by Carl Weber
Fortunately, Pippie saw things my way and kept talking. “He was at a bar the other night, women all over him, getting drunk. It was like he wasn’t himself.”
It took longer for Ross to come around, but Pippie just stared him down until he relented. “Yeah,” Ross started. “When we tried to talk some sense into him, he lost it. He basically told us to screw ourselves and leave him alone. He’s in real trouble, Bishop. It’s like he don’t care about nothing. The barmaid he was with the other night is a real cokehead.”
Pippie asked the question that had us all worried at the moment: “I know he got hit hard, but it’s not like him to be self-destructive. What if he goes someplace that he can’t come back from?”
“It’s up to us to make sure that doesn’t happen.” They both nodded their agreement. “And with that, gentlemen, I think it’s time I paid our choir director a visit.”
I hated the idea of just popping up on Aaron without notice, but by the time I parked, I realized it was my only choice. Aaron’s car stood out because it was alternate side of the street parking, and judging by the number of tickets on his windshield, he hadn’t bothered to move the car in three or four days.
He lived in a second-floor walkup, and I could hear loud music thumping from his apartment as I ascended the staircase. If I didn’t know about the heartache he was going through, I would think he was having a party up there.
I rang the doorbell several times but got no answer. For a split second I thought about walking away, but that was probably just what he was hoping I’d do. I couldn’t let him off the hook that easily, especially if he was as bad as Pippie and Ross said. I started banging on the door, intent on pounding until he finally opened it. I had no concern about waking anybody else in the building, because it was half past ten in the morning—and there was no way anyone was sleeping with Aaron’s music blasting the way it was. After a few committed moments, my efforts paid off.
“Who the fuck is—?” Aaron, wearing only underwear and a robe, flung open the door like a wild man. The alcohol on his breath nearly knocked me over.
“Bishop? What are you doing here?” As drunk as he sounded, he was still alert enough to pull his robe closed to cover himself.
“I came to see my choir director. You still are the church’s choir director, aren’t you?”
It took him a second to answer. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good, ’cause it’s time for you to get back to work.” I pushed past him, getting a whiff of his unshowered body as I entered the apartment. What I found inside was even more distressing than his disheveled appearance. “What the hell is this?”
I was looking at the remnants of a wild party. Marijuana and empty liquor bottles littered the table. The only glimmer of hope was the fact that there was no evidence of cocaine in the room. But if I thought weed and alcohol were the extent of his debauchery, I soon learned I was mistaken as my eyes rested on a trail of shiny thongs, bras, and six-inch heels leading to the bedroom. I turned back to Aaron, who was looking a little wobbly.
“Bishop, this isn’t a good time,” he said, leaning against the wall for support. “Why don’t I take a shower and meet you down at the church?” He cast his eyes downward, avoiding my angry glare.
I wasn’t about to let him dismiss me. This boy was in serious spiritual trouble. I made a beeline for the bedroom.
“Seriously, this isn’t a good time!” he called out in a panic.
“The hell it isn’t,” I said as I reached for the doorknob.
“Bishop, no!”
I flung the door open, expecting to find a woman in the room, but what I saw was much, much worse. Not one, but two naked women were in Aaron’s bed, their limbs entwined as they slept. What took things over the top was the fact that I recognized both women. Tiffany Johnson and Keisha Holland had both grown up in my church.
I turned away from them, flipped on the light switch, and pounded my fist on the wall, causing the women to stir.
“What?” Tiffany said groggily, squinting her eyes against the bright light. “We can’t be doing this all night, Aaron. You got to let a sister get some sleep.”
“You ladies should be ashamed of yourselves!” I yelled.
“Oh my God! Bishop!” Keisha was the first one to realize I was in the room. She grabbed the covers and shoved Tiffany’s legs off of her as she covered herself as best she could.
I glared at Aaron, who looked like he wanted to fall through the floor and disappear.
“Now, I just know that both of those young ladies were not raised to be up here in all this foolishness,” I said, so disappointed in all three of them.
“Bishop, we’re sorry.” Tiffany started to cry.
“We are,” Keisha agreed, though she didn’t look the least bit embarrassed.
“Get up and get your clothes on now!” I grabbed Aaron’s arm and pulled him into the hallway with me.
“Bishop, look, you weren’t supposed to see that.”
“That’s the best you can do?” I said. “You don’t even sound sorry, Aaron.”
“I’m not.”
My mouth dropped open; he’d actually left me speechless. I felt like I was talking to a stranger. The Aaron I knew would not disregard the church’s teachings so blatantly.
“What do I have to be sorry about?” he continued. “I’m a grown man and they’re both consenting adults.”
“What about Tia, Aaron? How do you think she’d feel if she knew you were doing this?”
He laughed. “Tia treated me worse than a dog. She dumped me like I meant absolutely nothing to her. Tell me, how am I supposed to feel after that?”
“I know she hurt you, but that young lady loves you,” I insisted.
“No disrespect, Bishop, but after what she did to me, she can eat rocks for all I care. You need to step off and let me just be.”
