The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel)

by Kimberla Lawson Roby

  So instead, Dillon set his phone down on the passenger seat and kept driving. He had a plan, but now with this latest Matthew development he had to work faster. He had to break up that little union between his father and that deceitful tramp he was married to. If he could manage that, Matthew would be a nonissue. If Dillon showed his father who his wife truly was, his father would be indebted to him. He would finally see which of his children had his back, and this was all Dillon wanted.

  When Dillon arrived home, he walked inside and rushed straight into the bedroom where Melissa was.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  Melissa gazed at him strangely and at first she hesitated—until she saw the angry look in his eyes. It was then that she began unbuttoning her shirt, but when she seemed to be taking far too long doing it, Dillon yanked her blouse apart with both hands and buttons flew in every direction. Dillon hated having to do this kind of thing, but he was frustrated and feeling rejected, and though he wished he could be with another woman besides Melissa, he needed her to take care of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d noticed as of late that sex always made him feel better about everything. It calmed his nerves and settled his thoughts very quickly. It allowed him to be in total control of his life, and he needed that.

  When he’d finished with Melissa, he lay there, practically out of breath and feeling satisfied. She lay in silence. Dillon thought about a lot of things, but it wasn’t long before he thought about Charlotte again and his plan to destroy her. He also thought about the fact that he was going to need Melissa’s help.

  “I need you to start researching everything you can about Charlotte. All the way back to her childhood. I’ll even pay for a hired professional if you need one.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because getting rid of her is the only chance I have of becoming close with my dad. It’s the only way.”

  Melissa turned away from him.

  Dillon frowned. “You don’t have a problem with that do you?”

  Melissa sighed. “I just wish there was another way.”

  “Like what? Waiting? Because I’ve been waiting for months for things to get better, and they haven’t. And I know it’s because Charlotte is constantly badmouthing me to my dad. She hates me, I hate her, and she’s got to be eliminated.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to find anything, because so many of Charlotte’s secrets have already been exposed. Things have been publicized about her for years.”

  Dillon propped himself up on his elbow, reached his hand under Melissa’s chin, and whisked her face toward him. “You’ll do what I tell you. You’ll find the kind of dirt I need on Charlotte, or you can pack your things and get outta of here.”

  Melissa stared at him in horror, but fear was a good thing. When people feared you, they did what was expected, so that there would be no consequences. Back when he’d needed her help with concealing their identities from his father, Dillon had been forced to get rough with her a couple of times then, too—she hadn’t felt comfortable lying to anyone or deceiving them, but Dillon’s aggressiveness had been the reason she’d done such a great job. It was the reason she’d worked hard and had done what was required. She would do an excellent job again…or else.

  Chapter 16

  Matthew walked inside Aunt Emma’s house and hugged her.

  “So how was work today?” she asked, heading back toward the kitchen.

  “It was okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “It was fine,” he said but only because he knew that’s what she wanted to hear. She didn’t respond, though, which meant she knew his first answer had been an honest one.

  “That son of yours is sleeping away, and dinner should be finished in a few minutes.”

  “I’m gonna go look in on him.”

  Matthew went into Aunt Emma’s bedroom and smiled at his beautiful little son. He was surrounded by a pillow on either side of his body so he wouldn’t roll over and fall out of the bed, and he slept peacefully. MJ was so innocent and helpless. All babies were, and they never got to choose their parents. Their protectors. The two adults who were supposed to love and cherish them, no matter what. Matthew stood admiring his son, but the thought of Racquel erased his smile. What was he going to do? How was he going to fix things? How would he ever be able to convince Racquel she needed help? He was carrying a very heavy burden to be so young, and for some reason, he thought about that famous saying his grandmother recited a lot: when you make your bed, you have to lie in it. If only Matthew could turn back time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have sex before marriage, or even if he made that mistake, he wouldn’t do it without wearing protection; he wouldn’t leave Harvard until he graduated, and he wouldn’t marry any woman until he’d gotten at least a master’s degree.

  Matthew gazed at his son and couldn’t remember ever feeling so downtrodden. He was beyond miserable, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the awful heartache of being an unhappily married husband and father. He loved his son, but what was he supposed to do about a wife who had made it clear that she was ready to move on—a wife who wanted to start a brand-new life without him and MJ?

  When Matthew left Aunt Emma’s room and went into the dining room, he saw Aunt Emma setting a couple of dishes on the table. It was only Wednesday but she’d cooked so much food, it seemed more like Sunday. Baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, mustard greens, and sweet potatoes. She’d asked him this morning if he could stay for dinner this evening, and though he’d sort of wanted to decline her invitation—because of how depressed he felt—he was glad he’d accepted. His grandmother’s sister was the best cook he knew and even as a small boy, he’d loved spending time with her. She and his grandmother weren’t all that close—thanks to his grandmother sleeping with Aunt Emma’s ex-husband, a story he’d overheard his parents discussing years ago—but his mom was very close to Aunt Emma, and Matthew had pretty much seen her every week of his life from the time he was seven. She’d also babysat him whenever his parents had needed her to, and now here she was doing the same for him with MJ.

