by Ronn Elmore
He got down on his knees and prayed.
Ten minutes later, he turned off the light and laid his head on the pillow, but he could get no sleep. Instead, all he could do was think of Beverlyn and Sean. He knew Sean would know that he hadn’t betrayed his confidence, but he was still concerned about his friend professionally. About what it would mean to his career.
He turned over on his side.
Could Beverlyn have believed what Reverend Powell had said? He kept telling himself no, but as the hours had passed without a word from her, he wasn’t so sure.
Though mentally exhausted, Dwayne tossed and turned throughout the night, only really falling asleep at about three-thirty. Less than three hours later, as the morning sun began to peek through his windows, Dwayne was up—eager to set the record straight and to find out what exactly had happened and on what side of the fence everyone stood.
In the bathroom, he allowed the steaming water from the dual showerheads to pulsate against his skin. By the time he dried himself off, he was rejuvenated and determined that by the end of the day, he’d have answers to all his questions. He was fully dressed when the phone rang, and he picked up when he recognized the number.
“Monique?”
“Dwayne, I’m sorry to call you so early, but I just got a call from Mr. Daley. He says the office building has been overrun by reporters …”
“I don’t believe this.”
“They’ve been camped out since yesterday. Building security held them back so I could get out, but Mr. Daley said that reporters have contacted him and are asking all kinds of questions, especially about Sean.”
Dwayne fell back onto his bed. “So now Sean is the story,” he said, finally making sense of the insatiable appetite the media were demonstrating for the story.
“Must be. They’ve asked Mr. Daley questions like had he ever seen the two of you together and …” She paused.
Dwayne closed his eyes. “Go on.”
“. . . if he’d known that you two were lovers,” Monique whispered, as if saying the words softly would make them less painful.
“Well, do they know that Mr. Daley is just the landlord?”
“Dwayne, I don’t think they care. I’m so sorry for all of this.”
“So am I, Monique.” He stood. “Okay, this is what we have to do. Before I do anything, I’ve got to find out what’s happening with Sean.”
“Do you want me to call him?” Monique inquired, matching the renewed energy she heard in her boss’s voice.
“No, I’ll find him. Secondly, you and I should stay away from the office for a day or two. I don’t trust the newspapers and we can’t give them anything—not even a photo—that they can find a way to twist.”
“Gotcha. I’ll reschedule your appointments, but how should I handle the questions?”
Dwayne paced the length of his bedroom. “Tell anyone who asks that I will meet with them next week and personally answer any of their questions. I’ll give you a call in a couple of hours to update you on what’s left to be done.”
Dwayne hung up the phone and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, but as he reached for the phone, the concierge intercom buzzed through the apartment.
Dwayne couldn’t remember the last time the morning concierge had called him. Perhaps reporters were downstairs as well.
“Yes, Samuel,” he answered.
“Dr. Grandison, Mr. Linson Lejohn is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Send him right up,” Dwayne said without hesitation, though his hand shook from the returning anger of the day before as he returned the intercom phone to its hook on the wall. Finally, I’ll get to the bottom of this nightmare, he thought—still reasoning that L.W. had played a key role.
The idea of L.W. coming to his home did not appeal to him, but at the same time, Dwayne was desperate for answers and news of Beverlyn. He thought back to the image of L.W. behind the stage as Reverend Powell began his attack. When the elevator doors parted, the look on L.W.’s face confirmed his suspicions.
Like a lion about to devour his kill, L.W stepped from the elevator into the impressive entry hall to Dwayne’s condominium, scanning the elegance of the circular foyer and the massive living room before he looked Dwayne squarely in the face.
Realizing that L.W. had not come with answers, but instead to perhaps deliver a final blow, Dwayne cut to the chase. “What is this about, L.W.?”
“I thought that would be obvious. It’s about the embarrassment you’ve caused the Jubilee Network and Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries.”
“You know better than that, L.W., “ Dwayne said angrily.
L.W. cleared his throat. The doctor had caught on, he thought. Well, so what? He had the upper hand now.
“There is no way we can move forward with what we’ve planned—”
Dwayne cut him off. “Why do I feel like you had something to do with this?”
“We only need to discuss your resignation and the terms of agreement.” L.W. was determined not to get off track.
Dwayne slammed his fist on the marble table, wincing slightly in pain, but the brief uncertainty he saw in L.W.’s eyes made the angry gesture worthwhile. “I will not resign and make it easy for you, L.W. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to fire me.”
L.W. took another step away from Dwayne but kept his eyes plastered to his. “That can be arranged.”
“I have a contract, L.W.”
“One that includes a morality clause, and with your lifestyle, we have a right to exercise our option to terminate your contract.”
“Well, we’ll just see what my lawyers have to say about that.”
It was now L.W. who was being caught off guard. There was a moment of silence before L.W. said, “The truth is out about you. Why would you want to do my niece and the Jubilee Network any more harm with this scandal?”
“There wasn’t a shadow of truth in Reverend Powell’s words. You know it, I know it, and believe me, a court case isn’t the sort of thing you want, L.W., because I’ll win.”
