Another thought came into Passion’s mind as she watched Madea. Maybe that’s what she should say about Lavon’s good-bye: “hell to the no.” With him leaving LA, whatever he had or didn’t have with Pastor Carla was over. And since he’d been with her, he couldn’t be too connected to the woman in Kansas City. And they’d just enjoyed a warm, easy-going conversation reminiscent of the ones they’d first shared.
The thought of a second chance with Lavon filled Passion’s heart with joy. As she laughed at Madea’s antics during their family get-together, she smiled even bigger thinking of a little reunion of her own.
“I had to call you,” he whispered, as if his voice might be heard beyond her cell phone.
“I’m glad you did.” She whispered too, even though she was alone in the family room. Sounds of laughter were heard from the floor above her—a house full of people she knew she needed to rejoin. “But you’re okay? Your day was good, turkey with all of the trimmings?”
“No, I’m definitely missing some trim but”—they both laughed—“…as good as it could be without you. I miss you, Carla. I know I shouldn’t, baby, but a brothah’s feeling jealous because someone else is with you, and not me. And the thing is, I like Stanley, which makes me feel bad that I want you, but not bad enough to let you go. Am I alone in these feelings?”
“It’s complicated, Lavon. I was with a lot of men before Stanley, and I’ve never felt the way I do now, with you. But it’s not just about us; I’ve got a family, three kids, a ministry, a following. I’ve got women looking up to me as their example.” Carla was already talking low but dropped her voice to a whisper. “My heart hasn’t been whole since the day you left. I can barely sleep next to Stanley. When I think of others, there’s no way I can be with you. But when I think of being true to who I really am, there’s no way I can’t.”
“I’ve got some news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m coming back to you, baby.”
“You’re going to come visit me, love?”
“Not visit, move. I’m not going to give you up, Carla. I’ve taken a job in LA.”
I’ve taken a job in LA, taken a job in LA, not going to give you up, I love you…. A litany of Lavon’s words had played in Carla’s head since he’d said them a couple hours ago. She couldn’t remember what her guests had said, or when they’d left. She knew her quiet demeanor was so un-Carla and hadn’t gone unnoticed. But she hadn’t trusted herself to speak much, because everything she’d wanted to say was about her heart, Lavon.
The litany continued as she prepared for bed. One moment she was excited. Lavon is coming back! The next, petrified: Lavon is coming back? He’d stayed in town a week past the time everyone else thought him gone, and they’d been together every day. To be on the safe side, they’d switched him to a hotel in Long Beach, far from where most Logos Word congregants resided and even farther from the church. Carla remembered their last night together: bittersweet, full of passion. Okay, let me use another word here, she thought, and replaced the emotion that was her church member’s name with another, rapturous ardor. They’d made love with even more abandon than usual. Believing they wouldn’t see each other again, at least any time soon, neither had held back. There’d been tears upon parting, from both of them.
Carla sighed as she eased into bed next to Stanley. She hoped he was asleep. He wasn’t.
“You all right, Carla? You weren’t yourself today, and people noticed.”
“Oh yeah, I’m all right. Just got stuff on my mind is all.”
Stanley rolled over and faced Carla, who was lying on her back. He touched her arm. “Want to tell me about it?”
A part of her wanted to tell him everything, to spill her heart and hope he understood. But that was a split second thought. For the first time in ten years, Carla had a secret her husband would never know.
“Oh, Stan, I want to but…it was something told to me in confidence.”
In an uncharacteristic move, he pulled Carla toward him and held her close. “You had me scared for a moment,” he said, nuzzling her cheek and neck. “I thought it was something about us that was bothering you, like maybe you’d found some young stud and were kicking me to the curb or something.”
Carla’s body tensed at this near truth. She tried to relax, but all she wanted was for Stanley to let her go so she could roll over and think about Lavon until she fell asleep. That’s if she could sleep. She was so wound up from hearing Lavon’s sexy voice on the phone that she was considering a late night rendevous with Denzel, which had remained in its red velvet sheath the entire time Lavon had been in LA. She gave an air kiss to Stanley and then attempted to roll over on her side.
