Come Sunday Morning (10 page)

“Like I said. Part up front and the rest after it's done.”

“I'd want half up front.”

“You think I'm fucking stupid? You'd smoke it up before you got to the corner, and I'd never see your ass again. I'll give you one thousand on Sunday morning and then meet you somewhere later and give you the rest. So what's your answer? Are you in or not?”

Virgil thought of his mother, and what he could buy her with $20,000. He also naively thought of how he could get his life on the right track with that kind of money.

“Do you have a gun?” he asked the reverend.

“Yes.”

“You know if you don't pay me, I'll fucking kill you,” Virgil said, looking directly into his eyes.

Under the tough, seasoned facade, Willie Mitchell was a coward. The stomach ulcer kicked with such force that the flow of sweat on his brow doubled. “You don't have to worry about that. You'll get your money.”

“All right. I'm in. So who is it?”

“Hezekiah Cleaveland.”

Virgil jumped up from the table and said, “You're fucking crazy. Do it yourself.” He immediately walked to the door and left the restaurant.

Willie pulled the napkin from under his chin and bolted for the door past Momma Lee. She struggled to her feet and yelled, “Hey, wait a minute. You better pay for that.”

Without slowing his stride, Willie shouted, “I'll be back. You'll get your fucking money.”

By the time Reverend Mitchell reached the sidewalk, Virgil was a half block away and preparing to cross in the middle of the street. Traffic was heavy as he waited for a clearing. Willie caught up with him. He was winded and his shirt flap came out of his pants from the run. He grabbed Virgil's arm and said, “Wait a minute, Virgil. Hear me out. I know you need the money. What about your mother? I hear she's about to get evicted from her apartment. You don't give a shit about her?”

Virgil snatched his arm away. “Leave my mother out of this. I told you no. Now, get out of my fucking way, before I slam your fat ass into the fucking sidewalk.”

Virgil had just started to step into the street when he heard Willie shout, “All right, thirty thousand dollars. Cash.”

Even though the street was now clear, Virgil stopped with one foot still on the curb. He looked at Willie and asked, “Man, what is this all about? Why do you want this guy dead? What did he do to you?”

Reverend Mitchell caught his breath and said, “It's not for me. I've got a powerful associate whom he crossed and they asked me to take care of it.”

“What are you getting out of it?”

Willie laughed nervously. “Nothing. At least not yet. If I do this for them, I'll get what I want soon enough.”

Though he tried, Virgil could not turn away. The two men struck a deal and discussed the details as the cars whizzed by. Willie would pick up Virgil on Sunday morning in front of the Los Angeles Community Center. From there they would drive two blocks from the church, where Virgil would wait until exactly 11:30
A.M
. The balcony of the church would be empty and all Virgil would have to do was get through the foyer of the church unnoticed, fire two shots, and escape as quickly as possible down Hezekiah T. Cleaveland Avenue.

“I'll meet you downtown that night with the rest of the money and drop you at the bus depot.”

“Remember what I said, Reverend. If I don't get my money…”

“I know, I know. You don't have to say it again.”

P
atrons filled the lively restaurant on the waterfront in the marina. Men in light blue shirts and Bermuda shorts shared hearty laughs with their wives and companions. Casually dressed women with windblown hair chatted while sipping steaming flavored coffees.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to Shutters,” said the maître d' through a studied French accent. “Table for two?”

“Yes, and somewhere quiet if you have it,” Hezekiah replied.

“Would you prefer the deck? It is a lovely day for the sun.”

Hezekiah looked at Danny, who nodded approval, and then said, “That would be fine.”

The two men followed the maître d' to the sunny deck at the rear of the restaurant. It was the sixth month of their relationship. Danny's khaki pants and blue button-down shirt provided ample cover for the truth, that he was the younger man who held the heart of his elegant companion in his neatly pressed rear pocket. Together the couple struck the most innocent of poses. Maybe they were brothers, or mentor and protégé. Only one with the most sensitive radar could possibly have detected the truth about the two men.

Hezekiah hung his jacket on the back of his chair as they sat down.

“Enjoy your meal, gentlemen,” said the maître d' as he bowed slightly and exited the deck.

Dark blue umbrellas shielded glass tables from the bright noonday sun. Polished silver utensils, lush linen napkins, and sparkling water goblets stood at the ready in their appointed places. Although the deck was filled with similar faces to those in the dining room, the tables were positioned farther apart, offering their occupants additional privacy. Large potted plants danced gently to music felt but not heard. The deck overlooked a glassy ocean, where sailboats drifted by lazily.

Hezekiah and Danny laughed together as they ate, obviously pleased to be in each other's company. They were not only lovers, but also the closest of friends. When they looked into each other's eyes, they saw themselves. Little lost boys searching for their reflection in the face of someone who cared.

They talked of politics, not religion. They talked about the Dodgers' chances at making it to the World Series. They talked about life, and they talked about love.

After lunch they walked along a boardwalk lined with shops selling souvenirs to the tourists that filled the cobbled path. Four pelicans lounged in the sun on a landing near the water.