“Really? Are you telling me that Sean Wiley doesn’t have AIDS?”
“I’m surprised at you, L.W. There is a religious saying: ‘The devil will flood you with the truth just to float one lie.’ You know very well that Sean does have AIDS, but the lie is that neither of us is gay and you know it. The problem for you, L.W., is that you had the contract with me.”
L.W. couldn’t believe his ears. The good doctor was still giving him a fight. “As long as part of it’s true”—L.W. smirked—“it’s enough to bring a cloud over you, Mr. Grandison. Believe me, there’s enough doubt to have people debating your sexuality for a long time. If you’re a real man, do you really want that, and why should Beverlyn—whom you claim to love—have to endure it?”
With that, L.W. proceeded to remove an envelope from a small shopping bag he held. “It is in the best interest of everyone for you to sign the letter of resignation in this envelope.” He laid the yellow envelope on the foyer table. “There’s some other papers in there you need to review as well. Of course, you no longer have access to our driver or credit cards or any of the other perks you squeezed out.”
L.W. turned toward the elevator, then suddenly turned back to Dwayne. “We would prefer to have you resign, though it would be more fun for me to terminate you.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “So it’s up to you. Return the resignation letter to us within twenty-four hours.”
He pushed the button to the elevator, then continued, “And send the letter by messenger. A security company has been hired to make sure you don’t get anywhere near the premises. Oh—” He turned back. “Don’t worry about your things. This afternoon we’ll send over your belongings.”
Dwayne’s eyes narrowed. “Were you that threatened that my relationship with Beverlyn would leave you out in the cold?” When L.W. didn’t respond, he continued, “I wonder what Beverlyn would think if she knew what you’ve done.”
“Do you really think you’re going to get away with this?” Dwayne steamed. “By the time I hunt down Reverend Powell and tell Beverlyn and the world about you, you’ll be as worthless as I already know you are.”
L.W. kept his cool, though he couldn’t help but wonder if he had underestimated Dwayne Grandison. But even facing the rage in Dwayne’s eyes, L.W. remained steadfast. “You can attack me if you wish.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Make my story more believable.”
“Get out of my home, L.W.” Dwayne charged toward him as L.W. stepped back into the hall. Dwayne’s fist shook above his shoulder like a ripple of waves through the sea. But suddenly, a calm moved over him and he slowly lowered his hand. In that moment, Dwayne saw L.W.’s guts in his eyes. He was staring straight at evil.
“Get out,” he commanded once more.
“Gladly.” L.W. chuckled as if he had no fear, then stepped into the elevator. Just as the doors began to close, L.W. put his hands between them, holding them open. “One last thing, Mr. Grandison. You’ll also find a restraining order inside that envelope. So don’t try to contact or go anywhere near my niece.”
Dwayne watched the door close. Turning back into his condo, his eyes fell almost immediately on the package. With slow steps, he walked toward the table, staring at the golden envelope. It was thicker than he’d thought, and when he lifted it, he could tell a videotape was inside. He returned to the living room and opened it. He pulled the tape out first, then two smaller envelopes.
In the first envelope, just as L.W. had promised, was the resignation letter. It was addressed to the board of directors of Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries. He glanced through the letter, focusing in on several key phrases: apologize for the embarrassment I have caused the Jubilee Network… my personal life has affected my ability to perform as host of Higher Ground… relieve Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries and the Jubilee Network of any legal liabilities.
His name was typed on the bottom, and there was a space for his signature. Tossing the letter aside, Dwayne now turned his attention to the other document. His eyes scanned the restraining order. Having known what it was before he opened it had lessened the hurt.
It was all very predictable. Dr. Dwayne Grandison is restricted from… home, work, or any other place where Beverlyn Boudreaux may frequent… There was the legal terminology that told him how far away he would have to stay. All contact is prohibited: telephone, postal… At the bottom was a declaration that the temporary restraining order had been registered with the local police.
Dwayne held his head in his hands and asked himself the question he’d repeated at least a million times: How could this be happening? And how could Beverlyn do this without talking to him? Without asking his side? It didn’t make sense.
“There is no way Beverlyn knows what L.W. is doing,” he said suddenly. He was about to pick up the telephone when the video caught his eye. Hoping it carried clues, he inserted it into the VCR and pushed the play button, then sat on the edge of the couch. It took him less than a minute to realize it was not what he had expected.
“This is a very sad day for Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries and for myself personally.” Beverlyn stood in the center of the screen, absent her usual flamboyant attire of brightly colored chiffon or vivid silk sheaths. For this appearance, she was dressed in a conservative navy high-collar suit with gold buttons. She spoke into a bank of microphones, and when the camera panned back, Dwayne could tell that she was in the studio conference room. He wondered whom she was speaking to.
“We are not here to judge either Dr. Grandison or Sean …”
Dwayne flinched at the mention of his friend’s name. This was painful enough for him, but what this would do to Sean’s career made him shudder.
