Come Sunday Morning (18 page)

Kenneth deposited his shaken passenger at the main entrance of the church. It was 5:10
P.M
., and a tide of fleeing employees streamed from the building.

“Are you going to be all right?” Kenneth asked as Percy exited the car. “Go directly to your office, get your things, and go home. And for God's sake, don't talk to anyone.”

“I won't,” Percy said, slamming the door. “But what about the story? If they don't hear from Lance, they'll just go ahead and run it.”

“It's too late to worry about that now. It's out of our hands. We'll just have to brace ourselves for the worst.”

Percy managed to choke out “Good night” to several familiar faces as he walked the halls to his office.

“Reverend Pryce!” came a shout from over his shoulder. “Wait a minute. So what happened? Did you talk to Lance Savage?”

When he turned, he saw Naomi's stiff hair progressing rapidly toward him. “Did you meet with Lance?” she asked again.

“No…we just…I mean, Kenneth wasn't able to reach him.”

“That's just great,” Naomi said bitterly. “He always has his cell phone on. Do you have the right number?”

“No, I…I don't know.”

Naomi glanced at her watch. “Come with me to my office, and I'll give it to you.”

“It is too late.” Percy's voice began to tremble. “If you had done your job in the first place and kept tabs on what Hezekiah was doing, we wouldn't be dealing with this. All we can do now is prepare for the fallout. Now just leave me alone. I'm going home.”

Percy darted away, leaving Naomi standing as stiff as her hair. When he reached his office, his secretary had already gone for the day. Waiting for him on her desk was a stack of messages, including four from Catherine marked “urgent” and three from Naomi. He tossed them into the trash bin.

He entered his office and put on his trench coat without turning on the light. He gathered stacks of paper from the desk and began stuffing them into a weathered briefcase, when Catherine appeared at the door.

“I just saw Naomi,” she said frantically. “Why are you guys just giving up? This is our last hope. I thought we all agreed.”

Percy continued shoveling papers into the case.

“It's over, Catherine. Face it. Hezekiah has screwed us all this time.”

“How can you say that? I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong. You can pretend that there's still some way to save him, but I won't. You were the closest person to him. How could you let him do this to us?”

“I didn't know anything about it. You know how secretive he can be,” she said in the form of an apology. “Percy, please try to reach Lance at least one more time.” Catherine held out a scrap of paper with numbers scribbled on it. “This is his cell phone number. I got it from Naomi.”

Percy shuddered and threw the last handful of documents to the floor.

“I can't, all right? I can't call him,” he said, dropping into the chair behind the desk.

“You can't fall apart now. Be a man and call him. Offer him the money, like we agreed. That's all you have to do. You owe it to the pastor.”

Percy rocked his head in his hands.

“I can't call him. He's dead,” he said, sobbing into his hands.

Catherine closed the office door and moved in closer. She lifted his head and saw his red eyes and tear-smeared cheeks. “What do you mean ‘he's dead'? What happened?”

“I don't know what happened. We were just talking to him. He said horrible things about Cyn…” Percy paused and looked away. “He demanded more money. Half a million. I just lost it. Before I knew what had happened, he was lying on the floor. He tripped. I don't know how, but…it was an accident.”

“I don't believe this. You killed him.” She moved backward toward the door. “I don't want any part of this, Percy. You and Kenneth did this without my knowledge.”

“Catherine, please don't say that. We just wanted to talk to him.”

Catherine opened the door. “I don't want to hear any more. Stop talking. Just stop.”

As she vanished through the door, Percy heard her muttering, “Oh Christ. I don't believe this.”

 

Percy entered the penthouse in a flurry. “Cynthia, where are you?” he shouted as he threw his briefcase to the floor. His trench coat flapped as he ran through the house calling her name.

Cynthia emerged from the kitchen. “Percy, I'm here. What's wrong?”

Percy darted across the living room to her. “I talked to Lance Savage today. Cynthia, what have you done?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Did you leak the story about Hezekiah?”

Cynthia looked puzzled. “Stop yelling. Who is Lance Savage?”

Percy grabbed her shoulders tightly. “Don't play innocent with me.”

“Percy, you're out of control. Let go of me. I didn't say anything to Savage about Hezekiah.”

“Do you know what you've done?”

