“Hey, it wasn’t me,” Darius said, raising his hands in mock defense. His comment immediately elicited others from the brothers surrounding him.
“The brother’s coming up! Has a whole cheering section now!” one of them said.
“Just watch out.” Cy punched Darius playfully. “Sixteen will get you twenty.”
“Seriously,” Derrick said to Darius. “It would probably be a good idea to let a more mature woman of God get involved with … who are they calling themselves, Greg?”
“Darius’s Crew,” Greg said, laughing.
“Yeah, well, we want to make sure your crew’s main criterion is Christ,” Derrick replied.
“I told him the same thing,” Bo interjected. “I suggested Mother Moseley.”
“Suggested me for what?” Mother Moseley was preceded into the office by a twelve-inch black feather bobbing from a canary-yellow hat with a mesh veil and felt-covered foam canary perched on the brim. It was the perfect complement to her canary-yellow suit and platform shoes.
“Howdy-do, everybody!” She walked over and gave Bo a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw,” she cooed. Clearly her personality was not the only thing colorful about her.
That this seventysomething, staunch Christian woman from the South had embraced Bo and Darius’s relationship had endeared Faye Moseley to Bo forever. Her philosophy had been simple: “If that murdering David got into heaven, with his hundreds of wives and thousands of concubines, who am I to condemn you to hell?”
Her outward acceptance warmed some of KCCC’s frigid fellowshipping saints, and little by little, Bo was accepted—for the most part. He worshipped the ground she walked on.
“Aw, get out, Mama Mo,” he said. “And you better wear that yellow and give the sun some fierce competition.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, son.” Mother Moseley beamed. “Now, suggested me for what?”
“We’ll discuss it over dinner,” Vivian said as she hugged the woman who was like a second mother to her. “And anyway I have someone else in mind to oversee the group.” She winked at Hope before joining her husband on the other side of the office.
Hope shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood for a bunch of fast teenage girls chasing a grown man. In fact, the only children she wanted to be bothered with at this point were her own.
Her vibrating cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She checked the ID—Stacy. She walked out of the office and into the hallway.
“Yes,” she said, knowing the question before it was asked. “He’s in here.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, tell Darius I’m not giving the child to Tanya. He’s the father, and he should be the one I deal with.”
“You come tell him, Stacy.” Hope wanted to throw the phone. Here was a woman who had a beautiful healthy son and a father who wanted to be a part of the child’s life, and she was letting jealousy and pettiness overshadow the blessing.
There was a pause before Stacy answered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You come deliver that message or, better yet, let me pass the phone to Sistah Viv to see if she wants to carry the news. I’m not going to get in the middle of your mess.”
“Look,” Stacy replied, ready to go off. “I’m asking you as a friend—”
“And I’m telling you as a friend. Give Aunt Tanya her nephew and then come over to brunch. The councilman and his wife have been invited. I’ll make sure his handsome assistant and a couple other cuties get invited as well.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Whatever what?”
“Whatever, I’ll be there, that’s what.” Hope and Stacy often bickered but could never stay mad for long. “I saw Tony Johnson when I was going to the nursery. Give him a personal invite.”
Hope said she would and smiled as she ended the call. Mission accomplished. As Frieda always said, nothing could get you over one man faster than getting under another one. Especially a fine, fit, successful one like veteran pro football player T.J. the Tackler. And rumor had it the football field wasn’t the only place he could make some moves.
12
Delicious Chocolate
They said the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Hope didn’t know about that, but she sure knew the road to the Montgomerys’ brunch resembled that heated path. Things started out beautifully. The spread was exceptional, as always: spicy red snapper alongside rib-eye steak, fresh green beans, new potatoes, rice pilaf, stuffed artichoke hearts, and Vivian’s famous salad bar and dessert table adorned with nothing other than Mother Moseley’s famous German chocolate cake.