“As you know, our network holds our employees to high personal and professional standards. Mr. Wiley has been a mainstay at my conferences and crusades across the nation, and Dr. Grandison was a new associate who joined our staff recently …”
So that’s what I’ve been demoted to, Dwayne thought.
“However, while I and everyone at Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries respect both Dr. Grandison and Mr. Wiley, with the recent revelations concerning their choice of a personal lifestyle, a choice which is contrary to the standards and values we preach, with sincere regret we announce the termination of our professional relationship with both gentlemen.”
Though he was watching her lips move, he couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“It is important to note that we’ve accepted the resignation of Dr. Grandison, and Mr. Wiley will no longer be performing with our crusades.”
Anger and shock overwhelmed Dwayne’s thoughts, as he still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. With each word, he became more and more convinced that Beverlyn was part of the decision. But how, he wondered, could L.W. have gotten her to go along? Still, the tape held the truth. Beverlyn may not have been a contributor to his setup, but she was certainly a big part of his downfall.
“While we do not stand in judgment, our company’s principles take us in a completely different direction from what Dr. Grandison and Mr. Wiley believe …”
“What are you talking about?” Dwayne yelled at the large-screen television.
What kind of relationship did we have? he asked himself, becoming more astonished with each word. He had opened his heart to her. She should have respected him enough at least to talk to him.
“In closing,” he heard Beverlyn say, “while this is a disheartening setback, we see this as a forecast of a bright future for Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries and for the Jubilee Network, which will continue to do well in the coming years. Thank you for your attention.”
Beverlyn gazed solemnly into the center camera as the screen faded to black. Using the remote, he turned off the television. This morning he had prayed that this day would bring answers. He glanced at the grandfather clock that had been in Yvette’s family for three generations. It was just ten o’clock, but his prayers had indeed been answered.
Armed with the answers, all that remained was what he was going to do. Now that he knew the enemy, defining his battle plan would be much easier. He lifted his legs, stretching them forward onto the table, and closed his eyes. He’d take a quick catnap, he thought, as the sleep that had resisted him last night conquered him now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Beverlyn twisted in her chair, turning to face the window. There were stacks of messages to respond to, yet she’d done nothing but stare out of the window. It had been that way ever since she had taped her statement to the press. When she heard the insistent door chimes and rushed down the stairs, she was aware of feeling hopeful that Dwayne was at her door, and that somehow everything could go back to how it was—or how she believed it was.
When she opened the door to find L.W., she’d wondered if there would be any end to the nightmare that had ambushed her hopes and dreams for a personal kind of fulfillment she had never known.
L.W. had been up all night with the advisers who’d determined that the best way to thwart reporters, minimize the risk of damage to the network, and relieve some of the emotional distress she was under was to produce a pretaped video of Beverlyn’s press statement. The taping had been set for 6:00 A.M. Pacific time, which made it nine o’clock on the East Coast.
She read the statement as she rode to the office, protesting the termination of Dwayne and Sean without talking to them. But L.W. assured her it was the only way to avoid further scandal. “Beverlyn,” he’d cautioned, “the media will be hot on this thing. If anyone catches you with Dwayne or Sean, it will ruin us.”
Kim, too, had only reluctantly agreed, all the while wondering why Beverlyn couldn’t see through the act. But she, too, had been caught up in the snare. Perhaps it was time to look for another job.
“What if these are all lies?” Beverlyn pressed, still not quite sure of what to believe
.
“Beverlyn, we went over it all last night. I told you how I confronted Dwayne. It’s true whether you want to believe it or not. We cannot take a chance with our company. Too many people will be destroyed if we don’t handle this right.”
Beverlyn’s gaze dropped to her hand and the four-carat diamond ring that she’d had specially designed. On one wrist were two tennis bracelets that sparkled brightly, and on the other was a Rolex—her casual one. Her uncle was right: Many would be affected if Beverlyn Boudreaux was involved in a scandal, but most affected would be the two of them.
L.W., riding in the back of the Lincoln Continental limousine he’d just recently purchased, was at least dressed for the occasion, looking impeccable in the three-thousand-dollar handmade suit he’d flown to Milan to have specially made by Paul Zaleri. When he asked if Dwayne had tried to contact her, she’d been unable to look into his eyes.
L.W. had struck a nerve. At the very least, she thought, Dwayne could have called to explain, and, yes, it did mean something that he hadn’t, though she wasn’t sure what. L.W. had surmised that perhaps Dwayne hadn’t wanted to compromise her any further. That he knew the best thing for him to do was to stay away.
She wondered then, as she wondered now, if that was what Dwayne was doing. She didn’t understand it. Surely, he knew they needed to talk. Maybe he was embarrassed. Or—her heart sank—he had used her and deceived her like no one ever had. Now he was deserting her, just as she always feared he would.
The light knock startled her as she faced the door.
L.W. laid a sheet on her desk. “I wanted to give you a list of where the tapes were sent.”
Beverlyn scanned the listing. “Do you think all of these people care?”
“Because Sean is involved, this is big news.”
Beverlyn felt sadder at the mention of his name. “I wish I could talk to him. If he has AIDS, he needs his friends.”