A Million Blessings

by Angela Benson

“You didn’t ask me.”

  “Well, it’s not a question you typically ask a woman.”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Dara said, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She made sure she was wearing her full matching regalia that morning when she got dressed, from her hot pink riding jacket to her coordinated pink and silver Nikes.

  “I plan on being around long enough to find out,” Zebulon said, confidently. He gently nudged her shoulder so she’d turn around so he could see the back of her vest. Other than the unique color that set her apart, the Kingdom Knights wore identical vests for special events with their names and the crest embroidered on the back.

  “Pink Knight,” Zebulon read. “I like that.”

  I bet you do, Dara wanted to say. “Thanks,” she said, then noticed Isaac mounting his Harley. “I need to go. But you can follow us down there if you don’t remember the way.”

  “I think I’ll ride behind you so I can see how you handle that thing,” Zebulon said, still looking at her with astonishment.

  When Dara looked in the direction of Zebulon’s car, she noticed Tyler hanging out the window. With Zebulon’s slightly mirrored tint on his windows, she hadn’t seen him before and figured Zebulon hadn’t been able to talk his cousin into doing a good deed that morning.

  “Hey, Dara,” he yelled. “India rides a motorcycle, too?”

  “No way that’ll ever happen,” India said.

  “I was about to say. She’s got me for life if she did. I wasn’t ever going to give up on her,” he said.

  You might as well give up, Dara thought to herself. Before India had pointed it out when they were at lunch together, Dara hadn’t noticed the chia pet growing out the top of Tyler’s shirts. Even from where she was standing, she could attest that he was indeed very hairy. It looked like fresh breath hadn’t helped his chances after all.

  Chapter 18

  The Kingdom Knights cruised to a stop at the traffic light on the overpass. Dara noticed two young girls staring at her from the backseat of a minivan. She lifted her helmet’s visor, winked at them, then gave them a thumbs-up signal. Tickled at the attention, they waved ecstatically and got their mother’s attention for her to look out the window.

  When the traffic light turned green, Dara followed the lead of the men in front of her. As always, she was fourth in line. Because she was the only woman, the men insisted that she ride in the middle of the pack—three in front of her, and three in back.

  After twenty minutes, the motorcade exited into the neighborhood that had become accustomed to—and even expected—their presence. They’d blanketed the areas with flyers over the past few weeks, so Dara knew both those who liked and didn’t like their presence would be out today with no thought of the searing temperatures.

  The first Saturday Dara had participated in the inner city outreach two years ago it happened to be the Knights’ annual “Soul Survivors” event. A truck bearing all the necessary items for a block party had arrived before them. Church volunteers unloaded crates of food, fired up the grill, and constructed a small stage for entertainment. It wasn’t their spring affair, but today was no different. And as always, the children were the most excited.

  Dara couldn’t wait to see their faces when Cassius arrived. She pulled into the area roped off for their motorcycles and immediately saw the line that had begun to wrap around the block. Ms. Bettye stood in front with five children. A toddler whom Dara had never seen was propped on Ms. Bettye’s left ample hip, holding on to a dripping grape Popsicle. Her lips were rimmed in purple, and Ms. Bettye didn’t seem to mind the sticky juice that was trailing down the toddler’s arm and to Ms. Bettye’s wrist.

  While Zebulon found a place to park, Dara went to talk to her favorite resident.

  “How are you doing, Ms. Bettye?”

  Ms. Bettye wiped her forehead with the scarf that was hanging around her neck. “I feel like my skin is frying,” she said. “It’s hot as Hades out here, so you know I don’t plan on the devil seeing my face.” Her double chin jiggled as she laughed.

  “Maybe the kids will have some mercy on you and not want to stay outside all day.”

  “It doesn’t matter either way. My brother never did get that air conditioner to work. We’ve got plenty of fans, but during the day, they blow more hot air around than anything else. It’s a little better at night, though.”

