by Janice Sims
Before Devin was saved, that kind of thought would have turned him on, and quite possibly turned him out. His instinct would have been to ditch the kid. To say anything and everything that Renata wanted to hear in order to get into her pants, or in this case her little blue dress, and to have sex with her until he’d had his fill. But as it stood now, all he wanted to do was handle the evening professionally, come to a decision about working with Malcolm, and keep his composure around the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
The problem was, he’d taken one look at the kid and become immediately suspicious. I don’t like him, Devin thought. His reaction was acute and exacting. Part of it he understood as his own bias, but part of it was unrecognizable. He wondered himself why his reaction was so strong.
He imagined that everyone had an experience with people who just rubbed them the wrong way. Often, you’re not sure why. The cause was elusive, like a word on the tip of your tongue. His response to Malcolm would trouble him, he knew. And the reason why would come to him later, like a name he was trying to remember or a song he’d forgotten. It would hit him when he least expected it, and then he would either be vindicated or apologetic. Until then, he would keep his guard up.
In her description, Renata had spoken of the young man in respectable tones, had almost hummed his phrases like a sweet song. The only cloying endearment she hadn’t called him was “lad.” Looking at the youth before him—one part DMX, one part 50 Cent, and the rest Tupac Shakur—he could have orchestrated the theft of her purse himself, as a gag or a ploy to get in her good graces. Devin had heard about thugs like that. Scam artists. Grifters. They all had games, ways they twisted the truth to gain trust. They manipulated their victims until they had them just where they wanted them and then, poof! There goes your life savings. There goes your check book, credit cards, social security number, your identity.
Fortunately, this rap academy drop-out looked like he didn’t have the finesse to pull off identity theft. But burglary, robbery, petty thievery: this kid not only looked capable, but Devin was sure he was guilty of all three, plus who knows what else.
Devin reasoned that, as far as Malcolm was concerned, Renata was a mark. Someone to get close to and then break. He’d seen it before. Hell, when he was a teenager and living in the world, he’d done it before.
Devin swallowed hard. Some folks need prayer. Some folks need redemption, forgiveness, grace. The rest need to be on lockdown, straight up. Don’t just throw away the key, destroy it. He knew from personal experience.
He’d been the best booster in three counties. He’d found out early that the best way to steal was not the snatch and grab, but the let-me-help-you-across-the-street, let-me-help-you-with-your-bags, let-me-help-you-up-the-stairs kind. With snatch and grab, some women would scream bloody murder—or worse, chase after you. But if you gain their trust and then betray it, they are so stunned and surprised and hurt that they don’t do anything for the first few minutes except stand and stare. That gives you just enough time to get a—
“Devin?”
Malcolm must have sensed Devin’s ill feelings. Rather abruptly and awkwardly, he excused himself and headed for the restroom.
“Devin, why are you staring at him like he stole something?”
“Because I’m sure he has. And if we leave this room for four seconds, I’m sure he will again.”
“You’re judging him and you don’t even know him!”
“Please. He looks like he gets his clothes from Thugs’R’Us.”
“The Smiths would not buy him thug wear! Those are just clothes. It’s a style called hip-hop. All the kids wear it. It doesn’t mean he’s not a decent kid.”
“Sure it does. Decent kids don’t wear clothes like that. Wait a minute…did you say the Smiths?”
Renata lifted her chin. “Yes.”
That explains it, Devin thought. That’s where the reaction came from. Everyone in town knew that the unsavable kids went to the Smiths. Kids with violent tempers, drug addictions, or disorders like pyromania. He would not put the church at risk.
“What do you know about decent kids?” Renata asked.
“What?” Devin responded, roused out of his thoughts.
“I said what do you know about decent kids? Do you interact with kids on a regular basis? Do you spend time with them in their world? Do you talk to them? Do you even know any teenagers?”
Devin thought about the teenagers that attended Red Oaks Christian Church regularly. He was about to answer when Renata interrupted his thought.
“Any teenagers that don’t go to your church?”
His stomach hardened. The only teenager he knew was Mallory, his ex-wife’s daughter. Well, actually, Mallory was his ex-wife’s step-daughter, and he didn’t really know her. He just knew of her. But she seemed like a good kid, and knowing his ex, Helen would never let her leave her bedroom dressed in anything close to what this kid was wearing.
“That’s what I thought.” Renata leaned back in her seat and let out an exasperated breath. “Look, Devin. Brother McKenna,” she amended. “Maybe there’s someone at your church who is more amenable toward kids. It’s obvious to me that you have a problem with them.”
“I don’t…,” he began, and then stopped himself. What was he going to say? He didn’t just have a problem with kids. He had a big problem with kids. He didn’t like them and they didn’t like him. And he had a special dislike for kids like Malcolm who probably had no respect for themselves or others. Kids today weren’t raised right. They didn’t know their place. They didn’t do anything their parents told them to do. They were disrespectful, combative, argumentative, and just plain obnoxious. He could count on one hand the number of kids who would sit down, be still, and shut up, if they were instructed to do so by their parents. Even the children at Red Oaks seemed to have more devil than savior in their hearts sometimes.
