The Choir Director (23 page)

“Great. Thanks,” I said. “Oh, and, Maxwell, be discreet. I don’t want this getting around the church. We don’t need another scandal on our hands.”

I was sitting in my office, drinking a glass of Moët, talking to Aaron on the phone and missing him like crazy. He’d been out of town at a choir competition for the past two days, and of course you know my baby won first prize. He’d just called to tell me he wouldn’t be in until late, so I probably wouldn’t see him tonight.

“I miss you,” I purred into the phone.

“Yeah, me too,” Aaron replied.

I knew it wasn’t the most ladylike thing to do, but I sought Aaron’s verbal affection every chance I got. I’m sorry, but my ego loved to be touched by him just as much as my body did. “What do you miss about me? Is it the way I look, or the way I wrap my legs around your neck when you’re on—”

“Simone.” His voice suddenly fell to a whisper. “Do we have to do this now? You do know that I’m on a bus with thirty people, don’t you?”

“So what? I want them to know you miss me and my kitty.” I took a sip of Mo, rolling the flavor of it on my tongue and around my mouth, then across my teeth. “You do miss us, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Yeah what?” I wanted him to say it. I needed him to say it. I had to be reminded in any way necessary that I still had some kind of control in this relationship—even if it meant acting out Destiny’s Child’s “Say My Name.”

“Yeah, I miss you … the both of you.” I pictured him biting his lip and wanting not to whisper when he said his next words: “Especially your kitty. All right?”

“Is that so?” One point for me. Let’s see if I could go for two. “So, tell me, Mr. Mackie, exactly what do you miss about my—”

I was interrupted by my secretary calling me on the intercom. “Simone, you have a visitor and—”

“Tell them to have a seat, Anita. I’ll be right out when I finish this call.” About five more seconds on the phone with Aaron and my hands would be down my panties. “As a matter of fact, Anita, see if someone else can help them.”

“But, Simone—”

Click.
I hit the MUTE button on the intercom and returned to more pressing business.

“Now, where were we, Aaron?”

My hand was at the rim of my skirt when I heard, “At work, although it’s hard to tell from where I’m standing.”

I looked up, horrified. “Daddy!”

My father had taken it upon himself to walk right into my office without knocking. I closed my cell phone quickly and dropped it on my desk. I tried to hide the bottle of Moët, but it was too late. He had seen me slip it into my desk drawer.

“Don’t
Daddy
me,” he spat in that stern-father tone. “Since when did you start drinking on company time? And get your feet off my desk.”

I cleared my throat and straightened up. I had a little buzz, but I wasn’t drunk. I spoke in proper English. “Daddy, what are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you. What a surprise.”

“Surprise? Yeah, I’ll buy that. I don’t know how happy you’ll be when I get finished. Anyway, I want my check.” He eyeballed me fiercely. “Where is my check?”

I bumped myself upside the head with the edge of my palm, hoping it wasn’t too dramatic a touch. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry. I really did forget. You wouldn’t believe all that’s been going on. But I’ll cut you that check right this minute.” I held up my index finger and went inside my purse like I was trying to find something. He took a seat on the small sofa. “Daddy, hold on one minute.”

With arms folded, he watched my every move. His mouth twisted to the side as I pulled out my pen and wrote a check.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

He took the check and studied it. “It’s two months now, not one.”

“Oh yeah, right.” I wrote him another check. “Okay, Daddy, all paid up.”

He took the second check. “It’s not paid up until these checks clear my bank.” Examining the checks again, he asked, “And why are you writing it out of your personal account instead of having accounting cut it?”

“Oh, um, just for convenience. Just don’t put them in until the end of the week, all right, Daddy?” I threw him the same smile that used to get me out of trouble when I was a little girl. Too bad it didn’t work the same way anymore.

“Don’t try to play games with me, young lady. I’m not stupid. I know you’re up to something. I want to see the quarterly reports.”

Damn it! Why did everybody suddenly want to see the books I was keeping? “Well, um, I’m not really sure if they’re complete. I had to get rid of Lisa Blackwell in accounting, and—”

“You got rid of Lisa?” He glared at me like I’d just fired my own mother.

