Back to Me (8 page)

Paige didn't need the address of the church. She'd passed by True Worship Ministries on numerous occasions while traveling around the city, showing property. The church had the reputation of being a church for all people. According to her clients who attended the church, the senior pastors, Reginald and Julia Pennington, were practical teachers and were down to earth, teaching the gospel without imposing man-made regulations. The campus sat on two acres of land and housed a community center, which served Oakland's down-and-out and up-and-comers.

“Just what I thought,” Paige mumbled once she turned into the parking lot.

The crowd walking into the building was wayward at best in her opinion. She didn't necessarily believe one had to wear rhinestone-decorated suits and pinstripes to attend church, but jeans, sneakers, and flip-flops? The shoes were a common sight even in cold weather, but not at church. On a Sunday morning? And uncovered tattoos? Her church, Restoration Ministries, didn't have an official dress code policy, but most congregants dressed conservatively of their own accord. These people couldn't be serious about walking with the Lord.

“No wonder they have such a large membership,” she said to herself. “Anything and everything is allowed up in here. I bet the pastor wears jeans and a hoodie.” She shook her head in disgust before focusing on looking for a parking space.

A waving fluorescent stick caught her attention and directed her to an empty space right next to Sergio-Xavier's car.
What are the odds of this happening?
she wondered. Her hand had barely touched the door handle before Sergio-Xavier opened the car door for her.

“I knew you would come with your saint-o-meter,” he told her. “That's why I gave the attendants your car's make and model and had them save you a space.”

She didn't bother asking why the attendants would honor his request. He was wearing not only a blue tailored suit, but also that cocky smile she hated, which was outlined by a neatly trimmed mustache. The woodsy scent emanating from him arrested her the second he opened the door. She caught herself just before she was about to yield to the urge to close her eyes and savor the fragrance. She was saved and sanctified. She couldn't be seen lusting in the church's parking lot with a client. She ignored his outstretched hand and stepped from the car.

“Look, I received a great Word this morning from Pastor Drake, and I am not going to allow the devil to spoil my day.”

“Are you calling me the devil?”

“You're not the devil, but you could certainly get me into trouble.”

He laughed in her face. “I doubt that,” he said, then once again extended his hand. “Come on. Let's go inside. You need all the church you can get.”

She sneered but accepted his hand. Paige was about to ask why his hands were so smooth, but then she remembered he was physician. As they neared the entrance, Paige slowed her pace. Compared to the casual attire most of the congregants wore, she was overdressed in a calf-length skirt and blazer. With her white-collared blouse buttoned to the top, the only skin Paige showed was her hands and face.

“Are you all right?” he asked with more concern than the situation warranted.

“I'm fine, but I feel out of place,” she admitted.

“Why? Because you have on that ‘Take me to the water' outfit?”

Paige gasped.

“Don't worry. No one will mistake you for a saint, because it's a known fact that a long skirt can come up just as fast as a miniskirt.”

“How dare you say that to me!” She struggled to free her hand, but it was useless. The soft hand she had admired moments earlier now felt like a metal bracelet.

“Will you calm down?” he said, leaning into her ear. “You're causing a scene. I said that only to prove a point.”

“And your point would be?” she snarled through clenched teeth.

“Stop judging the gift by the outer packaging. See what's inside first.” Once again he left her speechless. “Now come on. You'll be fine as long as you don't open your mouth.”

With each step, Paige repented, because she had actually considered punching him with her free hand. The joy she'd experienced from his compliment last night was long gone. Instead of eating greasy fried chicken, Paige felt like smearing Vaseline on her face and beating his fine butt right into the pavement.

“Let it go, Paige,” he said, holding the church door open for her. “You know I told the truth. Your face has been clothed with disgust since you parked your car. You don't think these people know the Lord, because they're dressed differently.”

Anger seeped out and embarrassment rushed in and Paige entered the lobby with her head down. She'd just left a place where she sang about Jesus's unconditional love, undeserving grace, and unlimited mercy, only to learn that she didn't have any of those characteristics.

“Come on. I'll show you to your seat.” He always moved forward, like his words didn't hurt. She hated that about him, yet she followed.

The floor level of True Worship was nearly packed to capacity, and from what Paige could see by straining her neck, so was the balcony. Unlike her all African American church, the cultural diversity of True Worship mirrored the Bay Area's population.

“Why are we going to the front? It's already crowded,” she asked when they were more than halfway down the middle aisle. “Let's sit in the back.”

“I already have our seats reserved,” he answered without slowing his pace. “We'll sit here.”

Her eyes followed his pointed finger to two empty seats on the second row, next to a man who nearly made Paige's heart stop.

“Oh, my God!” Paige gripped his arm with strength she didn't know she had. “That's Marcus Simone. You didn't tell me he attends here. I love his music, and I have all his CDs.” Paige's words ran together, and her pitch rose several notches, but she didn't care. The man whose music never failed to uplift her spirit was just a few feet away.

“So you're a fan of Marcus's music.”

Her words tumbled out at record speed. “Are you kidding? His music has carried me through some really dark times. I don't like just his music. I like him. I like—”

“You do know he's married, don't you?” Sergio-Xavier interjected.

Paige smacked her lips. “Of course I do. I mean, I like the genuineness of his music. I know everything about him. I knew he lived in the Bay Area, but I didn't know he went here, of all places.” She pointed in his direction. “That's his wife, Shannon, sitting next to him. They have three kids—Marcus Jr. and Mariah, who are fraternal twins, and Marlon—and they're expecting their fourth in July. He has six albums, two DVDs, and a book and is in the process of coproducing a movie. He also owns a successful computer business.” Paige closed her eyes and finally took a breath.

Sergio-Xavier grinned and shook his head. “You amaze me. I never would have thought of you as a groupie.” He gestured for her to enter the row. “Let's sit down.”

