The Choir Director 2

by Carl Weber

  I’d torn up the place so bad that cleaning it took longer than I expected. By the time I finished, it was too late to get out of there undetected. I heard keys in the door, and Kareem entered carrying a bag of groceries.

  “Hey!” He sounded happy to see me. “Where the hell you been?” He set the bag on the counter and gave me a hug.

  “I been around.”

  “What? You don’t know how to call?” he scolded. I hated it when he acted like my daddy instead of my brother.

  “I just needed to get away from it all, Kareem.”

  “And that included me.” I could tell by his tone that he was hurt. “I’m not those church people, Tia. I’m your family. Your only real family.”

  As much as I wanted to reassure him, I just couldn’t tell him anything. Not yet. There was nothing he could say or do to make things better for me, so there was no use telling him anything.

  “Kareem, sometimes I have to deal with things by myself. You can’t protect me from everything, you know.”

  “Protect you? Did Aaron put his hands on you?” His eyes flashed with rage.

  “No, of course not,” I said.

  “Then what? He cheated on you?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Aaron didn’t do anything. He’s a good man. This is all about me.”

  I could see he wasn’t buying my excuse. “Little sister, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “A lot,” I said truthfully. “But you can’t save me from it. I gotta save myself.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, and I knew he was frustrated with me, but thankfully he dropped the conversation. I gave him a quick kiss and hug then headed to the door before he could try to press further.

  “If you need anything, you know where to find me,” he said with a look that told me my big brother was willing to do anything for me.

  I squeezed my bag, felt the cold, hard steel of Black Beauty. “I got everything I need,” I said, and for the first time in days, I believed it was true.

  Desiree

  10

  As I entered the church office, I quickly assessed the people in the room. Bishop TK Wilson stood much taller than I had expected based on his photo on the church website. The first lady’s photo also painted an entirely different image than she projected in person. The hoochie-mama crop top and body-hugging pants would have been enough to get her tossed out of my church back home.

  They were deep in conversation, so I had a few moments to observe the dynamics between them before they noticed me. I still couldn’t believe that I was standing in the church where Aaron Mackie worked.

  “Hello. May I help you?” The bishop moved toward me, causing his wife to swivel around and check me out. I lowered my eyes, attempting to appear shy and submissive. I could tell just from the few moments I’d spent observing him that he would feel protective of me if I came across as a nice Southern Christian girl.

  “I’m new to the area,” I said as demurely as I could, “and I’ve heard so many amazing things about First Jamaica Ministries. I’m looking for a new church family…and a job.” I forced myself to wince when I said the word “job,” as if it were too big a dream to imagine.

  “Where you from?” Monique took a few steps closer to her husband. Game recognized game, so I was well aware she was about to lift her leg and piss on her territory if I didn’t play my part right. And of course I would play it right. The last thing I wanted was for Miss Thing to be my enemy.

  “I’m from Virginia,” I said quietly.

  “What part of Virginia you from? That’s my home state,” Bishop Wilson said, telling me something I already knew. I had done my homework.

  “Petersburg. I’m a member of Bishop Thomas’s church, Mount Calvary.”

  “I know that place. He’s a good man.”

  “I’ve also seen your choir on television,” I raved. “We don’t have anything like that in Petersburg.”

  “Best choir in the world. We just won the championship,” Monique announced, beaming at her husband.

  “If he’s around, I’d love to meet your choir director. I grew up singing in my church choir. My grandmother told me that there’s no better way to feel like a part of the community than to join a church choir.”

  “He’s taking a little time off,” Monique said, giving me the once-over. Maybe I had come across as too eager. I should pull back a little, I decided.

  While she looked ready to give me the brush-off, Bishop Wilson was still welcoming. “Well,” he said, “you might not be able to join the choir right away, but it just so happens we are in need of a church secretary. Since you’re looking for a job, I may be able to help you out.”

  I saw a tense look pass between him and his wife. Clearly they were not of one mind when it came to hiring me.

  “Wow,” I said, “it looks like I came along at the right time. Must be divine intervention or something.”

  The bishop raised his eyebrows at his wife as if reminding her who was boss. After a beat, she turned to me with a fake smile.

  “Do you type?” she asked, though it was obvious that she really couldn’t care less about my office skills. “Of course, I must tell you that this would only be a temporary position.”

  Since the demure Southern-girl thing wasn’t working on her, I decided to change it up a little. Based on the way she dressed, it was clear that the first lady didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her, so strong and independent was probably my best bet for bonding with her—which I still intended to accomplish, even though she obviously had no interest in me right now.

  “Yes, ma’am. I helped put myself through college working as a secretary,” I answered. It didn’t seem to change her demeanor at all.

  “Mm-hmm,” was all she said.

  “Where you staying, child?” the bishop asked. Obviously he was more impressed by my country-girl innocent act. It was beginning to feel like I would have to be two totally different people around them.

  “I have a room at the Y.” I saw him flinch. “It’s clean,” I insisted.