The company and conversation were equally delicious. Tony Johnson indeed brought his fine self to the Montgomery Mansion, as the church members jokingly called their first family’s large and elegant Beverly Hills home. Stacy was there as well, and Hope didn’t miss that she’d gone home and changed outfits. No one would have guessed her boyish frame had ever born a child. The soft knit dress made the few curves she did have stand out, not to mention the larger breasts and booty the pregnancy of little Jr. had thankfully left behind postdelivery. Tony wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. So had Councilman Jeffries’s assistant. Granted, he wasn’t pulling down the same amount of paper as his athletic competition, but he cut a mean portrait in his navy suit and ice-blue tie. He was charismatic, well-mannered, and obviously interested in Ms. Stacy Gray.
The feeling was mutual, and Tony’s recognition of the competition stirred the interest pot. Hope couldn’t have been happier as she watched the men’s subtle posturing for Stacy’s attention while Stacy genuinely enjoyed it. Either one of these men could make her all but forget about one Mr. Darius Crenshaw, Hope concluded. Maybe there could finally be a happily-ever-after to the soap-opera-style drama involving Stacy, Darius, and Bo.
Hope turned her attention to the devastatingly handsome Cy Taylor, who in his black Valentino suit with stark white silk shirt provided a touch of GQ class to the dining room. He was laughing with Mother Moseley, who was being her usual humorous self.
“So this little child loved Vacation Bible School and was running as fast as her legs could carry her to get there. She was fervently praying to the Lord, ‘Please don’t let me be late, please don’t let me be late.’ Girl got almost to the church when she tripped and fell. She got up, brushed herself off, and frowned at the sky. ‘Lord, please don’t let me be late,’ she repeated again as she ran toward the church doors. ‘But please don’t push me either!’” Mother Moseley’s eyes twinkled as she delivered the punch line, and as the others joined in, her laugh was the loudest.
“You’re too much, Mother Moseley,” Vivian said.
Before long Derrick joined in with a joke of his own, and soon multiple conversations sprang up around the table. But Stacy didn’t hear any of them. Her focus was on Tony, who’d gently touched her arm to get her attention.
“Are you a member of Kingdom Citizens?” he asked.
“Yes. Where do you normally go to church?”
“I normally go to City of Refuge, Noel Jones’s church. You familiar with it?”
“Of course,” Stacy responded. “Everybody knows Noel Jones.”
“Did you know his sister is Grace Jones?”
Stacy nodded as she finished her bite of perfectly baked fish. “And he loves his sister too!”
“That’s right,” Tony agreed. “Nobody better come up to him with a bad word to say about Grace, man—he’ll set ’em straight.”
“I think that’s one of the reasons his ministry is so successful. There’s room for everybody in his church.”
“Your church seems like that too,” Tony countered. “Just like that Darius dude—Darius Crenshaw. The fact that he came out and your pastor still lets him lead the choir?” Tony shook his head. “I don’t know of too many churches that would do that.”
Now why did he have to go mention the D-word? Stacy hadn’t thought about Darius since Tony had sat down
beside her. The moist morsel of fish now felt like sawdust in her mouth.
“Whoa, did I say something wrong?”
Stacy sipped her soda and collected herself. “No, not really. It’s just that Darius is a sore spot with me. He’s my son’s father.”
“Oh,” Tony said, his eyes widening. “It’s like that, huh?”
His reaction was so innocent, Stacy couldn’t help but smile. “It was.” She felt her good mood returning. “But that’s in the past.”
As she continued the conversation, intermittently between Tony and the councilman’s assistant, Stacy started to believe those words were true.
And then the past rang the doorbell.
“Greetings, greetings,” Darius said cheerfully as he rounded the corner. Seeing Stacy, he cast a hard look at Mother Moseley. Undaunted, she cast one right back. As though she needed more leverage, which she didn’t, she rose to her full five-feet-nine inches, without heels, and placed her hand on a still strong, three-score-and-ten-year-old hip.
“Don’t you go looking all haughty at me, boy. I didn’t know she’d be here. And it shouldn’t matter. We are all God’s children, and we should all be able to get along!” She stared boldly at Darius for a full five seconds before turning the “I dare you to defy me” look on Stacy. She rolled up her fist. Guesses around the table on whether she was joking or serious was around fifty-fifty. “Now, is there gonna be a problem here?” she asked loudly. “Because if so … I’m getting ready to be the problem solver!”
