Parvell Sykes hurried over to help Patty up off the floor. Even though he was seriously thinking about marrying Roxanne Daye, she was too dull and churchy for his behind-closed-doors taste. Charmayne refused to speak to him. And now, Patty Harmon had just been forced to end what he suspected was a very hot and torrid affair with Jethro. Bailey was right, Patty was a skank. But Lawd, if a skank wasn’t what the doctor ordered when nobody was around.
He dipped his handkerchief in a glass of ice water and dabbed at the bruising and swelling that was covering half of Patty’s head.
When the rest of the black folk in the room saw her head, they started laughing all over again.
Patty started to cry and Parvell, her new knight, gently led her from the room.
Craig, who was just praying that he would not collapse into the same hollering laughter, stood and said, “Well, I guess this ends this meeting that wasn’t really a meeting, even if it was worthy of being shown as a pay-per-view boxing match.”
“Yes, Lawd,” Mr. Lacy said. “Now, that is something I really wished I coulda seent with some natural eyes. Woulda paid good money to see that thang go down.”
The white folks in the room, along with their lone black wannabe, quietly gathered their things and walked out in a daze. They had come to give someone they considered a Durham mover and shaker a contract that they hoped would signal the beginning of transforming a community that had many of them concerned as to what it would become over time. But now they weren’t so sure they wanted somebody whose personal life was this tacky and messy to get that contract.
On the way out, two members stole a few glances at Lamont. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe they needed to be more concerned about helping some of the good, working people in Durham get a chance at a better life. Maybe Cashmere Estates really did need to be rebuilt to honor and carry out what had begun as a very noble and beautiful dream. If truth be told, those two pondered on what for them was a radical concept—that good housing and good neighborhoods should not have such a high price tag on them that good people were robbed of the chance of having them.
Chapter Eighteen
YOU GOT EVERYTHING?”
“Yeesss . . .” Vanessa answered slowly for the fourth time. “I have it all, Theresa. It’s in the trunk of my car. And the alarm is on. And I am going to get it all as soon as we are finished here.”
“I’m being a pain in the butt, huh?”
“Uhh . . . kinda . . . sorta . . . something like that, girl,” Vanessa said. “But it’s okay. We understand. Don’t we, Rhonda?”
“Yep,” Rhonda said. “That we do. Now, how ’bout us going on in and getting this party rolling? ’Cause we don’t have a lot of time left before the Christmas Festival starts. And frankly, my booty’s cold. It’s freezing out here.”
“Amen,” Vanessa said.
Rhonda pulled out her cell phone and spoke, “Lena.” She waited a few seconds and then said, “Where is your be-hind?”
Theresa ran into the building. It was cold outside and she was anxious to get started herself. A large group of children and parents had already arrived. Miss Queen Esther and Mr. Joseph were serving homemade hot chocolate, sugar cookies, and punch in the lobby, hoping these treats would temporarily pacify the children running around in the lobby and being chased out of the sanctuary because they were about to lose their minds over seeing Santa. And some of those parents were not helping matters, either, with their own demands for the children to see Santa, coupled with their lenient approaches to discipline.
Plus, if the truth were to be told, Theresa couldn’t wait to see Santa herself. She’d caught a blurred glimpse of Lamont when he rushed into the church to get dressed before any children came. She examined her new Mrs. Claus suit. It was even cuter on than it was off. The bright red pants were stretch velvet and hugged her hips in all the right places. The matching velvet top was soft and sassy with white faux fur around the cuffs and the scooped neckline that came so low on her shoulders she looked more like a sexy snow bunny instead of Mrs. Claus.
She adjusted her hat, which was made out of the same material as the pants.
“Ho, ho, ooooo, girl,” Lamont said, coming up behind Theresa and grabbing her by the waist. “Now that’s what I’m talking ’bout, Mrs. Claus. And those black high-heeled pumps are calling my name. Umph, umph, umph.”