“Yeah, I got rid of her. Her fat behind was making too much money, and she wasn’t doing her job.”
Translation, she was talking to you too damn much
. That suck-up bitch was telling my father everything that was going on around this place, like my father was the one cutting the paychecks. Her loyalty should have been to me. I was the one writing the checks, not to mention the time I allowed her to take off without even docking her vacation days. I didn’t give a damn if her husband did have cancer; I had to teach her and the rest of these ungrateful fools once and for all that you don’t bite the hand that feeds you, nor do you bite the hand that pointed your ass to the food!

“Simone …”

I could see him getting ready to explode like he had that time I smashed up his new Benz, or the time I went over the limit on my credit cards when I was a teenager. My heart was racing, and I could feel sweat starting to soak my silk blouse.

“Look, Daddy, let me explain the benefits of not having—”

“Surprise!”

My first thought was,
Like I really need another damn surprise today!
But then I looked toward the door to see who was there, and suddenly my mood brightened.

“Aha! You thought I was still in New Haven, didn’t you?” Aaron’s voice was more than just a welcome surprise. It was a breath of fresh air. It offered me much-needed relief from the situation at hand with my father. I could feel the walls closing in on me before I heard Aaron’s voice.

“Aaron, sweetheart!”

“Hey …” His words trailed off as he looked to my father. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” Aaron raised an eyebrow when my father frowned at him.

“No, no, perfect timing.” I walked over and grabbed Aaron by the arm. “Daddy, this is Aaron Mackie.” I pulled him a couple steps closer to my father. “Aaron, I want you to meet my father, Brian Wilcox. Daddy, Aaron went to the University of Virginia too.”

“So, you’re a UVA man.”

The frown that had been on my father’s face just seconds earlier disappeared. He jumped up and clasped Aaron’s hand in his. I’d never seen him do this to any other guy I’d ever introduced him to.

“Yes, sir, I’m a Cavalier through and through,” Aaron stated proudly.

“What year did you graduate?”

“Ninety-eight.”

“I left there in seventy-three.” Daddy beamed. “Simone, seems like a nice young man you have here.” He spoke to me but kept smiling at Aaron the entire time.

“Yes, he’s our new choir director at First Jamaica Ministries.” It was my turn to be proud about something.

“So, you’re the one I’ve heard so much about.” My father smiled broadly, showing some of his bridge work. “Bishop Wilson speaks highly of you.”

Aaron nodded. He was cocky when it came to women, but Aaron knew how to be humble when the situation called for it.

“Hey, instead of sitting here, let’s all go out to dinner—my
treat,” Daddy offered. He turned to me. “I’ll look at those quarterly reports later.” He grabbed Aaron by the shoulder as the two exited my office.

I looked up to the ceiling and offered a quick, “Thank you, God,” before trailing behind them.

We were at a Mexican restaurant somewhere in Long Island over by the Green Acres Mall. Simone, her father, and I had just enjoyed a great meal. Mr. Wilcox and I swapped some great stories about UVA, along with some laughs about Simone and her childhood. I was really starting to like the guy, and I think he was starting to like me.

“I can’t thank you enough for dinner, Mr. Wilcox,” I said, pushing away my plate. “I must admit that was the best Mexican food I’ve ever eaten. Probably couldn’t get any better if I was over in Mexico.”

“Not a problem, son. It was my pleasure. We UVA men have to stick together, you know.” Mr. Wilcox placed his napkin on his plate.

“Daddy used to bring me here all the time when I was younger for special occasions,” Simone added. “Like that time I was voted into student council, and when I got the lead in the school play.”

“That must have been nice.” I was impressed. From what I’d gathered from Simone, her father had spent most of his time building his company. I never pegged him as one to engage in daddy-daughter time. He was a true family man.

“Yep,” Mr. Wilcox confirmed. “There’s nothing more important than family. No matter how busy you are, you have to make time for the wife and kids.”

“It’s been awhile, though.” Simone glanced at her father, then took a bite of what was left of her food. “I mean, with you living in Florida and all.”

Wow, I could tell Simone missed spending time with her father.

