Sex in the Sanctuary (4 page)

“Hey, baby girl, can I come?” she heard from the passenger in the car on her left side.

“Jesus is going to be there, is that all right?” she answered with a slight smile as she turned up Fred Hammond just a little more on her stereo.

“Hell yeah, that’s all right. I don’t care if He come, long as He bring you.”

Thankfully the light turned green, and Hope purposely slowed behind a big, pink Cadillac, giving the Range Rover time to jet ahead of her. She shook her head and sighed, turning into the Gates Bar-BQ parking lot at a faster speed than was prudent. Her father always told her she had a lead foot where the accelerator was concerned. She checked her make-up and jumped out just in time to see Frieda walking over.

“Hey, girl,” Hope said, giving Frieda a hug.

“What’s up, Hope? How was church?”

“If yo’ butt really wanted to know, you’d take me up on one of my many invitations to come join us.”

They entered the restaurant. It was noisy and crowded, as it was most weekends and every Sunday.

“May I help you, please?” the worker shouted from behind the counter when they’d stepped inside the door.

“Just keep praying for me so I don’t go to hell,” Frieda replied with a smile, before she shouted back to the woman behind the counter, “I’ll have a short end with fries and—what do you want?” she asked Hope. “And a chicken dinner
and two strawberrys.” There was nothing like the strawberry sodas at Gates.

Hope and Frieda grabbed their orders and wound around counters and customers to a red leather upholstered booth by the window. A handsome older man with a short, salt-and-pepper cut and an expertly trimmed goatee smiled at Frieda. She smiled back, waving a rib between her fingers before placing it in her mouth and pulling it out clean. She quickly grabbed another, this time wrapping a sauce-soaked piece of white bread around it before taking a more ladylike bite, quickly followed by a thick, golden fry.

“Girl, church was the bomb this morning,” Hope began, spreading a liberal amount of the spicy sauce on her chicken leg before cutting it with her knife and fork.

“Well, I’m glad your time with God was the bomb this morning, suga’ pie,” Frieda countered, licking her fingers and sucking bits of meat from between her teeth. “’Cause my date was sho’ an explosion last night!”

Hope shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Girl,” Frieda began, drawing out the word and lowering her voice to a whisper. “Let me tell ya—brotha man is no joke.” She related detail after detail in a conspiratorial tone, and although Hope listened with genuine interest, she couldn’t help but think that this was way too much information. The last thing Celibate-Till-I’m-Married needed to hear was about a night of sexual escapades. Still, she leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word as Frieda recounted her torrid evening.

“Girl, shut up!” Hope exclaimed after hearing a particularly juicy tidbit, even though that was the last thing she wanted Frieda to do.

Hope left the restaurant two hours later, thankful for her crazy cousin’s friendship. She planned, in time, to tell her about Shawn, and prayed for a way to subtly steer Frieda toward a less promiscuous lifestyle. At the very least, she’d
make sure Frieda was using protection. These days, it was a matter of life and death. Still, she didn’t judge her cousin. Hope missed the physical love that Frieda was getting, and prayed for a solution to that as well.

“Man, this sounds serious,” Derrick groaned as he loosened his tie and rested his head back against the chair in his large home office. He methodically rubbed his eyes and then his head, realizing too late that after preaching in two services he didn’t have the energy for this conversation.

“It is, Brother, it is,” King responded, his voice low and equally fatigued. They were silent for a moment. Then Derrick cleared his throat and sat up, his head in his hand.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What can I do?”

“That’s a question for you to answer.”

King sighed. He’d been dealing with this issue by himself for months, and while glad to be able to unload and get the advice of his dear friend, he didn’t feel any better. “You know I love Tai.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derrick replied. “That’s why I don’t understand this whole thing, because I know you love her. She’s the mother of your children, man, four beautiful babies.”

King sighed again, but was otherwise silent.

Derrick continued, “Does she know?”

“She suspects. But then she always suspects.”

“She has her reasons.”

“I know, but that other stuff happened a long time ago.”

“When it comes to affairs and a woman’s memory, a long time ago is like yesterday.”

“Yeah, I guess.” King leaned back into his wing-backed chair. He was still at the church, in his office. He’d changed out of his suit, which was wet from the sweat of the last service, showered and was wearing a pair of casual navy pants and a white polo shirt with navy ribbing around the collar and sleeves. His shoes were off, and his feet rested on the edge of his massive maple desk. He picked absently at the fish dinner that his staunchest supporter and oldest member, Mother Bailey, had brought him when she found out he’d be staying through until the evening service. His Bible lay open on the other side of the desk along with a copy of the day’s program and a picture drawing of Jesus surrounded by lambs that Mother Bailey’s great-grandson, five-year-old Joshua, had colored in Sunday School. A yellow legal pad of paper was to the left of it with unfinished notes for the Sunday night message written in outline form.

