by Carl Weber
“The car’s empty,” Jackson said, stating the obvious. “You think she went after him?”
“I hope not,” I replied, though I didn’t hold out much hope. She’d sounded pretty agitated on the phone, and I worried what she was capable of in that state.
With so many apartment buildings on the street, it would be impossible to know which one Tia might have gone into.
“Jackson, let me out here. I’m going to check in her car to see if there’s anything that will help me figure out where she is,” I said.
“I’ll go find a parking space and be right back,” he said.
Surprisingly, Tia had left her car door unlocked—not a good sign. I climbed into the passenger seat and opened the glove compartment. As I was pulling out papers to check for a clue, Tia came racing out of a building across the street. My relief at seeing her was short-lived as she climbed into the car, spotted me, and started talking crazy.
“Monique! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I gotta get out of here! I didn’t mean for it to happen! I just wanted him to apologize.”
I put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down and she flinched. I could feel her trembling beneath my touch.
“Tia, slow down. What happened?”
She looked at me and burst into tears. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was calling him a rapist and the next he had me on the ground. He was gonna rape me again.” She sounded so frail and broken. I wrapped my arms around her and she sobbed against my shoulder.
“Where is he now? How did you get away?” I asked.
She pushed away from me and wiped the tears off her face. “I hit him over the head with a lamp. As soon as he hit the floor I ran.”
“And you’re sure that he’s alive?” We both turned to stare at the person who had spoken. I had forgotten about Jackson.
“Who is this?” she shouted at me, tensing up as if she thought he, too, was there to hurt her. She was clearly traumatized.
“It’s okay,” I said, speaking softly. “He’s with me. We were in a meeting when you called, and he saw that I was upset and refused to let me come by myself.” I couldn’t tell her that while she was fighting for her life I was talking about becoming an actress.
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay,” Jackson explained, though he kept his distance so as not to make her any more frightened than she already was. “I thought you two could use a man in case he got violent or something.”
“He did,” Tia said and started crying again. After a minute she looked up at me and said, “Oh my God. Do you think he’s really hurt? He wasn’t moving.”
This was bad. Really bad. What if she had gravely injured the guy, or even worse, what if he was dead? I didn’t know what to say. I was worried about Tia, but I was equally worried about the church. I could picture the headlines now: FORMER CHURCH SECRETARY ARRESTED FOR MURDER.
Jackson spoke up. “I’ll go check on him. Which building is it?”
“Are you sure?” I asked, though I was relieved and grateful he was offering to do it, because I was pretty much paralyzed with worry at the moment.
“Yes, I’m sure. I wanna go up there and handle this guy myself. If he’s conscious, I want to knock him out for what he did to Tia.”
Tia looked at him and then at me. For a second I thought she was going to curse me out for telling Jackson about her rape, but instead I watched the tension leave her shoulders as she whispered “Thank you” to Jackson.
After Tia told him the location of the apartment, Jackson turned to me and said, “Monique, you need to get her out of here.”
I nodded, and he cautiously reached over to open the driver’s-side door. Tia allowed him to help her out with no resistance. He guided her to the other side of the car and settled her into the passenger seat.
Getting into the driver’s seat, I took the keys from Tia and started the engine. I looked at Jackson and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
He nodded and told me, “Take her someplace safe. I’ll call you later.” With that, he headed across the street toward the apartment building.
I knew just where I would go with Tia. When I married TK, I had kept the house that I owned. Recently, the tenant had left after a long dispute over unpaid rent. Just like that, a situation that had caused me frustration turned out to be a blessing, because now the house was empty for me to take Tia there.
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s a really nice guy,” Tia said as I pulled away from the curb.
“Yeah,” I answered. “He’s one of the good ones.”
Tia’s eyes filled with tears again, and I wondered if my comment made her think of Aaron. “Monique, what have I done?” she asked, sounding so sad and lost. No matter what happened, I knew that I had to protect her.
I reached out and covered her hand with mine. “You’re going to be okay, Tia. I promise.”
Desiree
17
“In New York…” With my earbuds in and my iPhone cranked all the way up, I was singing along full volume with Alicia Keys. Flipping through the concert program, I smiled, wishing I could be back at the concert, not at my desk at the church. I was so caught up in the memories of the night before that I didn’t even notice the bishop come in until he tapped me on the shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I pulled the earbuds out and turned off the music in a hurry. “Oh, Bishop, I’m sorry,” I said.
“That’s quite all right,” he said with a smile. Putting down his briefcase, he picked up the concert program and flipped through a few pages. “So, I take it you had a good time last night.”
“It was the absolute best,” I said enthusiastically.
“That’s good to hear.” He gave me an approving nod as he placed the program back on my desk. “I think you and Pippie are going to make a really nice couple.”
“What?” I snapped, then caught myself and changed my tone in a hurry. “Oh, no,” I said more sweetly. “I don’t know where you heard that from, but we’re not a couple.” If my plan to seduce Aaron was going to work out, I definitely didn’t need anyone thinking that I was dating Pippie.