And kids took up so much time and so much money. Devin had too many goals to accomplish in his life to become one of the tired and broken down parents who had given up their dreams only to raise children who didn’t appreciate the sacrifices they’d made. Devin had been dead set against splitting the prime years of his life between a struggling career and an unruly child.
It had been the downfall of his marriage. When his ex-wife figured out that instead of postponing having children, he’d had no intention of having them at all, she’d filed for divorce so quickly Devin hadn’t known what hit him.
He was probably the only adult in the church who hadn’t at some point taught Sunday School, led the Youth Ministry, or helped coordinate the yearly holiday specials.
Devin’s participation in the outreach ministry had come at a time when he was working hard on his spiritual walk. He’d started the ministry with five other members of Red Oaks Christian Fellowship Church knowing full well that it would force him at least once to face his most challenging demon—kids—or rather his distaste for kids.
No. Devin did not like kids. His—if he’d had any—or anyone else’s.
“Well, Brother McKenna. You’ve obviously not interested. Come on, Malcolm,” she said when the young man returned. “I’ll find you another sponsor.”
Devin watched Renata and Malcolm leave. The dinner disaster saddened him. He wished things could have worked out differently.
He might be in for a stern tongue lashing and a bible beating from Mother Maybelle, but if Malcolm Goodwin was an example of the types of youth Renata Connor was trying to help, then Devin couldn’t in good conscience recommend that Red Oaks Church become a Success Unlimited sponsor.
Mother Maybelle would just have to understand.
Four
“Well?”
Mother Maybelle was in rare form, dressed to the nines, as usual. Devin stared at her, amazed at how each Sunday she was able to color-coordinate her outfits as if she were being dressed by the finest designers in the country. This Sunday, she’d sat in seat number one in row number two like an orange flare—beautif
ul, powerful, and not to be toyed with. Against his better judgment, Devin had attended the early service, knowing full well that Mother Maybelle would accost him at the first chance she got.
And he’d been right.
“Good morning, Mother Maybelle. How are you this fine Sunday?”
“You can see with your own eyes, sugar. I’m doin’ a lot better than some-a these young folks here today. But that’s neither here nor there. Tell me about the outreach ministry.”
“Yes,” he answered, rocking on his heels. He’d gotten up from his seat and managed to get halfway to the door. Patrons filed out of the sanctuary around them. Many stopped to pay what might as well be considered homage to Mother Maybelle. “The outreach ministry is going slowly. We had a candidate…Success Unlimited…the referral you gave me, but…”
“But nothin’!” Her mouth crimped with annoyance. “I sent you over there for a reason. Now what you need to do is get that boy in here and bring that gal to church. And while you’re at it, study up on Reverend Avery’s last sermon on judging folks.”
Devin glanced at the woman standing in front of him. She was a spitfire. She looked like a wrinkled brown reed, refusing to bend in any wind. Devin admired Mother Maybelle. She had gall. He respected that.
If she’d been a man, a right cross to his chin would have come so fast he probably wouldn’t have seen it. If she’d been any other woman, he would have walked away after her stern admonishment to never approach her again. But Mother Maybelle was a different story. He didn’t dare do anything except what she asked. Or else…his soul would probably be damned to hell.
For better or for worse, he’d be at Success Unlimited tomorrow morning. He wondered what Renata’s reaction would be.
“You’re going to get your smooth talkin’ behind back there first thing Monday,” Mother Maybelle demanded. “Not only are you going back, but you’re going back with your tail between your legs, and you’re going to apologize for whatever it was you did. After that, I want you to speak with Brother Mack and arrange a tour of the sanctuary.”
“Mother—”
She held up her hand. That was it, the first sign of Mother’s Bible beatings. They were legendary. She would quote the exact verse of scripture she needed to make you see the error of your actions. Each one more powerful than the first, until you felt broken by the power of truth in the Word. Broken and strengthened at the same time. So much so, that whatever it was that you’d done wrong, you wanted to rush out and rectify it immediately. He looked into Mother’s eyes. His beating was only seconds away.
“Let me tell you something, Brother McKenna. The first time I saw you, you were on your way to juvy for yankin’ old lady’s purses. You had good for nothin’ written all over your face. But you straightened up, and the Lord touched your heart. And look at you now. You’ve still got a ways to go, like the rest of us, but you’ve already come a mighty long way. God’s grace didn’t stop with you, Brother McKenna. And he’s not the only one capable of grace either.”
When she stopped talking, Devin looked up. He couldn’t believe how easy he’d gotten off. This little talking-to he could take.
“Yes, Mother Maybelle,” he said, grateful for the break. He started out the front doors of the church when she stopped him once again.
“Walk me home while I tell you about a few scriptures.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling inside.
“Devin! Devin!” Renata mumbled in that sweet place between being awake and asleep. “Devin!” she called once again. He was…doing things to her. Things she liked.
Bored and frustrated at her desk, she’d given in to her fantasies about Devin McKenna despite their abbreviated dinner the other night. Now, in her mind, all hostilities were forgiven, since they were well into a second round of carnal pleasure.
