Tell Me Lies

by Michelle Lindo-Rice

  The women watched him back out of the space and turn right onto US 17.

  “He’s delectable.” Belinda rubbed her hands together like she was thinking about digging into a delicious meal.

  “I know he’s fine. I got a good look at him in the elevator. But he was sort of rude.”

  “I wonder where he’s staying. I’m sure it might be in the court records. Was it Stacey on duty?” she asked, referring to one of the other stenographers, Stacey Wise.

  Sydney shook her head. “Yes, but you know you can’t ask her for information. So don’t get any ideas. Plus, don’t forget I lost my case.”

  “Yeah, but ‘Eye Candy’ is worth one loss in your close to perfect record,” Belinda retorted. “You need to lose. It’s good therapy for your perfectionism. Besides, didn’t you say Manny was lying? You don’t represent scammers. You’ve said it countless times.”

  Sydney leaned against her SUV. “Manny was so convincing. I believed he’d been injured. I had no idea lawsuits were his way of earning a living.”

  Belinda patted her on the back. “You were doing your job. Listen, Suds, no one is perfect. Nobody is good at everything. Give yourself and Curtis a break.”

  “But this should never have happened. Curtis did the main research on this case. He knew all about Manny’s past and he said nothing. Curtis claimed he found out just this morning, but the other attorney said the discovery documents were sent over three days ago. I was humiliated in there. Judge Hammerstein threw out the case and pretty much schooled me on doing proper research.”

  “Hold up. That’s what the judge said?” Belinda’s eyes narrowed. “It sounds like Curtis set you up.”

  “I confronted him outside the courthouse. He was so sorry. I don’t know what to believe. Curtis isn’t a newbie. He was top of his class. He has no reason to tell me lies.” Sydney rubbed her chin. “And this all happened with the pastor in there to see me get scolded like a child.”

  Belinda waved off Sydney’s concern. “Never mind about the pastor. You’d better meet with Curtis and set him straight.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” Sydney said.

  “For all you know, Curtis could be after your job. You worked hard to get where you are. Partner is within your reach. I’ve no doubt The Welchman Group will be The Welchman and Richardson Group one of these days.”

  “Curtis is ambitious, but he has a ways to go to catch up to where I am.” Sydney thought about it. “If it weren’t for the fact he had a plane to catch, I’d be tearing into him right now. He’s taking his mother on a two-week cruise for her birthday. I told him we were meeting as soon as he got back.”

  “I’ll be praying for you, Suds.”

  Belinda was the only person who could get away with calling Sydney, Suds. She’d originally wanted to call her Sids but refrained, seeing that the initials stood for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Sydney dubbed her Bells, because of the growls, catcalls, and whistles Belinda was sure to get no matter where they went. At five-nine, Belinda had shoulder length hair, light brown eyes, and curves that went on for days. Her olive skin was a beautiful blend of her Puerto Rican and Jamaican ancestry.

  Her skin shone with perspiration. Belinda wiped her face. “Let’s go get lunch and some ice cream. I’m melting under this heat.”

  “Okay, but I have to switch my shoes.” Sydney unlocked the trunk and took out another pair of black stilettos. These were her backup pair. She tossed the broken shoes into the nearest receptacle.

  “What happened?” Belinda slid into the vehicle.

  As usual, Belinda had hitched a ride in with her dad to work and left her BMW coupe at home. Belinda rarely drove the flashy gift from her father. She told Sydney that she felt it was way too ostentatious and the buttercup yellow screamed, “Look at me.” On the other hand, she’d nagged until Sydney traded in her Hyundai for the luxurious Mercedes SUV. Belinda insisted Sydney had earned it. Besides her car, the only extravagant possessions Sydney cherished were her shoes.

  “What happened to my shoes? You want to know what happened to my shoes?” Sydney launched into a masterful retelling of her morning debacle.

  Belinda held her stomach and giggled. “This sounds like the case of the broke-down Cinderella and the not-so-nice Prince.”

  “Ha. Ha. I’ll give you that one,” Sydney said.

