Darrin replies, “Mine is better.”
“You cook?” Dorcas and I exclaim simultaneously. Um … I’m going to need that to never happen again.
Darrin nods slowly. “I would’ve added more paprika and a smidge of garlic.”
“What’s so special about that? Anyone can cook if they can follow a recipe,” scoffs Oscar.
“A recipe is only part of it. A really good cook adds flair to every dish,” responds Darrin. He grins at the glaring Oscar as the event’s emcee walks up to the podium.
The emcee says, “We’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight in support of building a new recreation center for our youth.”
A round of applause rises from the audience. I try to get Darrin’s attention again, but I’m unsuccessful. He’s got his notebook out and is looking straight ahead, intent on covering his story sufficiently.
“The price of your tickets for this event will cover about forty percent of the cost,” continues the emcee. “We’d like to invite to the podium our speaker of the hour, Bishop Kumal Prentiss, to come and convince you to dig deep in your pocketbooks for that other sixty percent.”
After the laughter dies down, the emcee concludes with “But seriously, without any further ado, let us receive Bishop Prentiss with a round of applause.”
Bishop takes the microphone from the young emcee and gives her a bear hug. “Good evening, everyone! I am truly happy to be here tonight. I never pass up an opportunity to do something good for young people, so when I received the invitation, there was no way I’d say no.”
Darrin takes a few notes on his pad and then whispers something to Dorcas. A flirty smile crosses her face, and she bites her bottom lip. Darrin scoots his chair closer to Dorcas, and she leans in closer still. I’m watching this whole scene helplessly, wishing I stayed home and didn’t fuss over getting myself ready.
And no, this fool Oscar didn’t just put his arm around my chair. I knock it off so quickly and so severely that it catches Darrin’s attention. For a moment confusion flashes across his face. He leans over to me and whispers, “That’s no way to treat your date, Sister Emoni.”
I hiss back, “He is
not
my date.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies, “Dorcas told me that you two are a couple.”
“Did she?”
Ooh, that girl better be glad I’m saved. I should’ve known there was a reason Darrin was steering clear of me. Dorcas has him thinking that me and Oscar are together? Now that I see she’s playing dirty, my gloves are coming off, too.
“Will you two be quiet?” says Oscar indignantly. “I am trying to hear the man of God.”
Darrin places a finger to his lips and shushes me. The smile that I’m trying hard to suppress blossoms across my face. Darrin smiles back and winks again, like we have a secret.
Oh, how I would love for us to have a secret.
Darrin
A
fter Bishop Prentiss’s speech is over, I am not ready to end the evening. I ask Dorcas to join me at the coffee shop again. This time for coffee and not tea, and dessert is still dessert. Carrot cake for me and a man-sized cherry torte for her.
There’s a different ambience for the late-night coffeehouse crowd. The lights are dimmed, and the tables have been shifted to leave a little space for dancing. Dorcas and I have chosen two large recliners, separated by an end table where we place our goodies.
For some reason, I’m filled with a sense of urgency. Maybe it’s because Mathis called me today for a status report. I had nothing to report except that I’d met two fine women and Bishop Prentiss is on his way to sainthood. Then my father started talking about the new furniture he was ordering for my corner office. I’ve got to start on my story, even though I don’t have a clue where to begin.
I start the conversation with Dorcas. “Bishop’s message about the youth was really inspiring. He’s a dynamic speaker.”
“It was. He always gets really passionate about young people. I think it has something to do with how he was raised.”
“And how was that?”
“No man in the house, only his mother and grandmother. He left home when he was sixteen.”
“He’s come a long way.”
“Yes, he has.”
This gives me a start. Dig through Bishop’s past, and maybe I’ll find something. There’s no way he left home at sixteen and stayed clean.
Dorcas says, “You should read Bishop’s book,
From the World to the Word
. He talks all about his testimony. About how he used to sell drugs and then how he started using his own supply. Then he tells how God saved him.”
I nod thoughtfully. Of course he has a book. A testimony. Preachers turn their skeletons into testimonies.
I inhale the rich Jamaican coffee in front of me. A cup of this will keep me awake for a week. It’s a good thing, too, because I’m going to be up for days trying to dream up a story.
