The music was sounding good. Yvonne wanted to get out there and dance to the Gap Band so badly. She loved it when they started singing, “You cain’t keep runnin’ in and out of my life.” Right now, instead of dancing, these reception folk seemed bent on cutting deals, checking out the scenery, and scheming. Black college life was almost as complex, wonderful, and intriguing as life in the black church—nothing like it. And for all of the ups and downs a person could experience in these institutions, Yvonne loved them both with all of her heart.
Marquita’s catering company had outdone itself tonight. The entire hall was decorated in the school’s colors of black and red. The banquet tables were covered with black linen cloths with red napkins held securely with black napkin rings resting on black china trimmed in metallic red and silver. Dark red roses in translucent black crystal vases sat in the middle of each table, with rose petals sprinkled around the area of the vases. And each chair was covered with black muslin, and had a stiff red muslin bow attached to the back.
Around the room were six-foot-high black metal frames that resembled floor-length mirrors with huge photographs of the school, the president and his wife, the basketball team, and the coaches. And the food tables made you hungry just looking at them. There was so much to choose from, Yvonne didn’t know where to start.
But the best part of a reception like this were the people themselves. There had to be every kind of African-American in the city of Durham represented at this event. This crowd ranged from ghetto-fabulous folk, like Dayeesha Hamilton, to the hardworking staff members from the university, who worked quietly and diligently to aid in the education of folks’ children, to the professors who worked hard to make sure that not one black child would be left behind when they left with a degree in hand, to the hinctified administrators and high-profile faculty who held the erroneous belief that the university actually revolved around them, to the coaches, band directors, cafeteria workers, janitorial staff, and of course the students, alumni, and parents. It was a beautiful thing to behold.
Another Gap Band song, “Early in the Morning,” came on, and this time Yvonne couldn’t help herself. She did a smooth step all the way over to that food table where her friend Marquita Robinson Sneed was busy making sure that all was well with all of that delectable food. She was about to select some crackers and a delicious-looking lobster spread when she heard a friendly voice call out her name.
She turned around grinning at her girl, who was first cousin to Charmayne and the infamous and very fine Charles Robinson. Sometimes Charles reminded Yvonne of a bigger, buffer, sexier, and older version of the actor Terrence Howard. And that was saying something because Mr. Terrence gave new meaning to the term “redbone.”
The Robinsons had always fascinated Yvonne with how very different they were. They loved one another to death. But the families of the two sisters—Charmayne and Charles’s mother, Miss Ida Belle, and Marquita’s mother, Miss Margarita—were as different as night and day. First off, Ida Belle was just downright gangsta. She loved the hood, and she was the consummate “hood entrepreneur.”
Miss Ida Belle’s sister, Margarita, on the other hand, was saved and filled with the Holy Ghost. She was an ordained minister and assistant pastor at Ram in the Bush Holiness Church of Prophesy and Deliverance—the hottest and fastest-growing holiness church in Durham County outside of the church pastored by Apostle Grady Grey and his wife, Linda. She worked tirelessly to get as many folk saved and living what she described as “the Kingdom life” as the Lord would allow, and stayed in intercessory prayer on behalf of her unsaved relatives.
Miss Margarita also supplied Miss Thang’s Holy Ghost Corner and Church Woman Boutique with all of that saved lingerie that folks were always going gaga over when they were in Theresa’s store. Her best-selling items were the sheer PJs in pastel colors and matching lacy bra and thongs with PASTOR’S SHORTY, BISHOP’S BOO, DEACON’S DARLING, STEWARD’S SWEETIE, and FIRST LADIES SIZZLE, embroidered on the PJ top. Miss Margarita’s favorite first ladies were Lena Quincey and Angela Cousin over at St. Joseph’s AME Church. She personally designed and made their PJs and robes and an assortment of fancy, pretty, girly things.
Despite the obvious differences between the two sisters, there were also some similarities. Both sisters had children when they were not married back in the day when that was hard on folks.
Yvonne remembered her mother telling her that both sisters’ baby daddies proposed but the weddings didn’t go through. Charmayne and Charles’s father was an undercover cop who was shot down by friendly fire when he was trying to infiltrate a ring of black bank robbers and they were busted by the police. Marquita’s father was shot down, too. He was in the army, assigned to intelligence, and located in an unknown spot in southeast Asia. And the only reason they knew it was southeast Asia was that the Vietnam War was up and running, and most black folk from the hood were sent south and east when they were dispatched to serve overseas.
So the three little cousins grew up as Robinsons and without the men who loved their mothers and would have given anything to have held those sweet green-eyed, hazel-eyed, and gray-eyed babies in their arms. And the mothers struggled to rebuild their lives while raising the cherished offspring of the now-deceased loves of their lives.