  Sydney endured her friend’s good-natured ribbing the fifteen minutes it took for her to pull into the Port Charlotte Mall. In a town as small as Port Charlotte, Florida, everything was off the main road, U.S 41. Sydney was elated when she was able to secure a spot by the food court. The women entered the mall.

  “Forget the ice cream,” Belinda said. “Let’s get real food.”

  Sydney’s stomach rumbled. “Charley’s?”

  Belinda nodded and they joined the queue of diners in line at the popular fast-food joint. Sydney ordered the California Chicken combo, while Belinda chose the Philly Cheesesteak with all the toppings.

  “So, tell me more about how Pastor Hottie ruined your case?” Belinda asked as they moved to the side of the line where diners waited for their orders.

  “His name is Pastor Noah Charleston.” Sydney bit into her sandwich. “He’s some big shot minister from Texas.”

  “Hmm, Texas.” Belinda released a feline purr that made Sydney smile. “Does he have their famous drawl?”

  “Sadly, no,” Sydney said. “He said he was originally from New York.”

  “New York. Maybe that explains why he was so rude.”

  “Ex-New Yorker or not, I would’ve expected him to be more gracious being a minister and all.”

  “So, are ministers supposed to be pushovers?”

  Both women jumped at the question posed from the deep melodious voice of the man standing beside them. They turned to see none other than the topic of their conversation. Their momentary surprise was replaced with a nervous laugh since they had been too engaged in their conversation to notice his approach.

  Sydney found her voice first. “No, but I would’ve expected you to be more of a gentleman this morning.”

  Their food order came up. The women gathered their meals and went to find a table. Pastor Charleston followed behind. Sydney stole a glance at him over her shoulder. She could see his face was red, likely from embarrassment. He confirmed it with his next statement.

  “I’m sorry about this morning. My behavior was less than stellar. Please allow me to make it up to you.”

  Belinda pointed toward an empty table. Sydney nodded and Belinda led the way.

  Noah followed and helped them into their seats. He stood between them.

  His piercing, blue eyes locked with hers. “Dinner?” he offered.

  Sydney strove not to blush beneath the stare and failed. Toying with the food on her plate, she deflected. “Pastor Charleston, I’d like to introduce my best friend, Belinda Santiago.”

  Noah nodded at Belinda. “It’s nice meeting you. And ladies, please, call me, Noah.”

  Belinda blushed. Her voice took on a light purr. “I can’t imagine calling you by your first name, Pastor Charleston.”

  By the looks of it, Noah was eating up the attention. Sydney resisted the urge to stick her finger in her mouth. She started on her sandwich.

  “Yes, but I’m just like any other man.” He set his blues on Sydney again. “A man, still waiting for an answer to his dinner invitation, I might add.”

  Sydney’s cheeks warmed.

  Belinda lifted an eyebrow and scooted closer to Noah. “Yes. She’d love to go.” She rummaged around in her bag for a pen and pulled out one of her business cards. She scribbled both Sydney’s address and job information on the back and handed it to Noah.

  Sydney tapped her fingers on the small table. Would her mortification know no end? Belinda probably thought she was helping. After all, it’d been close to seven months since Sydney had even ventured out on a date, which had ended badly. She shook her head. When had standards changed where a man felt he could demand sexual fa
vors because he paid for a meal, and a cheap one at that?

  “I have a two o’clock meeting. How about six o’clock this evening?” Noah asked.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “She’ll be ready,” Belinda interrupted.

  With a nod and a wave, Noah said a quick, “See you then,” before leaving.

  “I can’t believe you snagged a minister.” Belinda rubbed her hands.

  “Don’t get it twisted. It’s just a date. Nothing more. A date you maneuvered for me.”

  “Who you think you’re fooling? You know you wanted to go.” Belinda took a bite of her Cheesesteak. She twisted her body to look in Noah’s direction.

  Sydney followed her gaze. Noah had stopped to help an elderly wheelchair bound woman. He carried her food tray and shifted the chair so she could get situated. Then he walked off with a confident swagger.

  “A very considerate man, from the looks of it,” Belinda said.