Vivian saw Mother Moseley’s cheeks coloring red. Lord, let me calm this woman down before she has a stroke. She placed a comforting hand on Mother Moseley’s arm.
“No, Mother, there will be no problems. You’re right. This is the Lord’s day, and we’re all family. In my home, everyone is welcome.” She shot a subtly compassionate look to Stacy, who didn’t meet her eyes.
Mother Moseley sat down and wiped her face with a napkin. She took a few deep breaths before she spoke. “Y’all done gone and raised my blood pressure. Pass me that Tabasco so my mouth can get as hot as my anger right now.”
“You want some more iced tea, Mother?” Vivian poured, not waiting for an answer.
Mother Moseley took a drink but wasn’t quite cooled down. “Acting like fools,” she mumbled. “’Bout to make me curse up in here on this Sunday afternoon, and I ain’t done that since Brother Jackson’s brother’s nephew’s son wrecked his motorcycle in my rosebushes!”
“Didn’t he break his leg in that accident?” Derrick asked.
“Yeah, and after I saw my crushed perennials, I almost broke the other one!”
That comment effectively calmed the brewing storm, and everyone tried to act civil. The Montgomerys’ dining room table seated twelve, which kept the warring factions a good ten feet away from each other. Though not as free-flowing as before, conversation resumed. Her heart was no longer in it, but Stacy now flirted more openly with Tony, a change in behavior he neither missed nor appreciated. Tony turned and began talking business with Cy, even as the councilman’s righthand man charmed a sincere smile or two from the lips he’d love to kiss … Stacy’s. But then Councilman Jeffries—whose cousin had been a famous singer in the seventies and knew firsthand how crazy the music industry could be—had to bring up just that fact with Darius.
“How do you resist the temptation?” Jeffries asked sincerely. “And remain a Godly man in a devilish world?”
That’s when Stacy snorted. “He takes his bodyguard,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No one can get close to Darius with his ‘protection’ there.”
Vivian nudged Stacy under the table. Hope kicked Stacy’s foot. The councilman missed the look that passed between Derrick and Cy. His assistant didn’t, partly because he already knew about Darius’s marriage. Not surprisingly, he didn’t point out this fact, and he didn’t think anybody else at the table would either. He was wrong.
“Most of the people with access to me know I’m married,” Darius said, his eyes fixed on the councilman but his mind on the thrashing he wanted to give Stacy.
“And that stops them from chasing you?” Councilman Jeffries exclaimed.
“No,” Darius countered. “It stops me from being caught. Could you pass the rolls?”
“Oh, Lord, these rolls sure are good,” Mother Moseley exclaimed. “I wonder who made them.”
“You know you did,” Vivian said, glad for the subject change. She prayed Stacy would take the hint. She didn’t.
“Oh, he gets caught sometimes,” Stacy said to the councilman, her voice dripping sweetness. “He doesn’t always get away.”
“And how would you know?” Councilman Jeffries asked, curious to learn more about the drama sizzling around him.
Stacy ignored jabs, nudges, and narrowed eyes and continued. “Darius is my son’s father and my ex-husband.”
“Well, since he’s your ex,” Bo said calmly. “I guess he gets away eventually.”
“Yeah, well, you would do well to keep that in mind, you blabbering idiot.”
“Huh! I got what you wish you coulda kept, you crazy butt of a baboon.”
“Hey, hey, hey! We’re not going to have that in here,” Derrick said firmly.
“I’m sorry, Reverend,” Bo said sincerely. “I’m sorry, Stacy. That was out of line.”
All eyes turned to Stacy. She stood. “I’m sorry for bringing my drama to your dinner table, Pastor Derrick, Sistah Viv.” She turned to Darius. “Where’s my son?”
“With Tanya, getting his picture taken.”
Before she could stop herself, the anger flared again. “Isn’t that something you should do? Serving me with—”
“Stacy,” Vivian said calmly. Her eyes said much more.