After moments of silence Hezekiah said, “I want us to be together someday, Danny.”

Not comprehending the gravity of the statement, Danny smiled and replied, “We are together.”

“You know what I mean…permanently. I want us to live together. Meeting for a few hours here and there is so frustrating for me. I want us to build a life together.”

“What about Samantha?”

“My relationship with Samantha is over. We're not in love, and if I stay around much longer, I'll end up hating her. I don't want that.”

“So you want me to be the new Samantha? I'm sorry, Hezekiah, I can't fill those…”

Hezekiah moved in closer. “What are you talking about? My wanting to be with you has nothing to do with how I feel about her. Even if I did love her, I would still want us to be together.”

“I don't want to be the person you run to because you suddenly realize who your wife really is. This may sound silly, but I want to be the person you come to because this is where you want to be, because it's right, not just convenient.”

“I've called you a lot of things, sexy, smart, stubborn, even naive, but never convenient. Do you think these last six months have been ‘convenient' for me—sneaking around, lying to cover up lies, juggling two relationships with two very demanding people? It's been hell for me, and you, of all people, should—”

“Should what? Be grateful that the great Hezekiah Cleaveland picked me. Well, I'm not grateful. You're not doing me a favor by being with me. If you're not with me because this is where you want to be, then we've both wasted our time.”

“I was going to say, you of all people should understand. Why are you twisting my words around? I don't know how many other ways to say ‘I love you.' If I did love Samantha, I would still love you. I've never felt about her, or anyone else, the way I feel about you. I wouldn't jeopardize my entire ministry if I didn't feel this way. You can twist my words, but I know exactly what I'm saying.”

Danny stared out into the ocean. The wind gently propelled little boats past.

“I'm sorry. I've waited my whole life for someone like you, and now that you're here, I'm afraid I'll wake up one morning and you'll be gone. Sometimes I find myself pushing you away to keep from getting hurt.”

Hezekiah smiled. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

“What about your church? Samantha will try to ruin you if she ever finds out. She'll never let you go. Her ego won't allow it.”

“You let me worry about Samantha.”

“This won't work, Hezekiah. You've got too much to lose.”

“You don't want to be with me?”

“You know I do. It's all I ever think about. I just don't see how it could work.”

At that moment walking in the sun with Danny made the risks seem worthwhile.

 

Their marriage had begun like so many others. Hezekiah met Samantha at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. He was a senior and she a sophomore. He was the intense, smart boy on campus, president of the Black Student Union, number one on the dean's list, and editor of the school newspaper. She was the attractive and popular girl whom all the boys pursued, member of the debate team, the girls' track team, and volunteer tutor for the neighborhood children.

From the beginning they were a power couple, protesting at city hall when funds were cut for social services in poor neighborhoods. If there was a cause that affected disenfranchised people, of any race, Samantha and Hezekiah could be seen on the front lines of the struggle.

Ironically, the things that attracted Samantha to Hezekiah were the same that prevented her from ever feeling she truly knew him. There was always another mistress—not a woman, but his ferocious and insatiable ambition. Since their first year of marriage Hezekiah's obsessive and all-consuming desire to succeed in life was his first and only love. Yes, he showered her with outward affection, but still something was missing.

He skillfully concealed parts of himself from Samantha. She could see it simmering behind his smoldering brown eyes. She could hear it lurking just beneath the words he spoke, taunting her from behind his beguiling smile. Samantha didn't know what “it” was and couldn't be sure if he knew either. Hezekiah's secret gradually formed a chasm between them, which stretched wider as his ministry reached higher.

Samantha soon grew bitter and weary from years of foraging for the secret that Hezekiah hid so well. She began to sublimate her energy, instead, into regaining the goals she had abandoned on the day they married. Samantha completed her doctorate in theology, but only after much personal sacrifice and constant accusations of neglect from Hezekiah.

Still, their combined outward personas were dazzling and commanding. He, the handsome pastor who could do no wrong in the eyes of the public, and she, the strikingly beautiful wife who could sway and mesmerize even Hezekiah's most fanatic critics. Their smiling faces on the front page of any magazine would double its circulation. Their presence at a charity fund-raiser would guarantee its success. The Cleavelands were Los Angeles's cherished and much loved ecumenical dynasty.

However, in the sheltered darkness of their limousine, or in the cocoon of the gated mansion, their golden smiles turned to stone. Hezekiah's secret had eclipsed even the places in his heart that he had once shared with Samantha. The only part of him that remained for her to touch was the veneer that could be seen on the home page of their Web site, or in the pulpit of New Testament Cathedral every Sunday morning.

Rumors of Hezekiah's affairs with other women had haunted their marriage for years. The distance between them served as a sufficient buffer to protect Samantha's ego and heart. The influence and prestige she had accumulated over the years soon replaced the love Samantha once had for Hezekiah. It comforted her when she was lonely and held her at night, until she drifted into sleep. As Hezekiah withdrew deeper into his dark, veiled world, she relied more and more on public accolades and praise to fill the void created by their hollow union.