Stanley didn’t let her go. Instead, he raised up and partially straddled her, moving toward her lips for a kiss. She’d never been less turned on, but tried to summon up desire based on the true love she had for her husband. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth for Stanley’s average French kiss. All the while his tongue made small circles within her mouth, Carla remembered Lavon, and how he plundered her with his tongue, especially in her nether lips. She moaned with the memory.
Stanley moaned too, rolling over and pulling down his shorts. He got on top of her, raised her nightgown and shifted her leg for better access. He kissed her again, briefly, before kneading her breast.
That’s not dough, Stanley, she thought dispassionately as he almost tore her breast off. But if it were, this bread would be set and ready to rise. Carla giggled at the thought.
Stanley stopped. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
Stanley raised up and looked at Carla until she opened her eyes. “What?”
“That’s what I’m asking,” he said. “What’s going on with you? It’s not just today you’ve been preoccupied. You’ve counseled women for years and I’ve never seen it affect you like this. Who is this woman?”
“Stanley, it’s con—”
“We two are one; there is nothing that can’t be shared between us.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant,” Carla said in response. “I promise I’ll do better.” To further appease him, she added, “Maybe it’s time for us to have a date. It’s been a while since we’ve done that. Go to San Diego or Vegas or something, just the two of us. Would you like that?”
“I’d like this,” Stanley said in response, rubbing the top of her mound with his hand.
Carla put her hand on top of his. “I’m tired, Stanley. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
Stanley fell back on his side of the bed. Carla turned on her side, her back to his. They were each thinking the same thing—that in ten years, this was the first time Carla had ever turned Stanley down.
Darius and Bo enjoyed each other’s caresses as they gazed at the fire, cocooned in the classic jazz guitar riffs of Wes Montgomery. The day, in fact their entire stay at Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu, had been perfect, like a lover’s dream. Their days had been filled with indoor golf, skiing, and cruises down the St. Lawrence River, the nights with clubbing, casinos, and impassioned lovemaking.
“Where are you going?” Darius asked, as Bo untwined himself from Darius and stood.
“I’ll be right back,” Bo whispered with a wink.
Darius heaved a love-filled sigh as he leaned deeper into the couch and watched the flames dance within the fireplace. Snow-covered mountains lit by a thousand stars were visible from their floor to ceiling windows, a glorious contrast to the heat palpitating inside the suite. A thin layer of newly fallen snow lay outside their balcony doors. A log crackled, broke, and sent sparks of fire flying. Darius rose, placed another log on the flames, and sat back down.
A smile snuck onto Darius’s lips and refused to go away. For the first time in his life, he had everything he’d ever wanted: a lucrative record deal, hit single, and a wonderful lover. In this moment, Darius couldn’t imagine his life differently, and especially without Bo in it. It had been over three beautiful years with this
man; Darius knew that Bo was the love of his life.
“A penny for your thoughts, gorgeous,” Bo said, as he walked back into the room with two flutes and an ice bucket.
“Oh, they’re worth way more than that,” Darius said, his voice low and husky.
“Hmm…” Bo popped the cork on the extravagant bottle of Krug, Clos du Mesnil and filled his and Darius’s champagne flutes. He looked deeply into Darius’s eyes a long moment before speaking, and was met by Darius’s love-filled gaze.
“There are no words to say how much I love you,” Bo began. “So I’ll keep this simple. I love you more than life itself, baby, more than the very breath it takes to speak this truth. I can’t see myself ever living without you.” His voice almost broke and a single tear slowly slid from his eye down his left cheek and dropped off his chin.
Darius set down his glass and took both of Bo’s hands in his. “I was just thinking that very thing before you came back,” he whispered. “That I can’t imagine life without you. Even though you’re crazy, I’m crazy about you. You’re my forever.”
They raised and clinked their glasses. “To forever love,” Bo said quietly.
“Yes, to forever love.”