“I can’t do that. Especially not when you’re making such bad choices right now. You have to believe me when I tell you that Tia loves you. There is still a chance for the two of you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t believe you. Actions speak louder than words, and her leaving me at the altar let me know loud and clear how she really feels.”
“You’re wrong. Not only does she love you, but she’s going to need you to be there for her,” I said, coming dangerously close to breaking my promise to Monique.
“Be there for her!” he yelled indignantly “Tia don’t give a shit about me, Bishop. Why should I care about her?”
We were interrupted by Keisha and Tiffany, who stepped out of the room to do their walk of shame.
“Bishop, please don’t—” Keisha’s face was pleading.
“Don’t what? Say anything to your parents? Don’t tell your friends? Don’t mention this to any other church members?” I scolded. “It would serve you right if I did. But you two are grown, and you have to decide if how you’re living is the way that God intended for you.”
They stared at me with wide eyes, accepting my lecture as penance for their transgressions.
“This is not right, and you both know it,” I said, shaking my head in disappointment.
“But we’re sorry. We really are, we got caught up in the moment,” Tiffany insisted. She sounded like a teenager, much too young to be involved in the debauchery I’d just witnessed. “Please don’t be mad,” she said, practically begging.
“Lord help you, child, if you think I’m the one you need to be worried about right now. You better get home and get down on your knees and pray for forgiveness from the one who really matters.”
“Yes, Bishop,” they replied together then headed past us, heads hung low.
“And I want to see both of you in my office after services next Sunday. We’ll be setting up some volunteer hours for you so you can spend your time in service to the Lord, not frolicking on the devil’s playground with the choir director,” I called out to them just before they shut the front door.
“This isn’t their fault. I invited them o
ver here,” Aaron admitted.
“I haven’t begun to assess blame yet. But you think I don’t know those girls’ reputations?”
I turned back to Aaron, whose soul needed saving too. Apparently he wasn’t ready to hear the message yet, though.
“Bishop, you have to leave too,” he said.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
He scowled at me. “Look, I can take care of myself,” he said. “Why don’t you go help those two say their prayers or something?”
“I’ll deal with those two in my own time, but right now I need to be here with you.” I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in trouble, man. I’m worried about you.”
He shook my hand off. “I just need you to go!” he yelled.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” I said, standing my ground. “Get some clothes on. We’re going to have a talk.”
Aaron’s shoulders slumped, and I knew that he had finally accepted defeat. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” I told him as I headed toward the kitchen. He went into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.
As I waited for Aaron, I thought about what I was preparing to do. I had promised Monique that I wouldn’t betray Tia’s confidence, and I didn’t normally break my promises. This situation was anything but normal, though. Aaron was in a desperate downward spiral, and there was only one way I knew to snap him out of it.
He started to speak as he entered the room. “Bishop, you don’t under—”
“Tia saw one of her rapists. At her bachelorette party,” I blurted out.
“What?” Aaron reacted as if he’d been punched in the gut.
“That’s why she didn’t show up at the wedding. She said she was too ashamed to face you.”
“Why?” he said, collapsing onto the couch. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t she just tell me?” He dropped his head into his hands and I gave him a few minutes to process the horrendous news.
When he finally lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes were searching mine for an answer on how to proceed. “Son, you need to get up and get yourself together,” I said. “Then you need to go out there and find your woman. You understand?”
“Yes,” he said, and I could see the old Aaron returning. He stood up and started cleaning up the remnants of his party. He was ready to take action. “Thank you, Bishop. I’m going to make things right.”
I patted him on the back. “That’s just what I wanted to hear,” I said as I headed for the front door.
“Just one more thing,” I said before I exited.
“Anything.”
“If First Lady ever finds out that I told you, it will cost me my marriage.”
“That won’t happen,” Aaron assured me. I left knowing that I had done the right thing.
Ross
12
Despite the fact that the bishop had spoken to Aaron and gotten him to go back to work, he was still moody as hell. Yes, he’d stopped his hard partying, but he still didn’t seem like himself. He was distracted most of the time, and “sullen” and “brooding” had become the best words to describe my once outgoing friend. He’d gone from the good guy on the straight and narrow to Mr. I-Don’t-Give-a-Fuck in no time flat, and it had me truly worried. Not just for him personally, but for his career. It was the reason I’d arranged for us to meet with Jackson Young. I hoped that a meeting about his career would remind Aaron how much he had to lose if he didn’t shape up soon.
I was relieved when I saw Pippie’s car pull into the parking lot and Aaron climbed out of the passenger side. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to agree to the meeting, and until now, I’d had my doubts about whether he’d actually show up.
“Hey, man, thanks for coming.” I attempted a brotherly hug, but he left me hanging.
“Fifteen minutes and I’m out of here,” Aaron replied.
“What’s up?” Pippie fist-pounded me in greeting. He rolled his eyes in Aaron’s direction, letting me know he’d put up with the same kind of attitude on the drive over here.
“Aaron, this is a really important meeting. This man could take your career to the next level. I think we owe him more than fifteen minutes.”