  Bishop Wilson shook his head. “Oh, no. That will not do. We’ll figure something out…What’s your name?”

  “Oh, yes. We’ve been so rude,” the first lady said, seeming halfway sincere. Either she was softening a little, or she was just giving up the fight for now. Whether I could get her on my side would remain to be seen.

  “My name is Desiree Jones,” I answered.

  “Well, Desiree, let my wife show you where you’ll be working,” Bishop Wilson said, and I followed her out of the office, trying not to burst into a smile. I had been hoping to get my foot in the door at the church, but to have them offer me a job on the spot was almost too good to be true. Fate was definitely on my side.

  Bishop Wilson stuck his head out the door and said, “By the way, Monique, we still need to finish our other conversation.”

  “But I’ll be busy training Desiree here,” she answered with a little bit of attitude.

  “I won’t let up until you tell me where Tia has been,” he said.

  She shrugged her shoulders but didn’t answer him.

  “Don’t worry. I know where you live,” he joked as he headed back into his office.

  I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was too busy marveling at my good luck to really care. The first lady led me to a small, neat desk. It was obvious that someone else worked there because of the personal belongings on top.

  I spotted a framed photo on the desk and my heart started beating faster. I picked it up, asking, “Who’s the happy couple?”

  The first lady looked at the picture and sighed. “Oh, that’s Tia, our permanent secretary. The man is Aaron Mackie, our choir director, and also her former fiancé.”

  Her use of the word “former” confused me. I was just at the man’s bachelor party not too long ago, and he sure as hell acted like he was ready to get married the next morning.

  “Very nice. I guess they’re married now, then?” I
asked, trying to sound casual as I pressed for more information.

  She sighed again. Whatever it was, something had her surely vexed. “Well, if you’re working here you’ll find out sooner or later, so I might as well tell you. She left him standing at the altar last weekend. That’s why she’s not here.”

  “Oh, my. That’s terrible.” I shook my head, staring at the man in the photo. “How could anyone do that to him?”

  She snatched the picture out of my hand and placed it in the bottom drawer of the desk. “You shouldn’t judge someone that you don’t know,” she said in a tone that let me believe Tia was off-limits as a subject of gossip.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m not judging,” I said, regretting my slipup. I did not want to get on this woman’s bad side. “It’s just sad. They look so happy together.”

  “Yeah, it is sad,” she said, then promptly changed the subject. “So, we have two phone lines here…”

  She proceeded to tell me how to field certain calls; which ones I should patch through to the bishop right away, and which ones I should just politely take a message.

  She was still explaining when the phone rang. A quick glance at the caller ID made my heart skip a beat, and when I looked at the first lady, I saw that she was a little uncomfortable herself.

  “It’s Aaron,” she said, her hand hovering over the receiver like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to answer the call. I gave her an out.

  “It’s my job, First Lady. Shouldn’t I answer it?” I asked. She pulled her hand back, looking relieved that she didn’t have to pick it up.

  “Hello, First Jamaica Ministries, this is Desiree. How can I help you?” I glanced at Monique and she nodded her approval, so I guess my voice hadn’t betrayed my nerves.

  “This is Aaron Mackie. I was calling to see if there were any messages for me.” His voice sent a little chill through me. It was sexy but sad.

  “Um, just a minute, please.” I covered the phone and whispered his question to the first lady. She shook her head.

  “No, I’m sorry. No messages, Mr. Mackie.” After a quick thank-you, he hung up.

  I placed the phone on the receiver, my heart still racing. I turned to the first lady hoping she couldn’t see how flustered I was, but she seemed pretty distracted by her own thoughts. I wasn’t really sure what was going on, but it must have been something big, because Aaron Mackie’s wedding never happened, and the first lady appeared to be pretty freaked out by a simple phone call.

  Given her quick reaction when I spoke about the runaway bride before, I knew enough not to comment on the fact that I had just spoken to the jilted groom. I must have played it correctly, because she seemed to warm up to me after that. She got back to my training as if the call had never happened.

  “So, your day starts at nine a.m. and usually ends at five,” she said.

  As I listened to her drone on about the particulars of my secretarial duties, I didn’t have a moment to process my feelings. I was so close to achieving my dream of getting near Aaron Mackie, but I had to remain cool.

  Then, as if things weren’t already going well enough for me, Monique made an offer that sweetened the deal. “You know, the church owns a small apartment building not too far from here, and we do have a vacancy at the moment. It needs work, but if you like, I can talk to the bishop about letting you stay there.”

  “Really, are you sure?” Everything was falling into place even better than I could have hoped for. Someone was watching over me, for sure.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. “At least now he won’t be worrying about you.” She gave me a small smile that appeared to be genuine, and I felt a sense of victory. “Come on, let’s tell him.”

  I followed her back into the office. Bishop Wilson was sitting behind his desk, going over some paperwork.

