I leaned toward Shereen. “What’s he talking about?”
Shereen huffed. “Something you most definitely need to be hearing.”
“Anyway,” I said as I sat back and tried to focus on his sermon.
“See, if God ain’t saying something we want to hear or something we think can directly benefit us, we don’t listen to Him. Tell me, church, are you listening to God?” The reverend continued.
“Yes!” several people shouted.
“Are you really listening? With your heart? Can you hear what He’s really trying to say to you?”
“Yes!” they shouted again as the organist began playing.
I sighed in exasperation. Here we go, the dance and minstrel show.
Growing up, everybody and their mama at Greater Gethsemane back in Sweet Poke used to get the Holy Ghost. I could never understand why people had to dance and shout to give honor to God.
I tuned out all the shouting and began mentally making my checklist of things I needed to do this week.
I felt a bit of relief when I heard Pastor Jackson begin to wrap things up. It took fifteen more minutes before he finally dismissed the congregation, but when he did, I grabbed my purse and made a beeline to the door.
“The devil was hard at work on you today,” Shereen said as she caught up with me in the church lobby.
“Since when did you become a Holy Roller?” I asked.
She laughed. “Why I gotta be a Holy Roller? Because I believe in God?”
“I believe in God.”
“I can’t tell.”
“Why? Because I don’t jump up and down and shout like I’m crazy?”
“No, because you don’t act like it. When’s the last time you prayed?”
“I pray,” I said defensively.
“I mean really prayed? For something other than for Myles to act right.”
I cut my eyes at Shereen. “That was a low blow.”
“You know I keep it real with you, Rae. And as a Christian, it’s my duty to tell you when I don’t think you’re living right.”
“What? So now you’re a soldier for God’s army? Miss Sleep-with-anything-that-shows-me-attention.” I was pissed now. How dare she try to challenge me?
Shereen looked at me like she wanted to curse me out right there in the lobby of Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church. Then she slowly smiled. “Okay, you got me back ’cause that was a low blow, too.” She reached over and grabbed my hand. “Girl, you know I don’t judge you. I can’t judge you because my house is falling apart itself. I just feel like you’re not really happy, even though you try to pretend you are. And I thought that if you sought guidance from God, it would help guide you in the right direction.”
I rolled my eyes to the top of my head. Try as I might, I couldn’t stay mad at Shereen.
I was just about to say something when we were interrupted by a loud voice in the corner of the lobby.
“Why you gotta bring her here, Bobby, huh?”
I looked toward the young woman. She looked like she couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Her auburn-tinted curls framed her delicate face. She was pretty, too pretty to be standing in the church lobby acting a fool over some man.
“Oh, Lord, here she goes again,” Shereen said.
“Who is that?”
“Girl, that’s Reverend Jackson’s drama-filled daughter, Rachel. Her baby daddy married somebody else and she ain’t taking the news too well.”
“Rachel, that’s my wife and this is the church she attends,” the man responded as he picked up a little boy who was the spitting image of him.
Rachel started crying. “You’re supposed to be the man. Find another church! Do you know how much this hurts me?”
People had started to stop and stare. A handsome man in a choir robe walked over and whispered something in Rachel’s ear before taking her hand and leading her out of the lobby.
I shook my head in disgust. That would’ve been my life had I stayed in Sweet Poke. Somebody’s baby mama with no class whatsoever.
“You ready to go, or are you still mad at me?” Shereen’s voice broke my thoughts.
“I’m fine.” I followed Shereen out to her car, where we got in and rode in silence for a good ten minutes.
Shereen reached over and turned down the volume on the gospel radio station we’d been listening to. “Rae, don’t get mad because I’m asking this, but why do you seem so, I don’t know, disconnected from God?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just that you are so hard on everybody, yet you let Myles run all over you. On the outside you look like a strong black woman, but it’s like you’re miserable on the inside.” Shereen exited the freeway and pulled onto the feeder road.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
She ignored my question and pulled into the Lakes at 610, a serene park on the southwest side where couples often came to talk and families came to play. Shereen parked the car and turned to me. “Now, tell me what’s really going on.”
I folded my arms and contemplated going off on Shereen, but finally decided that if she wanted the truth, I’d give it to her. “You want to know why I’m so disconnected from God, as you say? Huh? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s because I can’t for the life of me understand what kind of God allows a mother to just drop her kids off like they’re some old clothes she’s giving to Goodwill. I can’t seem to find praise for a God that will let those same children live a life of indescribable poverty.”
Shereen listened attentively. I felt empowered getting everything off my chest.
“In case you haven’t guessed, I’m talking about myself. My mother dumped me at a gas station in the middle of night and I didn’t hear from her for years. Granted, my grandmother raised me, but it was a horrible, poverty-ridden life. She struggled constantly, cleaning houses and taking care of people’s kids just to keep food on the table. My sister and I had to grow up too fast. My brother has leukemia and could die at any time. And my youngest sister, Jasmine…” I turned my head and took a deep breath before continuing. “My baby sister died a tragic death when she was just six years old. I ran as fast as I could from my life in Sweet Poke, Arkansas, and I haven’t looked back. I have had more than my share of tragedy.”
