Seasoned with Grace (21 page)

If he could, Ethan would climb out the window to escape the influx of phone calls, e-mails, tweets, and Google alerts attacking him. The first thing he did when he entered his office was call up TMZ and issue a statement on behalf of his client.

“The graphic nature of the film struck a chord in Grace's personal life and triggered a memory from the past that she wished had remained dormant. She is sorry about the loss of time and money on the production of this film. However, she and her management team have decided it is in her best interest to walk away from this project before any further damage is done to her psyche.”

The reporter asked him twice if he was sure he wanted to go with that statement. Ethan ran his tongue across his pearly white teeth and thought about his statement each time the reporter asked him. Each time he answered, “Yes, I'm sure.” He felt peace on the inside and as light as a bird. Javier Roberts had had his face plastered on every media outlet that would listen, but Ethan's heart and mind hadn't gotten the chance to align fully with the spirit of God, because he didn't see this attack coming. Now he had to find a way around this mountain.

After he spoke with TMZ, he paced back and forth across the floor in front of his desk, running his fingertips along the smooth wood of his desk. “Lord, I'm waiting on you to lead me and guide me,” he said into the air to reaffirm his confidence.

“Hey, Mr. Summerville,” Alice said, letting herself into his office. She was carrying a cordless phone and had a Bluetooth hooked up to her ear, and the corners of her mouth were folded into an expression that was marked with a mixture of hostility and irritability. “I know you're not taking any calls, but Candace is on line two. She said it's about Grace.”

Contorting his body so that he could pick up the phone and still face his secretary, Ethan grabbed the phone. “Candace?” He stared down at the rounded tops of his two-tone oxfords while Candace caught him up on the day's events.

“She what? What do you mean, she won't talk? And she hasn't left her room since then? Candace, relax. Tell Junell I'll be there soon with the heavy artillery.”

 

 

“Come down, or we're coming up,” Ethan shouted to Grace.

“I'm not discussing this with you, Candace, or Junell,” Grace yelled back.

“Do you feel comfortable discussing this with Horace or Pastor David? They're both here. Take your pick, but you're going to talk to someone today,” Ethan told her.

Grace looked at her hand. Her blood had saturated the paper towels and had turned them a deep burgundy. She fingered the layers of brittle skin that covered her bottom lip. As she took stock of her situation, she realized that she'd let Javier do it again. He had taken her power, reduced her to shreds, and had her cowering in her bedroom like a little schoolgirl.

“Grace, I thought you were reclaiming your life,” Horace said coolly.

“I'm not like you, Horace. I can't just trade in my life for the life of Christ. You were weighed down by currency, and I am chained to my pain,” Grace called.

“But you don't have to be, Grace. You can be free,” Pastor David said, joining the conversation. She imagined his hands exploding in the air like fireworks when he said the word
free.
“Grace, the man in the Gadarenes was bound by chains and fetters, but even those weren't strong enough to hold him, and every now and then he'd bust out of those chains—like you do. Yet every time the chains came off of him, he would remain at the graveyard, crying and cutting himself.”

Grace looked at her wound.

“Even though the chains were off of him, he couldn't leave, because a legion of demons dwelled within him. A
legion.
Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Grace squeaked, rocking back and forth on the edge of her bed.

Pastor David went on. “Anywhere from three thousand to six thousand soldiers could be included in a legion. Pain was there, most certainly, and shame too. They had that man living far from his family, surviving the best way he knew how, but they never, ever allowed him to step away from the lonely place in the graveyard. He was surrounded by dead things, like memories of the past, which the enemy uses to taunt us. Those demons had him twisted up inside and out.

“But when he saw Jesus, it all came stumbling out. When he encountered the truth, the thousands of lies that flooded his body, saying he wasn't worth anything, saying, ‘This is where you belong, you rotten piece of trash, you filthy thing,' they all had to cease. Jesus was able to cast a legion of demons out of that man, and I say that same power is available to you right now, you hear me?”

“Yes!” rang out upstairs and downstairs in the condo.

The story of the man in the Gadarenes was faintly familiar to Grace. It was the topic of one of the last few sermons she'd heard before running away from home. Her pastor, Dr. Wyatt Kendrick Clarke, had taught a monthlong series to his congregation on riding their lives of demonic possession. His sermon from Mark, chapter five, was to be the last one in the series and the final one that Grace would attend. At that time, as he spoke about vanquishing darkness from your life, she believed she had the power to do it. In her sixteen-year-old mind, it wouldn't be actualized until she was far away from the church and her family. That time she'd heard the sermon only with her ears; this time she listened with her heart.

