The Choir Director

by Carl Weber

  “Amazing.” We began to walk down the beach.

  “So, enough about me. Tell me about you. Who is Aaron Mackie?” Simone asked.

  “That’s a good question,” I replied. “I guess deep down I’m just a country boy trying to fulfill his dreams.”

  “What kind of dreams?”

  “My major goal right now is to win a national choir championship and put First Jamaica back on the map; then I’d like to get a recording contract. Don’t take this as bragging, but I think I’m as good as Kirk Franklin and them.”

  “After what I heard in the rehearsal room, I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. You really can blow.”

  “Thanks.” We stopped walking, and she took off her shoes.

  “So, have you always wanted to be a singer and choir director?”

  “No, I never sang anywhere other than my shower until I was a senior in college. Heck, I wouldn’t have even done that if I hadn’t been trying to run behind a girl who was in the choir.” I picked up a rock and threw it in the water.

  “Wow, now that’s a pretty remarkable story. Where’d you go to school?”

  “I went to the University of Virginia.”

  “You went to UVA?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “No wonder I like you. My father went to UVA. That’s a hard school to get into. They rejected me, even with a legacy.” She stopped walking and turned to face me. “Boy, my daddy is gonna love you.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” Simone slipped her hand into mine, and we trudged through the sand, just holding hands.

  “So, is that why you’re still single?” I asked after awhile. “Your daddy hasn’t approved of your men?”

  I was playing with her, but she got a little attitude with me. “I’m a grown woman, and my daddy doesn’t have to approve of anything I do.”

  I pulled her close and kissed her, gently yet passionately. Not a whole lot of tongue, but enough to let us both know the road we were going down.

  “So, do you approve of that?”

  “Mmm, I sure do, but let me see something.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer. This time she instigated the kiss. “Wow. You’re a really good kisser.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because most men don’t know how to kiss—at least not how to properly kiss a woman. You’ve obviously had some practice over the years.”

  I grinned, but skillfully avoided her attempt to get me to spill about past relationships. “Well, if you thought that was nice, what do you think of this?” I pressed against her and kissed her as deeply and as passionately as I could. She offered no resistance. We were locked together as tight as Siamese twins, oblivious to any other people on the beach.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” Simone said with a sigh when we finally separated.

  She looked dreamy-eyed. I knew the look; I think I had it myself.

  “I like you, Aaron. I like you a lot. And I might be making the biggest mistake of my life by inviting you over, but would you like to come over to my place for a drink?”

  As a man, I’d learned that most women decide whether they’re going to sleep with a man in the first fifteen minutes. Likewise, I’d made up my mind I was going to sleep with Simone thirty seconds after she walked into the choir practice room and I saw her for the first time.

  “Why are you afraid of inviting me over for a drink?”

  “It’s not the drink that I’m afraid of. It’s what comes after the drink.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen after we have a drink if you don’t want it to,” I reassured her, though I was pretty certain she wouldn’t try to stop me if I made a move. “No means no to me. I won’t do anything that you’re not ready for. Matter of fact, we don’t have to go back to your house. I’d be just as happy to go to a bar and have a drink with you.”

  She shook her head and took my hand. “I want you to come to my house, and whatever happens, happens.”

  Bingo! I knew how to read between the lines, and I eagerly followed her as she led me back to the car.

  Monique

  14

  I was in my private bathroom, primping in front of the mirror in the sheer Victoria’s Secret peignoir set my husband had bought for me. He did that type of thing when he was in a good mood, and there had been a sense of elation in our house the past two days. T. K. had gone in front of the joint boards of our church and successfully secured the installment of Aaron Mackie as choir director for the next three years. It turned out that without Jonathan Smith leading them, the bishop’s detractors slid right back into the holes they crawled out of, just as James Black had predicted from his hospital bed. The vote ended up being overwhelmingly in Aaron’s favor, and a testament to the bishop’s control of the church. From the way he’d been humming and whistling around the house, T. K. was quite pleased with himself. He didn’t have a clue, but in a few minutes, I was going to show him just how pleased I was, too, if you know what I mean.

  I sprayed my shoulder blades and my wrists with one of the most seductive perfumes I owned. Then, after one last glance in the mirror, I stepped out of my bathroom, striking a pose to model my outfit for my husband. He was sitting up in the bed with his laptop, working on his new book. He wouldn’t be working for long, though. I planned to seriously put it on him. We both had a way of communicating without words when we were in the mood, so when he looked up from his computer and spotted me, I was sure he heard me loud and clear.

  He smiled when I spun around so he could see all that he was about to get. T. K. loved when I did my little stripteases. I’d wanted to take one of those pole-dancing courses they advertise in the local newspaper, but I was afraid someone might find out about it and start some crazy gossip. I could hear all the rumors now about the first lady being a stripper and working in some club in Queens behind my husband’s back. Can you imagine the drama that would crop up behind that? I didn’t even want to think about it.