He planted a kiss on an exposed shoulder and whispered, “Ho, ho, ho baby bubba,” in mock imitation of the funk band Parliament and Funkadelic.
“Look! It’s Santa. And he is hugging all on Miss Theresa like she is his girlfriend,” said the pastor’s youngest son, eight-year-old Derrick Quincey.
Derrick started jumping up and down and pulling on Lena’s hand, hoping he could guide her in the same direction that Santa was walking.
“Boy, stop that,” Lena said. “Santa doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s married. That’s Mrs. Claus, his wife,” Lena said.
“Really, Mama?” Derrick’s seven-year-old sister, Jasmine, asked incredulously. “I thought Miss Theresa was single. I didn’t know that she had gotten married, and to Santa. Man, some ladies are really lucky. Her husband has a house full of toys. You think she’ll tell Santa to bring me a fully furnished Barbie house with an alarm system, three-car garage, intercom, swimming pool, pretend wireless Internet connection, and basketball court?”
“I think that,” Rhonda whispered to Lena, “Santa better go down in the ’hood and find one of those old-school hoodlums and play the numbers. ’Cause that’s a tall order.”
Vanessa started laughing and said, “You know that little Jasmine is on some different stuff. I haven’t even seen what she is talking about and you know I’ve been all over the Internet pricing Barbie and Bratz stuff.”
“Looka here, baby,” Lamont whispered in Theresa’s ear and sucked on the side of his tooth all mannish-like, “I better go get situated before Santa gets jacked by Jasmine Quincey.”
Theresa laughed softly and said, “You do that because I don’t think Jasmine is the only little girl in here thinking about accosting Santa and getting her stuff. I’ll meet you down there in a few minutes.”
“Now that I know where you’ll be in a few minutes, what I want to know is where you gone be later, Mrs. Claus. ’Cause,” Lamont said, sucking on his tooth, eyes sparkling pure “bad boy” through all of the Santa gear on his face, “I was thinking ’bout giving the elves the night off, so you could come and warm Santa up a bit. You know it’s mighty cold back at my crib in the North Pole and I need you to take care of that.”
“You are bad, Santa.”
“Nahh, baby. I’m just a merry old elf who is looking to get his freak on,” Lamont said low so that no one could hear him.
“Oooo, Santa, you are so nasty. And in church, too.”
“Ho, ho, ho, baby,” he said in a low seductive voice that made Theresa blush.
“Can we get some hot chocolate?” Derrick asked his mother.
“Yes,” Lena said. “You and your sister get some chocolate and stay over there by Miss Queen Esther while you’re drinking it.”
“Okay, Mama,” they both said and skipped over to the table.
“Hey, Mrs. Claus,” Lena said grinning. “What you doing to make Santa so frisky?” Her eyes traveled over Theresa’s outfit, and then landed on her shoes. “Hmmm, I see, I see. I bet those,” her eyes practically pointed at the shoes, “are making for ole boy to be a real, real, real jolly old elf.”
“I know you are not messing with me, when you just ordered some more of those first lady hoochie PJs. I take it that somebody who will remain unnamed, even though he is walking in the building, liked them—a lot,” Theresa said with a low laugh.
Lena looked out of the glass door and smiled at her husband. He rushed inside shivering and blowing on his hands.
“Man! It’s so cold out there, I could barely stand it.”
“And hello to you, too,” Lena told him with a smile.
“Hey, baby,” he to
ld his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Lena jumped. “Boy, your mouth is ice-cold.”
Obadiah raised up his eyebrows and just shook his head, as if to say, “What did you expect, I just said it was cold.” He turned to Theresa. “Well, well, Miss Lady, how are you today? Glowing and working that Mrs. Claus suit I see. Where’s Santa?”
“Down in the dining room getting situated. I better hurry on down so that I can help him.”
“Just what is your job?” Obadiah asked.
“Getting the names straight and making sure the kids don’t sit on Santa’s lap too long. You know how that is when one of them has a list yay long.” She held her arms out about two feet.
