by Love Belvin
“I began speaking…leading Bible study and Sunday school at sixteen.”
“Wow! As in teaching adults?” I asked, totally staggered.
He nodded then took a sip of his water.
“I delayed preaching my first formal sermon until seven years ago when I returned to the States and took over the role as assistant pastor.”
“Returned to the country?”
He nodded once. “I was in Saudi Arabia for a little over a year before coming home.”
“What were you doing there?” This was proving more interesting by the question. I could slap myself for not demanding this sooner.
“I would say missions work, but more than anything, just exploring the land…the people.”
My face fell toward the table? “Just exploring? Your life was such that you could just hang out in a foreign country? Were you alone?”
I couldn’t see his family being okay with that.
Ezra nodded his answer. “I always traveled alone…in terms of friends and family from home, at least. I met friends on my journeys.”
“What did you do before then?” I asked with rapt concentration.
He exhaled, sat back with his gaze in the air while he considered it. “Jordan for about three months before Oman, and then Málaga—Spain—for about for about a year. Before then, I spent time in Jerusalem and Indonesia.” He shook his head, bored with details. “I’ve been all over.”
“Did you take a damn pilgrimage?” I shrieked.
What the hell?
He emitted a silent chuckle. “No. I just took time to see what was beyond these borders. I didn’t want my life planned out for me. I wanted to choose it for myself.”
“And how did you live? How did you eat?”
Ezra smiled softly. “My family has run one of the most powerful religious organizations for three generations. Money wasn’t an issue. My choices were, though.”
He reached over the table for my hands. With his deft fingers, he stretched out my palms and rubbed his thumbs over the insides of my wrists, against my now thrumming pulse.
I shook my head, fought through his touch and scent. I wanted to get back to our intriguing conversation.
“I don’t see your parents allowing their only child to roam. Who looked out for you?”
“I made many friends, visited countless villages and communities. You’d be surprised at how many people choose human kind over pedigree. It helped that I yielded to their cultures and learned their languages.”
“How many?” My brows hiked.
He continued to caress that piece of flesh I had no idea could sensitize.
“Cultures?”
“No. Languages. How many do you speak?”
“Fluently…five. Partially…about a dozen. English, of course, is my native tongue, but I also speak French, Spanish, Indonesian, and Arabic.
“Wow!” I breathed. It quickly explained his formal speech. He’d been exposed to several, simple urban dialect wouldn’t do. His mind was brilliant. “And you learned them without a college education,” I sighed my revelation.
“Oh, no. I’m schooled, beloved,” he corrected graciously. “I got my undergraduate degree from Pepperdine University in Southern California where I double majored in science and religion—seminary studies—and minored in sociology. I was loosely involved in some student-led ministries there on campus. After graduation, I spent time in the United Kingdom, earning my Masters at Oxford, the school of Engineering Science where I studied research in Engineering Science. That’s what I’ve been doing since returning home.”
“Wait… You work?”
The waiter returned with my order. I didn’t pay him half a glance, too engrossed by this unfolding walking conundrum before me.
Isn’t Oxford where Chelsea Clinton went to school?
After Ezra thanked him, he picked right on up. “Yes. I work. I run a lab out in Kearney, New Jersey, about an hour from my home. We measure the sustainability of manufacturing processes, services and natural resources gauging their interaction with society…to ensure they’re safe.”
I quickly challenged his math.
From Harlem to Jersey is…
“I live in West Milford, New Jersey. I would love to show you my home…soon,” he offered with stunning ease.
My eyes shot up to him. Ezra applied a disarming smile. But I wouldn’t be swayed. I pulled back my hands and went for my fresh drink.
“This is a lot to take in,” I shared after a hard swallow. “So, you are a scientist?”
“I am also a licensed therapist. When I came home, I went back to school for a second Master’s.”
“Dude! You’ve had no life in the past seven years! Now, I can understand your aggression.” My face tightened. “Though not with me,” I thought out loud.
My food arrived. Immediately, I took a huge gulp of my drink.