Stacy threw her napkin on the chair and reached for her purse. “This isn’t over,” she said to Darius. “I’m taking my son home after church tonight.”
Darius’s voice was as low and as calm as Vivian’s. “You’ll get him back on Tuesday, as we agreed.”
Stacy stared at Darius a long moment. “We’ll see.” She curtly nodded to the Montgomerys and left.
Hope rose to follow her. “Wait a minute, Stacy.”
Hope and Stacy’s lowered voices were heard before the front door closed. Once again the room was quiet, much like the stillness in the air after a tornado has swept through.
“Are you okay?” Vivian asked Darius.
Darius sighed. “I’m fine.”
“He sho’ is,” Bo piped in without missing a beat. “That’s why we’ve got baby-mama drama.”
“Now, you just behave,” Mother Moseley said. “You’re just as much to blame as Stacy; and you’re not too big to get a whuppin’.” Her voice was gruff, but her eyes twinkled.
And Vivian’s narrowed. She wasn’t altogether sure about Mother’s innocence in inviting Darius. She had been in the office when Hope had mentioned that Stacy was coming, but half a dozen other people had been in there too, so maybe the church matron hadn’t heard. But Vivian knew that one Sistah Faye Moseley could be a little messy at times. That twinkle suggested Mother may have secretly enjoyed the excitement, though she’d never admit it.
“Ah, Mother Moseley, I don’t mean no harm.” Bo rose, kissed her on the cheek, and strutted to the buffet. “Are we ready to cut this cake? I know you put your foot in it, Mother, and Lord knows I could use some oh-so-delicious chocolate right about now.”
More than one person guessed it, and an absolutely certain Darius hid a smile. That’s why I love this nut, he thought. Bo’s chocolate reference wasn’t about Mother Moseley’s cake.
13
Cheering for God
Vivian stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of Cy and Hope’s high-rise penthouse and marveled at God’s handiwork. It was a brilliant mid-November afternoon; the various shades of blue, from the sky to the ocean, were breathtaking. The white foam of the waves contrasted sharply with the light brown sand, forming a border for a body of water that went on forever
.
“Here’s your tea, Viv,” Hope said as she wheeled in a tray. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I brought out these freshly baked, homemade, white chocolate and pecan cookies, just in case.”
“Well, Lord knows I can use me some chocolate right about now,” Vivian said, mimicking Bo’s bodacious line. The women laughed. “I couldn’t believe he said that,” Vivian continued. “That Bo Jenkins has some kind of nerve.”
Hope poured tea from the pot into their cups. “I can. Nothing Bo does would surprise me.”
“You can’t help but like him though.”
The women were silent as they prepared their tea—lemon and sweetener for Vivian, vanilla-flavored creamer for Hope.
Hope took a swallow of hers and set the cup on the coffee table. “Stacy’s calmed down.”
“I was going to ask if you’d spoken to her since brunch yesterday.”
“I called her last night, just to check on things.”
“Did she have Darius?”
“No, he’s still with his father.”
“Thank goodness,” Vivian said. “It’s especially important for a male child to bond with his dad.” She bit into the cookie. “It can’t be an easy situation,” she added thoughtfully.
“That’s an understatement. I can’t imagine anything harder than having your husband choose his male lover over you.”
Vivian nodded.
“Do you think it’s a sin, Vivian? Homosexuality?”
Vivian sipped her tea and pondered the answer. “Honestly, Hope, I don’t know what to believe. The bible is clear—at least from all the interpretations I’ve heard and from what I’ve studied—that yes, it is a sin. And while we all sin and come short of God’s glory, people who live homosexual lifestyles don’t turn away from that sin. Someone very close to our family was a homosexual,” she continued. “And before meeting him, there was no doubt in my mind that people who lived this way were going to hell. But then I got to know …” Vivian hesitated, looked at Hope thoughtfully, and decided to be truthful. “But then I got to know Derrick’s uncle, Charles Montgomery. That’s when everything I thought I knew changed.”
Heaven Right Here Page 5