“I know,” Obadiah said. “’Cause those two have lists that look like dissertations. Jasmine almost got her little butt whipped for trying to argue with me when I told her that she couldn’t bring it with her.”
“Yeah,” Lena said laughing. “Missy was determined to give poor Santa everything on that list.”
“That’s ’cause she your child,” Obadiah said.
“My child? Obadi, that girl has Quincey stamped all over her. Doesn’t she, Theresa?”
Theresa glanced over at Jasmine, and decided to stay out of it. She was standing at the table drinking hot chocolate and watching a little boy fuss with his mother. When the little boy got mad and dropped his hot chocolate on the floor, Jasmine raised her eyebrows and shook her head. In that moment, she was the spitting image of Rev. Quincey, who was also watching that little boy, raising his eyebrows, and shaking his head.
“Now, if that were one of mine,” he said, “I’d take him right outside in that frigid cold and beat his tail like Christmas Day ain’t coming.”
Theresa was cracking up with laughter. Obadiah Quincey was just as crazy when he wasn’t doing “preacher stuff.” And if truth be told, both Derrick and Jasmine knew that their daddy would tear their little behinds up if they cut the fool like that. And drop some hot chocolate on the floor? They wouldn’t ever sit down again.
“Well, I’m glad that Lamont wasn’t out here to see that,” Rev. Quincey said. “’Cause I know that he would have told that bad-tail boy that he wasn’t getting jack for Christmas acting like that.”
The pastor started walking over to the hot chocolate table, and paused for a moment.
“Miss Theresa, I hope you plan on keeping a plentiful supply of those PJs your first lady bought from your store. That chiffon getup was just what this preacher needed. Ain’t that right, First Lady?”
“Boy, stop,” Lena said, cheeks all pink and rosy.
“That ain’t what you said last night,” he replied laughing, before urging the kids to finish the chocolate so that they could go and visit with Santa before the other children realized what was going on.
Queen Esther watched Rev. Quincey pimp off. She remembered when that boy was a toddler, running around with a stuffed Lassie dog toy, talking about “woof, woof.” “And now, he thinking he show nuff grown, ’cause he way over forty. Mannish thang. Just like her nephews—smellin’ themselves big-time and still thinking they grown.”
“Grown,” she thought. “Folks treat it like it’s a sacred word. And ’bout all it really means is that some of God’s children are older than others and have acquired some rights and privileges that goes with being what we call grown.”
“You all need to move on down to the dining hall,” she said, “before I have to lay hands on some of these bad-tailed children running around this church. ’Cause as soon as Joseph gets back here, we gonna take this table down and head there ourselves.”
Theresa and Lena started moving toward the dining hall. Rhonda and Vanessa, who had finished changing into their elf costumes, tried to hurry after them but poor Rhonda was having a time walking in those long, narrow shoes.
“Girl, these curled-up toes are killing my feet,” Rhonda complained. “Now, Lena, you know I must love your man a whole lot to put this mess on my feet. I hope I don’t have to stand up too long, else I’m going to hurt somebody before the evening is over with.”
Lena looked down at Rhonda’s feet and laughed. Those shoes made her feet look like they belonged to some creature in a Dr. Seuss book.
“Shut up,” Rhonda said and tried to look mean. But it didn’t work. As soon as she glanced down at her feet, she started laughing.
“Lookie, looka here,” a low, sexy voice said, “if it ain’t Santa’s helpers.”
They stopped walking and turned to face the voice, and did a double take. It was Charmayne Robinson and Table Wine, followed by a very pretty and well-dressed white woman none of them had ever met before.
“Ladies,” Charmayne began, “this is Mrs. Bailey Catherine Winters. She asked me to bring her over here, so that she could make a donation.”
Not one person said a word. It was one thing for Jethro Winters to send some chump change over to the church in a cheap effort to garner support from a black pulpit. But for his wife, whom they all knew had KO’d her husband’s mistress in public, to come here was something else.