  That makes no sense, Dara thought. Here Ms. Bettye was with a household full of children and no air on a day that was forecasted to peak in the midnineties, and Dara had slept through the night with central air and a ceiling fan. By the morning, she’d do something about it.

  “Lord Jesus, this chile is going to have a trail of ants following us home,” Ms. Bettye said, wiping her wrist and the little girl’s arm with the same scarf that was keeping the sweat at bay from her nose.

  “I’ll have somebody bring you some wet paper towels,” Dara said, when she noticed Zebulon and Tyler coming her way.

  Ms. Bettye grabbed Dara’s arm before she had a chance to walk away. “You’re an angel around here,” she said, “and don’t let anybody tell you different. As pretty as you are, you don’t have to come down here and fool with these folks, but if I don’t know nothing else, I know God sent you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dara said, her heart touched more than it had ever been before. People thanked the Kingdom Knights collectively all of the time, but it was the first time someone had singled Dara out.

  If Ms. Bettye only knew what was in her future, Dara thought. She deserved a first-rate place to cool her banana bread. If Dara didn’t buy those granite countertops for anyone else, she’d get them for Ms. Bettye.

  Only my aunt would come to an outreach wearing high heels.

  Dara didn’t know how her aunt Latrice had already lasted two hours with her feet strapped into a pair of four-inch heels, but she walked around as comfortably in them as she would a pair of house slippers.

  “It hasn’t been that bad, has it?” Dara said to India. “I can tell you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Unlike her mother, India was reasonably—yet fashionably—dressed in a pair of shorts and a daffodil yellow short-sleeved shirt. And Tyler still swarmed around her as if he were a bumblebee looking for a flower to pollinate.

  “I have to say it’s been very rewarding. I take back everything negative that I said,” India offered, humbly. In the next breath she mumbled, “But if Tyler finds his way over here one more time, he’s fired. He won’t step foot in Eagles Pointe. I know Mr. Zebulon is a church boy, but Tyler’s got more than Jesus on his mind.”

  Dara fanned a fly away from the table. “With the way you’re treating him, his fascination should wear off soon. Unless of course he’s attracted to women who emotionally abuse him.”

  “I’m not even going to dignify your comment with a response,” India said, ripping open three more packs of hot dog buns. She’d chosen to serve at the food table, and it was her responsibility to keep the assembly line of grilled hot dogs moving. Dara stood beside her and used one gloved hand to put potato chips on plates and the other hand to squeeze a ketchup bottle.

  A woman with a recognizable scowl on her face approached the table with her three small boys behind her. Dara wondered what her face looked like without her forehead and mouth twisted in anger, because every time she saw the woman, she was always wearing the same look. Dara figured the stress of life had etched the expression on her face to the point that the woman didn’t realize it had taken permanent residence there. Dara hated that she couldn’t put a name to the face, but the woman had refused to tell any of the Knights.

  Thinking that she’d be more comfortable with talking to a woman, Dara had approached her once during a Saturday evangelism, but the woman had adamantly resisted all of Dara’s conversation.

  “I don’t want to hear nothin’ ’bout no Jesus, no Allah, no Buddah, nobody. ’Cause whoever really is running this earth never done nothing for me,” she’d said. Sh
e’d turned and stomped down the sidewalk with her kids waddling behind her like ducklings.

  Her sons always trailed behind. Never beside her. Like they were an afterthought.

  Dara dropped potato chips on their plates and squeezed ketchup on the hot dog of the one boy who requested it.

  “Eat good now ’cause that’s all for the rest of the day,” she told the one who looked to be the youngest. And then to the one who seemed to be oldest of the bunch, “Get another hot dog, Little D. I’m telling you don’t come crying to me when you get hungry. And if you don’t finish, you better not throw it away,” she fussed. The woman wrapped up her own plate and stuffed it in the bottom carrier of a stroller she was pushing, even though there wasn’t a child in the seat.