I waited for Shereen to ask me how Jasmine had died and was grateful when she didn’t.
“So, you’ll have to excuse me if I find it hard to be faithful,” I continued. Shereen still didn’t say anything. “What?” I said, turning to her.
She gave me a faint smile. “Nothing. I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “You do that, Shereen.”
We rode in silence the rest of the way home.
My conversation with Shereen was still fresh on my mind as I sat at Houston’s restaurant waiting on Myles. I knew she had some valid points about my relationship with God, but she just didn’t understand. I didn’t think she ever could.
I shook off the melancholy thoughts that had been plaguing me since Shereen dropped me off thirty minutes ago. I was here to have a good time and celebrate my Emmy nomination, which I found out about four days ago. I was up for another Emmy for best talk show host. I’d wanted to go out when I first found out about it, but of course, Myles couldn’t squeeze me into his schedule until today. Even though this celebration was late, I was determined to have a wonderful evening out with my man.
“Well, if it isn’t the second-best news anchor in town.”
I looked up at the leggy, blond-haired woman standing over me, Channel 13’s news anchor, Lorna Holliday. “Hello Lorna,” I replied, not bothering to fake a smile. “I see you’ve been going to Madonna’s hairdresser.”
Lorna patted her hair and I could tell I had hit a sore spot. “I’ll have you know, blonde is the latest fashion trend.”
“Not on black women, it’s not. But hey, I’m only an Emmy-nominated talk show host. What do I know?”
Lorna glared at me. “I see you
’ve resorted to dining alone,” she smirked.
“Lorna, it looks like your daughters are waiting on you?” I pointed at the two thirty-something looking women standing off to the side waiting on her.
“Those are my sisters,” Lorna snarled.
I shrugged and quickly turned my attention back to the menu. I didn’t feel like sparring with her and she was ruining my mood. The sad part was I’d never done anything to that woman. Well, except come in and topple her from her number one spot, but that wasn’t reason enough to hate me.
Lorna didn’t bother to say goodbye as she huffed and stormed off to her table.
I glanced at my watch. Myles was now forty-five minutes late and I was officially upset. Just as I was about to call his cell phone, my phone rang.
“Baby…”
“Let me guess,” I cut Myles off, “something came up.”
“Sweetheart, please don’t be mad. I was going to try and make it to dinner in between meetings, but it’s just not working out that way.”
“Myles, this was supposed to be a celebration!” I caught Lorna looking my way, no doubt trying to be nosy.
“I know, baby. But I promise I will make it up to you. I just—”
I didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence. I snapped my cell phone closed, grabbed my purse, paid for my strawberry margarita and hightailed it out of the restaurant.
Chapter 10
I was so not believing this. I had just begun reading my e-mail at work and the first message had me fuming. It was from Richard, who had been missing in action, but I guess had stopped in the office long enough to send this e-mail.
It is my extreme honor to announce the promotion of Simone Sanders from production assistant to reporter trainee. Simone has proven she is an invaluable employee and a solid journalist. Therefore, we will give her a chance to showcase her talents on air. She will train for six months before coming on board as a full-time reporter.
I was floored. How was she able to work that? It was just a week ago that she had had me look at her tape. I hadn’t even given it back to her yet. She needed to take her little yellow tail to a small town and work her way up like the rest of us had. What in the world was Richard thinking? I was beginning to think he wasn’t thinking. He didn’t half come to work these days and when he did, he was always acting strange. And this was definitely a strange move. I mean, the girl had no experience. And it’s not like we needed any more black faces. They had me, our weekend male anchor, and two reporters. If that little tramp thought she was getting her slimy paws on my job, she’d better think again. I would chew her up and spit her out.
I reread the e-mail, getting angry all over again and decided to call Stan. After his secretary patched me through, I didn’t waste any time.
“Hey Stan, just trying to figure out what’s going on with this reporter training they have Simone doing.”
“Helo to you too, Rae,” Stan replied, in his usual chipper voice. “Richard told me about that. It’s no big deal. He’s just trying to give the girl an opportunity.”
“Since when did we get in the training business?”
Stan laughed. “Do I sense a hint of jealousy?”
I didn’t see anything funny. “Don’t be ridiculous, Stan. I’m just trying to get clarification.”
“Rae, sweetheart, you have no cause to be bothered, feel threatened, or anything,” Stan said. “You know you are the person who keeps the viewers tuned in. The company just started a reporter trainee program and Richard thought Simone would fit well in it. But trust me, it will be a long, long time before she’s ever able to become my chocolate star.”
I smiled. That’s why I loved Stan. He knew just how to make me feel better.
“So don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything other than taking home yet another Emmy. By the way, congrats on that. You just keep doing what you do and making us all rich,” Stan said. “Look, my other line is ringing and I need to take this call. Are we okay?”
“We are. Thanks Stan.”
I sighed, put the phone back on the hook and was just about to delete the e-mail when my phone rang. “Rae Rollins,” I answered.