“You got to think of your family, man,” Derrick was saying as King picked up the pen on the legal pad and began to doodle. “That’s your obligation—to God and to them.”

“That’s all I’ve thought about for the past six months, in fact, the past few years. I’m trying, Dee, I’m really trying. Like I said, I still love Tai; I’m just not
in
love with her. And this other thing, well, it may be too big for me to control.”

“What do you mean, too big for you to control?”

“It’s like no matter what I do, it won’t stop.”

“Ah, come on, King, this is Derrick you’re talking to. I’ve known you for twenty years, and I know you can do anything you set your mind to.”

“This isn’t a mind thing.”

“It’s a dick thing, right?”

“That’s cold, man.”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“It’s a spiritual thing. She’s gotten into my spirit and I can’t get her out.”

Derrick was unmoved. “Start by getting out of her bed, King. That’s the first step to getting her out of your spirit and your life.”

King changed the subject after that, confirming that everything was set for Derrick to be the guest minister at their Leadership Conference coming up in July. They talked about their children: “Yeah, Vivian’s fine, kids growing like weeds.” King congratulated Derrick again on his church’s mass choir CD debut,
Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center Sings Thy Kingdom Come!
Derrick reiterated his continued support for the Total Truth Association, an organization of Baptist, Methodist and other churches who’d broken away from their more traditional organizational umbrellas to embrace practices not recognized in their denominations, like miracle healing and speaking in tongues. King told Derrick about the Angels of Hope, and Derrick told King about the Kingdom Kick Boxers, a martial arts program for the church’s young men. Finally King looked at his watch, then at the pad, and realized he needed to get back to work. He’d had a sermon prepared, but as so often happened, God had another one in mind.

“Take care, bro’, I’m praying for you,” Derrick said to his brother, whose pain resonated through the telephone.

“Me too, Dee, me too.” King hung up the phone and pushed the half-eaten fish dinner aside. He crossed his arms on the desk, put his head down on top of them and started silently praying in tongues. He had been praying for about thirty minutes, had started feeling his spiritual and physical strength
return, when the phone rang. The red private call light lit up. King raised his head, looked at the caller ID. Slowly, resolutely, he picked up the receiver. His “spiritual thing” was on the line.

“Daddy!” Elisia’s high-pitched voice rang out cheerfully as she knocked on the door. “Daddy, Mama says to tell you dinner’s ready.”

“Come in, honey bunch,” Derrick replied, smiling as his angel bounded through the door and into his lap. He kissed her cheek and playfully tugged at one of her long hair twists as she beamed appreciatively. She studied her father’s profile thoughtfully for a few minutes, outlining his eyebrows with her finger, and then crossing his forehead and continuing down his nose to his mouth, where Derrick playfully bit her finger and held it tightly between his lips for a moment before releasing it.

“Mama’s got a surprise for you,” Elisia whispered as she continued to trace her father’s definitive features, over his cheekbones and around his ear.

“What’s that?” he whispered back conspiratorially.

“Daddy,” Elisia chided somberly. “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.” With that, she jumped down off his lap and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, little one.”

“What’s wrong?” Elisia questioned as she paused by the door. Derrick had again leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t know she was still there.

“Nothing for you to worry about, baby.” Derrick’s conversation with King was still weighing heavily on his heart. He knew King and Tai had had their share of problems, but he also knew there was a lot of love in that marriage, and the last few years, he thought, had been especially good all the way around. King’s ministry was flourishing—he’d just been elected President of the Total Truth Association, Mount Zion had completed a major church renovation and expansion and Tai had been by his side all the way, encouraging, nurturing, taking care of him and the family. Tai had always been a quiet first lady, a silent but undeniable main thread in the fabric of King’s life and ministry. She’d never been out front, singing or teaching as was the role of many pastors’ wives. She preferred, even enjoyed, staying in the background. Her forte was in the area of organizing and overseeing, creating and delegating. Her priority and focus had been King from the time she was sixteen years old and then he and the babies as they came along. Most people wouldn’t have guessed it if they just looked at outward appearances, but Tai’s love was the foundation upon which King’s success had been built.

Derrick leaned forward, suddenly aware that Elisia was still at the door, watching him silently. He offered a small smile as he got up to join her. They headed down the hall hand in hand.

“Daddy,” Elisia said quietly as they neared the bottom step before entering the downstairs area and crossing through the living room to the dining room. She’d stopped and was now looking up at her father seriously with big, clear brown eyes.