  I strutted over to the bed. T. K. moved his laptop and I straddled him. He kissed me passionately, moving his lips down to the sensitive spot on my neck before lightly blowing in my ear. I purred as his hands cupped my breasts, kneading them through the silk nightgown. I let out a low moan as he moved his lips back to mine.

  “I love you so much, Bishop T. K. Wilson,” I murmured, pushing him back gently. “I wouldn’t give you up for anybody in the world.”

  “I love you, too, my wife. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to spend the rest of my life with.”

  I kissed his neck and began to slowly work my way down.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, sniffing my shoulders. I knew this was his favorite scent. “You always smell so good, and you look so beautiful in this nightgown. Is it new?”

  I looked up, shaking my head at him. Men can really be a trip sometimes. “You know, it really is a good thing I love you, because the average woman would slap you upside your head, T. K.”

  “Slap me upside the head for what?”

  “Because this is the negligee you just bought for me and left in my office, that’s why. Did you even pick it out?” The thought of him sending Tia or another member of our congregation to pick out a gift infuriated me.

  “I didn’t pick anything out, because I didn’t buy anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. I didn’t leave any negligee in your office.”

  “Stop playing, T. K. This isn’t funny. You mean to tell me you didn’t buy this for me?” I sat up. “You know what? I’m starting to lose the mood.” Maybe that would make him tell me the truth so we could get back to business.

  He gave me a stern look. “No, Monique, I didn’t. I wish I had, but I didn’t. Maybe one of the sisters left it for you. Did you do something nice for someone recently?”

  “I always try to do something nice for people, but nothing that sticks out in my mind. And not for anyone who would buy me Victoria’s Secret lingerie.” />
  “Hmm … maybe you have a secret admirer.”

  He was trying to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t funny. Not knowing who had purchased me something so intimate made me want to rip it off my body.

  Then a thought struck me. There had been only one person who’d shown me any interest as of late, and that was our new choir director, and I knew he wouldn’t … well, I hoped he wouldn’t do anything like … but then again, he did squeeze my ass that one time.

  Before I could ponder it further, the phone rang, interrupting our little chat. T. K. reached over to the nightstand. As a minister, he believed in answering the phone no matter what time of day or night it was, or even when we were getting romantic. He always liked to be available for the parishioners. While he answered the phone, I took the opportunity to quickly slip out of the nightgown of mysterious origins.

  T. K. greeted the caller.

  “Bishop?”

  Whoever was on the other end of the call must have been speaking very loudly, because I could hear everything. He sounded agitated.

  I climbed back into bed and laid my head on T. K.’s chest to wait for the phone call to be over—and to listen to what was said. I knew I was eavesdropping, but as far as I was concerned, this came with the territory of being the first lady. Often T. K. told me things in confidence, but a lot of things he held inside, so it was my job to get it out of him before it ate him up.

  “Bishop, it’s Smitty. You got a minute?”

  My husband looked down, noticing my nakedness for the first time. I smiled, licking my lips hungrily to let him know what I had in mind. “Um, Smitty, I’m kind of in the middle of something. Is it possible for us to talk in the morning?”

  “Well, no, not exactly, but this will only take a second, I promise. I just wanted to say I was sorry about everything that happened between us. You’re a good friend, and you’ve been a good pastor to me and Maria.”

  “Thank you, Smitty. What’s the matter? You sound a little distraught. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No … no, I’m not all right. They told her, T. K. They told Maria everything. My life as I know it is over. I might as well just put a gun to my head and end it all right now.”

  “What?” T. K. couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. “Smitty, I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say—”

  “Yes, you heard me right. I can’t take this anymore.”

  T. K. hesitated, his face softening with sympathy. “Relax, Smitty. It’s gonna be all right—”

  He cut the bishop off again. “No, it’s not. Stop fooling yourself. They’re mad that I didn’t show up to the vote. They’re extra mad that you’re still the pastor of the church and that that boy is the new choir director. But they had more on me than what you had. They’re still threatening to tell the rest.”

  “Who, Smitty? Who are ‘they’?” T. K.’s voice revealed his rising level of frustration.

  “The people who are blackmailing me. The very same people who are out to get you.”

  I felt my body stiffen with anger at the thought of someone out to get my husband, but I had to remain calm so T. K. wouldn’t know I was listening. I didn’t want him to get out of bed and finish his conversation elsewhere.

  “Who are these people, Smitty? Please tell me who is blackmailing you. And what else do they still have on you? I may be able to help you if you just tell me who they are and what they have.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you without proof. So don’t worry about me. They’ve already beaten me.” He sighed loudly and there was a pause before he spoke again. “Listen, if anything happens to me, take care of my family. And take care of yourself and that beautiful wife of yours. There is still a lot of danger out there.”

  “Danger? What kind of danger? Smitty, you’re not making any sense. What’s going to happen to you? Look, maybe we should call the police.”

  “Man, are you crazy? The police are already involved. T. K., don’t trust anybody. Do you hear me? Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Smitty—”

  “Look, I’ve gotta go. Please promise me if anything happens to me you’ll take care of my family. Please, T. K.”