 

Dino had only seen Danny St. John once. Danny and Hezekiah had already been seeing each other for five months. It was well after 1:00
A.M
. on a Thursday. Hezekiah had just completed an exceptionally long negotiation session with the building contractor. When Hezekiah settled into the rear of the car it was apparent he was emotionally spent. Dino instinctively headed toward the pastor's estate.

“I'm not going home yet, Dino,” Hezekiah said as his blurry eyes adjusted to the street signs. “Take me to the Adams District. I'm going to have a cup of coffee with a friend.”

Dino had heard the command on many occasions before that evening. Usually, the directive came late at night when no other engagements were scheduled. Dino came to assume that “having coffee with a friend” actually meant, “I'm going to get laid.”

Dino drove to the familiar apartment on the corner of Adams Boulevard and Hillcrest Avenue. Until that night Dino had never seen its occupant, although he had been to the house on many occasions before. He parked in the red zone, knowing that no police officer would dare harass him, once they learned of his distinguished passenger.

It was a large faded beige Victorian-style house that had been divided into five smaller units. Perennials lined the brick walkway leading to a steep flight of stairs. Magnolia and pine trees illuminated by antique streetlamps bristled from a gentle breeze.

The front door of the first-floor unit swung open before Hezekiah could reach the top step. An attractive young black man in his twenties, wearing baggy green pants and no shirt, stepped from a pool of darkness in the threshold. The partially clad figure immediately embraced Hezekiah and kissed him directly on the lips.

Even through the heavy cashmere overcoat Hezekiah wore that evening, Dino could see Hezekiah's body stiffen. Hezekiah sternly, yet with gentle familiarity, pushed the young man away. As he did, he turned and looked Dino directly in the eyes. The message Hezekiah sent was very clear despite the distance between the car and the man's front door. This was an assignation that must be added to the already-lengthy list of those not to be discussed with anyone, including the pastor himself.

 

Four months after they met, Hezekiah flew Danny, in his private jet, to San Francisco for the opening night of
Porgy and Bess
at the War Memorial Opera House. The two arrived in San Francisco and rode in a waiting limousine to the Fairmont Hotel.

As the bellman placed their bags neatly in the parlor, he asked Hezekiah, “Will there be anything else, Mr. Radcliff?”

“No, thank you. We can take it from here,” Hezekiah responded.

Their suite had breathtaking views of the city, framed by large picture windows that wrapped around the twenty-second floor. To the right they could see the pointed tip of the Transamerica Pyramid peeking through the fog and the sparkling towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. To the left were Grace Cathedral, the Flood Mansion, and Coit Tower, with the San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz Island as the backdrop. The suite had a parquet-floor entrance that led to a paneled parlor, cream-hued French Provincial furniture, a fireplace, and wet bar.

After unpacking their bags Hezekiah and Danny made love under cascading water in the marble shower.

“I love you, Danny,” Hezekiah said as he caressed Danny's glistening body in the pulsating waterfall.

Through breathless panting Danny responded, “I love you too, Hezekiah.”

They took a cab to the opera house. Ticket holders wearing their finest evening dresses and black suits were beginning to arrive. As the two men exited the cab, Hezekiah gave the driver an extra twenty dollars in appreciation for getting them there on time for their dinner reservations.

The hostess in the restaurant on the bottom floor of the opera house tried her best not to look impressed as the two handsome men walked toward her. “Good evening, Reverend Cleaveland. Welcome to Patina's Cafe,” said the attractive woman standing behind a well-lit podium.

“Good evening,” Hezekiah responded. “I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else. We have reservations for two.”

“I'm sorry, but you look just like…Yes, sir. Under what name?” she asked apologetically.

“Radcliff. Michael Radcliff,” Hezekiah said, smiling at Danny.

After scanning her list she replied, “Very good, sir. Please follow me.”

At their table a flurry of waiters attended their needs in rapid succession. Waters, wines, breads, and appetizers were followed by their meals. A well-dressed couple approached the table as the two laughed and recalled previous performances of
Porgy and Bess
they each had seen before they met.

“Excuse me,” said the man shyly, “we hate to interrupt your dinner, but aren't you Hezekiah Cleaveland? My wife and I watch you every Sunday. Would it be possible for us to take a picture with you? We're here visiting from Chicago.”

Hezekiah looked up with a smile and said, “I'm sorry, I'm not Hezekiah Cleaveland, but whoever he is, he must be a very handsome guy.”

The couple looked disappointed. “Are you sure?” the wife asked. “I would know that face anywhere. Is Samantha with you tonight? I love her. I've read her autobiography twice. She is such an inspiration.”

Hezekiah kindly responded, “I really do hate to disappoint you, but—”

Danny looked up at the couple and interrupted, “This is Hezekiah Cleaveland. He's just feeling a little shy this evening. Give me your camera and I'll be happy to take the picture for you.”