  Dara made a mental note to ride by the woman’s house so she could write down the address. She knew the zip code for the neighborhood, so the only thing she needed for her act of kindness was the house number. In fact, while she was at it, she might as well write down the house numbers for every house on the woman’s street, even if she didn’t know their names. Addressing the envelopes to “Resident” would still let Dara accomplish her goals.

  No matter their names, everyone had to eat. There was a major grocery store within walking distance and riding distance on the bus line. Tonight, Dara would stop by and buy enough gift cards to ensure that the residents of that street could eat for the month.

  Dara’s aunt Latrice walked up to the table and clapped her hands at the girls. She always caught everyone’s attention, not because she was loud and demanded it, but most were attracted to her natural magnetism.

  “Come on, ladies. Keep that line moving. We’ve got kids here that need to pick up their backpack full of school stuff. There are some future doctors, lawyers, and business owners that are counting on you to do your job,” she shouted, getting laughs from some of the people in line.

  “Please get your mother under control,” Dara said, knowing that her aunt meant no harm.

  India pulled up the plastic glove that was slipping off her hand. “Have I ever been able to do that?” she asked.

  “She might be bossy today, but at least she’s looking cute while she’s doing it,” Dara said. Her aunt was wearing a sleeveless tunic that she’d gathered at the center with a belt that snuggled her waist. It was paired with some trendy jeans that all of the teenagers were wearing now. All of the teenagers, and her aunt.

  “She went on a shopping spree last night,” India said.

  “She came to Atlanta just to spend her money?” Dara asked.

  “No, she came to Atlanta and ended up spending my money,” India said, then shooed her mother back to her post where she was supposed to be.

  Dara lowered her voice. “You didn’t? Tell me you didn’t tell.”

  Dara knew they couldn’t keep their secret forever, but she didn’t want India to spill the beans before it was time. India and Aunt Latrice had a close relationship, and Dara knew they probably had some secrets that were shared only between mother and daughter.

  But it wasn’t time…

  Chapter 19

  India ripped off the cheap pair of plastic gloves that had been slipping off her hands. She dropped them in the trash bag under the food table, then put on another pair.

  “Of course, I didn’t tell,” India told Dara.

  The man in front of Dara held his plate out for a handful of chips, but he could barely balance his paper plate because he was too busy watching every move of Dara’s lips.

  “Here you go, sir,” she said, and waited until he was at the end of the table and digging through the cooler for a soda. “We’ll talk later,” Dara told India.

  Dara’s cell phone buzzed on her hip. She pulled off her gloves and asked the volunteer beside her to help India take up the slack for a while.

  It was Cassius. She’d told him to call her when he was five minutes away so she’d have time to round up the Kingdom Knights who were going to act as his unofficial body guards and help control the crowd that she was sure to rush him.

  “Hi, Cassius,” Dara said.

  “Doing like you told me,” he said. “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m getting ready to exit off the highway now.”

  “You can actually do right when you want to,” she said. “And I didn’t even have to text you a reminder this morning.”

  “I’m on my best behavior. After you tried to break up with me, I figured I’d better get it together.”

  “Break up with you? You’re funny,” she said, knowing exactly what he meant.

  Dara had successfully transferred four of her five clients to a mentee who was building her own personal concierge business, but Cassius refused to let Dara go. She knew why. They were tied together by more than the inked signatures penned on their contract. He leaned on her for spiritual guidance, and after praying about it, she realized it wasn’t time for her to stop working for him.

  Dara alerted Isaac of Cassius’s pending arrival and Isaac called the men he had chosen into order. And just in time.

  Though Cassius usually drove his Hummer on a daily basis, Dara had asked him to drive his midnight black Ferrari. He cruised down the street, his customized-inch rims spinning separately from the tires. And just as Dara thought, the children were mesmerized. They ran beside the car, trying to peer inside. The tint on Cassius’s windows were just as dark as the car, and it wasn’t until he’d parked in the spot designated for him that the children’s guessing games ended.

