“We’re watching you,” Rhoda says.
I frown deeply as we approach the buffet. Why do they have to be here today to ruin our date? Rhoda and Rochelle always show up at the most inconvenient times.
“Don’t worry about them,” Kingston says.
“I’m not worried about them, but they get on my nerves. They’ll have our business all over the church by next Sunday.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind people knowing that we’re friends, Yvonne. You’re a great woman. Plus, I plan on this being the first of many outings, and it isn’t like Cleveland is New York City. Someone was going to see us at some point.”
I grin as I scoop the delicious-looking food onto my plate. “What makes you think I’m going to say yes to a second date?”
“Because I am a good catch, and you are a smart woman. That’s one of the things I admire about you.”
Every time he opens his mouth, Kingston surprises me. For my age, I am severely inexperienced with men, and I definitely have no frame of reference for romance.
“Well, you are persistent. That is one of the qualities I admire in you.”
Kingston leads the way back to the table. This time we completely ignore the persistent gaze of Rhoda and Rochelle. I wonder if they plan to eat or if they’re just going to watch us all afternoon.
“You didn’t grow up here in Cleveland, did you?” Kingston asks.
“No. I grew up in the South.”
“What brought you up north?”
I look down at my plate and reply, “I moved here with my ex-husband.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t move back after you divorced! I wouldn’t have gotten my chance if you had.”
This conversation has taken an uncomfortable turn. It’s like Luke is casting a shadow over this date.
“Are you going to get like this every time we talk about your ex-husband?”
I look up at Kingston and sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve never talked to any men after him, so all of this feels strange.”
“If you’re not ready to go out with me, I’ll understand.”
Am I ready to go out with him or anyone? I do enjoy the single life, but I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. That means that at some point, I’m going to have to put the strangeness aside and take the plunge. But I don’t know if I can do that today.
“Would you really understand, or would you think that I’m silly for not wanting to date after eight years of being single?”
“I wouldn’t think you were silly. Marriage is meant to be for your entire lifetime, so I would be concerned if you didn’t take your divorce seriously.”
I swallow a few more bites. “You can’t be this good.”
“I’m not,” Kingston says with a snort. “I’m patient, but not good. I have designs on you, Yvonne, and I’m biding my time.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“No, you should be excited. This is going to be a wonderful ride.”
There is an undeniable sparkle in Kingston’s eyes as he stuffs his mouth full of French toast. My mind tells me that I should be cautious—no man’s ever been this interested in me. But another part of me says to go on with this and see what the end is going to be.
CHAPTER 7
TAYLOR
“You’ve got twenty minutes, Luke.”
“This doesn’t have to be a hostile visit, Taylor.”
Luke’s Cheshire cat smile makes me sick to my stomach. Actually, just thinking of the man who once fooled me into loving him makes me nauseous. He kills me with this whole “I’ve changed” routine. Luke is one of the devil’s main children, for real. I don’t care what he says. Demons don’t change; they have to be cast out.
“My husband is waiting on me. We have a date.”
I don’t know why I felt the need to say that. Luke doesn’t need to know any information about my life, and I sure as heck am not trying to make his trifling self jealous. Luke wanted to take me to lunch at the Cheesecake Factory, but I chose Starbucks instead. Number one, this is not a date, and number two, how can he afford lunch when he can’t even take care of his son?
“Why didn’t you bring Spencer with you? I am a part of your extended family. Spencer and I need to get to know one another and bond. Maybe we can go on a man-cation.”
That demonic smile on Luke’s face tells me that he is messing with me, and I shouldn’t allow him to make me mad. That’s giving the devil room, as my mama would say. But whatever. I am angry. I can’t stand this fool.
“The devil is a lie,” I say. “You are not my family.”
Luke clasps his hands and places them on the table. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. You don’t have to consider me family, but Joshua is my family. He’s my son. He’s got my DNA.”
So he gets out of prison and sends me a grand total of six child support checks in eight years, and now he wants to call my baby family. He can get the heck out of here with that. He’s about to make me go off on him, and I gave up those rowdy ways a long time ago.
“I want to spend time with my son,” he says when I don’t respond to his first offensive comments.
“You’ve gone too far now, Luke. You think I’m about to let my son spend time with a convicted felon?”
“That’s one description of me. Another one would be redeemed man of God. A third description would be his father.”
“Let me get up from here right now, before some lightning comes through the roof of this building. Man of God? You need to stop playing.”
Luke reaches in his jacket pocket, and instinctively I flinch. He is the man that nearly killed Yvonne. There’s no telling what he might do. That’s why I’ve got 9-1-1 on speed dial. But he doesn’t pull out a weapon. Instead he hands me a business card.
I read it out loud. “Redeemed of the Lord Worship Center, Luke Hastings, senior pastor.” I burst into laughter. This man has completely and utterly lost his mind. Pastor? Who in their right mind would follow him?
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Luke. It was hard finding a real job with that felony on your record, so you start up a church?”
“I’ve been operating in ministry since I was in prison, Taylor. You may not believe it, but that experience changed me. For good.”