Ida Belle threw herself into the cares of the world in a feeble effort to lift the burden of despair that blanketed her heart. She got so mad at God for taking Charles Kirby away from her until she’d forgotten what folks did when they needed the Lord in their lives—fall on their knees in prayer and supplication for help in a very present time of trouble.
Margarita ran straight into the arms of God, while holding tightly to her precious baby girl. She knew that the only way she was going to survive the death of her beloved Stanley Bishop was by the grace of God. She got saved, received the Holy Ghost, and gave her life completely over to Jesus.
And because God is so good to those who make Him the desire of their hearts, He healed Margarita of her grief and blessed her with the joyful task of raising her baby girl to be a mighty woman of God. And then he brought a husband, father, and man of God into their lives in the form of Thomas Robinson, who would have been childless had not the Lord saw fit to bless him with Margarita and baby Marquita.
Yvonne stood staring at all of those delectable dishes, wondering where to begin with her selections, and just how much food she could pile on a plate without appearing greedy and uncouth.
“Yvonne!” Marquita said with a huge grin spreading across her sweet pale copper face, dark gray eyes sparkling like brand-new diamonds. Her shimmering golden brown hair fell in her eyes and softly on her shoulders when she moved her head. Yvonne had always thought that Marquita had the most beautiful hair—long, thick, coarse, and naturally colored a shade that women, black and white, spent a whole lot of money trying to duplicate.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where has your little chocolate behind been and what have you been doing? Because I’ve missed you, Yvonne.”
Yvonne walked around the banquet table and gave Marquita a big hug.
“I’ve missed you, too. But it has been crazy with work and all.”
“Tell me about it. Girl, my business is going through the roof. But between taking care of the grandbabies and working, I’m running to catch up to meet with my own self.”
“You still have the grans.”
“Umm, hmm,” Marquita said, shaking her head in disgust. Sometimes it was nothing but the Lord that kept her from putting her foot straight up her daughter, Markayla’s behind.
“You know something, Yvonne, I thought that by having Markayla in my early twenties I’d at least be able to be footloose and fancy-free in my forties. But here I am with four grandbabies, ranging from thirteen down to eight.”
“But Marquita, you have to admit, they are some of the sweetest babies I’ve ever met. And they have brought so much joy to your life.”
Marquita nodded. It was true. “And they are no problem, really. They are very self-sufficient.”
“They have to be,” Yvonne said. “I don’t understand Markayla. She’s not on drugs, she a fool but she ain’t crazy, and she had you and Miss Margarita and Mr. Thomas, but she just—”
“Wants to stay out in the streets, partying and drinking and hooking up with all of the rappers and rap producers who come to the Triangle. I don’t understand it. The girl has a good job working for Metro over at Yeah Yeah.
“Wait ’til you see what the cheerleaders are wearing to the game with Bouclair College. Markayla is the stylist for the squad. And she is picking up more and more clients, a few out in Hollywood, every time I look around. So I do not know what her problem is. And her house is nice—she lives down the street from me in Cashmere Estates. But the babies absolutely refuse to live with their mama.
“That youngest, June, said, ‘Nana, Mommy has too many hip-hop people in our house. And I don’t like them all in our bathrooms, either. They ain’t mean but they ain’t got no business at my house. So we are coming to live with you until Mommy gets saved and starts acting right, like you and Big Mama.’”
Yvonne didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t help it. That little June was something else. She said, “Where is their daddy?”
“Jail.”
“Again? I thought he was trying to get himself together.”
“He is. But this was about one of those old arrest warrants Jamal had dodged around back in the day when he was still gangbanging. I took him to see Grady Grey and Dayeesha’s daddy, Big Dotsy, when this first came up. They both told him to go ahead and pay his dues.
“Dotsy said that he’d bet some money that this little arrest was nothing compared to what he suspected Jamal had done in the cut and nobody knew about it. He told Jamal that this way he’d be completely free when he came out because the system had what they wanted, and wouldn’t go looking for any hidden dirt if he let this go and did his time like a man.
“Dotsy and Grady worked to get the time served down to eighteen months. And then they went behind the scenes and activated some protection and decent treatment while Jamal is doing his time. And surprisingly, it hasn’t been as bad as we first thought it would be.
“Jamal gave his life over to Christ before he put on that orange suit, he has received the Holy Ghost, and has started an in-house prison ministry for his dorm-mates. The Lord has a blood covering over that boy, and He is doing a mighty work in Jamal—I hardly recognize that boy, the anointing is so strong on him. And I know that he is going to take care of his babies when he gets out. I just keep praying that Markayla will have it together when their daddy is finally free.”
Yvonne felt like crying for joy for the second time that night. She remembered asking the Lord to bless her with the ability to experience one miracle in her life today. And the Lord, who always does exceedingly more than what she could think of or ask for, had given her two.
