The Retreat

by Dijorn Moss

  Jamal thought about that night at the club, and how if he and Clay had never gone to that club, his best friend would have still been here. Chantel had been a good girl, perhaps better than any other girl you would find in the hood. She had her head on straight and she handled her business. Jamal had thought about hollering at her back in the day, but he felt she deserved better than him and his best friend.

  “If we can walk the way Joseph walked, then God will elevate us to places that we never dreamed of achieving,” Minister Jacobs said.

  Jamal looked over to Will and saw that Will hung on to Jacobs’s every word. He thought about Chantel, and how he let so much time pass without letting her know how he felt.

  “Oh, one last thing…” Minister Jacobs let out a sadistic smile. “No messing around with ‘Palm-olina.’ Masturbation is a sin. If you’re fantasizing about Rhianna while doing it, you’re lusting after another woman. Second Corinthians tenth chaper, fifth verse tells us to cast down vain imaginations and anything that seeks to exalt itself. Jesus said that if you even look at a woman lustfully, you’ve committed a sin. Bottom line, your mind is too precious to God to waste on fruitless images.”

  The room exploded with laughter, and Jamal struggled to regain his breath as a result.

  “The point of this whole lesson is that we have to be men of integrity, and the Bible calls for us to present ourselves as a living sacrifice. That means that we have to put to death the things that our flesh craves, such as pornography and fornication. These things are in direct conflict to the things of God.”

  After a moment, Minister Jacobs continued. “We need to be a generation of young men who take a stand for the things of God.”

  Jamal was reminded why he admired Minister Jacobs so much. If God asked him to, Jamal would follow Minister Jacobs to the gates of hell, but hopefully it wouldn’t take that for him to be all that God desired him to be.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Will was starting to appreciate all of this church stuff, and when the guys decided to go out and play football before lunch, Will decided without any hesitation to play. Whenever Will played football back home, his games were interrupted by the oncoming traffic of cars that cruised down his neighborhood. Out here, Will only worried about the traction from the sand slowing him down. That and being hit by golf balls from Quincy.

  Quincy had disappeared for a little bit, but he came back and seemed a little irritated. Will assumed that hitting balls from the top of the hill into the ocean was Quincy’s way of relaxing. Even though Will had a lot of respect and admiration for Quincy, if he hit Will with one of his golf balls, Quincy was going to be wearing one of his golf clubs.

  “Down, hut, hut!” Jamal said.

  Jamal drew back with the football cocked back in throwing position. Will scrambled to beat his bigger, slower opponent. Despite the resistance brought by the hard sand, Will blew by his opponent rather easily.

  Will was wide open, and turned around to see the football spiraling against a gray sky. The football was just outside of his reach and began its descent toward the ground. Will dove for the ball and caught it as he slid into the sand.

  “Yeah!” Jamal yelled as Will jogged back with the football in his hands. He dusted off some of the sand from his arms. He scored the game-winning touchdown, and with that, he had worked up an appetite.

  Updates came in frequently on Quincy’s BlackBerry from his business partner as Quincy sat in the dining room with his roommates. He was no longer upset about losing the deal. He’d overreacted at first, but since deciding to return to Asilomar to settle some unfinished business, Quincy had returned to his calm state. He had lost multimillion-dollar deals before. That was a part of business, but the succession of events that had unfolded this week was what had Quincy perplexed.

  “That phone never leaves your sight,” Chauncey said to Quincy.

  Quincy wondered if Chauncey had a problem with him or if he was against technology. “I missed a big-time deal to be here,” Quincy said. He looked around the table and made eye contact with everyone. Jamal seemed transfixed on his napkin.

  “Well, it doesn’t seem like you’re here. Every time I look up, you’re fooling around with that thing.” Chauncey pointed at Quincy’s BlackBerry.

  “Brother McClendon, I could’ve sworn that I left my wife at home,” Quincy said as he put his BlackBerry away.