  After a few more minutes passed, his cousin Anise walked in. She was Aunt Emma’s only child and his mother’s first cousin, but sadly, Cousin Anise didn’t care for his mom for the same reason Aunt Emma didn’t have much to do with his grandmother: his mom had slept with Cousin Anise’s ex-husband, David, behind her back and she’d found out about it. This had all occurred before Matthew’s parents had married, but at one point, David had wondered if Matthew was his son. It hadn’t been true, but even now, Matthew shook his head at the thought of it because it reminded him of just how many people his mother had hurt.

  “Hey Matt,” Anise said, setting her handbag down and hugging him. He could tell from the suit she wore that she’d come straight to her mom’s from work.

  “Hey Cousin Anise.”

  “It’s so good to see you, and where’s my handsome little baby cousin?”

  “Asleep.”

  “Awww. Well, I hope he wakes up soon. I just love him.”

  Matthew smiled and sat down at the table.

  “Hey Mom,” Anise said, hugging Aunt Emma. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Aunt Emma set down a glass pitcher of homemade sweet tea. “No, I think this is just about it.”

  “So, Matt,” she said, “how’s work going?”

  “It’ll do.”

  “Well, you know I think you should go back to school. Even if only part-time or online.”

  “I’ve thought about it, but all the programs I looked at are way too expensive.”

  “Doesn’t your job offer tuition reimbursement?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t really checked into it.”

  “Well, you should. And there are always student loans to consider, too. I know you don’t want to end up with tons of debt, but I think getting an education will make a huge difference for you. I mean, Matt, you did so well all the way through high scho
ol, and you’re such a smart young man.”

  Matthew heard what she was saying and though he would like nothing more than to go back to school, right now taking any classes, part-time or otherwise, was out of the question.

  He and Anise chatted for a while longer until Aunt Emma finally sat down and said grace.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you so much for the food we’re about to receive, and thank you for allowing my daughter, great-nephew, and great-great-nephew to come together this evening as a family. Lord we ask that You would use this food for the nourishment of our bodies and that You would continue to bless each of us in our daily lives. In Jesus’ name, Amen, Amen, Amen.”

  The three of them passed the various dishes around, serving themselves, but when Matthew bit into one of two chicken thighs he’d laid on his plate, he wanted to close his eyes. It tasted that good; almost like it was fried.

  “So, Matt,” Aunt Emma said, “how’s Racquel doing?”

  He’d been so hoping that neither his aunt nor cousin would bring her up, and now he had to figure out how to answer. But the more seconds he sat in silence, he found himself wanting to tell them everything. He wanted to tell the truth and release the anguish he was starting to feel again. Mrs. Downing had helped him with that a little when she’d given him advice about his parents, but what he needed was to tell someone else about Racquel. Jasmine knew about her and so did Jonathan, but he needed to tell his great-aunt, which was the next best thing to telling his mother. His cousin Anise only wanted the best for him, too, so he didn’t mind her hearing also.

  “Things are awful between us. She hasn’t touched MJ in a couple of days, and she says she’s leaving for school in the fall.”

  “Oh my goodness, Matt,” Anise said. “I had no idea.”

  Aunt Emma reached her hand over and laid it on Matthew’s. “Lord have mercy, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that. I knew something was wrong when you asked me if I could keep MJ for you, but I just thought maybe you and Racquel had had an argument.”

  “Well, it’s much more than that. She says she wants to be free, and she even offered me a divorce.”

  “Gosh, Matt,” Anise said. “This just doesn’t sound right. Not coming from a woman who rarely put MJ down even when he was sleeping.”

  “I know, but my in-laws think she’s dealing with postpartum depression.”

  They looked at Matt in shock, and he knew it was because they likely didn’t believe this was possible, because MJ had turned one already. But once he explained it to them, they understood.

  “I’m going to pray for that young lady like I’ve never prayed before,” Aunt Emma promised him. “And you and MJ, too.”

  “I really appreciate that,” he said.

  “We’ll both be praying,” Anise added.

  Matthew believed wholeheartedly in prayer, and for a while he’d been praying, too, but to him things had only gotten worse. He wasn’t saying that he wasn’t grateful for his aunt’s and cousin’s nice gestures, but he wasn’t very optimistic about the results. If ever there had been a time when his faith had waned, it was now, and he couldn’t help it.

  The three of them chatted about one thing or another and ate some of the apple pie Aunt Emma had made from scratch, but then Matthew’s phone rang. It was Jasmine, and he wondered why she was calling.

  “Hey Matt, Quel just stopped by my house,” she whispered.

  “Really? Why?”

  “She’s trying to get me to go out to a club with her, and Matt, she had on the shortest, tightest dress I’ve ever seen.”

  Matthew’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure why, what with Racquel being capable of just about anything these days, but he’d never known her to dress that way or want to hang out at bars. She was too young, anyway.

  “How does she expect you guys to get in?”

  “I asked her that. She said she met some guy at the store who works the front door.”

  “What guy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you going with her?”

  “I don’t want to, but I sort of think I should.”