  Noah’s thoughtful gesture made Sydney smile. When she realized she was smiling, Sydney shook her head. “I can’t date a minister.” She emphasized the word like it was a profanity.

  Belinda scrunched her lips. “Is that why you didn’t protest? You know nothing will come of it?”

  “I only agreed because I know he’s only here for the case.”

  Belinda rolled her eyes. “So that’s why you didn’t argue. Just last week you were going on and on about how Port Charlotte’s dating pool stunk. You were ready to date, get married, have a baby. Remember that?” She leaned into Sydney. “Suds, why can’t you let him go?”

  “Him?” Sydney busied herself with throwing the remnants of her lunch in the trash. An image of her ex flashed before her and she shoved it out of her mind. She refused to waste a brain cell on that man.

  “Yes, him.” Belinda grabbed her arm. “I’m tired of you closing yourself off to love because of that low-life. You’ve got to get past Lance Forbes. I mean it’s like you’re stuck. You don’t date. You’re still living in that two-bedroom condo when you have the money to purchase a house.”

  Sydney frowned. “What does where I live have to do with it?”

  “It has everything to do with it my friend.” Belinda paused. “Waiting for Prince Charming to fix your life…you might as well go on Iyanla or Dr. Phil.”

  “Bells.” Sydney injected a warning note signifying that the conversation had ended. But Belinda held her gaze. However, Sydney was just as determined. She held her stance until Belinda shrugged.

  “How about purple toes?” Belinda asked, ending their face-off.

  Sydney looked down at her feet. “I could use a pedicure.”

  They walked to the Paradise Nail Spa and signed up for manicures and pedicures. Sydney had to work at it bit to push thoughts of Noah from her mind. It felt good to have a man look at her with interest, but she wasn’t ready for anything. Purple toes were as adventurous as she’d get.

  2

  There are no coincidences. Noah knew that first-hand. This was Divine Providence at work. He’d been praying to God for a helpmeet and Noah had been on the lookout. There were numerous women in his church in Texas who vied for his interest, but Noah hadn’t felt a connection. Sydney was beautiful. Her honey-toned skin, aristocratic nose, and curly tresses would make any man look twice. But it wasn’t until her shoe broke and she’d looked up at him with her light brown eyes filled with helplessness, warring with independence, that his heart gave a jolt. Noah had given her a second glance.

  Anticipation filled his being. Maybe meeting Sydney was a part of God’s plan. What were the odds of a ministerial position opening up at Beulah Deliverance Center here in Port Charlotte at the same time as his court date?

  “Lord, I know when I’m being set up,” Noah said.

  He nodded at the few other shoppers in the mall and hurried in the direction of Macy’s. He intended to purchase his grandfather, Nelson “Gramps” Charleston, a pair of slippers. Gramps’ dog, Scurvy, enjoyed ripping them to shreds. Gramps, his only living relative had moved here ten years ago from Texas. That was further impetus for Noah to relocate. He needed to be close to his grandfather.

  Noah roamed the men’s section until he found the size eleven slippers. Sydney’s face flashed before him. He looked at his watch and saw it was a little past twelve-thirty p.m. He had about five hours until he saw her again. But first he had to meet with the church board. He’d done a preliminary interview via Skype, but God’s work needed more than his impressive résumé.

  Noah had researched Beulah and learned it boasted 337 members, but most of the pews were empty. All that would soon change when he put his evangelism plan into place. He was going after the people who needed the church – the hungry, the widows, the single mothers, and the unemployed – the people Jesus Himself sought when He walked the earth.

  Noah made his purchase and tucked the bag under his arm. He braced himself for the sun and left the air-conditioned building. He thought after living in Texas, he could bear the heat anywhere. Well, he was wrong. He rushed to his car and put the AC on high. If mid April was this hot, he could only imagine July and August.

  Noah plugged in the directions to the church in his GPS. He looked both ways and behind before he pulled out of the parking space. He’d been here two days and already knew Floridian pedestrians didn’t care if the reverse light was on.

  He drove to Midway and then to Edgewater Blvd. and turned left. Five minutes later, he arrived at the large building. If he remembered right, the property took up almost two acres of land. He parked in one of the spots reserved for ministers and exited the vehicle.