  “Okay, Smitty, I promise, but nothing’s gonna happen to you. Listen, why don’t you come over here so we can talk?”

  After that, all I heard was “Thanks,” and the line went dead.

  T. K. quickly dialed the number back several times, but Jonathan never answered.

  “What happened?” I asked. My simple eavesdropping had turned into concern. T. K. was obviously shaken by the call, because he didn’t even bother to hide the details the way he might have if it had been another church member calling to talk.

  “It’s Smitty. Someone is blackmailing him and he won’t tell me who. He’s acting like there’s some great conspiracy out there to take over the church and destroy me and anyone close to me.”

  I sat up and searched my husband’s face for some clue as to how real he felt this threat was. Some of the things Smitty said made me think that not all of this was news to T. K. Like they had discussed this before. “Do you believe him?”

  He placed his arm around me, pulling me in close. “I’m not sure, honey, but from the sound of his voice, Smitty believes it, and that’s enough to make me concerned.”

  Simone

  15

  I laid my head on Aaron’s shoulder as we exited the Grand Central Parkway and made our way up Francis Lewis Boulevard toward my Jamaica Estates home. The ride home was pretty quiet, yet filled with the sexual tension of what was soon to come. I still couldn’t believe I’d broken my own cardinal rule and invited him home on the first date. Then again, I’d never had anyone kiss me the way he did. His kisses did things to me that no man had done since James Black broke my heart years ago. I was like putty in his hands, and he had carte blanche to do whatever his heart desired with me.

  I looked over at him grinning and humming to himself happily. I was sure he was under the expectation that once we crossed my threshold we’d wind up in bed. Hell, who was I fooling? He was probably right.

  I wanted him so badly my entire body was trembling with anticipation. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him or myself. At the same time, I didn’t want to appear easy or loose, either, because I was nobody’s slut. I kept telling myself that we’d just have to see how things progressed once we arrived at the house and had a few drinks. My money was on us having a passionate night that neither of us would forget.

  “Hey, sweetie, we’re at 136th Avenue. You said you live on 138th, right?”

  He called me sweetie. How cute was that? I blushed like a little girl.

  “Oh, that was quick.” I lifted my head from his shoulder to give him some directions. “Make a left at the next corner. I’m the fourth house on the right, the brick colonial. Just pull into the driveway.”

  Aaron turned the corner and I sat up, searching my purse for my house keys.

  “Sweetie, I can’t park in your driveway.”

  “Why not?” I stopped searching through my purse and looked up.

  “Because.” He pointed to direct my attention to what was blocking him.

  My heart leaped in a slight panic when I saw the Range Rover parked in my driveway with the lights on. I knew only one person with a Range Rover, and he was the last person I wanted to see right now. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “What the hell is who doing here?” He eased up on the gas.

  “Don’t stop, Aaron. Keep driving!” I demanded.

  I tried to scrunch down in the seat so I wouldn’t be seen. Instead of moving forward, though, we stopped. Aaron’s expression was a mixture of confusion and frustration. Obviously he’d been expecting to have fun with me, but this wasn’t the type of game he thought he’d be playing.

  “You gotta be kidding me. This is ridiculous.” Aaron paused for a second and then his eyebrows furrowed. “You aren’t married, are you? Please don’t tell me you’re married,” he barked. />
  “No, no, I’m not married,” I said as if I were the only one who had the right to be agitated. “Now, will you keep driving before he sees us?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but he was moving entirely too slow.

  He gave me a doubtful look; then, thankfully, he stepped on the accelerator, moving us down the block and past my house. I eased back up in my seat, looking in my side-view mirror. I didn’t see any sign of the Range Rover backing out of the driveway or anyone following us, so I heaved a sigh of relief. I was still trying to process what was going on and why that man was parked outside my house. Coming by unannounced was the ultimate no-no in my book.

  About two blocks later, Aaron turned the corner and pulled into a parking space. He did not look like a happy camper, and I felt a migraine coming on. I tried to speak to him with my eyes, because I didn’t have the words to explain. Besides, he’d never understand.

  “What’s going on, Simone? That your man or something?”

  Ordinarily I would have checked any man who tried to question me, but Aaron was different. I really liked him, so I didn’t mind him asking questions, but I wasn’t sure he was going to like my answer.

  “No, I swear it’s not like that, but I can’t really explain it right now.” I looked out the window once again for any sign of the Range Rover. “You just have to trust me.” I glanced at him sadly, then reached for the door handle.

  “Whoa, where you going?” He gripped my arm tightly. “Look, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

  “Aaron, I’m sorry things turned out this way, but something’s come up. I’m gonna have to give you a rain check on that drink, okay? I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

  “That’s your explanation?” All the sexual tension that had been building between us was now fuel for his frustration, and he was pretty close to shouting.

  “That’s about as good an explanation as you’re gonna get from me right now.” I glanced at my arm, which he was still holding on to. “Can I have my arm back?”