  “If you don’t mind, I wish you would so you can keep an eye on her.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. I’ll call you when I’m back at home.”

  Matthew set his phone down, wondering what would happen next. There was just no telling.

  Chapter 17

  It has half past midnight, and as soon as Matthew hung up from Jasmine’s call, he got out of bed, shut MJ’s bedroom door, and went into the living room and waited. In the meantime, he turned on the television, found a repeat airing of an earlier basketball game, and muted the volume. When Racquel staggered in, he wanted there to be complete silence so she would hear everything he had to say to her. He was tired of this drama, and he was going to let her have it. Jasmine had told him that Racquel was on her way home and that while she’d had way too much to drink, she’d gotten angry when Jasmine told her she shouldn’t be driving. Thankfully, Jasmine had driven them to the club, but what she hadn’t been able to do was stop Racquel from getting behind the wheel of her own car when they’d returned to Jasmine’s house. Still, Jasmine was now following her to the apartment just to make sure she got there safely, and they were only five minutes away. Matthew wasn’t sure what to expect, but what he did know was that he’d been worried sick all evening and hadn’t slept a wink. He hadn’t been sure why, but the whole time he’d thought about his mom and the drinking problem she’d had a couple of years ago. Of course, he’d hoped Racquel wouldn’t do any drinking, but now he knew she had and he was furious. She was going too far with this hanging-out-at-clubs-getting-drunk thing, not to mention the way she was endangering innocent people. She was actually driving under the influence, and this was yet one more shenanigan of hers he didn’t understand.

  Matthew tried to figure things out but when he couldn’t, he sat waiting for a few more minutes. Finally, Racquel slipped her key into the lock. When she walked inside, she stumbled toward the sofa where he was sitting, gawked at him, and cracked up laughing.

  “Where have you been Racquel?”

  She kicked her high-heeled sandals off, almost tripping and falling to the floor, dropped her shoulder bag, and strolled closer to Matthew. “Out.”

  “Out where?”

  “Just out.”

  “Doing what?” he said, looking at her and frowning. “And why are you wearin’ that slutty outfit?”

  “Because…it looks…good…on me,” she said, slurring her words.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  Racquel straddled his lap and grabbed the sides of his face.

  “Move, Racquel. Get off me.”

  “Awww, baby, don’t be like that. You know I love you.”

  Her breath reeked of alcohol, and Matt turned his head away from her.

  She quickly turned it back and kissed him ferociously…and Matthew hated himself for liking it. He hated himself for wanting her so badly. How could he when she’d turned against him, slapped him, and she never as much as looked at their son anymore? They were living in total dysfunction, worse than the way those people lived on those reality shows Racquel watched all the time; yet, he couldn’t help the way he felt. No matter what problems they were having, he was still a man with needs, and Racquel was still his wife. He didn’t want to give in to her, not unless she was truly sorry and she was ready to love him again and work on their marriage, but her sexual advances—all the kissing and caressing she was doing—were making him weak. It was as if he didn’t care about her obnoxious and uncaring attitude and that all he could think about was getting what he wanted from her. What he hadn’t had in months. What a husband deserved to get from his wife. She’d been holding out on him just to make him suffer, but now she was offering herself to him, and he would take it.

  She kissed him roughly, and Matthew let her have her way with him. He silently gave her permission to do whatever she wanted, which was exactly what she did. Sh
e was drunk, out of control, and acting like a street woman, but Matthew was fine with it—he actually encouraged it.

  Chapter 18

  Dillon closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing hot water running across his chest. There was nothing like taking a relaxing shower, not to mention this was usually where he mapped out his thoughts and plans and decided on his next move. As a matter of fact, he’d thought of the perfect plan just now and wished he’d acted on it a long time ago—he was going to legally change his last name to Black. Of course, the idea had occurred to him right when his father had learned who he was, but it hadn’t been until last night before going to sleep that he’d realized how changing his name might help him. It would make church members and other acquaintances see him as a legitimate Black family member, and he wouldn’t have to work so hard trying to prove that he belonged. He wouldn’t get rid of his mom’s surname, but the more he spoke it out loud, the more prestigious Dillon Whitfield Black sounded to him, anyway. It had a certain ring to it, and Dillon couldn’t wait to head over to the courthouse to get the ball rolling. It was the reason he was up so early.

  He’d checked their county’s website and learned that once he filled out the application and paid the filing fee, all he would need to do is schedule a hearing date with the county clerk so he could go before a judge. So it didn’t sound as though this process would take more than a few weeks, and if all went well, he’d have his new name pretty quickly. Now, his thought, too, was that he should call and tell his dad about it, but then he decided that Father’s Day would be a much better time. It was only a month away, and this would be his gift to him. If, for some reason, things weren’t finalized in time, he would at least show him the paperwork, which would still make his dad just as happy.

  Dillon turned the pewter knob, making the water hotter, and turned his back to it. Then he got out, barely dried his body, and wrapped a thick terry towel around his waist. He took another towel and dried his hair and then went into the bedroom. He was about to get dressed, but then he decided to go check on Melissa’s progress in the den.