Paige gasped and gripped his arm again. “I can't sit next to
him.
”

“Why not? It's just Marcus. He won't bite.”

She still wouldn't budge. “So you know him, then?” Paige considered it rude for him to laugh in her face, but to bend over, holding his stomach, in the front of the sanctuary was downright humiliating. “What's so funny?” she sneered.

“You are,” he said after resuming an upright position. “You don't have a neutral cell in your body. You're either over the top or off the deep end.”

“Explain, and hurry up before you embarrass me further.”

“You're doing a fabulous job of that all by yourself.” He pointed down the aisle. “That's Marcus Simone.” He then pointed at his chest. “My name is Sergio-Xavier Simone. Do I know him? Marcus and I are first cousins.” When she didn't readily respond, he added, “Our fathers are brothers. Do you get it now?”

“Yes, I do,” she mouthed more than spoke. She could blame not connecting the last names on excitement, but the word
mortification
wasn't strong enough to adequately describe her feelings. In a sanctuary full of people, Paige fully understood what Sergio-Xavier had tried to tell her at the food bank. From following Marcus's career, Paige knew he was from a large, wealthy family with deep Bay Area roots. Now that she'd been enlightened, the resemblance was obvious, only Marcus had a ponytail and Sergio-Xavier's wavy hair stopped at his neckline. Now she knew how he could afford to spend over a million dollars on investment property. In addition to being a physician, Sergio-Xavier Winston Simone was a multimillionaire.

“Good. Now, please sit down before service starts.”

Without protesting, Paige started down the aisle behind him, but she didn't have a chance to sulk. Once the two cousins greeted each other with a hug and a choreographed handshake, and once she sat down next to Sergio-Xavier, people of all shades and sizes acknowledged her with a nod. No doubt they were other members of the Simone clan. When Marcus said hello and shook her hand, she had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out a request for an autograph.

“Are you all right?” Sergio-Xavier whispered in her ear once he was seated. “I wouldn't want you to spontaneously combust, being this close to your idol.”

Since she was in church, Paige withheld the eye rolling, but she still spoke her mind. “Pull your bottom lip over your forehead and swallow.”

“I'm just saying, you've never been this giddy over me.” The smug expression gave the impression the comment was legitimate, but she knew better.

“That's because I don't like you in the least bit.”

“Stop lying in church,” he said and then stood. “I'll be back after service starts. In the meantime, try not to jump on Marcus's lap. Shannon will beat you down in the sanctuary.” Then he walked away.

Paige slammed her eyes shut to stop the red dots floating across her field of vision and covered her mouth with both hands. She hadn't used profanity in years, but at that moment nothing would give her more pleasure than cursing him out. “Lord, please hold my tongue and my fists,” she prayed repeatedly—though it was more like pleading—with no relief.

“Praise the Lord, everybody!” The boisterous voice over the sound system interrupted her petitions.

Both collective and individual praises filled the sanctuary and charged the atmosphere. The red dots were gone when she opened her eyes and found the majority of the congregation standing. Not wanting to appear a novice at church and wanting to see what was going on, Paige stood too.

The praise and worship ministry took the stage along with the band. The lights dimmed, and colored floodlights illuminated the sanctuary.
What kind of circus is this?
she wondered.

She stood through three selections, but she didn't participate. She was too busy scoping out the scene. Everywhere she looked, she saw people singing the words on the wall screens and worshipping and praising. She knew the songs, some of which she sang at her church, yet Paige couldn't let go and join in. She had to be alert, just in case something went down that wasn't right. As the third song came to a slow close, a familiar voice bellowed over the microphone in prayer. The voice didn't move her, but the name written on the big screen knocked the wind out of her: Minister Sergio-Xavier Simone.

“Oh no! He's a minister?” she thundered before she could stop herself. Thankfully, the music and his voice were loud enough so that only those close to her heard her rant. She looked to the left, then to the right. At least six sets of eyes, including her idol's, were zeroing in on her. Paige couldn't read their expressions, but the unanimous “Shush” they offered was loud and clear.

Paige bowed her head and, instead of praying, wondered how someone as rude and harsh as Sergio-Xavier Simone could be a man of God. Had she been that wrong about him? After much deliberation, she decided she hadn't. Sure, he knew the right words to pray and he
looked
the part, but the spiritual fruit just wasn't there.

“Turn around and make your brothers and sisters feel at home,” Sergio-Xavier instructed the audience at the close of the prayer.

The gesture was obviously a ritual, Paige determined when the entire congregation hugged or shook hands with those in close proximity. Since she'd already greeted the Simones, Paige stepped out into the aisle and half-heartedly shook a few hands, then returned to her seat.

Her foe rejoined her before she could cross her legs at the ankles. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

“What type of stupid question is that?” Paige wanted to yell, but instead she asked, “Why didn't you tell me you're a minister?”

“You were too busy condemning me to ask and too self-absorbed to care,” he answered in that no-nonsense tone she hated. “Now, stop talking in church before you say something crazy.”

The blows his words carried were becoming harder to withstand. From a few conversations with the man, she'd gained a deeper understanding of the phrase “the truth hurts.” She didn't like the truths he brought to light, and she wondered how she'd fallen into such darkness in the first place. “I thought we got past that?” she said.

“No, we just moved on,” he said, resting his arm on the back of her chair. “We can talk about that later, but just know I have forgiven you.”

She abruptly turned her attention to the platform to hide how much those four words meant to her. She'd give anything to
feel
forgiven for the moral crime she'd committed. Knowing theology was one thing, but believing it was another. She'd read Romans chapter ten, verse nine, so many times, she knew the exact number of letters the salvation scripture contained. Salvation she could comprehend, but forgiveness remained beyond her reach.