Before long, the bottle of champagne was empty. Both Darius and Bo enjoyed a pleasant buzz, their magical surroundings creating an enchanting atmosphere. They kissed lazily, passionately, as if they’d just met, as if they’d known each other several lifetimes.
Bo broke the kiss and reached behind him. “This is for you,” he said simply.
“What is it?” Darius asked. He hurriedly unwrapped the medium-sized box only to find another box within it, and another one after that. His unwrapping became more frenzied with each opened box, until he reached the smallest one, about two by two inches. “What is it?” he repeated softly.
Bo leaned back against the sofa, crossed his arms and smiled.
In direct contrast to his previous frenzy, Darius slowly and carefully took the wrapping from the smallest package. A gold-plated container was inside.
“It’s locked,” Darius said as he tried to raise the lid.
Bo held up a thin, silver key. “Remember this, from the night I told you about this vacation? I knew you’d forget it.”
“You’re always looking out for me,” Darius said softly. His eyes locked on Bo as he opened the lid. Showcased brilliantly against the deep, chocolate velvet was a diamond-encrusted platinum wedding band. Custom designed along the lines of a Mokume puzzle ring, the two interlocking pieces were both platinum, one outlined with gold etching and the other holding a series of diamonds that totaled two carats. Together, they resembled arms around shoulders, interlocking perfectly, fitting together completely, like Darius and Bo.
Darius was stunned into silence. He prided himself on opulent jewelry, and had never seen anything so beautiful. “You can’t afford this,” he said, at last.
“No, now I can’t afford anything else,” Bo clarified. “As it is, yo’ ass bettah have another hit and soon, or we’ll find that sucka at Gold’s Pawn Shop.” Bo had never handled being serious for long, and once again used humor to ease his discomfort—and fear. Because giving Darius the ring was only part of what they would hopefully be celebrating.
“You nut,” Darius replied. “It’s beautiful. Thanks, baby.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” Bo said. “Here, let me,” he added, once Darius had taken the ring out of the box. Bo quietly slipped it on his finger.
“Man, Wes is the baddest. Listen to that.” Darius rose from the sofa and brought Bo with him. They slow danced to the serenading strings of Montgomery’s “Oh, You Crazy Moon.” Time stood still as they swayed to the beat, the plaintively sensual melody cascading around them.
The two stood motionless as the song ended, still holding each other close.
As the last notes of the guitar strings flitted against the soothing snare and tinkling piano, Bo pulled back enough to look deep into Darius’s eyes. “Lover, will you marry me?”
Darius’s heart jumped in his chest. It was the last question he ever would have expected. Quickly replacing the shock were feelings of complete and total euphoria. “Yes,” he said, thinking of nothing and no one but the present moment. He hugged Bo tightly. “Yes, you unbelievable, loveable nut…. You’ll be mine forever.”
“I mean, for real,” Bo continued. “I’ve researched it all, made all the arrangements. Our getting married is legal in Canada. If you’re ready, we can be one by this time tomorrow.”
Darius was stunned. He loved Bo with all his heart, but a real marriage? For the first time since they’d talked that morning, he thought about Stacy. A tiny flaw surfaced in Darius’s otherwise perfect moment.
“It can be just between us,” Bo said, correctly reading Darius’s thoughts. “She doesn’t have to know. No one has to know. But we’ll know; you’ll know and I’ll know. No matter what happens with”—he refused to bring her name into the moment—“anybody, we’ll always be together.”
Darius disengaged himself from Bo and walked to the fireplace. He absently stoked the flames before replacing the poker and walking to the balcony. He opened the French door and a cold burst of wintry air, along with a spattering of snowflakes, cascaded onto his face.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Darius said, taking a moment to breathe in the cold scent.
Bo came behind him with the wool throw from the sofa. He wrapped it around Darius’s shoulders. “You’ll catch your death of cold out here,” he scolded.
“Like I said, always taking care of me….”
“And I always will.”
“You’re right, you always will…because my answer is yes. Let’s do it.”