“Well, yeah, you’re not a couple yet, but that was only your first date, right?” His comments were meant to be good natured, but I wanted to smack the grin off his Bible-thumping face.
“No, that wasn’t our first date. We’re not dating at all,” I said a little more emphatically. “We went to the concert as friends.”
He took a step back from my desk. “No problem,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I realized I must have taken my attitude a little too far. Damn it. I couldn’t risk pissing off the bishop and losing this job. Playing this part correctly was proving to be difficult, but the outcome was so important to me that I would do whatever it took.
“Oh, no offense, Bishop. It’s just that I’m a single girl and I’m new here, and well, you know how the rumor mill can be in a church. I don’t want to gain a reputation,” I explained in my best innocent-Southern-girl voice.
He nodded. “Oh, I certainly understand about rumors.” There was obviously something behind what he said, and I wondered what rumors had been spread about him in the past. Whatever they were, they made him uncomfortable enough to drop the subject in a hurry.
“Any messages?” he asked, thumbing through the mail he’d picked up from the box where I always left it for him.
I glanced at my message pad. “Yes. You had a call from Ross Parker. He said he needed to talk to you ASAP about a Mr. Jackson Young.” I could see the bishop’s entire demeanor change when he heard the name Jackson Young.
“Do me a favor, Desiree,” he said, sounding very irritated. “Get Ross down here this evening around five. I want to find out what Mr. Young is up to now.”
“Right away. Oh, and your wife called for you. She said to tell you she’s sorry about last night and that she was still with ‘you know who.’” I had no idea who she was referring to, but it sure as hell had me cur
ious.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Bishop, but is everything all right with you and the first lady? I can’t help but notice a little tension between you two.” I knew it was way out of bounds for me to be asking such a personal question, but I couldn’t help myself. What can I say? I can be very nosy when I smell some juicy drama.
Fortunately, he didn’t get mad at me for asking. “It’s no big deal, really. She spent the night with a sick friend,” he explained. Then he surprised me by adding, “I just wish she hadn’t waited until 3 o’clock in the morning to answer her phone and let me know.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised to hear that the first lady hadn’t even come home last night, but he quickly cleaned it up by adding, “Don’t worry, Desiree. The first lady and I are going to be fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” I replied, resisting the urge to push for more details.
“So,” he said, changing the subject, “have you had a chance to meet our choir director since he’s been back?”
“I’ve seen him in passing, but we haven’t officially met. I was thinking about bringing his mail down to him and introducing myself.” What I didn’t say was that as soon as I heard Aaron was back, I’d headed into the sanctuary and watched the choir rehearsal from the shadows of the balcony, camera phone in hand to capture Aaron in his glory.
“Why don’t we take the mail down there together and I’ll introduce you,” he suggested.
“Well, if it’s not too much trouble…I don’t want to be a bother, but I would like to meet him.”
“No bother at all.” Bishop Wilson picked up a box of Aaron’s mail. “Come on. Let’s make that happen.”
When we entered the sanctuary, the choir was singing a song that I’d never heard before. I had to admit that they were blowing the roof off the place.
“They sound amazing!” I whispered to the bishop.
He broke out into a proud grin. “It’s Aaron. He’s the best thing that ever happened to our music ministry. The choir was always good, but he pulled them together and made them great.”
When they finished the song, Aaron spotted the bishop, who waved him over.
“Why don’t you all take ten?” Aaron addressed the choir, then he descended the stage and approached us. My heart started racing. This was the moment I’d waited so long for.
“Bishop,” Aaron greeted. They shook hands, and I could feel the obvious affection between them.
“This is Desiree Jones,” Bishop Wilson said. “She’s new to New York, and she just joined our congregation.”
“Hello.” I extended my hand to Aaron.
“Nice to meet you, Desiree.” If he noticed how sweaty my palms were, he was nice enough not to show it.
“I brought you your mail,” I told him. “I’m filling in for the church secretary.” I smiled innocently, but I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted to gauge his feelings for the woman who walked out on him. I would have preferred a look of hatred, so I could be sure there was no chance of her coming back in the picture, but the look of distress he gave me would have to do.
“Desiree is from Petersburg, Virginia,” Bishop told him.
“Hopewell. Boy, does that town bring back some memories. I’m from Petersburg myself,” Aaron shared. Of course, he had no idea just how much I already knew about him. “Bishop won’t tell you this, but he has a fondness for those of us from his home state.”
“What can I say? People from Virginia always seem to bring me good fortune,” Bishop said with a laugh.
Aaron said to me, “There used to be a little bakery in Hopewell, over on Center Street. They made the world’s best sock-it-to-me cake. Got my mouth watering just thinking about it. Daggonit, what was that place called?”
“You’re too young to be losing your memory,” Bishop kidded him.
“The Mocha Expressions Bakery,” I offered.
“Yeah. That’s it. Mocha Expressions Bakery. Man, what I’d do for a piece of that cake right now.”