  He scanned the parking lot, admiring the landscape. The lawn was cut and he liked the purple perennials. He approached the large glass door and pulled it open. Noah admired the royal blue upholstered pews and golden accents. The light gray industrial carpet was practical and smart.

  Noah counted seven men sitting side by side on the front pew.

  “Pastor Charleston?” a tall, lean man called out.

  “Yes, I’m glad to meet you all in person.” Noah drew a deep breath. He acknowledged his nervousness. He had stood before a mega church in Texas and had never been this nervous.

  “I’m the head deacon, Talbert Shaw,” one of the men said, coming forward to greet him. He was bald with bushy eyebrows. His handshake was stern and he was likely as firm as all the other “head” deacons Noah had known before. Deacon Shaw introduced Noah to the rest of the gentlemen. Noah waved. There was no way he’d remember all their names, but he intended to get to know them personally.

  Eyeing the elaborate bouquets in stands throughout the sanctuary, Noah asked, “Who made these gorgeous arrangements?”

  “I’ll let Deacon Hibbert answer that,” Deacon Shaw said.

  Deacon Alfred Hibbert, the only African-American on the board, poked out his chest. “My wife, Pauline, is a florist. She changes the flowers out every week. I’ll make sure to tell her you like them.”

  “It’s impressive,” Noah said. “Maybe I can get a couple for my home.”

  Deacon Hibbert nodded. “Sure. Sure.”

  Deacon Shaw pointed toward the back of the church. “Come this way.”

  Noah gestured to the other men to precede him. He followed from a discrete distance as they went down a small hallway into the back rooms. Deacon Shaw showed him his office before taking him into the adjoining conference room. Noah admired the solid oak table and the ten chairs around it.

  “We have another office space for your First Lady next to yours,” Deacon Brown spoke up. He was short with a stubby nose, like Abbott from the old TV show, Abbott & Costello. Gramps was a huge fan of the old series. He called that real comedy.

  Noah heard a woman humming and crooked his ear.

  “That’s Alma, my wife, and your secretary,” Deacon Shaw said.

  Noah nodded. “I think I spoke to her when I called about the Pastor position.”

  “She’s bringing coffee cake and orange juice.”
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  Noah greeted Alma. She was bubbly and enfolded him in a big hug. “We’re so glad God sent you. I’ve set up our meeting for this Friday afternoon. We’ll go over your expectations then.”

  Noah nodded. She left as quickly as she came, humming as she went. He liked the older woman already. Noah knew he would fit in. Beulah felt like home.

  Deacon Shaw cleared his throat. “Pastor, we do have a concern.”

  Noah’s stomach constricted. “Concern?” What concern would they have with his resume? Unless …

  Deacon Shaw fiddled with his tie. “We want you and we don’t want to offend you, but we have to ask.”

  Noah’s brows furrowed. “Come out with it, Deacon.”

  “I feel ridiculous, Pastor Charleston, but my wife overheard a few of the single women in our congregation talking. Apparently, they researched you and found something disturbing in your past.”

  “Disturbing?” Noah cupped his chin.

  The deacon reached inside his shirt pocket for his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Noah felt good he was not the only one who was nervous. He clasped his hands and propped up his leg. “You can’t believe everything you read on the Web, but I’m more than happy to address any of your concerns.”

  Deacon Shaw blurted out, “Can you explain that twenty-thousand-dollar bet? I’m sure it’s just a rumor but …”

  Noah shifted. “A lot of the members in my congregation in Texas are wealthy. Some of the women in the congregation started a bet to see who would marry me. I heard about it, but I laughed it off because I thought it would die down.” He knew he was red in the face. “But it didn’t. Instead, one eager young woman put the bet in the classifieds section, which is how it ended up on the Internet.” Noah showed his bare hands. “As you can see, I’m very much single. I squashed that ridiculous wager and I’m ready to talk about God’s business.”

  Deacon Shaw blotted his forehead. “Yes, there’s just one problem. We announced your arrival and the women here have revived the bet.”