And that was the truth. She had her faith, her children, her husband, and her family. But truth be told, Latoya was lost and confused and living in a world too filled with hurt. On the outside she lived the life everyone thought she strived for. But on the inside she was barely making it day to day and finding reasons to smile. To rejoice. To be happy.
She rose to her feet and wiped the tears from her eyes as she retrieved Taquan’s food and headed up through the pulpit to take the shortcut to his office on the upper level. She climbed the stairs but looked up in surprise as her husband’s door opened and Olivia, the choir director, exited.
Latoya paused and took in the clinging and deep-plunging V-neck sweater the woman wore with leggings and high-heeled ankle boots. She was the epitome of brick house with more breasts, thighs, and hips than she had waist. The outfit hid nothing. Not even the fact that her nipples were hard.
“Sister Sanders,” Olivia said, her husky voice just hinting at the beautiful, soul-stirring gospel solos she delivered every Sunday.
“Sister Olivia,” Latoya said, still watching the woman as she continued down the stairs in a way that was pure sex. “I wasn’t expecting to see you around today. Do you have choir rehearsal?”
Latoya knew firsthand the appeal of a minister to many women. There was power and presence in the pulpit. On top of that, Taquan was a young and charismatic minister whose attractiveness could not be denied. Plenty of the women of the church—young and old—gave him an extra long squeeze or a greeting that was almost sing-song: “Morn-ing, Rev-er-end San-ders.”
Latoya was very clear that there were whores everywhere . . . including the church. To her they weren’t two women serving the Lord. Olivia was the same age she was and in that moment Latoya was eyeing her like a woman going after her husband.
Olivia came to a stop a few steps just above the one Latoya stood on. Latoya took another step up so that she wasn’t eye level with the woman’s obvious camel toe.
“No, no choir rehearsal until later tonight,” she said. “The preacher needed me to do something for him.”
“Oh really,” Latoya said, feeling her ire rise. “And what was that, Sister Olivia, particularly in that outfit?”
Olivia looked offended and made a face. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“What is it you had to do for my husband?” Latoya said.
Olivia smirked as she came down the few steps separating them. “Perhaps you should ask your husband,” she said, looking Latoya in the eye as she stepped down onto the same step where she stood.
Latoya climbed one step and then turned to look down her nose at the woman. “And perhaps you should find out what is appropriate clothing to wear inside a church?”
Olivia chuckled. “I’ll do better, First Lady, when you do better.”
Latoya felt her neck warm because she knew a lot of the members of the church and the church board thought her attire wasn’t always appropriate. “I don’t really care what you do as long as you keep it away from my husband. Clear?”
Olivia sniffed the air. “Do I smell insecurity?” she said cattily.
Latoya sniffed the air as well. “Do I smell your . . . funky behind?” she countered with a pointed look at Olivia’s crotch.
“Funny, I get no complaints,” Olivia said with a quick but deliberate look up the stairs to the closed door of Taquan’s office, then turned and continued down the stairs.
It took everything Latoya had not to race down the stairs behind her and beat her ass. Instead she headed up the stairs and stormed inside Taquan’s office.
He was putting away files in his file cabinet and looked up at her in surprise. “Hey baby,” he said.
“Baby hell,” she snapped, throwing the container of food onto his desk.
“Respect the house of the Lord, Latoya.”
She made a face. “Don’t play with me,” she warned.
Taquan frowned. “What’s wrong? What you all bunched up in the face about?”
“Are you screwing Olivia Monroe?” she asked, moving over to the trash can to look down for condom wrappers or any other proof. “Is that why you can only share your rod once a lousy week?”
Taquan moved past her to close his office door. “I am not screwing Olivia.”
“Newsflash, Rev, you ain’t laying it down on me that often either,” she said, watching him as he came around to sit behind the desk.
He instantly stood up and came back around the desk to pull her body against his as he kissed her. Deeply.
Latoya fought hard not to touch him and clasped her hands behind her back even as she felt herself melt as he nibbled her bottom lip before sucking it gently. She moaned in pleasure and kissed him back, sucking the tip of his tongue into her mouth the way she knew he liked.
Taquan lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. Their mouths were still open and panting. “I am not screwing Olivia Monroe,” he repeated, before he slid his hands down to her hips and jerked them forward to press his erection against her belly.
“Then why were you two here alone?” she asked, even as her eyes fell on his lips, wanting to taste them again.
“She came by before she went to work to talk to me about using the basement level as a daycare center,” he said, giving her buttocks another massage before he released her. “I think it’s a good idea but it would have to wait until after the renovations so the children aren’t displaced during that time.”
“And where are the heating people?”
Taquan frowned as he reclaimed his seat. “Hopefully they’ll be here at eight like we arranged.”
“But she said—”
Brrrnnnggg.
“Hold on, baby,” he said, reaching for the phone.
Latoya picked up the container of food and opened it to see if the chicken and waffles were salvageable.
“I wasn’t aware of that, Brother Banks,” Taquan said, shooting Latoya a hard stare.