Cynthia's face turned hard. Her body tensed, and her face exploded in rage. “I know exactly what I've done. And I did it for us. You've slaved under him all these years, and we have nothing to show for it. Now it's our turn. Look at how he and Samantha lives. We deserve to live like that too.”

Percy looked at her in surprise. “You're insane. You've ruined their lives. I knew you were jealous, but I never believed you would stoop this low.”

She couldn't conceal her anger any longer. Years of bottled-up rage flooded to the surface.

“I've stood by and supported you all these years. If you think I'm going to watch you let this opportunity pass us by, you are mistaken. For once, you're going to take what should be ours, even if I have to take it for you.”

“Listen to yourself. You haven't once thought of Pastor Cleaveland and what he must be going through. He's my friend and—”

“He throws you crumbs from the pulpit and you grovel around like a puppy licking them up. You call that a friend? I call it a user. Those two have exploited us from the beginning, and you're not smart enough to know it. Well, I'm sick of it. He only has himself to blame for everything that is happening to him,” she said.

Percy turned to walk away. Cynthia grabbed his arm and swung him around. “This is what you always do when God places an opportunity right in your lap. You turn away. This time, Percy Pryce, I'm not going to let you turn away. You are going to be the next pastor of New Testament Cathedral, even if it kills you.” She pushed him aside and stormed from the room.

Percy heard the door to their bedroom slam shut. He stood shocked and embarrassed that he had not realized, until now, that he was married to a woman whose ambition would drive her to destroy a man's life.

“W
here have you been?” Hezekiah spoke softly into the phone. “I've been trying to reach you for two days. I've been going crazy worrying about you. I thought something terrible had happened to you. Are you all right?”

Danny came from behind his desk and closed the door to his office. The room was small and cluttered. Boxes of donated clothes were piled in the corner, and stacks of files and reports cluttered his desk. “Lance Savage found me. I know about the story. I know you have to leave me,” he said as he settled behind his desk.

There was a long pause and then Hezekiah spoke. “I'm not leaving you, Danny. I'll never leave you. I don't care about the article. I don't care about anything but you. I'm going to leave Samantha. And before you ask, yes, I have thought it through. It's all I've been able to think about. I can't keep on living a double life. I know that I have to make a decision, and I've made it.”

Hezekiah rested his head on the back of the chair. He nervously tugged on his necktie and continued. “I talked with a therapist. He tried to talk me out of it. He's a good man.”

Danny sat at his desk. He only half listened to the voice on the phone. His computer screen went blank. Flying toasters suddenly appeared and began to dance across the screen. The words were ones he had dreamed of hearing, but something prevented him from having the anticipated response.

Danny finally spoke. “I think we should talk about this, Hezekiah. Are you sure you'll be able to forgive yourself if you split up your family? A year from now, you'll be miserable and blame me. Then what?”

Hezekiah smiled and spun semicircles in his chair. “I never thought it was your responsibility to make me happy. That's something I have to figure out for myself.”

“Hezekiah, I don't ever want to feel like I made you do this. Being with you is the most important thing in the world to me, but it has to be your decision alone. Not in response to pressure from anyone. You've got to know in your heart that it is the right thing for you to do.”

“I don't feel any pressure from you to leave Samantha. I know it sounds half-baked to you, but you can't imagine how much I've thought about this in the last year.”

“You know that whatever you decide to do, I'm still going to love you. I'll accept whatever terms you decide to define our relationship by—friends, lovers, partners. I just want the best thing for you.”

“I know, baby. That's why I love you. Now, get back to work. There are hungry people waiting for you.”

Danny hung up the phone. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts, he walked back to the lobby of the homeless drop-in center. The room was filled to capacity with street refugees. Virgil Jackson quickly approached him.

“Danny, when are you going to get me into a program? I can't take this waiting any longer. You've got to get me in today, or I'm going to have to do something desperate.”

Danny was startled by the aggressive tone in his voice and said, “I checked this morning and only three beds opened up. You are number eleven on the waiting list. You've got to be patient for a few more days.”

Virgil's feet began to shuffle as if he were preparing to attack. He slammed his fist on the counter and shouted, “You've been saying that for over a month now!”

The reaction was to be expected from a man who had been living on the streets. It was the plea of a desperate man looking for a way out.

Danny's lips were moving, but Virgil could not hear the words. In his mind he began to rationalize what seemed to be his only option. The “system” had failed him. He had tried to do the right thing, but society wouldn't give him another chance. Who would blame him for doing what he felt he had to do to make his life better?