“What’s my name?”
“Renata,” he answered loud and clear.
Damn, this fantasy is good. That sounded real.
Just then, her body temperature went up at least five degrees as her imaginary man kissed her on the neck.
“Please…say it again.”
“Renata,” his voice said. Louder this time.
Her eyes snapped open and the heat of her embarrassment matched the heat of her libido. Devin McKenna had stepped out of her dreams once more.
Her immediate reaction was one of gratefulness. Then the reality and horror of the other night made her angry all over again. She crossed her arms in front of herself, making no apologies for her sensual outbursts. “What do you want?”
A small smile appeared on his lips. “Apparently, you.”
“Do you believe in knocking?” she asked, maintaining her indignation, but just barely. “You scared me half to death.”
His smile grew. “You didn’t sound frightened in the least when I entered, and your assistant wasn’t at her desk. When I heard someone calling my name, I came on in. Besides, you should lock your door when you are alone.”
Seeing Devin again knocked all the fight out of her. “You’re right. I sent Gidget to the office supply store to get envelopes. Got to mail out sponsor letters,” she said with a sigh. “Please have a seat.”
Despite herself, Renata drank in the sight of the man with the woolly hair and sensuous features as he took a seat opposite her. She’d never been one to hide her feelings. So she was sure that her I-think-you’re-quite-attractive look was front and center on her face. And she knew something else…she didn’t want to hide it.
Devin licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I apologize for the other night. I shouldn’t have said those things about Malcolm without getting to know him first. If you would still like to take Red Oaks Church as a client, the outreach ministry would be glad to partner with you.” He waited for any disapproval in her eyes. He didn’t see any and decided it was safe to continue. “He’d be working for us in the church actually. In maintenance. It’s not a glamorous job by any means, but he’d get solid work experience.”
His words were too clean. Too rehearsed. Someone had put him up to it. And she knew without a doubt who it was. Mother Maybelle. “I’m not sure if Malcolm will want to work with you,” she admitted, as another memory forced itself to the surface. The morning after their disastrous dinner, Malcolm had been waiting for her when she came into the agency. She’d asked him to come in.
The expression on Malcolm’s face had burned a hard knot of anger in the pit of Renata’s stomach. He had been disappointed and hurt. It never ceased to surprise her how soft, fragile, and vulnerable even the most hardened teens could become when something they wanted strongly was taken away from them. Even in the midst of anger, which was the reaction for some, she could see how just the slightest drop in confidence dulled the sparkle in their eyes.
She knew Devin would have made an impression on Malcolm. Some boys just need a male who was about something positive to be in their presence for them to begin to imagine their own potential. She could tell which ones would be impressed and impacted and want to emulate what they saw and do the kind of things to make the male figure proud. Malcolm was like that.
She’d first thought that Devin was worth respecting…looking up to even. He carried himself so well, like a man whose pride in himself made him seem even taller than he actually was. He was well-spoken, intelligent, and to call him handsome would be a grand understatement.
He and Malcolm had something in common, she’d thought. Just from the brief time she’d known both of them, she’d known that something about them felt the same to her. She imagined that it was the way they both spoke so directly and seemed to scrutinize everything. But it was probably the way she’d been strangely drawn to them both. As though they’d both come into her life at this moment in time for a reason.
Oh well, she had thought when she’d walked toward the young man, standing dejected in her office hallway. Maybe a hug would do them both some good. Then she would get on with the task of finding another sponsor for Malcolm’s succes
s program.
When she’d approached him, he’d pulled back slightly. When she moved her arms to give him a hug, he surprised her when he’d flinched and stepped back quickly.
“Don’t,” he’d said. “I’m not cool with hugs.”
Renata released a breath slowly. “Okay,” she’d said. “Do you want to hang out here for a while?” Renata thought if she could keep him there, give him something to do, paperwork, filing, sweeping up, anything, maybe she could keep him out of trouble just one more day.
“Nah,” he’d said, already headed out. “I gotta go.”
She got up, chased after him, her heart rising in her chest. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” he’d said, not looking back.
Before she could say anything else, he was down the sidewalk and around the corner. She knew he had no intention of coming back.
She hadn’t seen him since.
“Renata?”
Devin’s voice broke into her thoughts, but she was already imagining the drive to the Smiths’ house. She couldn’t wait to see Malcolm and tell him about his sponsor.
“When do you want him at the church?”
“How about tomorrow?”
Five
Malcolm was nervous. Renata could see it in his eyes. They darted from side to side, person to person, as if he were watching Venus and Serena in a doubles tournament at Wimbledon. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think it was his first time in a church. Or, if it wasn’t, he was such a bad seed that he was afraid he would be touched by holy water or that he might spontaneously combust by being inside the sanctuary. If he were any more nervous and fidgety, she thought he’d pass out or throw up.
They hadn’t gotten through the doorway and Renata could feel the nerves stirring inside him. She couldn’t believe that the wild cocky kid, daring enough to run after thugs and get her stolen purse back now looked like the one who needed rescuing.