I purse my lips together in a skeptical tight line. “You’ve got a lot to prove before I let my son spend any time with you. Why don’t you raise a love offering and start paying your back child support?”
“You got jokes, I see.”
“Actually, I’m being serious. It’s time for you to help share the load for Joshua, especially if you’re trying to be a part of his life.”
Luke shakes his head. “You are all about the money, aren’t you? You and Yvonne robbed me blind while I was in prison, but that still wasn’t enough for you.”
“We did not rob you. Yvonne took money from your joint account to help with your son. It’s a good thing she stepped up to the plate, ’cause you sure weren’t there.”
Luke sighs and runs his hand over his mostly salt and kind of pepper hair. I can see he’s frustrated, but this has no effect on me whatsoever. “Listen, Taylor, I forgave you and Yvonne for everything. Why can’t you forgive me? You’ve got a man that’s taking care of you and the boy. Why you gotta kick me when I’m down?”
“Luke fall down, so Luke get up!” I sing. He’s getting on my nerves right now, so I’m being pretty ignorant. I’m sure Donnie McClurkin would not be pleased with my remix of his song.
“Since you’re in such a jovial mood, I might as well tell you all of it. I’m getting married.”
Now my laughs are coming so quickly that I can barely catch my breath. Luke is getting married? Luke is getting married! This cheating, wife-beating, deadbeat father has found some other woman to capture in his web, like a spider ready to snack on a gnat.
“Well,” I finally say when I get my breath back, “I would certainly like to meet her. Why don’t Yvonne and I take your blushing brid
e out to lunch? Or, better yet, we can throw her a bachelorette party! I’m sure you’re still sowing your royal oats.”
Luke sits back in his chair, folds his arms, and stares at me. “I’ve apologized to Yvonne, but you’ve never given me the opportunity to apologize to you.”
This catches me off guard, and since I don’t trust Luke any farther than I can throw him, he gets the “Sista girl, I wish a brotha would” face. “I don’t want your apology, Luke.”
“I know. You don’t want or need anything from me. But in order for me to be right with God, I have to say this. I’m sorry about what I put you through, and I am going to try to do better by you and Joshua financially.”
So that’s it? I’m supposed to forget that he lied to me, said he was going to leave his wife for me, got me pregnant, and then asked me to have an abortion? I’m supposed to forget that he’s let another man raise and take care of his son?
I. Don’t. Think. So.
“I don’t accept your apology.”
Luke’s astonished expression almost makes me want to smile. I’m not letting him get off this easy. If he wants my forgiveness and reconciliation with my son, then he’s gonna have to do a whole lot more than recite two sentences. God might not require penance, but I do.
I stand to my feet, and Luke’s shock changes into a frustrated frown. “You’re going to make this difficult,” he says.
Did he really just say that I’m making this too hard for him? Really? Difficult is showing up pregnant at your church and then trying to convince everyone that your middle name isn’t Jezebel. Beyond difficult is trying to take care of a baby on barely over minimum wage, when his daddy lives with his wife in the suburbs. Dang near impossible is convincing another man to raise a child that he didn’t create.
Seems like Luke has had a cakewalk to me.
“Listen. I’ll think about letting Joshua have one supervised visit with you, and then we’ll take it from there.”
“I am entitled to more than one visit with my son.”
“You don’t want to start talking about who’s entitled to what, Luke. One supervised visit. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it . . . for now.”
Without giving Luke a good-bye or a “See you later,” I storm away from the table and out of the Starbucks. I’m not even in the mood for this high-priced coffee drink anymore. I just want to get away from Luke. It’s like he’s covered in slimy filth and just talking to him gets it all over you.
I’m still wound up about Luke’s half-baked apology and his announcements when I get to Chicago Deli, my favorite lunch spot. I see Spencer’s car, so he’s already here. He hates to be kept waiting, but I’m late, so I’m going to have some explaining to do.
When I walk into the restaurant, I beam a huge smile in Spencer’s direction. His lips only twitch slightly from the deep frown as he looks down at the watch on his arm. I put a little extra sway in my hips and a pout on my lips and watch Spencer’s icy expression melt. He can’t resist me when I turn on the charm, even when I’m late.
Spencer stands up from the table and pulls out the chair for me. He kisses me on the neck as I sit. Crisis averted, and it’s a good thing, too, because I have to tell him about Luke.
“So how’s your day going so far, babe?” I ask.
“Good. What have you been up to on your day off? Shopping?”
“Um . . . no, not quite.”
The waitress walks up to our table, and she’s smiling hard at Spencer. Chicks these days are bold. Someone needs to teach these heffas a lesson in etiquette. I mean, if you’re going to flirt with someone’s man, you at least wait until they go to the restroom. Before God had His hand on my life, I could’ve taught a graduate course in man stealing.
“What would you like?” the waitress asks Spencer.
I clear my throat. “I will have a corned beef sandwich on rye, light mustard, and a pickle. My husband will have the fish and chips. We’ll have water with lemon to drink. Thank you.”
I slam both our menus shut and hand them to her. Spencer chuckles as the waitress skulks away with her tail between her legs. She doesn’t want it with me. I don’t play when it comes to my family.
