“Hallelujah!” the folks shouted out. “Glowraaaaay to God!”
When he had finished praying for Jasper, Lance stood and looked at him. “Stand up.”
Jasper hadn’t been on his feet in so many years, he didn’t think it was possible.
Lance saw the doubt in his eyes. “Trust the Father. Stand up.”
Minister Weeks folded down the silver footrests on Jasper’s wheelchair beneath his feet.
The people’s prayers were loud, knocking at the door to heaven. Adonis raised the organ’s pitch even higher. The mood in the sanctuary of Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ was electric.
With the assistance of two young men that came to Jasper’s side, he trusted his faith and began to stand up from the wheelchair. Lance took a step back and allowed him room. Slowly but surely Jasper rose from the wheelchair. He wavered back and forth as the two men held on to his arms.
“Release him and move the chair,” Lance instructed the men.
The two men obeyed their bishop. There Jasper stood on his own two feet for the first time in years. He looked up toward heaven and started to cry.
The sanctuary sounded like a football stadium after a home team had just scored a touchdown.
Lance held out his hand toward Jasper. “Walk to me, Brother.”
Like a one-year-old child taking his first step, Jasper moved his right leg forward, then dragged his left leg to meet it.
“Ha . . . lle . . . lu . . . jah,” the people shouted.
Adonis and the musicians were going crazy.
Jasper moved his left leg forward and dragged his right leg to meet it.
“In the name of the almighty God, Brother Jasper,” Lance stated. “You are healed.”
Jasper took three more steps and almost collapsed in Lance’s arms. Lance held on to Jasper and cried with him. When Lance looked up he saw the people dancing, shouting, and giving God glory.
Move!
Lance heard the voice of God and obeyed. He released Jasper and went to Melesha Thompson, a fourteen-year-old girl with a hole in her heart. Melesha’s condition kept her from doing the things a normal teenager would do. She couldn’t jump rope, play hopscotch, chase her younger siblings around, or even sing in the choir.
Lance stood before Melesha, then turned to look for Arykah. He needed his wife to be at his side to lay hands on Melesha’s chest. He saw Angela standing in Arykah’s spot. He knew he couldn’t depend on Angela to surrender herself to God’s will. At that moment she was only at church for show. She had a personal agenda. Lance told Melesha’s mother, who was next to her daughter, to stand.
Folks stretched out their hands in Melesha’s direction.
“Pray, church, pray!” Lance shouted out over the music.
The people obeyed and began to pray for Melesha’s healing.
Minister Weeks poured blessed oil in Lance’s hand and Lance transferred the oil to Melesha’s mother’s hand. He instructed her to rub her hands together, then place them on her daughter’s chest. Lance put both of his hands on top of Melesha’s head and closed his eyes. He spoke to God in an unknown tongue. Melesha’s mother was praying and crying.
Melesha fainted in the Spirit of God.
“Pick her up,” Lance said. He didn’t care who did it.
Minister Weeks and Melesha’s mother stood her up in front of the pastor.
Lance knew the request he’d made to God hadn’t been completed. He couldn’t afford to play around. He threw caution to the wind and touched Melesha’s chest just above her left breast and shouted out to God.
Melesha fainted again.
When Minister Weeks went to pick Melesha up, Lance stopped him. He got down on the floor and lay holy hands on Melesha and cried out for God to heal her. Melesha’s mother jumped and shouted. Those nearby joined her in the praise.
When he had finished praying, Lance stood and pulled Melesha up from the floor. She looked as though she had been in a war. She was drunk in the Spirit. Melesha couldn’t keep her balance as she swayed back and forth.
“Raise your hands,” Lance said to her.
Melesha was weak, but she did it.
Lance looked in her eyes. “Sister Melesha,” he started, “by God’s power that is invested in me . . .” he paused. His body shook. “Good God Almighty,” he shouted out. His blood was running hot through his veins. “Melesha,” he said again. “You are healed in Jesus’ name.”
Melesha fainted again.
Move!
