Chapter 37

Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for we are not ignorant of his devices.

—2 Corinthians 2:11

 

 

 

Paris picked up her glass of water and took a sip. “Thank you, Daddy, for agreeing to meet me for lunch.”

“No problem. I was both surprised and pleased when you called and suggested we do it,” Lawrence said.

“You and I haven’t spoken much these past months. It’s March and spring has sprung. I just wanted us to reconnect.” Paris took another sip of water.

“The disconnection wasn’t my doing.”

Paris sat against the cushioned red booth seat and smiled. “I know I can be a spoiled brat at times. But I always come to my senses when it comes to you, Daddy.”

He nodded. “That you do.”

“I don’t know whether you know, but I’ve been under a lot of stress. I don’t know if Mom mentioned it, but Andrew and I aren’t in the best place lately.”

Lawrence picked up his menu and peered over it at Paris. “She may have mentioned something to me to that effect.”

Paris released a loud, deliberate sigh. “Andrew really wants a child.”

“And . . .”

“And, I can’t seem to produce one for him.”

“All I can tell you is not to stress out about it, and eventually, it’ll happen.” Lawrence closed his menu and looked for someone to come take their order.

“It’s not that easy. We’ve been trying for over a year now. Andrew is beginning to act different toward me. Do you think he might divorce me?”

Lawrence laughed. “Because you haven’t gotten pregnant yet? I don’t really think Andrew will divorce you for something like that. Not that anyway.”

“You laugh like it’s unheard of or something. Tamika and her husband are getting divorced.”

“Are you talking about Tamika with the three kids?”

“Yes. And she has four.”

“I don’t think she’s getting a divorce because she can’t have children.” Lawrence waved at a server to get his attention. “I don’t know why you picked this particular restaurant. Service so far has been horrible.”

Paris looked around as though she, too, was searching for someone. “I happen to like their food. And, no, Tamika isn’t getting divorced because she can’t have children. But it’s sort of due to their children. It seems a lot of folks get divorced, often something to do with their children. Either they can’t agree on how to raise them or money is tight because children are costly, what with daycare and things like that. That was why I wanted to wait a while before Andrew and I started a family.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the waiter said. “We’re a bit short staffed today. My sincere apologies to you. What can I get you both today?”

“I’ll have the small watermelon and feta cheese salad, chicken scaloppine with fettuccine pasta, and for dessert, the red wine poached pear with ice cream,” Paris said, holding up her menu when she finished.

The waiter took Paris’s menu and turned to Lawrence. “And I’ll have the house salad and steak au poivre with spicy black peppercorn sauce.”

“What type of dressing for your salad?”

“The house dressing is fine,” Lawrence said.

“And dessert?” the waiter asked. “Or would you like to wait to order it?”

Lawrence closed his glossy menu. “That chef’s layer cake sounds good.”

“Daddy, you really should try the red wine poached pear. Live a little, why don’t you?”

“Oh, you think, huh?” Lawrence handed his menu to the waiter. “Okay, I’ll try the poached pear with ice cream.”

They both ordered sweet tea to drink. The waiter left.

“Okay, now where were we?” Paris said. “Oh, yes. I was talking about children. I think if Andrew and I don’t have a baby soon, he’s going to leave me.”

“Paris, Andrew is not going to leave you just because you haven’t gotten pregnant. He’s not that kind of a person.”

“That’s the old Andrew. The new Andrew is different. Andrew has changed a lot in the past four months.” Paris picked up her crisp, white cloth napkin and opened it, laying it on her lap. “And it all appears to have started right after we ran into Gabrielle Booker; oh, I’m sorry, it’s Gabrielle Mercedes now. That’s when he really started changing . . . started getting bolder . . . something . . . I don’t know.”

“What you mean is that he finally stopped letting you yank his chain.” Lawrence sat back against his seat. “A man can only take so much.”

“Of course. As usual, turn it all on me.”