“Whatever it is, God can fix it. He can fix anything.”

Derrick swallowed as his heart swelled and eyes misted at
the perceptive words of his little girl.
And a little child shall lead,
he thought, smiling. “You’re absolutely, right honey bunch,” Derrick replied as he entered the dining room now overflowing with people, food and conversation. Because if God couldn’t fix it—nobody could.

Sundays were a celebration at the Montgomery residence, and this Sunday was no exception. The table was set beautifully with fine bone china and Waterford crystal. A floral arrangement of calla lilies provided an eye-catching centerpiece.

A large platter of blackened red snapper lay on one side of the lilies, an equally large platter of baked lemon chicken on the other. Surrounding these meat choices was an array of vegetables including corn, spinach and summer squash, a large bowl of mashed potatoes with sprigs of fresh parsley and dashes of paprika for color, a pan of Vivian’s famous dressing made with apples and olives and a bowl heaped with a variety of rolls. On the buffet behind the large dining room table was another Vivian dinner staple, a salad bar. Also on the buffet were a variety of sodas and a pitcher of tea. Lastly there was Derrick’s surprise, his favorite dessert besides Vivian, sweet potato pie.

The classical music in the background could hardly be heard amid the din of voices. There was Mother Faye Moseley, a pillar at Kingdom Citizens’ and Vivian’s play mother who practically lived at the house, and her husband, Brother Clyde. This couple, married for forty years, had been one of the mentors of the Montgomery marriage, and at times Vivian wondered if it would have lasted without them. Other Kingdom Citizens’ members around the table included Darius Crenshaw, the minister of music, and his sister Tanya, who worked with the youth ministry. Next to Tanya was Stacy, a good friend and fellow worker in the youth ministry. Stacy dreamed of changing her title from “friend” of Tanya’s to “sister-in-law.” Her sly yet seductive glances to Darius
throughout the meal underlined this fact. Rounding out the dinner guests was Cy (not only pronounced “sigh” but evoking many) Taylor, Derrick’s associate minister, confidant and friend.

Cy was a bit of a phenomenon at Kingdom Citizens’ for many reasons. First, he was one of the most intelligent men Derrick had ever met, having graduated summa cum laude from Howard University with a degree in Business Administration. He’d received his master’s in Organizational Leadership from Biola University and had been an irreplaceable asset to Derrick and the ministry since joining the team full-time, three years ago. Secondly, he was a man of integrity—gracious, unpretentious and humble. He was one of those rare breeds of men unafraid to show his emotions. People felt special around Cy.

Then there was his outward appearance. Cy Taylor was one of the finest men God ever created. When God stepped back and said “it is good,” his eye had rested on Cy. At six-two, with bedroom eyes, cupid-shaped lips and a dimple, Cy wasn’t just handsome; he was fine. Or as Stacy said it, “faeye’een,” figuring that one syllable just wasn’t enough.

Cy was wealthy. He’d made his money as a financial advisor for a large investment company and, following his own advice and intuition, had invested heavily in the computer and Internet markets when both were in their infancy. When he sold his Internet stock several years later, he was a millionaire many times over. That was when he decided to leave the business world and assist Derrick and Kingdom Citizens’ full-time. He was adored, admired and envied by men and women alike. He was God’s man, single and celibate.

Derrick blessed the food, and everyone filled their plates. Mother Moseley had taken only a few bites before starting a litany of anecdotes from her Sunday service observations.

“Lawd a’mercy,” she said, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “It’s just pitiful how these women keep throwing themselves
at the man, just pi-ti-ful!” She looked at Cy and shook her head.

Cy knew what was coming. Although he would have preferred to not be the topic, he couldn’t help but laugh at the comical and accurate way she told a story.

As usual, groups of people milled about after church, with more than a few waiting on a chance to see and or speak to Cy Taylor. One of the regulars was Millicent Sims, who’d been in hot pursuit of Cy since he joined the ministry. Unfortunately for Cy, he’d made the mistake of going out with her a few times, and although he thought she was a wonderful person, he discovered quickly she was not his wife to be. And a wife was just what Cy was looking for. Millicent, however, felt differently and had made it her mission in life to become Mrs. Taylor. She tried everything, including becoming active in every area of ministry even remotely affiliated with the man. When she found out the bookstore fell under his branch of leadership in the church, she became the manager. If Cy pledged a thousand dollars for something the ministry needed, she’d also pledge a thousand, even though for her this often meant a bank loan. When he signed up for the singles cruise to the Bahamas, she booked a ticket. When he offered to conduct a seminar to educate church members on investment, budgets and economic freedom, Millicent volunteered to be the coordinator. She always dressed impeccably in designer suits, shoes and handbags. Her best shopping buddies were MasterCard and Visa. Millicent always had a number of admirers swooning around her. But she had eyes only for Cy.