  Will and Jamal let out a laugh while Chauncey shook his head in disapproval.

  “Let me ask you guys something. What does A-MOG mean?” Quincy asked.

  “Almighty, magnificent, omnipotent God!” Chauncey guessed.

  Quincy was sure that A-MOG did not mean that.

  “Advice: money over God!” Will said.

  Quincy knew that was not it either.

  “Anointed Master of Godliness,” Jamal guessed.

  Quincy was certain he was wasting his time with this question. He was in the company of gullible church boys. He would have to dig deep if he was to uncover the truth. A-MOG was here at the Retreat. In such a tight-knit group, it might be hard to spot him, but Quincy was confident that if he looked hard enough, he would find answers.

  A waitress in tan shorts delivered their food. Usually whenever a meal was brought, Chauncey would engage in a short prayer before diving in. The mushy vegetables and the dry baked chicken were what caused the men at Quincy’s table to pause.

  “Lord Jesus, bless this food. Bless this food from the top of your head to the crown of your feet, Jesus. Don’t let this harm us in any shape, way, or form, Jesus. Amen, Amen, Amen!”

  “I’m not sure about this food,” Jamal said.

  “I know; they serve better food than this in the county. I’m thinking about going to get some food from Fast Burgers,” Will said.

  “They got a Fast Burgers out here?” Jamal asked.

  “We passed one a few miles back,” Will replied.

  “I don’t know about going to some fast food joint. I prefer to be served and waited on,” Chauncey said.

  Some of the ladies from the book club came in to eat, and Quincy observed how some of the married men eyed them in their short jean shorts. Some had to pull out pictures of their wives and kids to keep from lusting.

  Quincy studied the baked chicken in front of him. He took a bite of chicken and had difficulty chewing the dry texture. There was a distinct difference between their top-notch breakfast and their subpar lunch.

  “This chicken is about as dry as the Mojave Desert,” Jamal said.

  Quincy looked up and recognized the look of disdain on Jamal’s face, as well as the other gentlemen’s faces. Will coughed up into his napkin a piece of chicken that was still considerably dry, and set the balled-up napkin on top of his plate.

  “I’ll drive,” Quincy said.

  Quincy’s lunchtime annoyance did not cease when they arrived at Fast Burgers.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t take bills over a twenty,” the short Asian cashier said.

  Quincy looked at Jamal and Will with a stunned look on his face. He never thought that he would be denied spending cash in a restaurant. “Are you kidding me? How do you actually expect to run a successful business when you can’t even break a hundred dollar bill? That says a lot about your infrastructure,” Quincy said.

  The girl just gave Quincy a shrugged shoulder, and adjusted her burgundy and gold visor.

  “Look, I’ll get lunch.” Jamal pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

  Quincy shot a look at the $19.64 total on the register, but he was not deterred.

  “No, I got lunch. I don’t have time to argue with seven-dollar-an-hour people.” Quincy put the hundred dollar bill back in his wallet and pulled out a gold American Express card.

  “We only take Visa or MasterCard,” the cashier said.

  Quincy shoved the American Express back into its slot in his wallet, pulled out a Visa card, and handed it to the cashier.

  “Your entire establishment is going to crumble unless you ch
ange your ways,” Quincy said as he took both his card and receipt from the cashier after the cashier rang up the order.

  Once the battle between Quincy and the cashier had concluded, the food was ready. With pursed lips, Quincy picked up his tray and joined Jamal and Will at the booth they were already seated in.

  “Man, this is good.” Quincy savored the seasoned, salted French fries.

  “That’s a nice Rover you got,” Will said.

  Quincy took a huge chunk out of his double cheeseburger and left tomato and mayonnaise in its wake. “Yeah, it cost a pretty penny too.” Quincy scratched his ear with his pinky. “I’m a firm believer that if you work hard, then you deserve to play hard.”

  “This man has also got a Bentley,” Jamal added.

  Will sucked out the last bit of cola from his medium-sized drink. He then lifted his eyes up in awe at Quincy.