  “We’re going to give Desiree that apartment that was just vacated,” she announced as we walked in. I wanted to laugh out loud. She had told me she was going to talk to him about it, but here she was telling him what he was going to do. This sista was not meek by any stretch of the imagination. I could take a few lessons from her, I thought.

  “Fantastic,” he beamed, not bothered in the least that his wife was making decisions in his church.

  A knock caused him to look up toward the doorway. “Pippie, come on in here,” he said.

  I turned around to see a man in a blue janitor’s uniform with a big, easygoing grin on his face. I recognized him instantly; he was one of the guys I saw at Aaron’s bachelor party.

  He stepped into the office and said, “I fixed those gutters, so the next time it rains there won’t be any problem.”

  “Thank you,” the bishop said, but then a look of concern crossed his face. His mind was obviously not on the gutter situation. “Pippie, I was wondering if you’d seen Aaron,” he said.

  Wow, there was his name coming up again. Either the failed wedding had everyone around here pretty upset, or they were all as obsessed with the choir director as I was.

  Pippie shook his head. “Me and Ross saw him the other night when his momma left town. I offered to take him fishing this weekend, but he just wants to be left alone. He’ll be all right, though. We’ll figure something out to help take his mind off of everything.”

  “Well, as long as he has good, loyal friends like you and continues to love the Lord, ain’t nothing the devil can do,” the bishop responded.

  “Amen,” I chimed in. They all turned toward me, looking as if they’d forgotten I was even in the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude,” I said. “Your words just reminded me of something my father used to say all the time: There’s nothing in the world that can stand up against your faith.”

  Bishop Wilson nodded. He seemed pleased once again by my good-Christian-girl act.

  “Have I met you?” Pippie asked, sizing me up. Thank God I’d been smart enough to wear a mask the night of the bachelor party.

  “This is Desiree Jones,” Bishop Wilson said. “She just moved to New York. She’s going to be helping out until Tia gets back.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Jones. I hope you stay in our little community,” he said, and I realized I wasn’t the only actor in the room. This guy’s polite greeting was a far cry from the lecherous partygoer he’d been the other night. In fact, he was the one trying to play grab-ass with me for a dollar.

  “Now that I’m here, I can’t imagine ever leaving,” I said.

  “You’ll love being church secretary. It puts you in a position to know everything that’s going on,” Pippie informed me.

  I smiled at the group of people watching me. Yeah, this was exactly where I wanted to be. Things couldn’t have worked better for me if I had hit the lottery.

  Bishop

  11

  I woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind that demands immediate action around it. Although Monique still wouldn’t tell me where Tia was, I did feel we were working toward the same goal: helping Aaron and Tia fix their problems and possibly getting them back together. Unfortunately, we weren’t getting very far. Last night, Monique had tried calling Tia and I had reached out to Aaron, but neither of us had any luck contacting either of them. Aaron’s voice mail was full, so I couldn’t even leave him a message.

  As I drove to the church to start my day, I was determined that I would make some headway with Aaron. If he didn’t answer my calls, then I would go find him. He shouldn’t be alone during a time like this.

  When I pulled into my reserved spot in the church parking lot, I saw Pippie and Ross seated on the church steps, deep in conversation. As I got out of the car and walked toward them, Pippie tapped Ross and they shut up in a hurry. Now, that’s not totally unusual when the pastor of the church shows up, because people have a tendency not to want me to see or hear them in any negative light. It comes with the job. However, these two weren’t those type of churchgoers; they were also my friends.

  “Gentlemen, I
’m going to assume you weren’t out here talking about football, so what’s on your minds?”

  “We’re a little worried about Aaron,” Pippie admitted.

  “No, Bishop, we’re a lot worried about Aaron. I was hoping you could talk him into coming back to work,” Ross added, sounding as worried as I felt. “Aaron’s always depended on the church and choir to help him through tough times, but not with this.”

  “I’ve reached out to him several times,” I said, “but his phone keeps going straight to voice mail, and that’s full.”

  “Maybe you should stop by his place,” Pippie suggested. Ross gave him a quick elbow in the ribs, which was clearly meant to end the conversation, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Gentlemen, what’s going on?” I asked, knowing that these were good men and neither would feel comfortable lying to me. “I want the truth.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence.

  “I can’t help him if I don’t know what’s going on,” I advised them.

  Pippie spoke up hesitantly. “We just left Aaron’s place. We tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t even let us in. I smelled alcohol on his breath.” He shook his head sadly. “Bishop, he was drunk at nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Ross snapped protectively.

  “I know what alcohol smells like, Ross,” Pippie replied, not holding back now. “And I know what I saw the other night.”

  Ross remained silent, frowning at Pippie for what he probably saw as a betrayal of Aaron. I could understand it, I suppose. As his manager, Ross had an instinct to protect Aaron’s image, but it was misguided loyalty at the moment.

  “Ross, whether you know it or not, we are the three best friends Aaron has, and this is not the time to protect him. We need transparency in order to really help him,” I counseled.