“There are only seven hundred detox beds in the city, and hundreds of people are waiting to get into them,” Danny continued.

Before he could finish his explanation, Virgil hit the desk again, and suddenly ran out of the building.

Danny's eyes followed him as he wove through the folding chairs in the lobby and disappeared into the crowd on the street. His heart sank for the twentieth time that day. It never got easier for him to say, “Sorry, but there's just not enough for you today.”

He knew that on the day he was able to utter the words without feeling a pang in his stomach, he would have to find a new line of work.

For the remainder of the day Danny forced himself not to think about the conversations with Hezekiah or with Virgil. He didn't want to allow himself to be elated by the prospect of having the man he loved all to himself. Something would not allow him that pleasure. Something would steal his joy.

 

Later that day Hezekiah and Danny lay, twisted and tangled, beneath the covers of the bed. The rough surface of Danny's tongue massaged Hezekiah's engorged shaft as his head thrashed on the pillow. His muscular chest heaved upward with each stroke of Danny's mouth.

Danny's hands probed the familiar smooth surface of Hezekiah's buttocks and found the spot that would take him to the height of ecstasy. Hezekiah grabbed the sides of the bed and violently jerked his head back as he neared climax. He moaned, “I'm going to come—you're going to make me come!”

With a violent jolt Hezekiah succumbed to the pleasure that Danny gave so unselfishly.

The two lay motionless with legs entwined after their needs had been met. Hezekiah stroked his lover's hair, kissed the top of his head, and softly said, “I stopped by the construction site this week. That crook Benny Winters is determined to get rich off my back. I have to watch his every move.”

“Then why don't you fire him?”

“It would be impossible to find another contractor at this stage of the construction.” Hezekiah pulled Danny closer and continued listing his concerns. “He told me the estimates were way off. Some are coming in lower than we budgeted but others are much higher than he expected.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have no choice. I have to go back to my members and beg for more money.”

“Don't worry about it too much, baby. You know you're doing the right thing. Just think of all those people you'll be able to reach, once this is completed. I'm very proud of you.”

Danny kissed Hezekiah's temples and nestled under his chin.

“Let's take a trip together next weekend,” Hezekiah said without opening his eyes.

There was no response.

He tried again. “I said, let's take a trip together.”

Danny leaned on his elbows and looked into Hezekiah's eyes. “Why are you fucking with me?” He rarely cursed around Hezekiah. He did it only on the occasions when he wanted to remind Hezekiah that the “holier than thou” facade had not clouded his thinking.

“I'm not. I mean it.”

“Where?” Danny asked suspiciously.

“I don't care. We could go to Paris. Have you ever been to Paris?”

Danny adjusted his body and sat on the edge of the bed, turning away from Hezekiah. “Don't fuck with me, Hezekiah. If you can go, that's fine. If you can't, that's fine too. I don't want to make plans with you, and you back out at the last minute.”

“Would you stop cursing at me,” Hezekiah said with an understanding smile. “I said I want to go, so we'll go. I'll make the arrangements this week.”

Hezekiah rubbed Danny's back. With each stroke he grew more pensive. “I told Samantha about us.”

Danny jerked around to face Hezekiah. “Why?”

“She knew something was different about me and has been sensing it for weeks. She kept asking whom I was sleeping with,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Did you tell her?”

Although Danny had never met Samantha, he was well aware of her wrath. He'd heard from Hezekiah how she struck terror in those who dared to cross her. While watching her at Hezekiah's side on TV, he saw the sinister glimmer that hid behind her liquid brown eyes. If anyone could convince Hezekiah to leave him, she could. Through guilt, threats, extortion, and even violence, she could do it.

“No, I haven't told her who you are,” Hezekiah replied. “And I won't. She doesn't need to know.”

Danny was silent, but his eyes encouraged Hezekiah to say more.

“I'm not gay you know,” Hezekiah continued. “I don't…I mean, I can't identify with the gay lifestyle. The banners, the bars, the parades.”

“The people you see at parades in leather, drag, and feather boas don't represent or even look like most gay people,” Danny responded. “Most gays and lesbians are just regular people living their lives. They go to work every day, buy homes, and raise families. They're proud men, women, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters, first. After that, they define and express their sexuality.”