Dorcas sips her coffee, too, and takes a bite of cherry torte. She sits the pastry down and winces.
“It’s not good?” I ask. “I can get you something else.”
“No … it’s fine. Just let me …” She reaches down and takes off her shoes. “Ah, that’s better.”
I laugh. “Your feet hurt?”
“Oh, yes! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to get out of these shoes.”
“Why do women wear shoes that hurt their feet?”
“The only shoes that don’t hurt my feet are sneakers,” she responds, “and I don’t think they’d really go with this dress.”
“By sneakers, you mean tennis shoes?”
“That’s right, northern boy.”
“Give me your feet.”
Dorcas scrunches her nose suspiciously. “For what?”
“’Cause this northern boy knows how to give a foot rub.” I can see her hesitation. “Come on, girl. You can trust me.”
“I don’t know about that,” Dorcas counters while placing her feet across my lap.
“Now lean back and close your eyes. Relax.”
Dorcas obediently follows my instructions. Closes her eyes and breathes deeply while my hands knowingly rub all of the soreness out of her tiny feet. I’m kneading muscles and cracking joints left and right, hitting every possible pressure point. When she lets out a moan, I drop her feet like they’re hot. Can’t hear her moan if I’m going to stay saved.
“Wow.”
“It was good?” I ask, but the glazed expression of pleasure on her face tells the story.
Dorcas answers, “Too good. You do that for all the girls, right?”
“Not at all. Mostly, my foot rubs are reserved for one very special lady.”
“And who is that? Some girl you left at home in Cleveland?”
“Yeah. My mama.”
“Okay, then,” Dorcas replies.
I feel the mood intensifying so I had better steer this conversation back to safer territory. “How long have you been a member at Freedom of Life?”
“About eight years. I started coming here during my freshman year of college. I feel so blessed to have Bishop Prentiss as my pastor and to know him personally.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know him better as well. His family, too.”
“Bishop and First Lady have some great kids,” Dorcas gushes, her entire face becoming animated. “Emoni is so smart and talented, although she doesn’t realize how attractive she can be. Tyler has a call on his life. I guarantee you he’ll be in the ministry one day.”
“And what about the youngest girl? Her name is Sascha, right?”
“I think she’s trying to figure out the type of woman she wants to be. She’s the youngest, and she doesn’t really seem to care about succeeding.”
I ask, “Is she in college?”
“She was for a minute, but she dropped out for what was supposed to be a semester, then turned into a year. I think she’ll go back, though.”
I’m mentally recording this conversation with Dorcas. Maybe the pastor is blameless, but it sounds like his children might be another issue. I feel the story forming in my head as we speak. The title: “Mega-Church Pastor Fails at Home.”
“So tell me,” Dorcas asks, “what do you really think of Freedom of Life?”
I’m caught off guard by the question and have to think for a moment before replying. “I can honestly say that Freedom of Life is the best church I’ve ever been to.”
“Have you been to many churches?”
“No … so I guess that doesn’t say much.”
“It’s okay. Freedom of Life is the first church I’ve ever attended.”
“Seriously?” I could’ve sworn she was a church girl from birth. “What about when you were a little girl?”
“Let’s just say that my family members aren’t church folk,” answers Dorcas with a weak chuckle.
“My mom made me go to church every week. I was a junior everything! Junior usher, junior deacon, junior choir director … and then I discovered girls.”
Dorcas throws her head back and laughs. “And that was the end of church, huh?”
“Until now.”
“Well, everyone seems to think highly of you.”
“Everyone except Oscar—I mean Trustee Williams.”
“Don’t mind him. He’s got some major control issues.”
“I think it’s more than control. He’s probably got a thing for you.”
“I don’t even think so! He and Emoni are together.”
“So you say, but Emoni says she’s not with the brother.”
Dorcas shifts nervously. “Well, maybe not officially, but inevitably.”
I’m still trying to figure out what’s up with this whole scenario. More than likely, Dorcas is being a typical female and blocking on Emoni. Because Emoni is clearly not feeling that dude.
I instigate further. “No, no. I’m pretty sure I was sensing some jealous vibes from him.”
Dorcas responds adamantly, “He is like a brother to me.”