She locked her knees because she knew the call from the president of the church board was about her altercation with Olivia.
“I understand that,” Taquan said. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding on both their parts.”
Latoya rolled her eyes.
“And I appreciate the board’s support of my plan for expanding the church. You know that.”
She couldn’t believe that slore had already hopped on the phone. I thought it was Jesus on the mainline, not Brother Banks.
“Let me talk to my wife and I’ll call you back,” Taquan said.
“One, she had no right being in your office dressed like that. Two, she insinuated that you and her were dealing. Three, she was disrespectful,” Latoya rushed to say as soon as he placed the phone in the receiver.
“The church board can still kill the deal for the expansion, Latoya,” Taquan began. “Was this really the time to be childish and confront a church member about sleeping with me?”
Latoya looked at him in disbelief. “I am the First Lady of this church but I am your wife first and that gives me the right to confront any woman I believe wants you,” she said.
Taquan shook his head before lowering it into his hands.
Latoya watched him as he stayed that way for long moments. “She said I should ask you what you needed her to do—”
“Do you really think I care about some catfight in the stairwell?”
“What?” she asked, not sure she heard him correctly.
Taquan raised his face and looked at her with unbridled anger that had his shortbread complexion of skin flushed. “Do you really think I care about some catfight in the stairwell? Huh? Do you?”
Latoya took a step back from the fire and brimstone in his eyes.
“I could care less about what either one of you are stressing,” he said, rising to his feet to point to the mock-up of the new church hanging on the wall over his chair. “That’s what I stress about. So you will not destroy this for me. You will apologize to Olivia if that’s what it takes for the board members t
o get over this.”
“No, I will not,” Latoya asserted. “I will not apologize. You will defend me because I am telling you that she goaded me.”
“Get out, Latoya,” he said, waving his hand at her dismissively. “And don’t say two words to me until you admit you were wrong and apologize.”
And just like that he went back to his filing and ignored her. In that moment, Latoya actually felt hatred for her husband as waves of anger, disappointment, and hurt flooded her. She fought the urge to give him a good Newark-style cussing out that made you sit in the mirror afterward and cry while you asked the Lord, “Why me?” But she just turned to run from the church.
As soon as she climbed behind the wheel of her car she snatched up her purse and dug around in it for her Altoids can. It didn’t register for a few aching moments that the can and everything in it was gone. It had been pure instinct to turn back to her pills.
She craved them.
Latoya flung her purse onto the floor and dropped her head to the steering wheel as she gripped it tightly. Fight it. Just fight it.
Still trembling with her emotions she finally started her car and drove home, wiping her frustrated tears with one hand as she drove with the other. She was surprised that she missed Taquan Jr. because at least he would have distracted her from her thoughts.
As she pulled up to their house she saw a local delivery van parked in front of it on the street. She turned onto the drive and climbed out just as the driver stepped down from his truck and up onto the sidewalk. She met him at the end of the walkway.
“Latoya James-Sanders?” he asked, holding a bright red box with a gold bow.
She smiled at the man who looked no more than a teenager as she nodded and then dug out a tip to hand to him.
“No tip,” he said, handing her the box. “Everything was taken care of. You have a good day.”
Latoya carried it as she turned and unlocked the front door. She tripped over one of Taquan Jr.’s toys and the box went flying out of her hand as she fell. She lifted her head just in time to see it bounce off the wall. The lid fell off and wax paper floated in the air as at least two dozen chocolate candies dropped to the floor.
“Shit,” she swore. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Latoya was surprised at how good it felt to curse.
As the wax paper finally landed the card taped to it unfolded.
“So I’m never keeping secrets, and I’m never telling lies . . .”
She made a face as she climbed back to her feet. “Good Lord, what now?” she asked, moving over to pick up the note.
GIRL TALK
The six people in the limo rode in silence with the rest of the processional following behind the hearse as it traveled through the streets of Newark to the cemetery. Everyone was lost in their thoughts, their grief, and their memories. The silence was necessary.
They passed by the Cooper’s Deli where they had shared their mutual love for its oversized corned beef and coleslaw on rye with Russian dressing. The three friends all looked at each other and shared a smile.
No words were ever needed. They all remembered. None of them would ever forget.
Not that memory or any other.
As the processional pulled into the cemetery and parked, they all seemed to take a deep breath to prepare for leaving their friend behind at her final burial place. By the time they gathered by the gravesite the casket had already been brought from the hearse. They again clutched at each others’ hands as the people they brought with them gave them support in a row behind them.
They barely heard the words of the minister as they each locked eyes on the casket. It wasn’t until everyone began saying the Lord’s Prayer that they spoke.
“Our Father who art in heaven . . .”
They accepted the white long-stemmed lilies from one of the funeral director’s crew as he moved about the crowd passing them out.
They knew she wouldn’t want her funeral any other way.
They stepped forward as a young lady began to sing a cappella as they lowered the casket. One by one they began to toss the lilies atop the casket.
As the soloist lowered her voice for a gentle refrain, the minister opened a small black book that said The Book of Commons on it and glanced down into it. “We commend unto thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the soul of this our sister departed, and we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. ”
“I will always love you,” one friend said.