Rising from a corner of her unmade bed, Grace approached the full-length mirror in the corner of her room. She gripped the fourteen-karat gold borders of the mirror and stared into her empty eyes. What she saw in the mirror could not be who she was. Her apple-shaped face seemed to have sunken in since she last looked at herself. A veil of darkness had taken up permanent residence over her face; small bean-shaped bags rested under her eyes. Grace thought of her first session of anger management. “What do you see?” she asked herself.

As Pastor David rallied the group downstairs in prayer, Grace looked at herself for the first time in her life.

“I see God's creation. I see a woman. I see . . . I see . . . I see . . .” Streams of tears ran down her face, washing away all the shame, all the names, and all the pain that had held her captive for so long.

Grace ran out of her room to the foot of the stairs and stopped. The first pair of eyes to meet hers was Horace's. His eyes fastened on to hers and held her. He transmitted strength and warmth. There was no need for embarrassment; she could speak her truth.

“He raped me. Javier Roberts raped me on the first job that I did with him,” Grace said.

Junell gasped.

“We were shooting a—”

“Jonathan Black ad for his fall shirt collection,” Junell interrupted, finishing Grace's sentence. She sandwiched herself in the pocket of space between Ethan and Horace. “I worked that job with you. When the shoot was over, he sent everyone home.”

“Except for me.” Grace pressed one finger to her chest.

With each step she took toward them, she revealed the details of that night. She rocked and shook as she teetered down the steps. Collapsing on the bottom step, she exhaled. “This movie is a reenactment of that rape.” The tears came back again.

Horace knelt in front of her. He wrapped his large hands, which were coated in white dust from a construction site, around Grace's hands. It had been so long since she had thought about the differences in their financial status. His job as a construction worker no longer mattered. Monetary support wasn't what she needed. Right now she needed his comfort. She gripped his hands and brought them to her face.

Grace rubbed her cheek against his knuckles like a cat. For the first time ever, she noticed the dimple in his strong chin. Leaning into him, she pecked his chin. Following her lead, he began to peck at her lips.

Pastor David cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Grace and Horace's comforting exchange of kisses. Grace covered her mouth, and her cheeks turned a burnished bronze. Junell and Candace both flashed her a thumbs-up.

“Grace,” Pastor David said, stepping to the right side of her, “I am sorry this happened to you, but if you believe with your heart and confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord and that He was raised from the dead by God, as Romans, chapter nine, says, salvation and healing will be granted to you, just as they were granted to the man in the Gadarenes.”

Ethan took a wide step over Horace's feet and sat beside Grace at the foot of the steps. She looked into the faces of each one of them. They were beaming with love, goodness, faith, patience, and peace. It was time to be made whole.

“I do believe that Jesus Christ is Lord and that He was raised from the dead by God, and I fully expect God to do the same for me,” Grace announced.

After Pastor David led everyone in prayer, Ethan asked that everyone except Junell leave. Now it was time for them to prepare Grace for the damage-control process. In the industry damage control usually meant a lot of sobbing and wailing on every talk show or news outlet that would have you, followed by several interviews and photo shoots with magazines, to reveal the dark secrets that had served as the catalyst for the celeb's trouble. Then there were the public appearances and the scheduled photo ops with the celebrity as he or she attempted to reestablish a normal life. None of that was going to work in this situation.

“Junell, Grace, pull up a seat,” Ethan said, setting up his command post in Grace's kitchen. Layers of purple, lavender, and pink coated the sky. Dusk enveloped the Harlem sky and filled the room with the splendor of God.

Junell eased into her seat, cradling her belly, and Grace sat in hers with her eyes wide open and fully focused on Ethan.

“You know what comes next?” Ethan said.

“Damage control,” they both replied in unison, feigning excitement, with spirit fingers in the air.

Ethan unbuttoned the cuffs of his black-and-white gingham-print shirt and rolled them over. “Now, here's what I'm thinking.” Ethan paused for a few seconds and stroked his goatee. “We have to do things a little differently for this situation.”

“Precisely what I was thinking,” Junell said, jumping up from her chair. “We've got to get you all over prime-time television, not just daytime.”

“Would you sit down and let me finish, before you try to commandeer this outfit?” Ethan barked.

With one raised eyebrow, Junell looked at Ethan and walked to the refrigerator. “What baby wants, baby gets,” she said, pouring herself a glass of vanilla almond milk before returning to her seat.

“Ethan.” Grace raised her hand in the air. “One moment please. Junie, thank you for the spectacular job you did cleaning the place up, and thanks for getting me some new dishes.”

“Girl, this stuff came from Target. While Candace cleaned up all the glass and china, I asked one of the runners to go and pick up some dishes from Target.”

“You sent a runner?” Grace squealed. “Junie, you're finally learning how to use this actor thing properly.”

