“He wouldn’t dare,” she reasoned aloud. “He wouldn’t bring anyone, especially him, up here right under my nose!”
That thought gave her peace for a moment. But after almost an hour of waiting, she couldn’t take it any more. Stacy replaced her lingerie with fleece sweats and tennis shoes. When she couldn’t find the cabin keys, she simply left the door unlocked and walked out into the night.
The frosty night air cut through Stacy’s leather coat. She wrapped it tighter around her, wishing she had a hat, scarf, and gloves. She stood outside the cabin and looked around. It was dark and eerily beautiful, a lone streetlight and stars her only illumination. Snow covered the ground like a blanket and crunched underneath Stacy’s feet. The sound caused her to look down. There, in the snow, was one big shoe print, then another, and another. Stacy followed the trail as best she could in the darkness.
The trail led to the front of a cabin just around the corner from where she and Darius stayed. Stacy stopped and stared at the wood siding, as if to do so long enough would enable her to see through it. But was she prepared to see what was on the other side?
Stacy eased up to the front window and peeked through the small pane of glass. The living room was pitch black. She walked around to another window. A dim light glowed, from candles she guessed, but tightly shut blinds prevented her from seeing inside. She turned and leaned her back against the cabin, pondering her next move even as she shivered from the cold. “That’s it,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’m not about to sneak around here like a Cheaters episode. I’ll cuss him out tomorrow and then take my ass home!”
Just as Stacy walked by the front porch, the door opened.
“Yeah, I’ll be there, just try to get away around noon,” a voice whispered.
“Okay, baby, sleep well,” she heard Darius say.
“Ain’t nobody going to sleep!” Stacy shouted as she ran up on the porch. The door slammed quickly. “Who’s in there, Darius? I swear to God I will wake up every soul on this mountain unless you get whoever’s in there to open the door.”
Darius was too stunned to speak.
Stacy started pounding on the door. “Open up, dammit, open this flippin’ door now!”
Darius grabbed Stacy’s arms and tried to pull her away from the cabin.
Stacy wrestled away from him and started banging on the cabin window. “I’ll break this window if you don’t bring your ass out here!”
“Here’s my ass, bitch,” Bo said indignantly, flinging the door open. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Stacy felt she could show him better than she could tell him. Before anyone could blink, 130 pounds of “I’m not the one” flew into Bo’s chest. Bo went down with Stacy on top of him.
“Faggot!” she yelled, as she pummeled his face.
“Faggot?” Bo replied, swinging wildly. “You skank ass—”
“Stop!” Darius said. He lifted Stacy off Bo, even as Stacy’s arms and legs kept flailing.
“Don’t—touch—me,” Stacy choked out, once she caught her breath. “I heard the rumors, saw the signs, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that you, a fine, upstanding, Christian man were a homosexual. Gospel’s darling. Ha! Won’t your fans, especially all those adoring matrons ready to bake you pies and fry you chicken just so they can say you ate their food, be surprised to find out where your mouth has been.”
“Stacy, wait a minute,” Darius said. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Come in and let’s talk.”
“Come in?” Stacy asked in an incredulous tone, her teeth chattering. “Have you lost your mind? Well, get ready. You’re about to lose a lot more than that!”
With that, Stacy stumbled back to her cabin. She was too angry to cry. What was supposed to be her dream vacation had turned into a nightmare. It was true. Darius and Bo were lovers.
A violent surge welled up inside her and before she knew it, Stacy was throwing any and everything not nailed down. She hurled a vase of flowers across the room, watching glass shatter and water splash as crystal met wood. She threw pillows, candles, sent a stack of magazines flying off the coffee table. She walked into the bedroom, tore into Darius’s well-organized suitcase of designer duds and flung them every which way. She thought of cutting them up or setting them on fire but couldn’t find any scissors, and the once roaring fire was now warm gray ash. Thoroughly exhausted, Stacy fell across the bed. The tears that moments earlier she’d been too angry to cry now flowed in abundance. They kept her company as she fell asleep. Darius did not come back.
Stacy awoke early the next morning to the sound of birds cheerfully chirping and sunshine streaming through the wooden shutters. The blissful setting couldn’t be farther from her reality. She could tell her eyes were puffy from the effort it took to open them. As she sat up on an elbow, last night’s nightmare flooded her mind: Darius, Bo, and the truth she’d always known and could no longer deny.
Stacy lay back and stared at the ceiling. She thought back to Hope’s surprised reaction when she first mentioned her feelings for Darius. Hope recovered quickly and changed her facial expression. But Stacy had caught the look, seen the doubt. She’d seen it and ignored it, just like all the other signs, all the other times. But now there was something she couldn’t ignore, being four months pregnant with Darius’s baby. As if she needed further confirmation, she felt a fluttering in her stomach for the very first time. The tears began again.
But not for long. Now that she’d finally acknowledged what she already knew in her heart, Stacy had to plan her future—one without Darius. She’d go home, regroup, and put her life back together again. She didn’t know what life after Darius would look like, but she intended to find out.