Lance turned and went to Frances Magazine, a new member to Freedom Temple. Lance stood speechless as he looked in Frances’s eyes. He waited for the Holy Spirit to guide him. Frances started to cry. She felt heat radiating from Lance’s body, and it gave her a magnetic shock. She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Bishop,” Frances cried out.
When she had touched him, Lance hollered out, “Oh, God.” He grabbed her right arm and turned it inside out to reveal many small puncture wounds in the crease of her arm. Lance grabbed the bottle of blessed oil from Minister Weeks and poured three drops on the holes in her arm. He gave the bottle back to Minister Weeks, and then massaged the oil into the crease of Frances’s arm while speaking in tongues. More tears spilled out of her eyes as she prayed that God would deliver her from drug addiction.
Lance opened his eyes and looked for Arykah and realized, again, that she wasn’t there. If there was ever a time when he needed his wife, it was right then. He stepped to Frances and whispered in her ear. “Surrender yourself to the will of God and you will be delivered.”
Frances fell down on the pew and began shouting out praises.
Lance was sweating profusely. He went back to the pulpit and stood behind the podium. The Holy Spirit was moving, and the musicians were on point. Lance looked out over the people and stretched out his hands. “By His stripes, you are healed. You are free. You are delivered. And you are healed. Receive it in the name of Jesus.”
Not one soul was seated. Every foot was moving in the sanctuary. Every mouth was open. Every hand was shaking.
“God is here, church,” Lance shouted out. “He’s here. He’s here. Welcome Him.”
Adonis stood up but kept his hands on the keys. Don don don don.
The drummer stood but kept banging on the drums. Pop pop pop pop.
“Praise Him,” Lance said to the people. “Give it to Him, give it to Him.” He lost his own self-control.
“Many are the afflictions of the righteous,” Lance shouted out, “but the Lord will deliver them out of them all.”
The people were caught up in the Spirit and rejoicing all over the sanctuary.
“The Bible says in Romans chapter eight, verse eighteen,” Lance started. He pounded the podium four times. “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time . . .” He pounded the podium four more times, “are not worthy to be compared . . .” Lance pounded the podium a third time. “With the glory which shall be revealed in us.”
Folks were lying on the sanctuary floor shouting out praises to God. Others were dancing.
Adonis raised the organ’s pitch higher.
“Get ready for your healing! Get ready for your deliverance! Get ready, church! It’s coming! It’s coming! It’s coming!”
Lance couldn’t hold it any longer. He made himself happy. He joined the congregation and danced.
In the women’s shoe department at Neiman Marcus in Oakbrook Terrace Mall, Arykah and Monique both modeled six-inch tan and black patent leather stilettos by the designer Rock Bottom.
“OMG, these are just too hot,” Monique said as she strutted back and forth.
“Yassssss, Honey,” Arykah agreed. “They are a must-have.” She heard her cellular telephone ringing. She went to her purse and grabbed it just before the caller was sent to her voice mail. Arykah saw Chelsea Childs on the caller ID and wondered why she’d be calling at that time. “It’s Chelsea,” she said to Monique.
“Why isn’t she at church?”
Arykah shrug
ged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” She pressed the talk button on her telephone, then brought it to her ear. “Hey, Chelsea.”
Moments passed before Monique saw all the blood drain from Arykah’s face. “What is it?”
With the telephone pressed against her ear Arykah walked to a chair and sat down.
Monique followed and did the same. “What is it?” she asked again.
“I know you are freakin’ kiddin’ me, Chelsea,” Arykah said into the telephone.
Monique leaned close to Arykah and tried to hear what Chelsea was saying.
“I’m about to catch another case,” Arykah said angrily. “Why did he make y’all leave?”
“Who made who leave from where?” Monique asked Arykah.
Arykah didn’t answer Monique. She had to focus on what Chelsea was telling her.
“Well, why didn’t Lance put that slut outta the church?” Arykah was breathing heavy. “Where y’all at now?” She waited for Chelsea to answer.