  “Man, that’s Cassius Freeborn,” one of the kids yelled. They bounded toward his direction, and try as they might, the volunteers could barely contain them. They pounced on Cassius, but remarkably kept their distance from his car. They only walked around it in awe as if it were a priceless museum exhibit.

  “Man, that’s the kinda car I’m gon’ have.”

  “You crazy. You gon’ be riding with me.”

  “I’ma be following behind y’all on a motorcycle like Ms. Dara’s. Except mine gon’be purple,” Dara’s admirer, Keysha yelled out.

  Dara pushed her way through Cassius’s pint-sized fans. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  Even though she had access to Cassius’s ear and his schedule, Dara didn’t take advantage of his time by asking him to make celebrity appearances at events that she was involved in. In their three years knowing each other, this was only the second time she’d asked for a favor.

  Dara opened Cassius’s passenger door and lifted out the plastic bin on the seat. She kept a stash of glossy photos and felt tip markers packed for him and lined against one of the walls of a closet in his office. Whenever he had an appearance, he simply picked up a bin and put it in his car.

  “All right, y’all get in a single-file line or Mr. Cassius is leaving,” Isaac said, throwing out an empty threat.

  The volunteers helped corral both children and adults into the best semblance of a line that they were going to get. They set up a card table and chair so he could sit down and sign autographs for the seemingly endless line.

  “This isn’t your boyfriend, is it?” Zebulon said, walking up to Dara. “You said there were things I didn’t know about you.”

  “Cassius is my client. And a friend,” she said.

  Dara hadn’t seen Zebulon for more than an hour. Soon after arriving, he’d disappeared inside the church to help unemployed men find suits for interviews. Dara could tell he was used to serving others, because he didn’t wait for someone to hold his hand and give him instructions on every little thing. He stayed committed to his area, unlike Tyler who roamed from station to station—especially to the food table to hound India.

  Zebulon said, “He almost lost his career about two years ago. One injury for an athlete can take away his career and endorsements. I don’t envy him.”

  Dara didn’t completely believe that. Jealousy for her was as big a turnoff as hairy chests were for India.

  Since the food l
ine had cleared after Cassius’s arrival, Zebulon and Dara made themselves a plate and found two spare folding chairs to rest on.

  “I think this is going to have to count as our dinner,” Dara said. The heat was taking everything out of her, and the only thing she could see herself doing after the outreach was taking a cool shower and a nap.

  “I feel you,” Zebulon said. “I’m tired myself.” He turned up a bottle of water to his lips, gulping it down until it was half-full, then looked around the area.

  “I wonder why the guy who wants to build in this area doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.”

  Guy? I might ride a motorcycle, but I’m far from a guy. “Some people aren’t worried about public recognition,” Dara said. “They just want to touch people’s lives.”

  “Well, whoever it is is doing it in a big way,” Zebulon said, downing the rest of the bottled water, then getting up for another one. “They must really trust you to keep a huge secret like this.”

  “I’m a trustworthy woman,” Dara said.

  “That must mean men can trust you with their hearts.”

  Dara wagged her finger at Zebulon. “From the day I asked you to come onboard with Eagles Pointe we had this talk. I can’t think about being in a relationship with somebody I have to work with on a business level.”

  “You just said Cassius was your friend.”

  “Exactly, friend. And that’s been after knowing each other for three years. We’ve known each other for how long? A little over one month?”

  Zebulon stood and balled up his empty paper plate. Dara didn’t even remember him eating his food, so he must’ve scoffed it down with barely chewing.

  “Good thing for me it doesn’t take forever to build houses,” Zebulon said.

  Isaac called to Dara from where he was standing beside Cassius. “Dara, can you bring Cassius some water? The brother’s almost dehydrated. We need him next season. We need to make sure he stays healthy.”

  Everyone within hearing distance of Isaac cheered.