“Right now, Ross, I’ve got a lot on my mind and very little patience. You’re supposed to be my manager, so manage. I trust you,” Aaron said as we stepped inside the Red River Restaurant. Jackson had picked a high-end establishment for our meeting. Either he had money to burn, or he was really trying to impress Aaron, I thought, as the maître d’ led us to the best table in the house.
Jackson stood up and reached out to shake Aaron’s hand. “Mr. Mackie, it’s good to see you again. Please, have a seat.”
Once we were all at the table, Jackson got right down to business. “So, can I get you gentlemen anything? Drinks? Food? An agent?” he joked.
“Water is fine,” Aaron responded without any hint of humor in his voice.
“Heineken,” Pippie said.
“I’m good,” I said from my seat between Aaron and Jackson. Jackson made it apparent that as far as he was concerned, what I wanted didn’t really matter anyway.
“Aaron, I’m going to cut to the chase. I think you are being poorly managed,” Jackson said, as if I weren’t even there. “I’ve looked into how things are being handled for you, and I have to say, not only am I unimpressed, I’m disappointed.”
“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?” I said, leaning close and glowering at him. It was a good thing we were in such a fancy restaurant, because I was about two seconds from putting my foot in his ass. Who the hell did he think I was, some punk who would sit on the sidelines while he ripped apart the hard work I’d put in for my friend and client? I may have been dressed in a suit, but I was more than capable of getting hood if need be.
“Ross, no.” Pippie shot me a look warning me to keep it calm. It wasn’t really necessary, though, because I looked at Aaron and realized he was barely paying attention to Jackson. Aaron’s mind was somewhere else, so there was no reason for me to let this jackass get me all riled up.
Jackson gave me a smug look and a fake apology. “Hey, I’m not trying to offend anyone. I’m just speaking the truth. Aaron, I know that you have a good career in gospel, but frankly, you have an R&B voice.”
Aaron didn’t answer. He looked at his watch, probably checking to see if his fifteen minutes were up yet.
“He wants to be a gospel singer and a choir director,” I answered for Aaron. “This is what God put him on earth to do.”
“Is that right?” Jackson asked Aaron directly.
Aaron finally spoke. “It’s true. I’ve always loved singing in the church and giving back to God, who has given me so much,” he responded, with the stock answer that he usually gave for radio interviews. He was clearly not trying to be here longer than his promised time.
“All this talk about God. What did God do for you on your wedding day?” Jackson asked boldly. This guy had a lot of balls bringing up the worst day of Aaron’s life as part of his sales pitch. “I can make you rich,” he said. “I’m talking about the kind of money where you can buy your mother a house and let her retire so that she never has to work again. Send her on cruises around the world. I’m talking real money. That’s the kind of rich I can make you.”
He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “See, unlike your current situation, where you are regrettably being mishandled, I will look out for you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Whether or not Aaron was paying attention, I had to stop this guy from running his mouth.
“Are you the manager of Aaron Mackie, or Aaron Mackie and the First Jamaica Ministries choir?” he challenged.
“What the f—” I stopped myself from cursing as a waitress approached the table. Jackson shot her a look. She got the hint and backed away without asking for our orders.
“Can you really look out for both Aaron and the church choir? And honestly, tell us, how many pieces are being cut fr
om his pie? And once that pie is cut, how many pieces go directly into your pocket?”
“You gotta be kidding me with this bullshit. I’m a good manager,” I said, feeling more defensive by the minute. All the while, Aaron’s eyes wandered around the restaurant like he was totally bored by the whole conversation.
“So you say?” Jackson pushed on. “Let’s be honest. Who do you work for? Bishop TK Wilson signs your check, doesn’t he?”
“This isn’t about the church.”
“Exactly my point. You work for the church, so who is working for Aaron?” He turned to Aaron and said, “I’m not just an agent. I will make sure your every need is met. I look out for clients, because when they’re happy, I’m happy. That’s how this works.”
I pounded my fist on the table. “You saying I don’t look out for Aaron? Man, you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” I was so close to going upside the dude’s head, but he didn’t know it, because he didn’t even look in my direction.
“Be honest with me, Aaron. You love singing gospel, but haven’t you ever thought about being a pop star? You have the voice for it.” Aaron didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes said enough to let Jackson know he had his attention. “I work with people like Clive Davis, Quincy Jones, Jay-Z. I put someone with your talent with the right people and you become an overnight sensation. Has anyone even offered you the opportunity to work with people like that?”
Aaron looked at me, and for a second I thought he was going to ask me why he’d ever let me manage him. Instead, he said, “Mr. Young, I’m late for a meeting with Bishop Wilson. I trust Ross to handle my business, so you two can stay and continue this conversation without me.” With that, he stood up, shook Jackson’s hand, and said, “Pippie, let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
Not even loudmouth Jackson had time to protest before Aaron was out of there.
Jackson and I sat eyeing each other for a minute like two warriors about to do battle. I imagined myself reaching across the table and wrapping my hands around his neck.