Ethan clapped his hands together and positioned them to make the time-out signal. He'd had enough of the girl talk; it was time to take care of business. This stuff needed to be released while he could hear the Lord speaking directions into his heart. There was no time for flamboyance and distraction. Jesus was most definitely about to turn this whole thing around.

Both ladies closed their mouths and sat at attention, with their hands folded in front of them, like class was in session and Ethan was the headmaster in charge.

“With Diane Khan?” Grace asked, with her pointed nose, eyes, and flower-petal mouth scrunched together in the center of her face. She planted her hands firmly on the countertop and shouted, “Are you crazy, Summerville?”

“No, he's brilliant,” Junell noted, lightly tapping her temple. “
Red Tape
is live. The audience will have a chance to see you and connect with you on a deeper level, and no one will be able to censor you.”

Shaking her head rapidly from side to side, Grace said, “I can't.”

“You can handle Khan. There are bloggers who are more intense than she is. You survived Perez and Wendy. You can do this.”

Grace was still shaking her head.

“We're casting a wide net, right? One show, one night, and we're going to put this thing to bed.” Ethan leaned on the counter and stared directly into Grace's eyes. “What do you say, Grace King?”

“Grace King says no. I can't do this,” she said, banging her fist on the granite countertop.

“You're not going to be alone when you do this,” Ethan said smoothly.

“You'll be surrounded.” Junell pointed up. “The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost will be present, and so will we,” she added, grabbing her friend's hand.

 

 

Apprehension had taken flight long ago. Now shock and awe filled Grace's heart as she took a seat on her bonded red leather couch. Glancing over her shoulder at the men in her life—Pastor David, Ethan, and Horace—she thought of everything they represented: her past, her present, and her future. Yet she thanked God that He'd represented Himself in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, assuring her she could do this.

“Gracie,” Pastor David called to her in a whisper, like he used to. She turned her head and stared into his eyes. Water lined the rims of his eyes.

“Pastor, I know you've never been interviewed before, but you're not supposed to start crying until during the interview.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, smiled, and leaned in close to her ear. “Gracie, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything and I'm proud of you. Don't tremble or shake. Your truth is more powerful than any lie of his. God is going to bless you in this.”

God is going to bless me in this. God is going to bless me in this.
Grace held on to that thought and adjusted herself on the couch to make sure she received the right amount of natural light while the cameras were rolling.

One of the runners brought in a high-backed black matte stool and placed it in front of them. Ethan, Horace, and Pastor David took their seats on mounted chairs that had been place behind Grace's leather couch. A soft hush covered the room as they waited for the interview to begin. A few moments later Diane Khan emerged from Grace's downstairs bathroom, which had been turned into hair and makeup for the reporter.

“I thought the stool worked with the intimate, conversational style of the interview and the condo's low-key decor,” Diane Khan explained, leaning on against the stool.

“No problem, Diane. I can call you that, right?” Grace asked. She stood, smoothed down her golden-yellow, A-line, peplumed dress, and stuck out her hand.

“Absolutely,” Diane replied as she extended her arm and shook Grace's hand. “I can't believe this is the first time we're sitting down to chat, considering how long you've been in this industry. Let me meet your people.” She scuttled over to the chairs mounted behind the couch in her platform heels and stuck her hand out in Pastor David's direction, paused, and placed her other hand on her earpiece. “We're going live in fifteen . . . fourteen . . . seconds,” she announced, shuffling to the stool to take her place.

As soon as the director said, “And we're live,” Diane Khan was ready to turn it on.

“This is
Red Tape,
and I'm your host, Diane Khan, sitting down for an exclusive interview with Grace King and what looks like the Three Musketeers.” Diane pointed her copper-colored arm toward the men seated behind Grace. “Who do we have here with us today, Grace?”

“This is Pastor Lawrence David of Mount Carmel Community Church. I just call him David. When I met him I decided I like the name David way more than Lawrence, and I've called him that ever since.” Grace reached back and rested her hand on his knee. “Now, this brother right here is Ethan Summerville, my attorney, agent, manager, my everything. He keeps me ticking.” She pointed at Horace with a smile wide enough to expose both rows of teeth. “And this guy is my Adam. A man made to love and lead me. They are all a part of my past, present, and future. If it had not been for their guidance, love, and support, I wouldn't be here to tell you my story or expose Javier Roberts for the snake that he is.”

“Snake?” Diane repeated. “Are you saying that there is no truth to the rumors about you being dismissed from the set because you continually made sexual advances toward Javier Roberts?”

“Horace, please come here,” Grace said, ignoring Diane momentarily.

“What do you need?” Horace stood beside the couch.