“Miss Rollins, you have visitors up front.” The receptionist was whispering into my phone. “They’re demanding to see you.”
“Kay, you know I don’t see people without an appointment. Get their names and numbers and send them on their way.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.”
“I told you her bougie ass wasn’t gon’ come out!” I heard a male voice shout.
“Hell, naw…she coming to see us!” a different male voice roared.
“Oh my God, Kay. Who are those people? Call security.”
“Well, I was going to,” Kay whispered. “But they say they’re related to you. They say they’re from some place north of here called Sweet Poke. And they aren’t leaving until they talk to you.”
I closed my eyes and prayed this was a really bad dream. This could not be happening to me.
“They say their names are Scooter and June Bug.”
“Why, why, why?” I stomped my foot under the desk so hard, I almost broke a heel. Scooter and June were some of my cousins from Sweet Poke. Kevin’s brothers. I thought Scooter was in jail himself. I hadn’t talked to either of them in years. They were pure country thugs. Why in the world were they bothering me?
“Do you want me to go ahead and call security?” Kay whispered.
I knew Scooter and June would act straight fools. The best thing would be for me to go ahead and see what they wanted.
“No, just tell them I’m on my way.” I placed the phone back on the cradle, took a deep breath, then headed up to the front office.
I was totally embarrassed when I saw them standing in the lobby. I was grateful that it was Kay at the front desk and not her backup, gossipy receptionist LaMonica. Kay was the epitome of professionalism. She wouldn’t go running to tell everyone about my people.
I surveyed Scooter and June. According to Mama Tee, the thirty-four-year-old twins were still living at home with Aunt Ola. With all the gold in their mouth, they probably could’ve bought their own place. Scooter sported a long, dripping Jheri curl. He had on baggy jeans and a FUB (not FUBU) shirt. The U looked like it had washed off. The Jheri-curl juice had his face looking like he had smeared Vaseline across it. June was the better looking of the two. He had thick cornrows and wore some Karl Kan (yep, no i) overalls. One strap was left undone and hung loosely across his chest. I wanted to tell him people stopped wearing their overalls like that twenty years ago, but then I figured, why bother?
“Scooter. June. Isn’t this a surprise?” I put on my best fake smile.
“What’s shaking, Cousin?” Scooter said.
“You high society now,” June added, looking at my picture on the lobby wall.
I simply smiled. “What brings you all down to Houston?”
“We need to holla at you ’bout a li’l sumptin’, Cuz,” Scooter said.
I looked at Kay, who had busied herself typing on her computer. I contemplated taking them into our conference room, but quickly nixed that idea. No way did I want anyone to see them.
“Why don’t we step outside? Did you park out front?”
“Word.”
I sighed and followed them out front. “Now, what’s going on?” I probably should’ve asked about Aunt Ola, but I was anxious to get this over with.
“Look here, we know you don’t like dealin’ with us too much since you left,” June said. “But, since you all big-time and stuff now, we thought you could help us.”
“With what?”
“We need you to get Kevin out of jail.”
I looked at them as if they were on crack. “Kevin, as in your brother Kevin? As in the Kevin that killed four people, robbed a bank, led authorities on a high-speed chase, hit an old lady crossing the street and shot at police? That Kevin?”
“Yep.” Scooter nodded as if he had just give
n me a simple request like, can I borrow $5?
“They treating him like dirt in there,” June interjected.
Yeah, that’s usually what they do to criminals, I wanted to say. “Guys, I don’t know what kind of power you think I have, but I can’t help Kevin.”
“Can’t you do an expo on the jail or something? I seen them undercover investigations the TV people be doing,” June pleaded.
“That’s exposé.”
“Whatever. All I know is corruption is goin’ on up at that prison and it needs exposing,” Scooter replied.
“Look,” June continued when he saw the utter confusion across my face. “Kevin would die if he knew I was telling you this, but some of them men up there, they funny.”
I still wasn’t getting it. “Maybe they use humor to pass the time.”
June let out an exasperated sigh. “Not that kind of funny.” He looked around, then fluttered his hand back and forth. “Funny, funny.”
I wanted to scream. “And your point?”
“Kevin is scared them funny dudes…” He paused and cringed. “He’s scared they might try something with him!”
“We got to get my baby brother out,” Scooter exclaimed. “You’ve got to get him out.”
I was still looking at them as if they were crazy. I couldn’t believe they were wasting my time with this foolishness. Even if I did have the power to get Kevin out of jail, I wouldn’t. I mean, good grief, four people were killed! “I don’t know what you want me to do. But number one, I don’t have that kind of power. And number two, he committed a serious crime, make that crimes with an s.”
“It ain’t him. He got hooked on that crack and it’s messed him up,” Scooter said, a pleading look etched across his face.
“I’m sorry.” I shrugged and headed back toward the front lobby. I didn’t know why I thought they would just go away. They followed me, no doubt trying to think of something to say to convince me to intervene.
“But he’s in pain,” Scooter protested.
“So is the old lady he hit in that chase, and the families of the four people he killed,” I bluntly responded without turning around.
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