“Well, what do you have to offer?” I joked. “I used to work there back in the day. I can make you a sock-it-to-me cake.”
Aaron’s face broke out in a huge grin. “What do you want?”
I stared at him for a second, trying to keep my true feelings masked. He didn’t know it, of course, but this was not the place to be asking me, of all people, what I wanted from him.
An older woman from the choir interrupted. “Excuse me, Bishop. Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure, Sister Terrell. If you two will excuse me.” He patted Aaron on the back before leading the woman over to the side so they could talk in private.
“So,” Aaron said, “who do I have to kill to get you to make me a cake?”
“You don’t have to kill anyone,” I answered, “but I was hoping to join your choir. I was a member of the choir back home, and there is something about it that heals the soul.”
“Amen to that. I just went through some things myself, and this choir has been a huge part of my healing process. Anybody that loves the Lord would be a welcome addition.”
“I love singing for the Lord.”
“Then we have something in common,” Aaron said.
Yeah, I thought, I can’t wait for the day that you find out just how much we have in common.
Bishop
18
“I thought you might be hungry, Bishop.”
Desiree walked into my office carrying a mug of hot chocolate and a small plate of cookies. She was always doing nice things like that. As much as I was worried about Tia and hoping she would be well enough to come back soon, I had to admit I was enjoying Desiree’s thoughtfulness.
“Thank you, Desiree,” I said. “I don’t think there’s anything else I need right now.”
“I made the cookies myself. They’re peanut butter.”
“They look tempting, but you know my wife doesn’t like me to eat too many sweets,” I told her, my mouth already watering from the scent of the fresh baked goods.
“Well, Bishop, seeing as how she’s not here, this can be our little secret, okay?” she said with a smile.
I didn’t hesitate to pick one up. “I suppose one wouldn’t hurt,” I said, taking a bite. Once I got a taste, I knew I wouldn’t be stopping at just one.
“Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?” she asked.
“Is it quitting time already?” I asked, glancing at my watch. I’d been so busy researching for Sunday’s sermon that I lost track of time. “Has Ross Parker called? He should have been here twenty minutes ago for our meeting.”
“No, he hasn’t—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Ross came into the office, looking a little stressed.
“Sorry I’m late, Bishop,” he said as he took a seat by my desk.
“I’ll leave you two gentlemen alone then,” Desiree said, closing the door behind her as she exited.
“So what’s going on, Ross? Your message said you wanted to talk about Jackson Young.” Just speaking the man’s name made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“About what?”
“Well, Aaron and I had a meeting with Jackson Young, and—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Why was I not informed of this meeting? I expect to be kept in the loop on anything pertaining to my choir.”
Ross let my reprimand roll off his back without becoming defensive. “He wanted to talk to Aaron, not the whole choir. I just wanted Aaron to hear the guy out. I thought it would help take his mind off Tia and back onto his career, you know?”
I nodded. “And did it work?”
Ross released a frustrated sigh. “I wish I’d never agreed to meet with the guy.”
“I could have told you that,” I said. “Nothing good can come out of an association with that snake. So, what happened at the meeting?”
“Aaron actually left after about ten minutes. Said he had a meeting with you.”
<
br /> I leaned back in my chair, recalling the conversation I had with Aaron when we met the other night. We talked almost exclusively about the choir and how he was eager to get back to work. “Well, he didn’t even mention Jackson to me, so I guess whatever Mr. Young said to him, it didn’t leave much of an impression.”
Ross didn’t look convinced. “I wish it was that simple,” he said. “Jackson planted some ideas in Aaron’s head, and I’m worried that in his present state of mind, Aaron might just consider Jackson’s offer.”
“His offer?” I asked.
“Bottom line is he wants Aaron to be his client, and he’s pulling out all the stops to try to get him. He’s throwing around a lot of promises—touring, performing at awards shows, and a contract with a major label.”
I hated to admit it, but those things sounded great. “You know, Ross, if I didn’t have such a personal issue with Jackson Young, I might be asking you to pursue this further. Can you imagine what that kind of exposure could do for the church? Imagine our choir on a national recording label.”
Ross frowned. “No, Bishop, you don’t understand. He doesn’t want the choir. He only wants Aaron. And it gets even worse.”
“Worse how?” I asked warily.
“Not only does he want Aaron to leave the choir, but he wants him to stop singing gospel music altogether. He wants Aaron to become an R&B star—the next Trey Songz.”
I shook my head. “Aaron wouldn’t do that. He’s devoted to that choir. That’s his ministry.”
Ross didn’t share my certainty. “I sure hope you’re right, Bishop, because this guy’s not giving up. After Aaron left, he gave me a list of demands. Said I could either get Aaron to agree to them and stay on as his manager, or he would get Aaron to agree on his own and kick me to the curb.”
“That man has some set of b—” This news had me so worked up that I nearly lost my composure in the house of the Lord. “He has some nerve,” I said, cleaning up my language. “You don’t really think Aaron would go for it, do you?”