“Please, make sure you're getting all this fineness,” Grace said, pointing at the cameraman.

Even Diane paused to absorb Horace's fine-tuned physique and the shine that emanated from his cocoa skin.

“Diane, you gotta get your own.” Grace snapped her fingers and rolled her neck. “No shade intended,” she said, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“I feel naked. Can I sit back down?” Horace asked.

Grace patted the vacant seat next to her on the couch, indicating Horace should share the spotlight with her. She waited until he sat down beside her before continuing her defense. “I'm pretty sure this speaks for itself, but let's clear the air. Why on earth would I need or want to make sexual advances at Javier Roberts when I could have this man?” Grace asked, wrapping her arm around Horace's rock-solid bicep to brace herself for the firestorm she was about to set off.

Grace went on. “It's Javier who is loony. He's a rapist. He raped me. Ten years ago on the set of a Jonathan Black photo shoot, and now he is trying to victimize me all over again.” Grace's leg shook as the words tumbled out of her mouth. The floor beneath her felt like mush. “This movie isn't some unchartered territory or the efforts of a cinematic genius, as he would have others believe. What happens to my character in the film is what he did to me. He is sick,” she said, with her lips turned down in disgust.

Diane placed her hand on her earpiece, waiting to receive directions from the segments producer. Grace could tell by the way she sorted through her cue cards that none of the questions she had prepared were related to the bomb that had just been detonated, and that she did not have a good segue ready.

“Grace, are you alleging that Javier Roberts raped you?” Diane finally said. “Those are serious allegations that could lead to more legal woes for you.”

Clearing her throat to respond, Grace sat upright to address Diane's underhanded accusation, but she was interrupted by Ethan's protective interjection.

“In addition to being her publicist, I serve as Grace's legal counsel, and I can assure you that the only person who will have legal issues after this interview is Javier Roberts, who preyed on an innocent girl. Then, when he thought she was at her weakest point, he tried to use it to his advantage. We are fully prepared to fight this thing to the very end, if that is the route Mr. Roberts chooses to take.”

Grace reclined, with a grin spread across her face. The Lord had certainly provided her with a ready defense.

“Grace, Javier Roberts's fans have taken to Twitter and Facebook and are flooding our news feed with the same question I have for you,” Diane said. “Why did you wait so long to report this alleged rape?”

“Fear. That and the need for acceptance. They both held me hostage for a long time. My life hasn't been horrible, but it hasn't been bright, either. After making some mistakes as a teen, I tried to use my modeling career as a way to redeem myself. Then I discovered that redemption doesn't work that way. Only Christ can clean up the mess that we make of our lives.”

“Why sign on to do a major motion picture that depicts your rape?” Diane asked.

Grace exhaled. “Again, I was afraid, and I was trying to cover up something while saving face, but then a wise man said something that broke me down and woke me up. Those words freed me from this and all the bad things that happened to me. The truth is more powerful than any lie. I am grateful for Pastor David for urging me to take the devil on.”

“Is that why you invited Pastor David to sit in on this interview?” Diane asked, now motioning toward him.

“Diane, I kind of invited myself,” Pastor David chirped from behind Grace. “I feel partially responsible for the things that have happened to Grace, because of the things that I did to her. Grace and I once had a romantic relationship. We were sexually active, and that relationship produced a child. Some members of the church we used to attend urged Grace to abort the baby so as not to put a blemish on my budding ministry. I don't know what I was doing or where my head was that I didn't see what was happening, but the next time I looked up, Gracie was gone.”

Pastor David paused and took a deep swallow. Grace knew this had to be one of the most difficult situations in his life. The thought of his former sins being revealed to the whole world shook him way down in the city of his soul.

“Do you need a moment, Pastor?” Diane asked, passing a glass of water and a napkin to Grace to give to the pastor.

Pastor David gulped loudly and then continued. “That was the first time she was raped. In that moment people who were older and seemed wiser used their age, wisdom, and control over her to assert their own will on her—usurping the power that she had over her own body. I am here to be the first to confess that I damaged her and opened the floodgates for the devil and his demons to prey on her. I am here to apologize to her.”

Pastor David swiped a few stray tears from his face. “Sunday after Sunday I beseech the congregation of Mount Carmel Community Church to dig deep within themselves to make right their errors, reconcile their affairs with men, and stop hiding behind their sin, but a leader must lead by example, not through speeches.” Pastor David bent over slightly and placed his hand on Grace's shoulder.

Grace adjusted herself and faced Pastor David.

“I am here to say, Grace, I am sorry. I know that I cannot restore the things that are broken, but I am sorry that these things happened to you, and I will stand by you regardless of the outcome of this situation.”