“Punk faggot,” she spat out as she flung back the covers and stomped into the bathroom. That’s when it hit her; Bo’s MO. This is just what he wants. She went over the events of the past year and a pattern clearly emerged. Bo had been trying to get Stacy out of Darius’s life ever since she entered it because he knew how much it aggravated her. He had made it a point to let her know when he and Darius were traveling together, called often when Darius was at her house, and frequently answered Darius’s phone in his nauseating business drone: “DC Productions, Bo Jenkins speaking.”
She thought about Thanksgiving and the sudden “holiday promotional tour” Bo had “arranged.” Just like the dawn giving way to full sunshine, Stacy’s revelation gained light with each passing moment. By the time she flushed, toilet paper wasn’t the only thing that went down the drain. So did Bo’s near sabotage of her and Darius’s relationship.
He thinks I’m going to leave, and that’s exactly what he wants me to do, Stacy thought as she held a hot washcloth over her puffy, tear-swollen eyes. He thinks his love for Darius is stronger than mine, that his willpower is greater than mine. “Well, you’ve met your match, Bo Punk-Ass Jenkins,” Stacy said to the walls. “I’m not going anywhere!”
She turned out the bathroom light and glanced out toward the living room. She jumped in shock. Darius was back.
“Oh, you decided to leave your booty buddy?”
Darius sprung up from the couch. “Look, Stacy, I’m not going to be ridiculed by you—”
“Don’t you dare give me attitude!” Stacy didn’t back down an inch. “You won’t be ridiculed, Darius? Well, what about me? What about your son? It looks like the joke will be on us. And that’s still not enough for you to leave that asshole.”
Darius had argued with Bo all night; he had no fight left for Stacy. “You’re right—I’m gay, Stacy. Or at least I thought I was…until I met you. Now, I guess I’m bi. I love you…and I love Bo.”
“Hmm. I guess you can call your next Gospel CD Blessings Bi Darius, and then you can call the secular counterpart, Booty Bi Darius. This is going to change your image a tad, don’t you think?”
Darius inched closer to Stacy. “No, because you are not going to put my business in the street. I’ve worked too hard to
get where I am. Shabach thought he could keep the king of gospel crown, and I finally have that. I’ll be damned if I let anyone or anything knock me off my perch. Do you understand me?”
Stacy laughed as she walked over and sat on the couch. “That sounds precariously close to a threat, Christian.”
In two long strides, Darius stood over Stacy. “That’s a promise, saint.”
Stacy leaned back on the couch. “You might as well back the bump up—you don’t scare me. I’ve got a cousin in prison now for voluntary manslaughter, nucka, and a quartet of brothers just waiting to jump your ass. Touch me and you’ll get a beat down before you can sing do-re-mi. Now…do you understand me?”
Darius turned away and tried to get a hold of his anger. He was seething! Who did she think she was, talking to him like he was some punk? Well, she was going to find out!
He took a deep breath before speaking again. When he did, he’d borrowed some of Stacy’s feigned serenity. It did neither one of them any good to turn gangsta. “What do you want to do?” he asked quietly. “I’m sure you don’t want to stick around, so let’s just part as friends, get our attorneys together when the paternity test comes back, and set up joint custody.” He walked over to his cell phone. “I’ll call the limo to come pick you up.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to walk out of your life nice and quiet, a perfect present with a Bo on top. But we’ve got a child on the way. I’m not going anywhere, Darius, and have not changed my mind from what I suggested last night. Only now, it’s a demand. I want a legitimate father for this child. I want him or her to experience a two-parent family. I want to be looked upon with respect as the wife of my baby’s father. And I want all of these things now.”
Stacy’s comments literally backed Darius up against the wall, where he now stood with legs and arms crossed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“But I’ve already told you—I love Bo.”
Stacy squirmed a bit. “That presents a problem. He’s got to go.”
Just then the door to the cabin swung open. “I’m not going no damn where.”
Stacy hadn’t noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. But Bo’s entrance, no matter how ill-timed or dramatic, no longer surprised her. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yeah, we’ll see, ho.”
Stacy jumped up. “No you didn’t! I told you—”
“Bo, please,” Darius pleaded.
“Oh, my bad. I said ho but I meant to say rake. Or I could have said shovel, ax, any kind of farm tool will do to describe your country ass.”
“I might be country but at least I’m not queen. They call you Bo, but they should call you Burning for all that flame you’re bringing in the room.”
“Rugrat rake.”
“Booty buddy.”
“Stop it! Both of you just shut up. You’re acting like you’re two-year-olds. This is ridiculous.”
All three of them stood in the center of the living room, waiting to pounce on the other’s barb.
Finally Darius walked into the dining room. “Can we all just…sit down for a minute and talk rationally?”
If the situation hadn’t called for crying, Stacy would have guffawed. Rationally? He’s asking me, his pregnant girlfriend, to sit down with his homosexual lover and have a rational conversation?
Bo brushed past her and walked into the dining room. “Y’all got any alcohol?” he asked with attitude. “’Cause I think I need a dranky drank!”
Stacy watched Bo follow Darius into the kitchen, as if he belonged there. In that moment, she saw just how crazy the situation really was. But what could she do? Leave and give Bo exactly what he wanted? Or stay, and get what she felt was hers?