She said, “Marquita, just think, Jamal has been delivered and set free of the demonic stronghold that once ruled his life. He is saved. He is working to get others saved and set free. And soon he’ll be physically free and able to finally enjoy life and take care of his children. That has to be one of the best things I’ve heard all day.”
“Well …” Marquita began, “I don’t think that’s exactly the best thing you’ve heard all day. Seems to me like you have heard two other good things.”
Yvonne frowned a moment as she tried to think of that third miracle and then remembered Curtis.
“Umm, hmm,” Marquita went on. “You got that check securing your job situation, you’re here with that big ol’ sweet Mounds chocolate bar, Curtis, and I’ve given you a testimony about Jamal. You have a whole lot to be thankful for this evening, Miss Yvonne Fountain.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Yvonne told her as she broke out into a huge smile when she saw Darrell and Bettina trying to act as if they didn’t see her when they came over to the table to get some more food. One look at that outfit that even Miss Baby Doll Lacy wouldn’t wear let Yvonne know that Bettina had been put in her place tonight. It felt good, too. And what felt even better was that the Lord had fixed it so nothing about her job was tied to anything that had a thing to do with Darrell and his wife.
Yvonne smiled and then frowned and then tried to smile again when she remembered that she was standing with Marquita. But she wasn’t fast enough.
“What’s wrong with yo’ butt?”
“Him,” Yvonne told her as she watched Kordell make his way around the room, scoping out a woman to hit on.
Surprisingly, Marquita frowned, too. Lately, she found herself liking Kordell Bivens less and less. And she didn’t like the way Rico always had to hop up and run out of town with that ugly man, simply because Kordell started whining about needing some time away from Durham to get his head straight. If he’d quit ho- hoppin’ and lyin’ to women, maybe he’d be able to keep his big fat head straight.
Tangie Bonner walked up to where Kordell was standing and planted a kiss on his cheek. He gave her a dry smile, along with a patronizing pat on the behind. Tangie smiled and walked off to join her friends.
“Sometimes I don’t get Tangie Bonner,” Marquita said. She didn’t like Tangie but couldn’t exactly explain why she felt this way. Tangie had never done anything to her—that is, not anything she could put her finger on. But there was something wrong with where Tangie was coming from as far as Marquita was concerned.
“What do you mean?” Yvonne asked, wondering just how much Marquita could see in that girl. She didn’t mess with people like Marquita. As sweet as they were, somebody like that could see through you once she took a mind to do so. But that was the operative concept—take a mind to do so. And right now, Marquita was not ready to go to that place.
“She’s sneaky but I don’t know why, when all of her business with men is always in the street,” Marquita said.
Yvonne was quiet, but not too quiet as to tip Marquita off. She said, “I feel the same way. She has dirt out there for all to see but she is still a snake in the grass.”
Marquita nodded in agreement. It was clear that she was working through some things where Tangie Bonner was concerned.
“So,” Yvonne said, hoping to draw Marquita’s attention away from Tangie, “why are you behind this table and not out there hobnobbing with the rest of the high-cotton folk? I saw your cousin Charmayne over there with some high rollers looking good in that black St. John with the crisscross design down the back of the jacket and the skirt. And Charles is over there huddled up in a serious conversation with the provost. Girl, you know it’s a shame that that boy is so fine and so good at being bad.”
“I know,” Marquita said. “And look at that suit he’s wearing.”
“Girl, that thing is tight. And Charles is the only brother in this room who can wear that suit,” Yvonne answered as she tried to get a better take on that crimson three-piece suit with black chalk stripes, black shirt and tie, and black gaiters trimmed in red.
“Look at the women trying to roll up on him, Yvonne.”
“What you two little negroes over here talkin’ ’bout?” Charles asked them as he walked up and then took Yvonne by the hand and gave her a twirl.
“You look good, baby! And look … look … look,” he said and pointed at Bettina. “Ole’ Sundress is pissed that you are looking so good and that you are so happy.”
“You are crazy, Charles Robinson,” Yvonne said. “And you are mighty clean your own self.”
“Hey, baby. That’s how I roll. You know a player gots to always be ready and up for anything.”
“Boy, stop,” Yvonne told him. “See, that’s why you’re always getting hooked up with the ‘ready for anything.’”
“I hear ya’, play cuz,” he said as he glanced over to where Veronica Washington was standing with her friends, looking good in a black knit pantsuit with stovepipe-legged pants and a belted jacket with silver buttons down the front and the sleeves. He liked those black patent-leather boots with the silver spiked heels that Veronica was wearing.
Charles loved the way that woman smiled and cracked jokes and made others smile, even when he knew she was going through a rough time. Charles didn’t know Robert Washington well, but what he did know was that Robert was a piece of work, and that one day he was going to get his.
Veronica was standing there with her friends laughing and having a good time, when, as could be expected, Robert came in with Tracey Parsons on his arm, acting like she was the catch of the day.
