he heard the laughter of George along with another man’s float towards him from behind.
“There you are, Roger. Ducking out on us again?” George teased. “It seems like we’re seeing less and less of you these days.”
“I’ve just been busy,” Roger defended.
“Come now, we all know you don’t have a busy bone in your body, well, unless you count when it comes to the ladies,” Artie Frankhurst stated with a sly smile, “but I heard you’re even striking out on that lately.”
“Give him a break,” George chastised. “Roger’s been lost since Bryce up and left all of us to chase after that waitress. Who would have thought he would leave Manhattan to go live in LA?”
The other man’s face scrunched up in disgust as he said, “Well, I guess there could be worse places to get stuck, though I can’t imagine a woman beautiful enough to make me move there.”
“You don’t say?” Roger questioned with anger. “I’m pretty certain you took your father’s private jet, Artie, and chased after that Playboy bunny pretty hard last year, didn’t you? She wasn’t a fraction of the woman Lana is.”
“That’s surprising, hearing you defend that waitress like that,” George stated. “You disliked her more than anyone.”
“And I was stupid and wrong to think or act that way. She’s a famous TV star now, by the way, not that she wasn’t good enough before.”
“Loyal to Bryce until the end, even when he leaves you in his wake,” George said with a sigh. “Not sure what’s going on with you, but just remember we’re the only friends you have left.”
“Guess some people don’t know when they’ve been ditched,” Artie added. “Let’s get out of here and head back to the party. No point in trying to convince grandpa here to come back.”
Roger wanted to form a rebuttal, but before he could, both men turned and walked back from where they came. He supposed it didn’t matter. Why did he want to convince them of anything anyway? Unfortunately, part of him still cared what they all thought of him. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. Silently, he sent up a prayer and asked God to help him let go of his desire to fit in with his former friends. He didn’t need this life anymore, he just had to find a way to change his old habits.
With a quick glance at her Fitbit watch, Celeste sped up her run. If she was going to finish up her work-out on time before heading to her shift at The Spot, she needed to be in the changing room in the next ten minutes.
Celeste increased the pace of her treadmill, wanting to finish strong. As she settled into a steady rhythm, her mind drifted to her audition from the previous day. The casting director seemed impressed with her performance, but like most of them, he had been hard to read. She hoped she would get the part. Even though it was only a mid-level role in an off-Broadway play, it would get her feet in the door possibly getting her noticed by the right people.
Her acting career—if she could even call it that since it consisted of a handful of regional commercials and three minor parts in television and movies—seemed to be trending down rather than up. She hadn’t booked a job in over six months and that hadn’t happened since she first moved into Manhattan five years ago. She was approaching her mid-twenties, and in the highly competitive industry, her age was almost ancient. Did that mean she was getting too old for the industry? The offer from Lana was still on the table, but would that be a pity job? Could she stand the resentment the other people on the show would feel towards her? She wasn’t built to take handouts, and definitely didn’t want to make people dislike her because of it. No, she needed to stay in New York and fight for her dream of starring on Broadway. If she left now, she would regret it the rest of her life.
As Celeste climbed off the treadmill, she picked up her towel and patted her face and neck, then let it rest around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, alerting she was receiving a text. She pulled it out of the arm strap and glanced down at the screen.
Hey bestie,
I was just checking in on you.
God put you on my heart and I wanted to let you know,
I’m praying for you.
Call me when you get a chance.
Oh, and don’t forget, Hebrews 11:1 says:
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen.”
God will direct your path.
All you have to do is trust Him.
I’m here if you need me.
Lana ended the text with her usual heart emoji and praying hands.
The text warmed Celeste’s heart and made her realize that rather than try to figure everything out on her own, she needed to seek God in her decisions more. God had never failed her, and she needed to trust more that He never would.
The short subway ride to The Spot passed by quickly as Celeste read the Bible on her phone and silently prayed to God. By the time she arrived, her spirits were lifted and she was ready to enter the chaos of the Friday crowd at the posh Manhattan restaurant.
“There you are, Celeste. You need to get out on the floor right away,” Rick Tillman, her micromanaging silver-haired boss, said in a stern voice.
She glanced down at her cell phone and raised an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. “I’m not late, Mr. Tillman. I still have ten minutes before my shift starts,” she reminded her boss in the kindest tone she could muster. She didn’t like being chastised as if she were late when it wasn’t the case.
“I know, but you’re pushing it pretty close. Maybe you should leave a little earlier next time,” he admonished. “We’re already short-staffed today. What if the subway ran late?”
She pressed her lips together and counted to three before she forced herself to state in a calm voice, “I’ll take your advice under consideration.”
“Go ahead then, get to work,” he said while gesturing towards the door that separated the employee area from the guest side.
Celeste didn’t wait for a follow-up curt order and took off through the door. Once she was safely away from her boss, she lifted her tablet and made her way to her section.
The first two tables were filled with groups of men and women fresh from work in the business district, made obvious by their suits and work pumps. They quickly ordered and got back to drinking and talking about their work day.
As Celeste’s eyes took in the guests at the third table, she took in a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back, preparing herself for the onslaught of abhorrent behavior. The table was filled with Richies—the nickname that Lana and Celeste gave the wealthy elitists of Manhattan—and they often frequented The Spot, to Celeste’s ongoing distaste.
If the tips weren’t so good, Celeste would have quit the job a long time ago. She needed the steady income the work gave her, however, as her other job as a catering waiter was less dependable.
“Good evening, my name is Celeste and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I take your drink orders?”
The group ordered several cocktails, as well as a round of shots before Celeste followed it up by asking if they would like any appetizers.
“Why don’t
you run along and get our drink orders in, Sugar, before you worry about appetizers,” an intolerable brown-haired man said with a smug smile.
As Celeste nodded and started to move away, she tried to mask the red that she could feel flooding her cheeks. She heard one of the women at the table say in a whisper—that really wasn’t a whisper at all, “Geez, you would think Bryce would have his staff trained better than that. Makes you wonder if we should find another place to eat at on Friday nights.”
“It’s probably because he’s in LA all the time now,” one of the other men said with irritation. “First, we lose Bryce to that waitress, and now we’re losing Roger to religion. He’s not even showing up tonight, which shows how much he’s changed. He would have never stood us up four months ago.”
“What’s the world coming to,” another person stated with dismay. “Friends aren’t even friends anymore.”
These were Roger’s friends? It made sense. They had looked familiar when she first approached the table. She chalked it up to them being regulars, but now she knew it was because several of them had been at his birthday party last year. They had been awful then too.
Her stomach knotted with apprehension. She wasn’t sure if she could take a whole night of dealing with them. It wasn’t as if she were close to Roger, but she had been seeing him regularly at church each week. If these so-called friends of his got wind of her hanging out with Roger, she knew they would tear her apart like animals in the wild.
She quickly went and checked on the drink orders. When the bartender handed her the first set of drinks, a wave of gratefulness washed over her. At least they wouldn’t be able to complain about the promptness.
Celeste returned with the cocktails and placed them in front of each guest.