“What am I doing?” she asked herself softly. Just then she felt the flutter of her baby again. Securing your future, she thought, her hand on her stomach. “Bring me some apple juice, Darius. And pop a bag of that popcorn. Might as well act like we’re at the movies,” she continued under her breath. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m in one.”
42
What You Pray For
“I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here,” Stacy said honestly. “Bo, it’s no secret I don’t like you, but Darius is right, we’re all adults. Maybe getting this out in the open between us is a good thing, especially since Darius and I are about to become parents.”
She turned to face him fully. “Don’t you want what’s best for this child, Darius’s child? Don’t you want us to be happy?”
Bo downed his third straight shot of Courvoisier. “I want what Darius wants. And the only way that man is going to be happy is with this man in the picture.” Bo’s voice softened as he turned to Darius. “Tell her, baby.”
Oh, God, help me not to puke. Stacy slowly turned to Darius. “Tell me what?”
“Tell you why you’ll never get married,” Bo slurred.
“Bo, I think you’ve had enough,” Darius warned.
“Sitting here while my husband talks to his baby mama.” Bo belched. “Sheeet.”
“That’s what he calls you, his husband?” Stacy asked.
“Uh, no,” Darius quickly interjected. “Bo’s drunk.”
“See my ring?” Bo asked, daintily holding his hand, palm down, for Stacy to observe.
“That’s the same ring as…okay, Darius…I can’t take much more.”
“It’s just a promise thing we did with each other,” Darius explained. He looked at Bo sternly.
Bo lowered the glass. He knew when Darius meant business. This was one of those times. Bo had gone too far. “Don’t worry, Spacy, I mean, Stacy. It’s nothing. We just wanted to wear something alike.”
Stacy looked pointedly at Darius. “Well, I want to wear something alike too, like a wedding ring.”
Now it was Bo’s turn to give Darius a stern look.
“Stacy, why can’t we just take care of the baby together?” Darius asked.
“Because I am an integral, visible member of Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, not to mention a woman worthy of your doing the right thing. I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to create a stable family for your son.” She glanced over at Bo. “Well, semistable anyway.”
Darius sighed, reached for the liquor, changed his mind, and sat back in the chair. He looked at Stacy a long moment. “Bo stays,” he said, finally.
“Where’s he staying? Not with us.”
“We’ll work it out,” Darius said.
Bo dropped his head in his hands. Then he grabbed the liquor bottle and got up from the table. “Come over when you’re done, Darius.” He looked at Stacy. “Spacy…it’s been real, and it’s been fun, but it hasn’t been real fun. Later.”
Darius looked at his watch. “You okay?” he asked with genuine concern. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. Are you hungry?”
Was he for real? Stacy wondered. In light of what happened, how could he sit there and calmly ask if she wanted food?
“Darius, I’ve just had it confirmed that you’re bisexual and what’s worse, that that shit isn’t enough to make me leave. You won’t leave Bo, even for the baby I’m carrying, and he’s too sorry to consider leaving you alone. Do you seriously think I have an appetite?”
“You didn’t just find out,” Darius said softly.
“What?”
“You already knew. Women are like that. Y’all know these things. Now honestly, you want me to believe we’ve been together two years and you never suspected anything with me and Bo? You thought I was straight all this time?”
Stacy shook her head no.
“And yet you kept coming after me…and you stayed.”
“Because in spite of everything, I love you. Yes, I’ve heard the rumors, I just ignored them. I didn’t want to think you could love a man more than you love me. I don’t mind your keeping Bo as your business manager—”
“He’s more than that, Stacy…”
“He doesn’t have to
be.”
“Yes…he does.”
Stacy and Darius stared each other down for an eternity.
“I can give you everything,” Darius continued. “Like I said, I’ll take care of you and my son, buy whatever you need, whatever you want. You’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of. Because of my success, our child will have the best. Bo is a part of insuring that that success continues.”
“It can’t be in my face,” she said finally. “You have to keep that shit on the DL, like you’ve been doing. And since everything is in the open now, I want to be a part of your life, your whole life, on the road and everything.”
Suddenly Stacy felt as if she’d fought a ten-round match and lost. Everything hurt: her head and her heart. She dragged herself from the table. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Darius began as soon as she emerged from the tub and began toweling off. “I know how the three of us could be together.”
“I’m not living with Bo Jenkins, Darius!”
“Not with, baby, next-door to.”
“What?”
“Do you think Cy knows about any duplexes for sale? Bo could live on one side, and you could live on the other.”
“You’re out of your ever-loving mind.”
“This could work so much better if you’d stop hating Bo. He’s a good person when you get to know him.”
“I don’t want to get to know him.”
“Bo stays, Stacy. And if you’re determined to stay as well, we all need to get along. I’ll tell Bo the same thing. He has to respect you as…the mother of my child.”
“And as your wife. I will not be a part of this, this charade, without being legal. You will marry me, Darius. And you’ll spend the night in my house, in my bed. I don’t want to know when you’re…with him.”
“Do you think Cy can find us a duplex?”
“Do you think you can find me a ring?”
A Preacher’s Passion Page 21