Charles took a good look at Tracey Parsons’s head and said, “You know something, every time I see that woman, I keep expecting to see Brian the dog, Peter, Lois, Meg, and Chris come up right behind her.”
“Now, you have just lost what little bit was left of a good mind—with your cray-zee self,” Marquita said.
“I haven’t lost all of it,” Charles said, now suddenly serious, as he watched Robert walk over to where Veronica was with Tracey. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurried back across the room and walked up to Veronica and placed his arm around her shoulder. “I thought I saw your fine self standing over here holding court like the queen that you are, girl.”
Veronica looked up into Charles’s eyes with a silent “thank you” radiating from her own. Then she regrouped and said, “Boy, you need to quit,” in a playful voice that didn’t give a hint of how she really felt at the insult her ex-husband and his woman had just paid her when they invaded her space to be mean.
“Naw, I am not going to quit,” Charles said, turning up the heat when he saw Robert’s eyes narrow. “I’m gone mess with you some more, Miss Veronica.” He kissed her cheek. “Umph, girl, what you got that got me going—and that was just your cheek.”
“Charles Robinson, you know you are so wrong.”
“Well,” Charles said, “if loving you is wrong, baby, I don’t wanna be right.” He held out his hand toward Robert. “I know you know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you, playah?”
Robert bristled and blew air out of his cheeks. He said, “No, I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”
“Oh, yes you do. ’Cause you are standing here flaunting this ho in Veronica’s face, as wrong as can be, and actin’ like you are right.”
Robert took off his dark purple suit coat and put it in Tracey’s hands. He rolled up the sleeves of his gold shirt and said, “You don’t talk to me or my baby like that,” and then took an empty swing at Charles, who started laughing and pimp-slapped Robert so fast he almost didn’t know what happened.
Veronica’s girl Lynette Smith started cracking up, and then whipped out her cell phone to call her husband, L. C. As soon as he said, “Hello,” over the speaker, she said, “Have you parked the car?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m on my way into the banquet hall right now. What’s up?”
“Charles just pimp-slapped the mess out of Robert Washington and called Stewie a ho. Only when he said ‘ho,’ it was like a real pimp would say it—you know, ‘hoah.’”
“Dang,” L. C. said on the phone as he made his way over to the group. “I hope he saves a piece for me. ’Cause I did not like how Robert did Veronica. Wasn’t nothing right about that.”
“I hope there is some left, L. C. But I will make sure to get some good pictures for you,” Lynette said, and started photographing the altercation with her fancy cell phone.
Robert happened to turn around and see Lynette snapping pictures of him with her phone as if this were some kind of reality TV show. He walked up to Lynette and put his hand over the part of the phone capturing him on digital camera.
Lynette drew her head back and then snatched her phone out of Robert’s reach. She said, “Oh … Oh … Oh, no you did not just try and front me, Robert Herman Washington. I guess you must want this to be the ultimate throwdown.”
“Hold on, baby,” L. C. said as he pulled his fedora off his head by the front tip of the crown, put it in Lynette’s hand, and pushed her back with his arm. “This ain’t a fight for you as much as I know you want to be in it.”
Lynette started jumping around saying, “Yeah … that’s my man fighting for my honor. Get him, baby, get him.”
Obadiah, who was talking with Curtis and Maurice about the pending game, looked across the banquet hall and said, “What is in the water up in here tonight?”
“What do you mean, Obadiah?” Maurice asked.
“Look.” He pointed to the ruckus that was now taking place. “Over there. Charles Robinson and L. C. Smith are about to kick Robert Washington’s butt.”
“Shoot,” Curtis said. “I’m not going to miss this. The only negro other than Rico Sneed that everybody in Durham County wants a piece of is that negro, Robert Washington.”
The three of them practically sprinted across the hall, and made it just in time to see L. C. backhand Robert. At this point, two of Robert’s boys showed up. But Charles’s boys Pierre and Bay rolled up on them and quietly opened their suit coats, and Robert’s boys got ghost.
Tracey could not believe how this had gone down. It had been her idea to come over here and rub the relationship in Robert’s ex-wife’s face. But she realized that this was not such a good idea after all. Her friends had warned her about coming down here from Baltimore and starting stuff with those crazy black folks in the Bull City.
Now, her man was getting his butt kicked like he was a little B on the corner. And that was definitely not sexy in her book. In fact, she’d been pondering on this relationship for a moment. Robert had lied and told her that they were going to live in that house he moved out of in Carillon Forest, only to have her move into that apartment in Bismarck Ridge.
Tracey would never forget how she felt when Robert picked her up at the airport and drove her to the new place he had been boasting about for months. And now, there was Veronica standing there eating a chicken wing, dressed to the nines, and watching Robert get a beatdown, as if she were watching one of those fights on a show like I Love New York 2.