Bailey, who knew she had just walked into her husband’s enemy’s territory, wondered if she had done the right thing. But when she noticed a young couple with two little boys jumping up and down over seeing Santa, Bailey knew she was right to come here. For she imagined that family represented who Lamont Green was working so hard to build homes for. She reached into her purse and pulled out a cashier’s check.
“Which one of you is the first lady of this church?”
Lena raised her hand like they were in class.
“Then I want to put this in your care.”
Bailey gave Lena the check.
“Look, I am not going to stand in the House of the Lord and try to play any games with you. I know you have all heard what happened. And yes, I came here to get back at my husband.
“I stayed up all night after that encounter trying to figure out what would be the best way to get him, when it occurred to me that I needed to get rid of some money for tax reasons before the end of the year. I hope using it gives you as much pleasure as it did me to give it. And please, by all means, use my name on your donor list.”
Bailey turned to Charmayne and Chablis, whom she had just recently persuaded to come and work for her new company.
“Ladies, we need to leave.”
As the three of them were walking out of the building, Lena, who had minded her manners and not looked at the folded check, couldn’t stand it any longer. She read it once, then twice, and then a third time to make sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her.
“If you don’t tell us what is on that check, I’m gonna cut you with my church knife,” Queen Esther said.
“Here, Miss Queen Esther,” Lena said and put the check in her hand. “You tell them what’s on the check.”
Queen Esther, too, read the amount once, then twice, and then one more time to make sure her eyes were focused right.
“Y’all are driving us crazy!”
“Well, if we are driving you crazy, Rhonda, you are going to lose all of your mind when I tell you that this check is for two and a half million dollars,” Queen Esther said.
“Di . . . di . . . di . . . did you just say two . . . twoooo million dollars?” Theresa managed to ask.
“NO! I said two and a half million, girl.”
“How much money does Jethro Winters have?” Theresa asked. “I never placed him with that kind of money.”
“That ain’t his money, baby,” Queen Esther told her. “That’s Bailey Catherine’s money. Girl, her family is loaded.”
“Umph,” Vanessa, who had been very quiet, said. “Kinda makes you wish ole boy will make her mad again.”
“You are crazy,” Lena said.
“But you know something,” Queen Esther said solemnly. “This money is gonna do a lot of good. But my heart goes out to a woman who is so hurt, she’d do this to make a point. We’ve been trying to raise this money for a while, and she always has money on ha
nd. She could have given it to us long before now.”
“Yeah,” Lena added. “We need to pray for her. ’Cause that’s a deep hurtin’ she’s going through. And revenge is not going to heal it.”
“That may be true,” Rhonda said. “But it sure is going to heal a whole lot over on our end.”
“As Romans 8:28 says . . .” Lena began . . .
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose,” they all said together and started laughing.
“Here, Theresa,” Lena said and put the check in her hand. “You are the one who needs to give this to Lamont. And the Lord will tell you when to give it to him.”
“Leave all of that alone,” Queen Esther exclaimed, frustrated that it was taking them so long to finish cleaning up the dining hall so they could go into the sanctuary.
It had been a long morning. But it had been a very good morning. Besides that surprise check from Bailey Winters, the festival had raised an additional half a million dollars. They started out hoping to raise $325,000 and walked away with a whopping three million. And she couldn’t wait to see the expression on her nephew’s face when he learned just how much money the Lord has blessed him with. Because at this moment, he was still praising God over the $500,000.
“Vanessa doesn’t have time to run to the car and get your things, and you don’t have time to change, Theresa,” her mother told her as she put the last of the table decorations in a box. “Rev. Quincey has a meeting in Atlanta tomorrow and has to be at the airport in two hours.”
“I’m still in my Mrs. Claus suit!”
“Come on, baby,” Lamont said, pulling off his white beard. “We don’t have much time and too much time has been wasted already.”
Holy Ghost Corner Page 28