Arykah nodded her head. “I want you, Darlita, Gladys, and Mother Myrtle to meet me and Monique at Gibson’s Steakhouse in Oakbrook Terrace. Do you know where it’s at?” Arykah nodded her head again. “Yes, right now.” She disconnected the line and glared at Monique.
“You won’t believe what that tramp, Angela Moore, did at church this morning.”
Monique’s eyes were as big as golf balls. “What?”
Arykah stood up. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you in the car. We gotta meet the team.” They took off the stilettos they were modeling and put them back in the boxes. Arykah and Monique left Neiman Marcus with four pairs of stilettos each . . . the heels just high enough to put up somebody’s behind if need be!
It only took Monique five minutes to drive herself and Arykah to Gibson’s Steakhouse. They decided to go inside the restaurant to wait for the remaining members of Team Arykah to arrive. As soon as their waitress seated them, Arykah said to her, “Can you please bring me an apple martini?”
Monique’s eyebrows rose. “Um, First Lady, it’s Sunday morning, not quite noon yet.”
“Humph, apparently Angela Moore is the first lady today. Do you want one?” Arykah asked her. She didn’t care what time of day it was. After the bomb Chelsea dropped on her, Arykah needed a strong drink.
Truth be told, Monique would love to have had a martini but remembered she was driving. “No.” She looked at the waitress. “I’ll have a Coke, please.”
“Absolutely,” the waitress said. She gave Arykah and Monique menus, then walked away.
“A martini, huh?” Monique said. “So, you’re gonna allow Angela Moore to take you there?”
“I told you what Chelsea said happened at church this morning. Angela’s got some balls, but guess what? Mine are bigger.”
“What I can’t figure out,” Monique started, “is why didn’t Lance make Angela leave the sanctuary. Why did he ask the team to leave?”
“According to Chelsea, she, Darlita, and Gladys were two seconds off of Angela’s behind. Lance thought it best to remove them from the situation.”
“And he gave that trick a pass?”
Arykah rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.
The waitress was back with their drinks. “Here you go,” she said. She set Arykah’s apple martini on the table in front of her, then set Monique’s glass of Coke on the table in front of her. She looked at them both. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“Actually, we’re waiting on four more women,” Monique said. “They should be here in about ten more minutes.
“Okay. That’s fine,” the waitress said. “I’ll check back with you then.”
Before the waitress walked away, Arykah said, “You can bring me another one of these.” She was already half finished with her apple martini.
“Of course,” the waitress said and walked away.
“Slow down on the vodka. Don’t you wanna be coherent when Mother Myrtle gets here?”
“Who do you think introduced me to apple martinis?”
Monique’s eyes bucked out of her head. “Stop lying!” she shrieked.
“I’m telling the truth and shaming the devil.”
Monique’s mouth dropped wide open. “No. Not my Gravy.” Monique had nicknamed Myrtle “Gravy” the first time she sat at her dinner table. She told Myrtle that she made the best homemade gravy in the world. She looked at Arykah curiously. “Really?”
Arykah waved her hand at Monique. “Girl, Myrtle is an old ‘G.’ Back in the day when you and Boris was going thru y’alls thang and you didn’t wanna listen to reason, me and Mother Myrtle would get us a bottle, sit in her living room, and drink to the wee hours of the morning.”
Monique never knew that. “Why didn’t y’all call me over? I like martinis.”
Arykah shook her head from side to side. “Uh-uh, we couldn’t do that because we were talkin’ about how stupid you were.”
“That is so shady, Arykah.”
“Well, you were stupid.”
The waitress set Arykah’s second apple martini on the table in front of her. She picked it up and looked at Monique. “Bottoms up.” She swallowed half of the contents in the glass.
“Hey, ladies,” Darlita greeted as she, Gladys, Chelsea, and Myrtle approached their table.
Arykah quickly drank the remainder of her apple martini and pushed the empty glass toward the middle of the table. It was one thing to drink alcohol in the presence of Monique and Myrtle, but Arykah was careful to not offend Chelsea, Gladys, and Darlita.
“Y’all made it,” Arykah said. She stood and hugged the team.