“Be at peace,” the other said.
“We miss you,” said the last.
Chapter 21
Monica
5:00 P.M.
Monica was afraid.
She hadn’t even gone into her office since she received that package. She hadn’t been sure if the bastard would make a move before Friday. She didn’t know who to trust and enjoyed the comfort being inside the walls of their home gave her. Plus she wanted to be around Cameron to make sure he didn’t receive anything strange.
Her fear was not of her being hurt mentally or physically. The love in her made her a warrior and she wanted to protect Cameron from being hurt at all costs. She wouldn’t allow it.
From her office in their apartment she swiveled to look out the window. Night was coming on fast and with the change in time, it was darker much earlier. It would be dark in the next couple of hours it took to reach eight o’clock.
Her phone was on silent but she could see the screen light up from where it sat on the edge of her desk. Turning a bit, she reached for it. A text. Biting her bottom lip she opened it.
JUST CHECKING ON YOU. EVERYTHING OKAY. U MAD AT ME? IM SORRY ABOUT LAST WEEK. UR RIGHT WE WERE DRUNK.
Monica snorted in disdain and tossed the phone back onto her desk before she swiveled back around to eye the skyline. Fuck Usain. It wasn’t his first text that week or her first time ignoring him. Until she met the sneaky motherfucker who had been fucking with her for months she wasn’t trusting a damn soul. Nobody.
And she was going to that meeting because she wanted the bullshit ended tonight. She wanted everything laid out on the table so she could decide if whatever secrets he held on her—whatever revenge was being sought—were worth her time.
She stood up and left her office. Looking down the hall she spotted the top of Cameron’s head where he sat on the sofa watching television. She headed in his direction. By the time she moved across the polished black floors and into their sophisticatedly designed living room, she was naked. Her clothes were on the floor in a path behind her.
“Damn,” Cameron said as she stepped in front of him.
Monica smiled as his eyes took her in. Her smooth brown skin. The way her dark nipples were already hard and poking through the long layers of her hair. The baldness of her pussy. The shape to her long legs that still showed the effects of decades of being a trained dancer.
He tossed aside the paper he was reading and reached for her, pulling her down to straddle his waist. He pressed his face against her cleavage and smoothed his hands from her shoulders down to the curves of her buttocks. “What’s this—”
“Sssh.” Monica held a finger to his lips before she pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed him back as she traced his lips with her tongue. She felt the shiver race across his body.
As she eyed him, she stood up on the couch and then placed one leg over the back of it and pressed her hips forward until his face was buried between her thighs. Cameron didn’t hesitate to lay his head back on the sofa and guide her body forward more as he released his tongue and opened the lips of her pussy in one swoop.
She hissed in pleasure and her fingers dug into the cushions of the sofa. “Yes,” she moaned.
He licked her core, enjoying the taste of her juices, and then circled her clit before he used just the tip of his tongue to outline and then pluck it.
Monica felt her legs tremble as he began to slowly pull and suck her clit like he was giving it CPR. She cried out
and rocked her hips against his face, sending her clit a little into his mouth. And when Cameron brought his hands around to slide a finger deeply inside her she almost buckled on top of him. He didn’t let up. He brought his arms up to wrap around her thighs and lock her body in place as he shifted from deep sucks of her clit to rapid-fire flicks of his tongue against it.
“Oh God don’t make me cum,” she begged with a whimper as she clutched at the sofa with a grip tight enough to tear the charcoal suede as she tried to free his grip of her thighs and her clit.
He released it with a final kiss and looked up at her with hot eyes filled with desire. “You don’t want to cum all in my mouth?” he asked, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe after her pussy damn near smothered him.
She shook her head, causing her weave to sway back and forth across her tender nipples as she sat down far back enough on his knees to free his hard dick from the khakis he wore. “I want to have the strength to ride you and you know a good cum makes me weak,” she told him, leaning forward to lick at his mouth as she stroked the length of his dark dick with both her hands.
Cameron reached up to cup the back of her head and deepened the kiss as he reached around his dick with his free hand to play in her pussy. The way she sat across his lap left her lips open and clit exposed from where it was usually nestled away.
“Make love to me, Cameron,” she said, filled with sadness at anything snatching him away from her.
He studied her face and then wrapped one strong arm around her waist and stood up to carry her naked body across the apartment and up the stairs to their bedroom. Monica clung to him with arms and legs like she would never see him again. She was glad he understood what she meant by making love. Fucking could be done anywhere and with any amount of clothing on. Making love was two naked bodies somewhere where they could stretch out and get lost in one another: a bed, a blanket on the floor, even the beach.
Cameron laid her on the middle of the bed and stripped as Monica stretched her body languidly with her arms high above her head. With his dick leading the way, he climbed onto the bed between her open legs. Again he feasted on her pussy with a sexy lick from her ass up to her clit. His kisses continued against her belly button and up to her neck with thorough stops at her stomach and both pointed peaks of her breasts.
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