  “Those cars cost an arm and a leg, but they’re worth it. I’ve always had a fascination with cars, which was inspired by a fascination with girls. When I was fourteen I was driving; I had to go see them. I couldn’t be on no bus trying to get at a cutie pie.” Quincy let out a laugh.

  “I’m trying to get it like you. You doing your thing.” Will wiped his lips with his napkin.

  Quincy saw an opportunity with Will. Some of the prestige that came with being a black architect involved speaking engagements. Quincy reveled in the chance to talk with people about their potential, especially youths.

  “I’ve been blessed, I can’t deny that,” Quincy told Will. “I’ve had a lot of opportunities to go down the wrong path. I had friends who got off into drugs, but I could never see the long-term benefit of that occupation.”

  “Sometimes that’s the only choice you have,” Will replied.

  “I’ve come to realize that you cannot surround yourself with people with limited thinking. It takes time to build something that will endure. It takes time to make money. Do you have any goals or skills?” Quincy asked Will.

  “I mean, nothing other than cutting hair,” Will said.

  “What’s stopping you from doing that?” Jamal finally spoke after inhaling his food.

  “The truth is, I didn’t finish school,” Will finally said after a brief pause. “Pops went to jail and I had to be the one to go out and get it. So that left no room for school.”

  Will’s story reminded Quincy of the narrow road one has when one does not get an education. If it weren’t for his father being such a disciplinarian, Quincy might have found himself in the same situation that Will was currently in.

  “Well, you got to finish your education first before you can do anything,” Jamal said.

  “I know, but it’s hard because right now I’m caught up. I mean, I can’t just drop everything and go and do me.” Will scooped a handful of fries and ate them.

  “What is it that you’re good at?” Quincy asked.

  “Well, what I’m good at isn’t really on the up-and-up. I can cut hair, but that would require me going to school on top of school.”

  Quincy saw Will as someone who had drive, but very few opportunities. It did not surprise him that Will was not engaged in honest labor, but it seemed like Will’s hand had been forced into that lifestyle. Quincy always looked for a project to work on. It was his nature to build something, whether buildings or people.

  “If you’re serious about cutting hair, I would be willing to invest in you,” Quincy said.

  “You don’t even know me,” Will fired back curiously.

  Perhaps there was some part of Christianity that had rubbed off on Quincy. He had no logical reason why he was willing to help this young man, who had been a stranger to him just twenty-four hours ago. To say he was compelled to help him was an understatement.

  “In life you take risks for opportunities. I’m willing to take a risk. Are you willing to take the opportunity?” Quincy asked.

  That was a question that resonated within Quincy’s spirit. So much of life came down to risks and opportunities. Even in his beliefs, God was willing to take a risk on man. Was man willing to take the opportunity?

  Quincy received a text message that he could not ignore. It was from his business partner and it seemed vital that he reply. “Excuse me one moment,” he said as he got up and left the restaurant.

  “What’s going on?” Quincy decided to call Gregg when he got outside.

  “Man, where have you been? I’m going crazy right now,” Gregg said.

  “You can’t even close a simple deal? Do I have to do everything myself?” Quincy asked.

  “We got lowballed again, Q. This time it was the Century City deal, and with the way the economy is looking, I think this is going to continue.”

  Quincy was not somebody who bucked at the first sign of danger. He held firm and did not worry about things out of his control. He knew that he was the best when it came to architecture, and that, in the end, quality would win out.

  “When are you coming back?” Gregg asked.

  Quincy surveyed his surroundings. In the midst of redwood trees, small-town stores, and biker gangs, one could get lost.

  Quincy was not too sure if he wanted to be found.

  “Look, man, I got some personal issues I got to handle. You’re just going to have to man up and hold it down until I get back. I can’t hold your hand through this.” Quincy hung up the phone.