“I guess I should try and do something like a good pastor and stop the fray, huh,” Denzelle, who had just joined them, mumbled through a mouth stuffed full of shrimp, with about as much enthusiasm as somebody petitioning for an extra dose of the flu shot.
“Well, uh, I guess so, Pastor,” Maurice said with great hesitation. “But you know—all in God’s timing. Ecclesiastes clearly states that there is a season for everything.”
“I see what you mean. We don’t want to interfere with the workings of the Lord, now do we, church,” Denzelle replied solemnly, and tried not to start laughing when he glanced over at his boy Obadiah.
Robert threw a hard punch in the air, hoping that the power of his swing would offset some of his reputation damage, and he wouldn’t walk away looking like a total poot-butt. He stood up straight, squared off his shoulders, and walked up to Veronica, who was now working on the second chicken wing, which she personally thought tasted better than the shrimp everybody was gobbling down.
She stopped chewing and looked up at Robert, who was a big, thick brother, and obviously spent a lot of time in the gym.
He jabbed his finger at Veronica and said in that harsh, bellowing, and nasty voice he was so famous for, “This is your fault. That’s why I’m with Tracey and not you. Couldn’t teach you anything. All you want to do is read your Bible and pray. So what has God done for you, Veronica? Huh? Tell me.”
If Robert had said that to Veronica a year ago, those words would have cut through her like a knife. But God had done a lot for Veronica Washington in the time that Robert Herman had been out of her life. Perhaps it was time to give this man a testimony of just how much God could do.
“Robert Herman,” Veronica began, knowing that Robert hated it when she called him by his first and middle name. “God answered my prayers and snatched you out of my house because you are crazy and don’t need to be there.
“God provided for my mortgage so that I could live comfortably and enjoy my beautiful, custom-made home after you used our money to buy this ho-hussy-heifer a plane ticket down to Durham, when you stayed at the Four Points Hotel in Baltimore, ate at the Timbuktu Restaurant Lounge in Hanover, Maryland, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam.
“God comforted me every time Stewie here called my house asking for you to pay her 280-dollar cell phone bill or take her shopping at Macy’s in Columbia, Maryland, with money that was stolen from our household budget. God has restored everything about my money and I have more than enough. God took away all of the love I had for you and turned it into forgiveness and agape love so that I could live a blessed and prosperous life.
“God,” Veronica said, putting great emphasis on the word, “told me not to answer your phone calls, letters, or e-mails about coming to my house to get what you have erroneously assumed are your belongings. Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing in my house that belongs to the likes of you. And in fact, if you want to know where your little pitiful mess is, go on over to the Durham Rescue Mission and ask them if they’d like to sell it back to you.
“And my God gave me comfort and peace concerning all of your cheating and dirty dealing. Because all of the gym workouts and Viagara tablets in the whole wide world will not increase your stamina or add any extra inches to that short appendage you put such stock in. That’s what God has done for me. And if you will excuse me, Robert Herman Washington, I have some chicken wings that I have to finish eating—and you and your big-head skoochie are interrupting the flow of my meal.”
“You think you bad ’cause you got all of this backup. But they won’t be with you all the time,” Robert snarled.
“Oh, that is where you are wrong, dawg,” Charles told him. And then turned to Veronica and said, “You better call me before you call 911”—he patted the holster under his arm—“because I got something that will definitely be the right answer to that call.”
“I’m not through with you, Miss Veronica,” Robert spat out, snatched Stewie by the arm, and turned to storm off. But he didn’t get far before one of those chicken wings came sailing through the air and hit him upside his head.
“Dang,” Lynette said to L. C. “I told you ’bout those little quiet ones. Robert Herman better get gone before he finds himself lying up under some dirt fertilizing Veronica’s tomatoes. We go over there and will be asking her what she did to grow all of those pretty tomatoes.”
At that moment, Dayeesha and Miss Deena, followed by Miss Hattie Lee, came from out back with more food and some new pastry dishes. They looked around the room and at the cluster of black folks bunched up in a corner looking pissed and whispering.
“Did we miss something, Miss M?” Dayeesha asked Marquita.
Yvonne nodded her head yes. This had been some day. She looked across the room for Curtis, hoping he was as ready to go as she was. And she didn’t care if he was the head coach and one of the main reasons that everybody was here. This year it was different. They needed to go home and get some rest. And then they needed to show up at church on Sunday morning and pray. Curtis had to win the game with Bouclair College, and prayer—not this reception—was the only thing that was going to make that happen.
Curtis saw Yvonne looking at him and told Maurice and Obadiah.
“I need to get baby girl home. She is exhausted and so am I. Maurice, will you hold down the fort for me?”
“Bye” was all Maurice said and then he added, “What about the team? We’re here because every single year, this school wants to celebrate its basketball team. And that team is nowhere in sight.”
