by H.H. Fowler
Mount Moriah Baptist Church
“I don’t see any cause for alarm. The scans look good…”
Leroy switched the receiver to his other ear, frowning as if he wasn’t too sure he should take his neurosurgeon’s words as good news. Lately, he’d been having severe off and on migraines and just for precautionary measures, he wanted to make sure the bullet that’d struck him in his head five years ago, hadn’t anything to do with it. Last week, his neurosurgeon took a few x-rays and told him he would call when the results were in.
“If the scans are clear, then why am I still having these migraines?” Leroy asked.
“Could be an unrelated reason. How are your stress levels?”
“Well, I have resumed my duties here at the church,” Leroy said. “If that’s what you mean?”
“Anything else?”
Leroy paused. There were several things sending his brain into overdrive, but how did he explain to his neurosurgeon that his stress was related to poor decisions he’d made in his past?
“Mr. Paxton,” Leroy heard him say, “I’ve been involved in some of the most devastating neurological cases, and have seen the brain’s amazing ability to create new brain cells and stronger electrical connections to heal itself. But I’ve also witnessed patients not being able to adjust after traumatic experiences, which can be equally devastating.”
“Doc, in my line of work, I find it a bit of a challenge to mitigate my stress levels,” Leroy said. “What do you suggest I do?”
“You must take in consideration your ‘new’ normal,” he said. “It’s been five years since you’ve survived a catastrophic injury. Mortality from a gunshot wound to the head is as high as ninety percent. And if I may say so, I am extremely pleased with your recovery. The brain has incredible plasticity. But with the same token, I expect you to live a healthy lifestyle, as stress-free as possible. Try to delegate the taxing areas of your life, take time to rest, and eat properly. I will fax this prescription to you for your headaches.”
“Thank you, doc, I will try to take your advice.”
An hour later
When it came to his attire, Leroy Paxton was the ultimate debonair man. He reclined in his spacious, oak-paneled office, wearing a pinstripe black Armani suit with a silk crimson-stained tie, perfectly snug between the stiff flaps of his white shirt. His 24k gold cufflinks shimmered as he moved his wrist back and forth while signing documents from the Tampa City Council
Leroy Paxton’s talents did not end in the pulpit. Preaching to his flock was one aspect of his role as pastor, taking care of church business was another. Poor management of the church’s finance, vision, and a lack of ecclesiastical discipline could bring a ministry to utter ruins. Had he not answered the call to lead God’s people he could have become one of the greatest secular moguls of his generation. Truth was, any way it was spun, he was quickly becoming one.
“Yes, Brenda,” Leroy responded to his secretary of fifteen years via their state-of-the-art intercom system.
“It’s 2:00,” Brenda said. “Are you able to keep your appointment with the multimedia department?”
“Give me several minutes.” Out of habit, he looked at his Rolex, admiring its beauty for a fleeting second.
“Yes sir, I will relay the information.”
“Brenda?” Leroy prompted.
“Sir?”
“How is the rest of my day fitted?”
She pulled up Leroy’s schedule on her computer. “You’re booked up until 7:00 tonight, sir.”
“Perfect! Call the boys and let them know I’ll be late. Michelle’s flight has been delayed.” Leroy cringed at how corny the lie seemed. “And Brenda?”
“Sir?”
“Did you get in contact with Dominic yet?”
“I tried, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“Leave it then, I’ll see him at the youth forum this week.”
Leroy had had so much practice fabricating lies that he rarely felt culpable. To him, being in his position it was almost a necessity. He pushed back from his desk and walked over to his full-length mirror. He stood in front of it, admiring his form and beauty. He examined his face. It would have been flawless if it weren’t for the minor indentation above his left eyebrow. He rubbed his finger alongside it.
He now brutally understood that behind every scar there was a story – a story that had taken him through the gates of hell. Every now and then, he got nightmares about the incident that could have been the end of him. But it must have been God’s pity that preserved his life. He may be alive, but he was still terrified that he had only survived to reap the consequences of his sin. His neurosurgeon was right; he had to take it easy.
“You are as vain as you were the first day I met you.” Shaniece had been watching him for a bit.
Leroy almost jumped out of his skin when he heard her voice. The office was so spacious, he had not been aware that she’d walked in – unannounced.
“How did you get past Mrs. Wesson?” he asked her. “You know that woman can’t stand you.”
Shaniece took in Leroy from head to toe, sidestepping his question. “I can understand why you are so enamored with yourself. The years have not taken away your vitality.”
“Shaniece, we’ve had this conversation. Please don’t go there.” He sat back down, busying himself.
“Don’t pretend, Leroy. You are happy to see me.”
“I am never happy to see you, Shaniece. You are a serious problem to my family. Heaven knows, I regret the day that you walked into my life.”
Shaniece laughed, positioning her body behind Leroy. She bent to his ear. “And by your family, you mean your wife? I must commend her on such a stellar performance yesterday. “
Leroy flinched, annoyed by Shaniece’s blatant attitude. “If I wasn’t a man of God, I would have cussed you out.”
“As a man of God, you’ve have already done more than that,” she reminded him. “Profanity just won’t suit you.”
“Please move away from me. I’m certain you left the door unlocked.”
“What’s it been? Four, five years?” She rubbed her fingers alongside the back of his neck. “And you’re still as terrified as a fish caught in the net.”
Leroy swatted her hands away. “What do you expect? Every waking moment you’re reminding me about what I did.”
“You should relax, Leroy, before you have a stroke.” She edged his desk with her buttocks. “If your nosey wife hadn’t interrupted us on Sunday, we wouldn’t be having this conversation today. But being the impatient woman of God that I am, I’ll just get right to the point. We need more money.”
Leroy’s blood pressure almost shot through the roof. “We?” He pushed himself up from his desk, away from her. “I’ve given you people enough!”
“I’m the one who will decide that.”
“I’m calling the police – something I should have done years ago…”
Shaniece smiled, displaying an incredible amount of placidity. “Put the phone down, Leroy; it will serve you no purpose. Both you and I know that the sins of your past will attract greater attention. You wouldn’t only have the police breathing down on your back, but you’ll have this entire county to answer to – a juicy scandal for the media. I can see it now.”
“Your name will be plastered all over the Tampa Tribune. And that crazy woman you married, she’ll leave you in a heartbeat when she finds out. How will your children see their father after they discover that you’re no saint? They will see that you’re just like every sin-riddled pervert. They’ll hate you for bringing embarrassment to the family. You see, the list of casualties can go on and on. You don’t have a choice; the cards are stacked high against you. What did Psalms 125 say? The rod of the wicked shall not rest upon the lot of the righteous; except the righteous put –”
“Must you further the disgusting cause of your father, the devil?” Leroy asked.
Shaniece folded her arms, and enjoyed the pleasure of watching Leroy fall to pieces i
n front of her eyes. She felt privileged, because she was almost certain that no one else ever saw this side of Leroy – as a weak pathetic fool who was begging mercy from a woman who was not his wife.
Leroy sat back down and hid his face in his hands. “How much?” he said quietly. “How much do you people need to leave me the hell alone?”
“My dear boy, we are not going anywhere anytime soon,” she chuckled. “We’ve hit the jackpot.”
“You are a disgrace. How can you live with yourself?”
“I can say the same about you, Pastor Leroy Paxton…”