Danny, without thinking, got up from the bed and paced the floor while he spoke.

Hezekiah loved watching Danny walk around in the nude, totally unself-conscious. He restrained a smile until he couldn't contain his amusement any longer and said, “Are you sure you're not a preacher? I thought you were me for a minute there.”

Danny laughed and playfully jumped onto the bed. “Why do you tease me? I'm serious.”

The two rolled around on the bed like puppies playing in a grassy field, and then Hezekiah gently replied, “I know you are, baby. I'm serious too.”

 

Samantha Cleaveland sat alone in her living room and looked out the window. Muffled sounds from the city below served as background music to her racing thoughts. An antique grandfather clock chimed, alerting her that it was now 7:45
P.M
. An ashtray filled with extinguished cigarettes sat on the table next to her. The house was dark and empty.

Samantha jumped when her cell phone rang. She extinguished her most recent cigarette. “Hello.”

“Samantha, it's Willie.”

“Where have you been? Did you talk to Virgil?”

Reverend Mitchell held his cell phone close to his ear to block the piercing siren of a passing ambulance.

“Yes,” Willie said as though presenting a gift he had made in school to his mother. “He's going to do it. He's scared shitless, but he's going to do it Sunday.”

A large smile appeared on Samantha's face. She held her head back and looked triumphantly up at the beamed ceiling. “Thank God,” she whispered. “How much did you promise him?”

Willie had not been looking forward to delivering this bit of news. “He was getting ready to back out, so I had to offer him thirty thousand dollars. One thousand up front, and the rest after it's done.”

“That's just what this city needs. A crackhead with thirty thousand dollars.”

“No dealer in Los Angeles is going to see the money. Part of the deal is he's got to leave the city right after it's done.”

“Good. Where did he say he was going?”

“He didn't say. I don't fucking care, and neither should you.”

“I do care,” she snapped. “What happens after he spends the money? He might come back for more. I could end up paying him for the rest of my life.”

“Why the hell didn't you think about that before now?”

A taxi swerved in front of Willie's car, forcing him to slam on the brakes. He removed the phone from his ear and shouted, “Watch out, you fucking foreigner!”

Samantha ignored him and continued. “I have thought about it, and I assumed you had too.” Samantha had withheld the second phase of her plan, until she knew it would be too late for Willie to back out. “Willie, you can't let him leave town. After he's done the job, you're going to have to kill him.”

There was silence on the phone. The realization of the depth of Samantha's evil unfolded before his eyes. He blinked uncontrollably as the picture came into focus. His hands shook and beads of sweat drenched his entire body. “Samantha, you're crazy. In a month he'll probably turn up dead from an overdose in some fucking alley, anyway. Why get ourselves in any deeper?”

“We can't count on that. I don't want any loose ends. You can make it look like a drug deal gone bad. They'll write him off as just another junkie that got in over his head. You've got to do this, Willie. There's no other way.”

Willie tried for the next few moments to convince her that Virgil could be trusted. The woman whom he desired so deeply inspired fear in him now. “Samantha, you're asking me to kill someone. I can't do it.”

“Think about it, Willie. With Hezekiah dead and Virgil out of the way, we'll be able to do anything we want. You and I can take over New Testament without interference. I thought you wanted this more than I do.” Samantha had difficulty saying the next words. “I thought you wanted me.”

Willie sighed as he turned the car. Hearing her say the words clouded his thinking. “You know I want you. But we never talked about me killing anyone.”

“It's the only way.”

Samantha's mind raced between persuading Willie to commit murder and manipulating the trustees to appoint her pastor of New Testament Cathedral. The reverend was talking rapidly, but she did not hear him.

She would have him introduce the idea immediately after Hezekiah was dead. Very few members of the board dared to stand up to Willie Mitchell.

Again she heard his panicked ramblings. “You wanted me to hire a hit man. I did it. You want me to convince the trustees to appoint you pastor. No problem. I said I'd fucking do it. But kill a man myself?”

She stopped him midsentence and asked, “Where are you? I want to talk with you in person.”

“I'm almost at my house.”

“Good. I'll be there in an hour.”

Samantha parked her car in front of Reverend Mitchell's home. It was a large white house that was twice the size of every other house on the block. For Willie it represented his arrival as a successful black man from Texas. None of his family could have afforded a house like it, and he never passed up an opportunity to remind them.