No, she didn’t. Rachel had to take deep, slow breaths because it was obvious this old hag was delusional. She’d recognized Jasmine right away. The sultry way she slithered off the jet. The whole entourage, like she was M.C. Hammer. The way she slid those designer glasses on—just showing out.
Had it not been for Dirt Diggers, Rachel might actually have been intimidated. But the information she knew about Jasmine Cox Larson Bush empowered her.
A smile crept up on Rachel’s face as she shook Jasmine’s hand. “Jasmine?” she said, ignoring the first lady comment. In her dreams. “Rev. Bush’s wife?”
Jasmine smiled confidently as she nodded. “The one and only.”
Rachel feigned confusion. “I’m sorry. I thought Rev. Bush’s wife was named Natasia.”
Bingo! Jasmine’s whole body tensed as she lost her smile. Rachel tried desperately to fight back a smirk. Hosea was practically a saint, but the private investigator had managed to find out about his ex-fiancée and former producer, Natasia Redding. The rumor mill said the two of them had had an affair. The PI couldn’t confirm it, but judging from Jasmine’s uneasy reaction, there was something to the story.
Jasmine looked like she was about to lose that fake air she had going on, but she composed herself and said, “No, it’s Jasmine. Jasmine Bush. And again, you are?”
“Rachel Jackson Adams, first lady of Zion Hill Missionary Baptist Church in Houston.”
“Oh”—Jasmine put a finger to her head like she was thinking—“I’ve never heard of it.” She didn’t give Rachel time to reply before saying, “Wherever did you get that adorable pantsuit? I thought I saw it in a commercial for Marshall’s last year.”
Jasmine’s tone let Rachel know this was definitely not intended as a compliment. “No, if you must know, I got it from T.J.Maxx. Yours is lovely, too. Whose tithes paid for it?”
Lester stepped in before she could reply. “Lady Jasmine,” he said, reaching around Rachel and extending his hand. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things.”
What was this Lady Jasmine crap? Rachel glared at her husband out of the corner of her eye as he took Jasmine’s hand. He’d balked when she suggested she be called Lady Rachel. Oh, she would definitely be telling Lester about himself later.
Jasmine looked like she was breathing fire out of her nostrils before she finally smiled and said, “Reverend Adams. It’s my pleasure.”
Lester grinned like he’d won the Lotto as Hosea approached them. “And if it isn’t the esteemed Reverend Hosea Bush.” He vigorously shook his hand. “I am so honored. I’m a big fan of your show, Bring it On. Your messages are always on point. And the work that you do in your community is just phenomenal.”
Oh, hell to the no, Rachel thought as her husband dang near salivated at the sight of Hosea. He was acting like he was meeting Barack Obama himself. It was just disgusting.
“Lester, darling, don’t be so modest. You do a lot yourself,” Rachel interjected.
Jasmine looked like she was eating the whole scene up. Hosea nodded. “Reverend Adams, your lovely wife is right. I hear you won the Southern coalition hands down.”
“He did,” Rachel said, draping her arm through her husband’s. “But it’s no surprise. I mean, you should see what he’s done with our church. The membership has multiplied since he took over.”
“Oh, that’s right, to a whopping three thousand people,” Jasmine said with a fake smile. “Honey, didn’t City of Lights have three thousand members back in, what, ’85?”
No, this heifer wasn’t trying to downplay their membership rolls. Rachel dropped her arm and took a step forward. “Well, we believe in quality, not quantity,” she said as nicely as possible. “And we try to keep our family-feel so that our members can truly be fed in the Word and not just be a number on a roster. Let me guess. City of Lights, Camera, Action has an ATM in the sanctuary?”
“Okay, ladies,” Lester said, putting a hand on Rachel’s forearm to calm her down.
Rachel and Jasmine stared at each other in a face-off. Sure, Jasmine may have had ten or thirty years on her, but Rachel wasn’t about to let this broke-down Chaka Khan–looking woman punk her.
“Jasmine,” Hosea said sternly.
“What?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow at her husband.
“Reverend Bush, let me apologize for my wife,” Lester said, shooting Rachel the evil eye.