“Excuse me,” a man said having approached their table. “Paris, is that you?”

Paris looked up. “Oh, my goodness! Hi,” she said, standing and hugging the man three inches taller than her even with her heels.

“I wasn’t sure, but I thought that looked like you.” He reared back a tad and slowly began to scan her, starting at her head. “You look good.”

“Thank you.” Paris turned to her father. “Daddy, this is Darius Connors. Darius, this is—”

“The Honorable Representative Lawrence Simmons.” Darius extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lawrence looked at his hand, but didn’t shake it. Lawrence didn’t shake hands when he was eating. “Nice to meet you. Forgive me for not shaking your hand.” He held his fork in the air.

Darius let his hand drop to his side. “My bad. It’s no problem.” Darius turned back toward Paris. “It is so good to see you. How long has it been?”

“Too long,” Paris said. “Are you meeting someone here?”

“I was supposed to be, but he called just as I came in here and said something came up,” Darius said. “I guess we can say I got stood up.”

“Then sit with us,” Paris said, sitting back down and scooting over to make room for him. “You don’t mind, do you, Dad?”

Darius sat down before Lawrence had a chance to answer. “So how have things been? How many children do you have? You look so good. Wow . . .”

“Me? Look at you.” Paris grinned. “I don’t have any children yet.”

The waiter came back with their salads. “Can I get something for you, sir?” the waiter asked Darius as he matched each salad with its owner.

“No. I don’t want to impose,” Darius said, directing his attention at Paris.

“Oh, please stay and eat,” Paris said. “You were coming to eat already.”

Lawrence sat back against his seat. He couldn’t believe Paris had invited him to lunch, and now she was inviting someone else to infringe on their time together.

“If you’re sure it’s okay,” Darius said as though it was settled.

“I’ll get you a menu,” the waiter said.

“It’s okay. I’ll just have whatever she ordered.” Darius pointed his head at Paris.

Paris laughed. “You don’t even know what I ordered.”

Darius looked at Paris and smiled. “Oh, I trust you.” He looked back to the waiter. “What she ordered is fine.”

“And what to drink?” the waiter asked him.

“A glass of red wine,” Darius said to the waiter. He then turned to Lawrence. “I’m not on the clock, so it’s okay for me to have a glass of wine.”

Lawrence shrugged to let him know he really didn’t care what he did.

“So tell me,” Paris said. “What’s been going on with you? Darius Connors . . .” She ran her fingers through her hair, tossing her curls a few times.

“Let’s see . . . what’s going on with me? Bills, bills, and oh, yes, more bills. You know how it is these days,” Darius said. “On second thought, you come from money. So you likely don’t know how it is. But let me assure you that it’s rough out there for the rest of us squirrels just trying to get a nut or two. Of course, I’m married—”

“To someone named Tiffany, right?” Paris said. “I heard that somewhere.”

“Yes,” Darius said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. “And we have three crumb-snatchers: two girls and a boy. My oldest is a girl and she’s almost nine. In fact, she’s about the same age as that little girl that needed the bone marrow transplant some months back. It was all over the news at one time. You know about her, don’t you?” Darius directed that last question to Lawrence.

Lawrence stared hard back at him. “Yes.”

“Yeah. Look at me. What am I saying? Of course, you know. I heard that all of y’all were on television trying to get people to be tested to be possible donors.” Darius nodded. “My pastor was also promoting and pushing us to do that as well.”

“Who’s your pastor?” Paris asked.

“Pastor George Landris. Yeah, he’s all right. Better than a lot of preachers out there, that’s for sure. He’s a straight-up Bible guy. At least he’s not caught up in mess like that Rev. Walker got himself tangled all up in. They picked him up on IRS-related violations and some other pretty shady activities. I heard he’s taking a plea deal. Likely going to get four years, which generally means he’ll likely only serve about eighteen months. Did you hear who happened to be one of the people that helped bring his little empire down? Reputation wise, anyway.”