“And they aren’t going to be anywhere in sight. I gave them the evening off after you left practice. You know that most of them would rather be anywhere but here. Plus, we have practice bright and early in the morning. Those boys need to be under the bed about now.”
“What time?” Maurice asked.
“Seven-thirty sharp.”
“I won’t be too far behind you, dawg. I’ll make the rounds and then head on out. You and the team are coming to the Family and Friends Day this Sunday?”
Curtis nodded. He’d told the team that if anybody missed service at Fayetteville Street Church, they’d be benched. And he knew that his best players would be there because they all went to church. The only ones he had to be concerned about were June Bug Washington and DeMarcus Brown. And since he wanted to keep those two on the bench, he hoped they stayed true to form and rebelled against anything he had to say—this time by not showing up for church.
He headed over toward Yvonne, who was already walking in his direction with her new purse on the old-lady spot high up on her arm—a clear sign that it was time to go.
“Ready?”
“Yeah … I’m tired, Curtis.”
“I hear you, baby,” he told her, marveling at how easy it was to be with Yvonne, and how comfortable he felt thinking of her as “baby.”
“You wait here in the lobby while I go and get the car.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Yvonne said. She’d gotten a good whoosh of that night air and it was a whole lot chillier than it had been when they first arrived.
“Enjoying your last semester at Eva T., Mrs. Copeland?”
Yvonne didn’t even have to turn around to figure out whom that voice belonged to.
“She iggin’ us, man,” Yvonne heard Kordell Bivens say. Funny, she didn’t remember seeing Castilleo Palmer tonight. He usually made it his business to be around when some dirt was going on.
“You short a troll tonight,” Yvonne said, without even turning around.
“I beg your pardon, sweetheart,” Gilead said and came to stand next to her.
“Beggin’ my pardon for what? If you’re short a troll, you’re short a troll.”
Yvonne couldn’t believe how good and bold she was feeling right now. Just this morning she was sitting in her car crying and wondering how she and her babies were going to make it. And now she had a check buried in her fancy new purse that guaranteed a sweet and very permanent position at Evangeline T. Marshall University. God was so good, and He had a great sense of humor.
“Let’s go, Gilead. I’m bored with this gig, and want to head over to Rumpshakers for some much needed R & R,” Kordell said.
“They’re closed, man,” Gilead told him. “Didn’t you see all of the bosses here tonight?”
“Then where was Castilleo when he texted me and said for us to get over there ASAP? I had a taste for watching Sweet Red work that thang.”
“Out at the strip club in the boonies not too far from Warren County.”
“Ain’t that kinda far?” Kordell asked.
“Yeah it is. But it’s our only choice this evening,” Gilead replied.
“Well, Warren County it is,” Kordell answered, disappointed. “This club must be way out in the middle of nowhere. I’ve been to Warren County recruiting players and I’ve never seen anything remotely close to a club, except that hole in the wall that looks like it got lost in a time warp called Sock It to Me.”
Gilead didn’t open his mouth.
Kordell shook his head. He could not believe that was where they were going. Life was getting rougher by the minute. He pulled out his phone and texted his boy Rico: “Head on up to Sock It to Me in Warren County. Rumpshakers is closed tonight.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rico texted back.
“Naw, dawg. That’s where Castilleo is, holding down the fort, waiting for us.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I help Marquita load up.”
“How are you going to get out?”
“Pick a fight and then tell her I need to get out and meet up with the fellas for a few beers. She’ll buy it.
“Plus, she’ll be happy to make it up to me when I act crazy about how she had the napkins and tablecloths folded and stacked up all wrong.”
“You are so wrong, Rico.”
“Maybe. But do you want me to come or not?”
“We’ll see you in Warren County.”
“Does this hole in the wall offer more than just some strippers?”
Kordell didn’t know the answer to that question and he certainly wasn’t about to discuss it with Marquita’s girl standing there. He showed the text to Gilead, who grinned, took the cell, and sent the message he knew Rico wanted to hear.
“More than just strippers is an understatement … even Rumpshakers can’t offer what you’ll get at this place … It’s a good thing it is a hole in the wall out in the middle of nowhere. Or else we’d be wearing some orange jumpsuits.”
“My kind of place,” Rico texted back and then sent a smiley face to emphasize his point.
Curtis pulled up in front of the hotel entrance, hopped out, and opened the passenger door for Yvonne, who couldn’t get away from those men fast enough.
They drove off before any exchange could occur between Curtis and his so-called colleagues. This had to be the weirdest day he’d had in a long time—no, ever. He slipped a CD in but was stopped by Yvonne.
“Let’s listen to the Quiet Storm on Foxy 107. It should be heating up quite nicely about now.”
Curtis gave Yvonne a sexy wink and turned on the radio. “In My Songs,” one of the last songs recorded by Gerald Levert, was playing.
“I love that song,” Yvonne said. “Gerald Levert was one of my favorite singers.”