I sit back in my recliner and cross one arm over my chest and rest the other hand under my chin, trying to look like an elderly British professor. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and it’s not brotherly.”
“That’s all your imagination, Darrin.”
I lean forward and smile. “I hope so, because honestly, I don’t want to have to fight him.”
Dorcas blinks rapidly. I can tell her heart is racing. The chemistry is undeniable. But oddly enough, I’m cool. I don’t feel the need to trick her into spending the night with me. Bishop Prentiss would say that it’s the Holy Spirit transforming me. I’d have to agree, because it sure isn’t me. My flesh wants what it wants.
Emoni
I
’m sitting here in Daddy’s office, watching him read the article Darrin wrote about the fund-raiser dinner. Darrin looks nervous, like he’s on line for a fraternity or interviewing for a six-figure job. It’s only going to be in our church newsletter—not that serious.
Maybe I’m still angry about how that whole dinner thing went down. I wanted to bum-rush Dorcas in the parking lot when I overheard her make plans with Darrin for a little after-party at the coffee shop. I don’t know how I got so far behind in this race. Seems like I just looked up, and that heifer had lapped me.
And then Oscar had the audacity to say, “The Word says ‘he that findeth a wife,’ not ‘she that findeth a husband.’ You need to back off of Darrin, Emoni.”
I don’t know if he had himself confused with my daddy, my big brother, or my man, but on all accounts, he was wrong. Wrong, wrong, WRONG!
I answered him ignorantly, “I’m going to do what the Word says and let my no mean NO. You need to back off of me.”
I left him there, picking his face up off the ground. I was trying to be nice, but I can’t have my future husband thinking that me and Oscar are together. That wouldn’t be prudent at all.
“Darrin, I’m impressed,” Daddy says after finishing the article.
Darrin seems to relax. “Thank you, Bishop Prentiss.”
“I’d like for you to cover all of my events.”
“For the newsletter?” Darrin asks, sounding delighted.
“Not necessarily. I would like to have a written record of my ministry activities.”
Darrin’s eyes light up. “I am definitely the man for the job.”
Now, this is a shock. Daddy must feel something good in his spirit about Darrin, because he doesn’t usually bring people close to him this soon after meeting them. Maybe the Lord told Daddy that Darrin is his future son-in-law. Ooh … that makes me want to speak in tongues. Hah! Glory!
Daddy hands me the article. “You’ve got to read this. Brother Darrin is an exceptional writer. You were right to recommend him for the newsletter.”
I quickly scan the article. “This is good. There are a few changes that I’d make, but for the most part, it’s good.”
“Changes?” asks Darrin, both his eyebrows raised in defense.
“Nothing major,” I say with a bit of an attitude. “There are some areas that could flow better. That’s all.”
“You know, Emoni used to write in college,” Daddy says with a look of pride.
“Daddy—”
“And she’s good, too! She does most of the writing for the newsletter.”
“I do
some
of the writing.”
Darrin laughs. “Let your father brag about you, girl!”
I crack a tiny smile but drop my head to prevent Darrin from seeing it. After all that clownish jocking of Dorcas last night, he’s on punishment from any niceties from me. He’s got to earn my smiles.
Oscar swings the office door open and strides in as if trying to make an entrance. I almost burst out laughing because he looks more than ridiculous. He has this stern look that reminds me of the Buckingham Palace guards who aren’t supposed to move a muscle even if touched.
“Bishop, I’m sorry I’m late. My mother needed—” Oscar stops midsentence when he notices Darrin seated in front of Bishop’s desk. “Brother Darrin,” he says, making the greeting sound like an insult.
Darrin responds in kind. “Trustee Williams.”
This is interesting. There is some tension between these brothers, and I think I like it. Well, I’m loving Darrin’s tension, but I can do without Oscar’s.
Just like he did at the banquet, Daddy is ignoring their antics. He says, “Brother Darrin, I’ve got another assignment for you. I’m speaking in Savannah next Saturday, and I want you to document it. I feel there’s going to be a tremendous move of God on that day.”
“I’d be honored, Bishop.” Darrin smirks in Oscar’s direction.
“Bishop,” Oscar says, smirking right back at Darrin, “may I speak with you in private?”