“Why not you?” Ezra’s raspy tenor snapped me out of my musing. “You’re single, soon to be educated, and beautiful beyond compare. Why would I not pursue you, ceaselessly?”
That last qualification was in question. I didn’t have major image issues, but was nothing to ogle. I simply couldn’t understand his attraction to me. Maybe because his head had been lodged in books for so many years,—or a damn desert compass—Ezra didn’t understand he could have a better pedigree than a girl from Harlem, born of a woman with mental illness and a father with a rap sheet that could wallpaper a kitchen and bathroom. Peeling back his layers, Ezra seemed to be beyond a man. There was like a whole damn universe inside of him. What the fuck am I going to do with him? Yeah, my degrees were finally coming, but so was possibly the end of my employment. That solemn thought hurled me into a different head space.
“I can’t have kids.”
I quickly went for a nacho, stuffing it far in my mouth as my eyes diverted in uncertainty.
“Oh, no?” was his even reaction. Ezra once again not flinching.
“Nope!” I replied with a mouthful. I took another sip of my diminishing drink after swallowing the contents of my mouth.
“If you don’t mind me ask—”
“Hydrosalpinx,” spilled without effort. I’d already begun a downward spiral in my mood; no need to slow on pessimism now. “My womanly organs are damaged,” I continued.
“How do you know this?” Ezra inclined to the table, still not giving much away.
“It was a fluke how I found out. Most women don’t learn about it until they’ve tried getting pregnant without success. In my case, I struggled with stomach pains for a few months. Ms. Remah is a nurse. She used to work for a fertility specialist…a super gynecologist. They had a good relationship and she was able to get me in to see him under the table. And…” I drummed the table with my fingers then shrugged.
There was a stretch of silence and I knew it was because he was gathering his exit words. Church guys are traditionalist, believing in all things wholesome, including marriage and three point five kids. Here was our crossroad. There was no way he could jump that hurdle. While I waited, I began wondering if I’d smoked the last of my arizona with Pablo a few weeks ago. I could certainly go for a smoke tonight. If I didn’t have any more stashed, I could go cop some from—
“Are you done now?” his raspy chords trickled with quiet authority.
My eyes damn near popped out of my head. “Done with what?”
Ezra eyes rolled in the air as he snorted. He adjusted himself in his seat then moved toward me over the table again. “You demand to meet at the last minute, choose the restaurant, show extremely early being sure to arrive before me, and order a martini. All of this to skew and provoke me. I engage you, go along with your orchestration and as soon as you feel inadequate while getting to know me, you clam up, subconsciously deciding to dispirit my pursuits. Then to top it all, you hurl a medical condition, believing it to be the lethal blow to this night. To us.” He lowered his chin. “Are you done now? Because, beloved, a mere mention of a possible issue of infert
ility won’t sway my interest in you.”
“Possible?” I flinched. “I am infertile. That’s true.”
“And I still want you. That’s true,” he grated, clearly becoming irritated.
“For what?” I whined, going for my drink again.
“For a…” Ezra hesitated momentarily, a rare act on his part. “…girlfriend. I want you as my girlfriend. I don’t want children by my girlfriend,” his tone now derisive. Again it had been difficult for him to use that term. “That would be reserved for my wife.”
Strangely, that further weakened my filter that had already been compromised by the alcohol. I could feel the fire in my eyes blazing at Ezra across the table. He was pissing me off with this stupid chase. I didn’t understand. However, his admittance to not wanting to marry me illuminated another side of him; a possible carnal one. He said he wanted me as a girlfriend, not a wife. For guys like him, wives were wanted for permanency; girlfriends were good for fucking.
Now we’re getting somewhere!
That thought sent a racy chill through my spine. I would sleep with Ezra if he wanted to. Horrible, but true. I would do it without a second thought.
As we warred with our eyes, the way we had during our first few encounters, I decided to turn it up a notch.
“I fuck my boyfriends, Ezra,” I slowly and vehemently susurrated. “You didn’t kiss me until I threatened to stop seeing you. I seriously doubt you’d be down for sex.”
He did it again!