“Lady Arykah,” Gladys started, “now you know I’m on a budget. Why did we have to meet here at Gibson’s Steakhouse? My money is funny.”
“Gladys, your money is no good here anyway. Order whatever you want. The tab is on me today.”
“But the tab is always on you whenever we get together,” Darlita said.
What Darlita said was absolutely true. Whenever Team Arykah met to have a feast it was always at an expensive restaurant. And Arykah didn’t mind paying for everyone’s food.
Myrtle was on a fixed income and barely made ends meet. Darlita had just separated from her husband and was living with her brother, saving every penny she made to pay for a divorce attorney. Chelsea made a nice living as buyer for JCPenney but wasn’t able to splurge. Gladys worked two jobs to take care of her daughter and her unborn grandbaby. Monique was doing very well as the executive producer at the WGOD radio station. Monique had money, but she didn’t have Arykah’s kind of money.
“So, who’s keeping a track record of the meals that I pay for?” Arykah asked Darlita. “I’m not.”
“We don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, Lady Arykah,” Gladys said.
“You do a lot for us,” Chelsea added.
Arykah looked at all of the ladies seated at the round table. “Y’all are my girls. You’re the only women that held me down and had my back when the mothers were at my throat. And I appreciate that. Your loyalty means the world to me. So, if I wanna treat all of you to a nice meal, then let me. I honestly don’t think that I do more for you than y’all do for me. And if you were with me and Monique about an hour ago, y’all could’ve gotten some stilettos.”
“What?” the ladies, with the exception of Myrtle, shrieked.
“Yep,” Monique bragged. “I got me some Kenneth Coles, some Rock Bottoms, some Baby Phats, and some Bandolinos. See, that’s what you get when you throw down for the first lady.”
“Well, it was almost another fight in the sanctuary today,” Myrtle confessed. “I had to step between Chelsea and Darlita. They were getting ready to beat that girl down right on the front pew. The bishop told me to get them out of there.”
“’Splain that to me, Gravy,” Monique said. “Why did the bishop put y’all out and not Angela?”
“That trick wasn’t going anywhere,” Chelsea answered. “She walked her behind right up to the front row and stood next to Mo
ther Myrtle.”
“And we snapped,” Darlita added. “We weren’t having it.”
“Y’all had forgotten that you were in church,” Myrtle fussed. “Angela was wrong, yes, she was, but so were all of you when you went after her the way you did. That’s why the bishop put us out. Remember what he said to us in his office, before church?”
“What did he say?” Arykah asked Myrtle.
“He said that he was going to try to get Angela to drop the charges and the restraining order against you and Monique.”
“But he needed the team to keep our cool,” Gladys added. “We did exactly what he asked us not to do. We gave Angela a reason to not drop the charges.”
The waitress was at their table with six glasses of water. “I see the rest of your party has arrived,” she said to Arykah and Monique. She set their glasses on the table. “Is everyone prepared to order?”
“Does everyone want a steak?” Arykah asked the ladies.
“I do,” Myrtle said.
“Me too,” Monique added.
Chelsea, Darlita, and Gladys searched the menu for the cheapest steak.
“I’ll have the six-ounce rib eye,” Gladys ordered.
Darlita looked at the waitress. “Is that the smallest steak you have?”
“We’ll all have a porterhouse,” Arykah said sternly. She looked at her team. “Now tell her how you want your meat cooked.”
When their orders had been placed and the waitress walked away, Arykah spoke. “Please don’t ever do that again. That was embarrassing.”
“Do what?” the ladies asked in unison.
“If I invite y’all to an expensive restaurant, please know that I’m gonna pick up the tab. I mean, didn’t we just have this discussion about two minutes ago?” She looked at all of them. “I know all of your financial situations. I know it’s hard out there. I don’t expect you to get a burger if I’m eating a steak. So we’re all gonna have a steak.”
“You’re way too good to us,” Gladys said.
Darlita, Chelsea, Monique, and Myrtle nodded their heads in agreement.
“No more than you are to me, Gladys. I just sold a seven million-dollar estate.”
Lady Arykah Reigns Page 13