“Apologize for what?” Rachel snapped. The ghetto was seeping out. “Chaka here is the one that stepped off the plane in her designer duds like she’s royalty, talking about she’s the new first lady of the American Baptist Coalition.”
“Chaka? Who is Chaka?” Jasmine asked.
“‘Cha-ka, Cha-ka. Chaka Khan, let me rock you—’” Rachel sang with an attitude.
“Rachel Adams,” Lester admonished, cutting her off.
Rachel caught herself, rolled her eyes, and managed a tense smile. “I was just kidding with her. You know when you get old, you lose your sense of humor, so I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
Lester looked horrified and Jasmine looked ready to pounce. Rachel was thrilled. She’d wiped that smug expression right off Jasmine’s face.
“We’ll see who has the last laugh,” Jasmine said, not bothering to smile. She turned to her husband. “Hosea, sweetheart, we really should get going. Where are the cars?” she asked, turning around and noticing that the three Town Cars were gone.
Hosea sighed like he knew trouble was brewing. “I sent Mae Frances and the rest of the team on. The kids are extremely tired and Mrs. Sloss wanted to get them to the hotel so that they could rest before the reception tonight. We were supposed to have four cars and the other is on the way. They’re about five minutes out.”
“You’re more than welcome to ride to the hotel with us,” Lester said, trying to ease the obvious tension.
Thankfully, Hosea quickly nipped that idea. “No, no, the driver is on the way. Our plane did touch down a few minutes early.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I guess we’ll see you at the welcome reception tonight,” Lester said. “Mrs. Bush.” Lester nodded toward her.
Jasmine half nodded back. Lester looked at Rachel out of the corner of his eye. She knew he wanted her to say something. Fine. She huffed. “Rev. Bush, it was a pleasure. My apologies if I came off a little harsh. Sometimes people don’t appreciate my attempts to break the ice.”
Hosea smiled. “I’m sure my wife offers up her apologies as well.” Jasmine folded her arms across her chest and didn’t reply.
Rachel wasn’t fazed. It’s not like she was apologizing to that witch anyway. She spun and strutted to the car.
Lester stayed behind, no doubt continuing his apologies. Suddenly, an idea hit Rachel as she climbed in the backseat. She leaned forward to the driver. “Do you work for the same company as all the other cars that were out here?”
The portly gray-haired man nodded. “I do.”
Rachel grinned widely, reached in her purse, and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill as she quickly told the man what she needed him to do.
“That was so absolutely uncalled for,” Lester hissed as he climbed into the limo a few minutes later. “You’d better be glad Rev. Bush is a godly man and didn’t get upset at the way you were acting.”
She reached in her purse again and pulled out a tissue. “Here,” she said, handing it to Lester.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“To wipe the drool from your mouth since you were all but licking the man’s shoes,” Rachel snapped as she tossed her purse on the seat.
“Rachel, that is ridiculous. Reverend Bush is a highly regarded minister. I’m just showing him his proper respect. Regardless of this whole competition thing, I’m going to give the man his respect.”
Rachel ignored her husband. Respect was one thing. Utter adoration was another. Why couldn’t Lester see that the Bushes thought they had this thing in the bag? It was obvious from Jasmine’s whole demeanor that they believed they were better than she and Lester. And now that Rachel had met Jasmine, she knew that skank wouldn’t be above fighting dirty. Good thing she’d beat her to the punch.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, Rachel glanced back at Hosea and Jasmine standing there waiting on their ride.
“Why are you sitting over there grinning?” Lester asked.
Rachel pulled her sunglasses out of her bag, Chanel knockoffs that looked just like Jasmine’s, but probably cost half as much.
“No reason,” she said, leaning back in the seat. Oh, how she wanted to tell her husband what she’d done. But his Donald Do-Good behind would make the driver turn around. No, she’d wait until they checked into the hotel before she let him know that she’d had their driver radio in and cancel the car service for Reverend and Mrs. Bush. She had already done the same for their hotel. Sure, they’d get it all worked out—eventually. But Miss Priss would probably act a fool, piss a few people off. And while they were trying to figure out what happened, she’d be in the lobby, mixing and mingling with folks, drumming up votes for her man. Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle as she closed her eyes and repeated, “No reason, at all.”