“No,” Paris said with a grin as she giddily looked over at him. “Who?”

Lawrence looked at Paris and turned the corners of his mouth down, showing disapproval of the conversation, although in truth, he was rather enjoying hearing this bit of underground gossip. Lawrence was more than familiar with both George Landris and Marshall Walker. In fact, he’d almost gotten caught up in this Rev. Walker mess. William just happened to be really good at covering his tracks. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he needed to give William a raise soon.

“Well, I don’t know how true it all is,” Darius said. “But I heard one of the people was Knowledge Walker, Rev. Walker’s oldest son. They say Knowledge was a little ticked because his younger brother, named Clarence, who incidentally is a member of my church, had been out there doing everything in the world while the older brother stayed there alongside his father, holding things down. But then the youngest son got his life together and came back home to the church, giving his life to the Lord, which the father equated as his son finally coming home—”

“This sounds just like the parable of the prodigal son,” Paris said.

“Exactly like it, now that you mention it,” Darius said. “Anyway, when the youngest son came to his senses and returned home, his father welcomed him with open arms just like the prodigal son. It appears the oldest got upset about that.”

“Again, just like in the parable,” Paris said.

“Yeah,” Darius said. “Well, from what I hear, Rev. Walker couldn’t stand Pastor Landris. And it didn’t help matters that Clarence didn’t go back to his father’s church, but like I said, he hooked up at ours with Pastor Landris. So Rev. Walker was planning to take Pastor Landris down in a big way.”

“Wow,” Paris said. “And these are preachers you’re talking about.”

“Yeah. They say Pastor Landris had some information on Rev. Walker that was never supposed to see the light of day. Some older preacher had it and had given it to Pastor Landris some years back, right before he died, to help keep Rev. Walker in check if he ever came after Pastor Landris. It was information Pastor Landris could have used, and at any time, to take Rev. Walker down. According to Rev. Walker’s secretary, who Rev. Walker initially accused of being the one to leak what had been legally sealed information to the public, Pastor Landris had walked all bold-like up into Rev. Walker’s office and handed the entire package over to him. Honestly, I don’t get that. Because everybody knows Rev. Walker was trying to take Pastor Landris down right about then. My motto is: Get them before they get you.”

“Scandalous,” Paris said cheerily, then looked at her father as he showed his displeasure of all of this. “It’s scandalous that men of God, who are supposed to be examples for the rest of us, would actually act in such a way.”

“Well, I got to stick up for my pastor,” Darius said. “They say Pastor Landris could have used that information to do Rev. Walker in a long time ago, but he chose not to. And when Rev. Walker was trying to set Pastor Landris up—”

“Set him up?” Paris chimed in.

“Yeah. Rev. Walker was trying to force Pastor Landris into some deal with some politician. I don’t know all to that part.” Darius looked at Lawrence and grinned as though he knew the politician was actually him. “Anyway, Rev. Walker was in it up to his receding hairline, and he was trying to force Pastor Landris to get involved. Somehow, Pastor Landris was being set up to take a fall or to be blackmailed into what Rev. Walker and this politician wanted him to do. But Pastor Landris didn’t fall for it. And instead of Pastor Landris using the information he had against Rev. Walker to put him in check, he gave the whole package to Rev. Walker and essentially told him he was leaving it all in God’s hand.”

“Well, maybe Pastor Landris made a copy and used the copy to mess him up so he would appear all righteous when the information came out,” Paris said.

“No,” Darius said. “They say Rev. Walker had the package on his desk. His son came into his office at some point that day, found the package on his desk, and looked inside. For some reason, for which we may never know, the son decided to leak it to the newspaper people. When it came out, Rev. Walker thought his secretary had done it. Especially after he realized the package was gone. She was the one that pointed the finger at the son Knowledge, who admitted he was the one who gave it to the news folks.”

The waiter brought their entrees and Darius’s salad and entrée.