I may have been a little buzzed, but not enough to miss when his eye lids collapsed and his lips parted. It happened quickly, but not too fast for me.
Goddamn! That was hot!
Ezra sat back in his chair, nostrils flared, that tongue protracted, and swiped his top teeth from his canine all the way to the other side, then back to his molars before withdrawing.
“Alexis,” his timbre subterranean level low. “I am celibate. Have been for seven years. It’s something I’m fervent about and won’t waiver on no matter how well you wield your enticing feminine influence.” He waited, leveling his glare with mine. “No, I’ve not kissed you until you demanded it, and with reason: I don’t think I can be that close without lunging onto you and devouring not just your mouth but your insanely alluring tight little body, feasting on every cacao morsel until you forget your maiden name. And you will because,” he growled with a predator’s glare. Ezra sat up, blindly scanned the space around us as he readjusted his suit jacket and continued, “by that time it will be replaced by mine.”
My pulse pounded in my neck, mouth went dry, but my body was on fire. My core gelled with fierce need and my breathing sounded. How did he do that? How was Ezra always able to re-navigate my agenda when with him? Why was I always left aroused in his presence?
He isn’t a virgin. I didn’t know if I should’ve been relieved about that or not. Just because he’d had sex before didn’t mean he was good at it. Besides, he’d made it clear there wouldn’t be any bumpin’ and grindin’ going on. Even more, Ezra had just given me a bigger development.
“Your wife,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he tapped into my processes. “And you’re nowhere prepared for that, but don’t think because that concept is so premature that I’d pursue you with less than noble motives. I’m not looking for a cheap thrill here. I’m simply trying to do the right thing, Alexis.”
That usage of my name sobered me.
“And what’s that?”
“I’m trying to make you my girlfriend.” This time he didn’t falter at the word.
“And what does that mean to you, Ezra?” I scoffed.
I grabbed my drink for a much needed gulp. He had to be kidding. He just admitted to celibacy in 2015! The fuck? Where they do that at?
“It entails me getting to know you. Us spending time together.”
“That would be challenging,” I admitted.
“Why?” He appeared offended.
“How can we spend more time together when you don’t even relax around me? You don’t know how to lighten up. Do you even have a sense of humor? I bet you get your rocks off, bossing people around all day.” I didn’t slow to breathe.
He had to be joking. Strangely, I knew Ezra was dead serious.
His lashes flickered. “I can work on it,” the declaration spilled hastily, another uncharacteristic action of his.
“Really?” burst from my lungs.
“Yes. If you agree to be my girlfriend, I’ll improve on my appeal. You have my word.”
You damn sure have appeal! Especially in the physical sense, at least.
I thought back to Nyree’s engagement party where people gathered at an upmarket restaurant in new Brooklyn with mellow lighting, fresh linens, fancy foods, and I sat with Pablo and wondered if I’d ever have a man. If I could give Ms. Remah what she wanted. Although I knew Nyree and her fiancé, Taylor, had issues and that she focused too much on financial and social gain when she gave her reasons for marrying him, there was a level of security in having someone. What would it be like to have that guy to go to a movie with, to talk to or cook a meal with on an ordinary Thursday night? Pablo who sat next to me presented that false security of a man who woke up every day committed to me. It didn’t matter that Taylor was allegedly messing around with other women—something I would never tolerate, but again, it was alleged—he, at some point, decided to pursue Nyree. He had discovered that something about her that he wanted exclusively. As I eyed Ezra across the table, I decided I wanted that.
The grave gleam in his eyes couldn’t be practiced. He really wanted this. Ezra wanted Rasul Grier’s daughter to be his…girlfriend? He knew nothing about me other than my current occupations and status as a student, yet eager to connect with me—and without sex? Shit! That was a tempting deal. What was the worst that could happen? If it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t feel the slightest loss. Hell, I may even still attend Redeeming Souls when I could. People move on after failed relationships every day.
A boyfriend who doesn’t fuck and prefers not to kiss! Really, Lex?
That inner warning sent me into a pit of laughter. I let out a gutful of laughs, unable to breathe for a while. Ezra remained in place, not appearing put off in the least. Instead he seemed engrossed.