“You and Theresa Green,” Curtis said. “Lamont told me that Theresa cried all day when she found out that the Teddy Bear was gone.”
“Me, too,” Yvonne said. “I cried like a baby.”
Curtis eased onto Highway 40. He reached over and grabbed Yvonne’s hand in his.
“So, Miss Distinguished Chair. How does it feel to know that your job is safe? I told you not to worry. No matter what those folks at Eva T. tried to do, the good Lord was going to take care of you and those babies. The Lord doesn’t play with people’s lives like that. And He sure doesn’t let others do it, either.” Curtis laughed softly. “You know something, Yvonne. What I absolutely love about the Lord is that He doesn’t look at the bottom line, and He doesn’t get stopped in the ‘here and now.’ Because He has already determined the end right at the beginning of what is happening.
“That’s why we have to keep the faith and believe that God will protect us and work it all out for the good of those that love the Lord, no matter how it may look ‘in the natural.’ We cannot let what folks who operate completely under the auspices of ‘the flesh’ affect what we know our God is capable of doing and working out on our behalf. And God sure did show up and show out on your behalf tonight, didn’t He?”
Yvonne nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Curtis lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
“I know your back was against the wall after the meeting this morning. But even in the midst of all that was happening, God kept speaking to my spirit. He let me know that you were not going anywhere and that you had a job.”
“Thank you, Curtis,” Yvonne whispered through her tears. She felt so bad. She’d been so scared this morning. And as much as she knew to trust the Lord, she couldn’t help being afraid. It had been so hard to have her livelihood threatened like that, and especially after all that she’d been through. In that moment, Yvonne had gotten tired—tired of always getting surprise announcements of horrible news that threatened to rip her life to shreds.
“Baby,” Curtis whispered. “Don’t cry like that. God understands how you felt and He knows how scary it was. Just seek His forgiveness and give thanks for His goodness.”
“Okay, Curtis,” she whispered as the tears continued to flow.
“Oh, baby,” Curtis said softly. “You’ve had a horrible time of it, haven’t you? And every time you thought it was over, one more horrendous thing happened to make it feel like it would never end.”
“Yes. I can’t even begin to describe what this has felt like.” She sniffled and wiped the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. “Some folks don’t know how good they have it. They’ve never had to worry about where their next paycheck is coming from, they get paid fairly and on time, and their livelihood is secure just because it’s never been threatened. They have never known what it’s like to not know how you are going to pay your mortgage and keep a roof over your babies’ heads.”
“And guess what,” Curtis said, wondering what in the world was going on with him in this car. Every word that came out of his mouth qualified as something he would have expected Gran Gran, Maurice, Trina, or better yet Obadiah and Lena to come up with. He wouldn’t have thought he was capable of issuing a “thus sayeth the Lord,” and certainly not one of this magnitude.
“You are so blessed and highly favored, Yvonne. It’s true. Folks like that probably don’t know how good they have it. But did you realize that what you have is even better?”
“How so?” She couldn’t figure out what was so much better about what she had been going through.
“Baby, you know. I mean you really know what the good Lord does when one of His saints’ back is against the wall. You know better than most people that everything you have comes from God. You know that no matter how good you are, how successful, etcetera, you have to depend on the Lord for everything.
“Yvonne, do you realize that without these trials and tribulations Jesus promised you in His Word that He had overcome, you would not have been able to witness the scripture literally come to life on your behalf? You are living proof that ‘eyes have not seen, nor hath ears heard’ what the Lord has in store for those who love Him is absolutely true.”
Curtis turned onto her street and pulled into the driveway. It was ablaze with lights. Yvonne hoped that nobody would be peeking through the blinds as soon as they heard a car motor sound as if it was close by. But that hope was in vain. D’Relle, Tiffany, and Danesha were all pulling at the blinds trying to get all up in “her grille.” They hopped away from the window when they saw Yvonne watching them intently out of the car window.
Curtis turned off the car and lights and leaned toward Yvonne, and wiped the residue of tears off her cheeks.
“Can’t send you back home looking like I did something to make you cry.”
“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to break down like that. But what you said hit home so hard, I couldn’t help it. You surprised me, Curtis. Didn’t know you had it like that.”
“Neither did I,” he told her in all sincerity. “God has really been dealing with me lately. And I’ve been on my knees so much I have blisters on these old knees. But I know what I’m talking ’bout, baby. Remember, my back was against the wall, too, until you came into that meeting and fixed it so that my best players would play in the game with Bouclair College. I couldn’t have done that on my own. That, and some very helpful information from Charles Robinson, came directly from the Lord.”
Yvonne smiled at the mention of Charles Robinson. That boy was a trip and needed to give his life over to Christ. It was like he was running so hard from salvation he couldn’t even see that he was catching up with his own secret desire to make Jesus Lord of his life.