“You are mean, Taylor. That poor girl was just being friendly.”
I lift my eyebrow and grin. “What? All I did was place our order. Had you made friends with her before I came?”
“It was harmless. She asked me where I worked, and we chatted a little.”
“About what?”
Spencer laughs out loud. “Her studies. She’s in Case Western Reserve’s nursing program. You can’t possibly be jealous.”
“Not jealous. Observant. I know a sideline wannabe when I see one.”
“I’m a man of God, baby, and plus, why would I go for a hamburger when I’ve got a rib-eye steak at home?”
“Mmm-hmm. Every now and then, you might have a taste for a burger.”
“Not me. I like the finer things in life. Now, are you going to tell me how you’ve spent your morning?”
“I met with Luke.”
I let the words sink in for a moment and watch Spencer’s eyebrows come together in a frown. “What does he want? And why didn’t you tell me you were seeing him? The man is a felon, for God’s sake.”
“He wants to see Joshua.”
“I knew this was going to happen at some point. How are we going to handle it?”
I know this is a real messed-up situation, but it makes me feel so good to know that Spencer thinks this is his problem, too. This is the type of thing that makes me know I married the right man.
“I told him he could have one supervised visit a month.”
“You gave him an answer without talking to me first?”
“I didn’t think you’d have a problem with that, Spence. It’s barely any time at all.”
Spencer inhales deeply and forces the air out of his nose through flared nostrils. “That is not the point. You thought that you could make the decision because in your mind, Joshua is your son. I don’t know if Luke should be around him at all.”
“I—I don’t think that! I didn’t think we could tell him no. He has parental rights.”
“That he needs to go through the courts to initiate. And they’ll force him to handle his responsibilities, in addition to granting visitation rights.”
“I guess I didn’t think about that.”
“Obviously, you didn’t.”
My phone buzzes in my purse, slowing Spencer’s verbal assault. He’s tripping like I signed a joint custody agreement with Luke. I look at the caller ID on my phone, and it’s Joshua’s school. My stomach flips every time I get a call from there.
“Hello. This is Taylor Johnson-Oldman.”
I hear the principal’s voice, and what she says causes me to tremble all over. Tears start flowing down my face as she keeps giving me unthinkable news about my son. She can’t be talking about my Joshua. Not my son.
“W-we’re on our way,” I say. “We’ll be right there! Don’t let them take him until I show up!”
“What is it?” Spencer asks as I sob and disconnect the phone.
“My baby has been arrested. They’ve arrested Joshua!”
I run out of the restaurant, not waiting for Spencer to follow. I’ve got to get up to that school and make sure this thing doesn’t get out of hand, ’cause if somebody hurts my baby, there’s going to be hell to pay.
CHAPTER 8
PAM
“How long are you going to not talk to me?”
I look up from my laptop at Troy’s pitiful-looking face. No, I am not talking to him. Haven’t spoken a word since he tried to embarrass me and dismiss my writing career in front of his friend Logan.
“Look, Pam. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t even know why I said it. I’m happy about your book deal.”
I bite my lip and twirl a pencil between my fingers. “You’re not happy about it. You want me to get a job.”
“
I want you to be happy. You should do the book thing, see how it turns out.”
“What are we going to do about our shrinking bank account?”
Troy shrugs. “God will make a way, right? Isn’t that what you always say? All the prayers you send up, it’s going to happen.”
Wrong answer. Wrong, wrong, wrong! This is not Troy taking the burden of our family off my shoulders. This is him making everything my and God’s fault if it falls apart.
“Well, I am doing the book thing, as you call it.”
“Good. But can you do it somewhere else? Aria and Logan are on their way over here. Logan called in a favor with a producer who just did some incredible work for Beyoncé. We’ve got some tracks that will make number one songs.”
“So you want me to leave my home while you work?”
“It’s going to be noisy. That’s the only reason I ask.”
“I think I’ll stay tonight. Maybe I can write a song lyric or two.”
Troy runs his hand over his head and sighs. “Pam, you don’t have to do that.”
“No, really, Troy, it’s no trouble at all. Let me get some snacks together, and I’ll be right in to join you. I wouldn’t want you saying that I’m not a supportive wife.”
Troy looks confused but doesn’t try to persuade me any further. I snap my laptop shut and leave him in the living room. I wasn’t going to get any writing done with Aria in my house, anyway, so I might as well see what they’re up to.
I open the refrigerator to see what I can scare up in a few minutes. I have thawed-out chicken tenderloins, vegetables, and flour tortillas that are about two days away from going bad. Couple those with some sour cream and cheddar cheese and we’ve got chicken fajitas.
My son, TJ, peeks into the kitchen as soon as he hears pots and pans. Gretchen and Cicely tiptoe in, as well. They don’t have to sneak, but I guess things have been so tense around here for the past few days that even my babies are walking on eggshells.
“Are you making fajitas?” Gretchen asks. “Can I help?”
“Of course.”
Gretchen’s face lights up, and she goes to the sink to wash her hands and put on her apron. Cicely, who couldn’t care less about cooking anybody’s meal, plops down on one of the bar stools.
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