Bo didn’t trust himself to believe he’d heard what he thought he heard. “Let’s do what?” he asked tentatively.
Darius wasn’t sure he believed what he was saying either, but the words coming out seemed totally appropriate. “Let’s get married.”
Stacy feigned enjoyment as she sat with Hope, Cy, and one of Cy’s associates at the Gibson Amphitheatre. The Thanksgiving concert featured contemporary jazz artists: Peter White, Kirk Whalum, Boney James, Dave Koz, and others. The music was excellence personified, the ambiance classy. At any other time, Stacy would have enjoyed the evening. Even her arranged “date,” in another moment, would have been interesting. He seemed intelligent, clean-cut, and interested. But Stacy’s heart was elsewhere. It was in Canada, somewhere around Quebec, with Darius Crenshaw.
All day long she’d tried to focus on why she should be thankful, including her and Darius’s upcoming Big Bear Christmas vacation. But it still rankled her that she couldn’t accompany Darius on his last-minute Thanksgiving promotional visit to Canada when she knew Bo had gone. When she’d called Darius to wish him a happy holiday, she’d heard female voices in the background. Darius had told her they were in a restaurant, enjoying a late breakfast. Late because…? Had Darius and Bo enjoyed a foursome the night before? Or even worse, had they enjoyed each other?
Every now and then the gay rumors Stacy had heard about Darius would creep into her mind. She blocked them out, mostly. Darius and Bo seemed especially close, but aside from the beginning when he’d acted hesitant, Darius had proved to be an ardent and capable lover. Yes, he mainly liked it doggy-style but then, so did she. Was that a reason to make a person gay? But he could be bi. Stacy shook her head, hoping that, like an Etch A Sketch, the pictures forming there would disappear.
William, Stacy’s date, noticed her agitation. “Hey, beautiful, can I get you another glass of juice?”
Stacy was glad for the distraction. “Yes, in fact, I’ll go with you.”
Once outside the auditorium, Stacy and William decided to sit at an outside table and eat a bite along with their drinks. In her zeal to forget about Darius and try and enjoy the evening, Stacy decided one glass of Pinot Noir wouldn’t hurt the baby and after she’d had the first one, ordered a second.
“Looks like somebody�
��s trying to get tipsy,” William teased. “It’s okay, beautiful. I’ll buy a bottle if you’d like.”
“I’m fine, even though I am trying to get my buzz on.” You really are a nice guy, Stacy thought while smiling at him. Too bad you’re not Darius.
“So, what’s a fine girl like you doing single?” William asked.
Oh, here we go—the “why are you thirty and single” dialogue. Not! “I’m not really single,” Stacy replied, after another sip, more like gulp, of wine. “It’s just that my boyfriend had to go out of town on business.”
“On a holiday?”
“He’s in the music business.”
“And he didn’t take you with him? You ask me, that man’s a fool.”
Stacy stood, immediately feeling light-headed and a bit sick to her stomach. Her smart comment of “well I didn’t ask you” got swallowed with the gulp of air she took to try and quell her nausea.
“You all right?” William asked, standing up and putting his arm around her.
“I will be,” Stacy said. After a couple deep breaths the light-headedness disappeared and her stomach calmed. “Look, William, I’ve had a wonderful time, really. But I think I’m going to call a cab and go home.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he countered. “I’ll drive you.”
“And I wouldn’t think of your missing half of an excellent concert on my account,” Stacy said. “Please, give Cy and Hope my best and tell Hope I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“At least let me wait with you until the cab arrives.”
“Thanks for your concern but there’s no need. I really am much better. I skipped our family’s Thanksgiving gathering—guess my empty stomach doesn’t appreciate red wine.”
“Well, I hope to see you again.” William leaned forward for a kiss.
Stacy turned her head and pressed her cheek against his pursed lips before spinning around and almost running away from her date. “Thanks again,” she yelled, without looking back. She made it all the way to the side of the building, and away from prying eyes, before she threw up.
A Preacher’s Passion Page 13