Darius began to eat.

Lawrence sat watching him as he shoved food into his mouth while he talked. There was something about Darius that he didn’t care for, something about him that just didn’t sit well with him.

“On another subject,” Darius said right before putting more food in his mouth. “That little girl that needed the transplant . . . well they ended up finding someone who matched her. I was sure they weren’t going to find a match. I mean: What are the odds?” Darius nodded quickly. “Yeah. There’s something up with that, if you ask me. At least, that’s what everybody is saying. Yep.” He nodded as he chewed hard with his mouth open.

“Well, frankly,” Lawrence said. “I think people who do the most talking really don’t know what they’re talking about most of the time. It’s always ‘they’ said. Who is this ‘they’ that supposedly knows everything but in the end generally knows nothing?”

Darius nodded quickly as he shoved more food in his mouth. “True that. Because, with all due respect to you, Representative Simmons, they say the way you were acting that you must be that little girl’s father.” Darius stopped chewing and grinned.

Lawrence sat back and looked at him with a cynical face. “Is that right?”

Darius nodded, then put another bite in his mouth as he looked on at Lawrence. “Yep. That’s the latest talk around town. They say that’s why you took that project on as vigorously as you did. Of course, we never did learn who the matching person turned out to be. They say you’re the one making sure that information remains under wraps so folks won’t know the real truth.”

“Oh,” Paris chimed in with a dismissive wave. “Folks are always saying things when it comes to my daddy. He’s been called everything but a child of God.”

“Well, personally, I don’t get into other folk’s business too much myself. I have enough of my own to tend to and keep me busy,” Darius said.

Paris then changed the subject and they talked about other things.

After about fifteen more minutes, Lawrence got the attention of the waiter to pay the check. “Well, I need to get back to the office,” Lawrence said.

“Daddy, thank you so much for coming. I really enjoyed this,” Paris said.

“Sure,” Lawrence said. “So, Paris . . . are you ready to go?”

Paris pointed with her fork at her plate. “I’m still eating.”

“You could get the rest to go,” Lawrence said, standing next to the side of the table.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. You go on,” Paris said. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”

Darius got up and moved over to the now vacated side, directly facing Paris. “Thanks, Representative Simmons, for the meal. I really appreciate it.” Darius nodded.

“Sure,” Lawrence said to Darius. “Paris, are you sure you’re going to be all right? I can wait.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m a big girl. I’ll be all right. You can go. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re a big girl,” Lawrence said. “Okay, but call me when you get home.”

“Will do.” Paris jumped up and gave her father a big hug. “We really have to do this again soon. I had fun!” She sat back down and started back eating.

Lawrence nodded. “Yeah.” And without another word, he left.

 

Paris watched her father walk out of view, then let her fork drop to her plate, making a loud clink. “You were so good,” she said, leaning in toward Darius.

He picked up his glass of wine and teetered his glass a few times. “Of course. Were you expecting anything less?”

“Did you see the look on my father’s face when you said that about your daughter being the same age as the little girl who needed the bone marrow transplant?” Paris grinned, flicking her hair again. “Oh . . . my . . . goodness!”

“Now that was priceless. You can’t buy a look like that,” Darius said, taking a sip of wine. He smacked a few times before leaning forward and gazing into Paris’s eyes. “And to think: I not only got to spend a little quality time with a beautiful woman of your caliber, but I ended up getting a nice meal with fine wine to boot. It doesn’t get any better than this.” He set his glass down and leaned back and slightly to the side. “So what’s next, Madame Butterfly?”

Paris smiled. “Oh . . . I can take it from here.”

Darius grinned. “I just hope you allow me to tag along for the flight. I really like the view from where I’m perched now.” He started a slow scan of her body.

Paris narrowed her eyes at him, picked up her glass of tea, and tipped it his way. “Cheers,” she said.

He raised his glass to her. “Cheers.” He smiled.