“Baby, I have to tell you the truth. These last weeks have been just as rough and crazy. And I have not spent a minute during that time when I didn’t think about you. Yvonne, I never thought I’d tell a woman this. But girl, I’ve got it bad for you. You know that?”
Yvonne wanted to say that she didn’t know. But that would be a bold-faced lie. She had strongly suspected as much at Maurice and Trina’s house. But if she hadn’t known it then, she’d known it as soon as they met up at the meeting this morning. It seemed like an overnight thing but it wasn’t. God’s hand was all in this. And when the Lord made a move in your life, it could feel as if it were happening suddenly. But in reality the Lord had been putting that thing into existence before you had an inkling of the mere possibility.
“Yes, Curtis,” she whispered so sweetly, all he could do was lift her chin with the tip of his finger and touch his lips to hers.
Another tear dropped down Yvonne’s cheek. She hadn’t been kissed at all in over two years. And she’d never been kissed like that in her entire life.
Curtis kissed the tear and then kissed her mouth again, only this time with more insistence and heated passion. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and then slid his tongue into her mouth and moaned softly. He didn’t know a kiss could work its way over his entire body, making him feel as if he were making love in this car.
“I’m falling in love with you, Yvonne.”
“I’m falling for you, too, Curtis.”
All of a sudden Yvonne felt as if she’d been hit with a splash of ice-cold water. She couldn’t go forth with this, not with a man who had not made Jesus Lord of his life. She’d been there, done that, and it didn’t work. It didn’t work for her, it hadn’t worked for Veronica Washington, and sadly, it wasn’t working for her friend Marquita Sneed, either. That biblical edict about not being unequally yoked was no joke and shouldn’t be tampered with.
Curtis pulled away.
“Did I do something wrong?”
She shook her head. How was Yvonne going to tell this wonderful man, whom she had it bad for, that they couldn’t be together if he didn’t want to turn his life completely over to the Lord? But she had to tell him. To do otherwise would be bold disobedience to the Lord. And after all that she’d had happen to her today that was the last thing Yvonne was going to do. Even if it meant she never had another man in her life, she was going to do what the Lord was leading her to do and let the chips fall where they might.
Yvonne took Curtis’s hands in both of hers. She said, “I can’t be with you if you don’t want to make Jesus Lord of your life. I don’t care how much we love each other, have in common, and want to be together, it won’t work without Jesus in the middle of it all.”
“What do I have to do?” Curtis asked.
He had planned on going straight to the altar this Sunday. So much had happened over the past weeks. And if Curtis had not been convinced then, he certainly was convinced now. He didn’t know how he’d gone this far living like he did. He remembered reading Psalm 42 one night and understood what the Psalmist meant when he wrote that his thirst and longing for the Lord was so great, he could only compare it to a deer panting desperately for a drink in a cool, sparkling stream.
“This. This is all you have to do,” Yvonne told him. “Curtis, do you believe that Jesus was crucified on the cross, and on the third day rose from the dead and is now sitting on the right hand of God?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ? That Jesus is the Holy Son of God?”
“Yes.”
“Do you confess and repent of your sins here in the sight of God?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe in your heart and confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord?”
“Yes, I believe it with all my heart that Jesus Christ is Lord.”
“Do you want to receive the Holy Ghost?”
“Yes, baby, I want to have the Holy Ghost and the gift of speaking in tongues. And Lord, bless me with that gift in the name of Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Curtis, do you want to totally rededicate your life to Christ and be quickened in your spirit as a new creature in Christ?”
“Yes,” Curtis whispered in a broken voice full to the brim with his tears as he felt the light of God’s love, forgiveness, deliverance, and redemption sweep through his soul.
By now tears were streaming down Yvonne’s face. She dug into her purse for her anointing oil, poured some into her hands, and laid hands on Curtis as she prayed this prayer.
“Father, in the name of Jesus, I ask that you bless Curtis Lee Parker with salvation, deliverance, the anointing of the Holy Ghost, and the gift of speaking in tongues. Thank You for coming into his life and becoming the Lord of his life that he so longs for You to be. Set him free of all strongholds of the enemy. Forgive him his sins, and bless him with the desire to know Your Word, to seek You in prayer, and to be obedient to You.”
By now, both Yvonne and Curtis were crying together. They held hands a moment and Yvonne finished the prayer.
“Lord, we thank You for this incredible moment in eternity and claim the victory in Jesus’s name.”
She grabbed his face between her tiny hands and kissed him on the lips. “I love you, Curtis. Lord knows I do.”
He smiled, wiped his eyes, and said, “We need to get you inside. Plus, I don’t think you need to face the tribunal without me at your side to help and explain how you left looking like a million dollars, came back with a million dollars, and now look broke off.”
“Yeah, I guess you better do that, baby,” Yvonne told him, enjoying watching Curtis blush when she called him “baby.”