  Quincy’s world was folding, and with the week he’d had, Quincy wondered if he was cursed.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Pastor Dawkins was actually happy to see Grace on the beach reading with a group of girls. The sun stood over them as it held its heat so that the girls could enjoy a day at the beach.

  “Hello, Pastor Dawkins,” Grace said with a smile on her face. The rest of the women in her group snickered like school girls.

  “You ladies enjoying yourselves?” Pastor Dawkins asked.

  The wind from the ocean was so strong that it blew back the brim of Grace’s straw hat. She used her hand to keep her hat from flying off.

  “Oh, we’re having a great conversation about this book.” Grace held up a copy of Steve Harvey’s, Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man.

  If Pastor Dawkins had a dollar for every woman he saw with a copy of that book in her hands, he would have Will Smith’s type of money.

  “Well, I hope you find it insightful.” Pastor Dawkins started to walk away, wanting to avoid an awkward moment.

  “What do you think is the problem in most relationships?” Grace asked.

  Her question stopped Pastor Dawkins dead in his tracks, which is what he felt Grace wanted to do anyway. He thought for a moment. “Lack of a father in both a young boy’s and young girl’s lives.” Pastor Dawkins paused a moment to let his statement sink in. “You see, a young boy needs a father to show him how to navigate through the different stages of manhood. A young girl needs a father to model an example of what a man is. Too many times you have guys who don’t know how to be a man and you have women who don’t know what a man looks like.”

  He could tell that his point hit home with the group. Some of the women looked at each other and blushed, while others looked at Pastor Dawkins as if he had just stepped out of a cave.

  “Do you think part of the problem is how we set our expectations?” Grace asked.

  “No doubt! No doubt, but part of the problem is that we are not real with ourselves when it comes to the expectation we set. If you set a standard for excellence, then you can not waver in that standard even if that means that you are alone. There is a difference between being alone and lonely.”

  Grace flashed another award-winning smile. Every time she smiled, Pastor Dawkin’s resolve began to weaken. He had thought about her a lot since last night. Thank God that she was not a mind reader; otherwise Pastor Dawkins would have been embarrassed if his private thoughts of Grace were exposed. His thoughts of Grace were innocent if there was such a thing. But in all honesty, Pastor Dawkins hadn’t interrupted the girls gathering at the beac
h in order to teach, he just wanted to see Grace. He wanted to see if her radiance still held up in the daylight as much as it had last night. He was pleased to find that she was every bit as breathtaking as he thought.

  “So how are things on your end, Pastor Dawkins?’ Grace asked.

  “We’re having an awesome time in the Lord, and thanking God that we are not being distracted.” Pastor Dawkins looked at each girl as if he were a disappointed father. Every girl looked ashamed except for Grace, who flashed another girly smile. She was going to ruin him with that smile, which only made her high-yellow cheekbones glow.

  What was God doing? Was it possible that Grace could be a trick from the enemy? But he doubted that such beauty could exist in an evil plot.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Circle of Power was a highlight of the Men’s Retreat. For Quincy, the Circle of Power carried an even more special touch to it. This would be his opportunity to pinpoint the man responsible for sleeping with his wife and breaking up his marriage. It almost seemed like divine intervention that in front of Christian men he would confront his wife’s lover.

  Quincy beat the crowd coming in and had a seat next to the front door. He tried to replay in his mind a scenario where he had failed Karen as a husband. When that moment had occurred, what did she do? Did she run to the church and confess her sins to the minister? Maybe they met at a hotel or a movie theater and carried on like two young lovers.

  Karen had been too ashamed to talk about it. She had to take responsibility for her actions. Quincy was not to blame for shutting down and proceeding with the divorce. She knew not to suggest marriage counseling; as far as Quincy was concerned, Greater Anointing was a house full of hypocrites.

  Brother Thomas entered with a group of brothers and began clapping. “Hallelujah!”

  The men clapped and Quincy joined in. Soon all the men, including Jamal, Will, and Chauncey, took a seat in a big circle. Pastor Dawkins came into the middle of the circle and all the men clapped.