When she saw him exiting the church after service, she made a beeline in his direction. Unfortunately, she was trying so hard to act as though she wasn’t approaching Cy that when she casually looked behind her, she almost knocked
down another member. Even more, her heel caught on a cobblestone, and when she grabbed a post to steady herself, everything she’d been carrying—purse, briefcase and a box of flyers for an upcoming book sale—went flying. Cy had his back to her and missed the entire spectacle, except for the fluttering flyers. Mother Moseley, who didn’t miss much, had seen it all.

“Lawd, I thought the child was gon’ fall and hurt herself or somebody else. She was trying to unhook her heel, grab the flyers and keep an eye on Cy all at the same time. She looked like a human pretzel!” Mother Moseley wiped her eyes, which were tearing up from her laughing so hard. “God’s got a wife for ya,” she continued as she grabbed another piece of chicken and put a scoop of potatoes on her plate. “You just wait and see.”

Stacy, who’d been staring at Cy, now glanced at Darius and then at Mother Moseley, wondering if she had a word on Darius’s wife, and if her name was Stacy.

Stacy had had a crush on Darius from the beginning. She remembered when he first came to the ministry, when it was still called Good Rest Baptist Church, the name before Dr. Montgomery left the National Baptist Association, renamed the church Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center and aligned the ministry with the Total Truth Association. He’d joined the ministry as a keyboard player but also played saxophone and drums. He was married then—to a very possessive, diminutive woman. She sang in the choir, a powerful soprano, and led many of the songs. Darius quickly became an integral part of the music ministry, writing many of the choir’s songs and charts for the band members. He also traveled several times a month as part of Dr. Montgomery’s evangelism team.

It was upon returning early from one of these trips that Darius came home and found a strange car in the driveway.
That wasn’t unusual. Gwen was always inviting people over. But the car belonged to Bobby Perkins, Gwen’s former, and it would seem present, lover. Things looked normal enough as he opened the door, but Gwen’s greeting seconds later was a bit too hurried, a bit too forced. She seemed breathless, her make-up smudged, hair thrown back in a hasty ponytail. She couldn’t look him in the eye, and when a toilet flushed, and Bobby came out moments later heading straight for the front door with a quick “Hey Darius! Nice to see you again,” and “Gwen, thanks for letting me use your rest room,” he knew without a doubt the rumors that had been circling about his wife were true. She fought for the marriage valiantly, but in effect it ended when the toilet flushed. They divorced some months later. Darius had been cautious since then and had rarely dated. Rumors had him dating Vanessa, the praise team captain. But Stacy had always had a crush on Darius, and after her most recent relationship ended, she again hoped that Darius was “the one.” Of course, like everybody, she thought Cy was “all that and a bag of chips,” but when it came to the women who were vying for the title of Mrs. Cy Taylor, the line was way too long.

Derrick watched Cy gracefully handle being the topic of conversation. As pastor of a mega-church, he knew firsthand what it was like to have one’s business, or what others assumed was one’s business, discussed openly. He thought of King and hoped his friend’s indiscretions didn’t become dinner chatter for Mount Zion Progressive. That was a conversation that clearly belonged between King and Tai Brook.

After dinner, with company gone and children playing, Derrick and Vivian enjoyed some time alone.

Relaxing in the den, Vivian studied her husband a moment. “You were quiet at dinner.”

“I talked to King.”

Vivian waited. Derrick remained silent.

“What’s going on?” she finally prompted.

Derrick hesitated. “He’s seeing somebody.”

Vivian sat up, more attentive. “Seeing somebody?”

Derrick stood and slowly paced the room. “Yes, King’s having an affair.”

Vivian sat back, closed her eyes. “Not again.”

“Yes,” Derrick said, rejoining her on the couch. “Again.”

“With who? Don’t tell me one of the members.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say much. I didn’t either. Except to tell him to end it, think of his family.”

“Oh, Tai,” Vivian whispered, thinking again of how distracted her friend had sounded when they talked earlier. “I’ll call her,” she said to Derrick.

“Let her bring it up, though,” Derrick cautioned. “Getting in the middle of this…”

“I know, you’re right,” Vivian said. “When she’s ready, she’ll tell me about it.”

Derrick reached over and hugged her tightly. “We’re blessed, baby.”

“Yes,” said Vivian, returning his embrace. “Blessed.”