“Okay, Pastor Carmichael!” I tried, slowing my belly. “If it’s a girlfriend you want in Lex, I see no harm or risks in trying.”
A slow and accomplished smile widened on Ezra’s handsome face. It matched his self-assured posture. I didn’t take it as more than another oddity in his quirky personality. I mean, really…what else could it have been?
Ezra
“Here’s the file from Montgomery, Pastor.”
The moment we sat on the plane, Thaddeus handed me a large folder.
“Montgomery is expedient in his deliverables, I see,” I murmured while inspecting the Confidential labeled packet.
“He’s an 18-year veteran of the force, sir,” Thaddeus replied. “I would hope so.”
I placed it in my satchel next to my feet, sure to get to it later. Right now, on the same subject the file contained, I had more pressing matters. I couldn’t get Alexis out of my mind. Our meeting earlier went from disaster to a surprising concord too quickly for my confidence. I’d been strategic in my approach to her, even down to the point of mentioning marriage to minimize the prospect of dating and make it more of a feasible concept. It was all tactical. But the conversation had taken too many twists in one sitting that I didn’t anticipate.
I left the restaurant to head straight to Teterboro, so late in my departure time it had to be moved back an hour. I didn’t mind; Alexis’ cooperation was of the utmost importance at this point in my life. I needed her that badly to acquiesce. I was traveling to Dallas on a private Legacy 500 belonging to a long term friend and mentor. I was scheduled to speak at his church the following evening, but we were meeting the following morning, which was why I opted for a late flight out tonight. I just didn’t expect my last minu
te dinner with Alexis to go on for so long. I halfway heard the captain announcing our take off, and barely moved when we launched, my mind racing with afterthoughts of my talk with Alexis.
She seemed taken by the little bit of history I shared with her about my travel and upbringing. I didn’t share with her what couldn’t be google’d or read in the number of journal entries I’d submitted over the years. Yet, they seemed to have amazed her. I was delighted over it, there’s no mistaking, but it was still a phenomenon to witness. Then she announced her barren state abruptly. That unexpected announcement jarred me for a moment. She put up a good fight nonetheless. Perhaps she would’ve been more successful in blinding me from my target had she not been drinking. And yes… Even that played into my favor. It made her vacillate in her resolve.
However, nothing could deter my obsession with her. Not even her attempt at shocking me with the mention of sex. My erection sprang painfully under the table the moment the words spewed from her pliant lips. All I could think about was how that plump set of flesh would feel wrapped around my—
“Bishop…or should I say The Potter’s House knows how to show love, huhn?” Thaddeus comment broke my reverie.
I straightened in my seat and cleared my throat. Christ!
I glanced down and found my erection. Shifting to settle on my hip, away from him, seated next to me.
“Yes. Uhhhhh…” I delayed. “Whatever it is he wants to discuss before I speak must be important to extend his hospitality. He’s always kind and graceful, but I have a feeling there’s something cooking.”
“Wonder if he wants you to speak at MegaFest?”
I quickly did the math on that. That event was taking place in August. That may have interfered with my plans. I would hate to turn down any request from my dear friend, but if it meant risking what I’ve been designing for Alexis, I’d do it without thought.
Alexis…
“Thaddeus,” I turned to my mentee, pants now deflated. He peered over to me. “You’re engaged to a woman of this hyper-romanticized culture. How do you engage such delusions?”
“Hmmm…” He pushed his spectacles up his face as he considered my question. “I guess, sir, that would be difficult to answer.” Thaddeus sat up, inclining toward the aisle to face me. “See, the easy things for us are the expensive things for them: lavish gifts, expensive shoes and purses, exotic out-of-season flowers, etcetera.” He fanned his fingers. “Those are easy—given your financial capabilities—however the hardest for us are what they believe to be common sense: a random text in the middle of the day to let them know they’re thought of, replying to their texts within minutes, calling them to say things to make them giggle, constantly telling them how nice they look, checking in when you’ve gone so long without speaking or seeing her, remembering nonsensical anniversaries—”