“Well, that means you haven’t done anything worthy of me bringing you here, then, doesn’t it?” Mr. Wilcox shot back, surprising me. Simone wriggled in her chair uncomfortably, stuffing another forkful of food in her mouth. “That is, until now.”

He turned his head toward me and beamed a huge smile in my direction. I had no idea what was going on, but it appeared the two of them were talking in some type of code and I was the subject. I had to look over my shoulder to see if there was something amazing behind me, because there certainly wasn’t anything special about me. I hadn’t done anything other than just show up at Simone’s office and surprise her. Only reason I’d done that was because I was excited about our choir competition win and was looking for a little hot action under the sheets.

“Yeah, he is pretty special, isn’t he?” Simone said happily.

“Who, me?” I pointed at myself.

“Oh, don’t be shy about it, young man,” Mr. Wilcox said to me. “My daughter finally being with someone I approve of is a good thing. A nice churchgoing fella, not to mention a UVA man. If this isn’t special, I don’t know what is.” Mr. Wilcox picked up his iced tea and held it up. “Now, that’s something to toast about.”

Simone, excited, lifted her glass and tapped it against her father’s. When my glass didn’t meet theirs, Simone cleared her throat and hurriedly sipped from her glass, leaving her father’s to hang in the air while it waited on mine to join it.

“Daddy, go ahead and drink up. Your ice is melting,” Simone told him.

I felt it was time to nip in the bud this little misconception that was brewing.

“Mr. Wilcox, I think you might have the wrong idea about things,” I said.

“Oh? About what?”

“About Simone and me. You see, we’re not really the couple that you think we are.”

Simone wasted no time jumping in. “Oh, Aaron, you don’t have to explain everything about our relationship to Daddy.”

It was a failed attempt to shut me up.

“And see, that’s just the thing. We don’t have a relationship, not really.” I turned to Simone’s father. “Not the kind you think we have, Mr. Wilcox. You have a beautiful, intelligent, business-savvy, God-fearing daughter. You’ve raised her well, Mr. Wilcox, and any man would be blessed to have her as his woman, but Simone and I just aren’t at that stage. Not yet, at least.”

“Yet,” Simone interjected hopefully. “But we’re working on it. Right, Aaron?” She looked at me desperately, begging with her eyes for me to say what she wanted to hear. What both she and her father wanted to hear, evidently. Unfortunately, I couldn’t, though I also didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her father.

“Only time will tell, Simone.”

I guess my answer was good enough, because she didn’t push it any further. “Excuse me.” She stood, placing her napkin on the table. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

I took a drink of my soda, looking around and admiring the place as if I’d just gotten there. The tension between me and Mr. Wilcox was almost palpable.

“So, she’s just a lay to you is all,” he said.

I dang near spit the drink out of my mouth. “Excuse me?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You heard me. All that you said about Simone. Basically you’re just getting your rocks off on my daughter.”

“No, Mr. Wilcox, it’s nothing like that.” I held up my hands in defense. “I like Simone. I really do. It’s just I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“Who are you kidding? Don’t forget we’re both UVA men, son,” he stated. “Anyway, I know Simone is a handful, but once she’s ready to settle down—you know, really ready—she’ll be okay. And from what I can see, she appears to be ready. I have never seen her this excited about a man.”

“Mr. Wilcox, I appreciate everything you’re saying, and I like Simone, but I’m trying to build a career. I don’t have time for anyone serious.”

“If I were you, I’d make a decision, son. Either you’re going to be with my daughter or you’re not. There is no in between when she sets her sights on something. You don’t know Simone.
She’s like her old man: We both play for keeps. With you feeling the way you do, I’d hate to have to come back up here to New York and find out someone got hurt.”

“I promise I’m not trying to hurt Simone, sir. I’m being up front with her on everything.”

“I wasn’t talking about Simone getting hurt, son. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as Simone returned to the table.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” she asked.

Her father looked up rather innocently. “Oh, nothing. I was just giving your friend here a little advice on how to handle you.”

“Well, is he going to take it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Mr. Wilcox gave me a concerned glance.

Just then our waiter approached the table. “May I take your plates?” Everyone nodded. “Can I get anyone dessert?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ll have a slice of that chocolate cake to take back to my hotel room,” Mr. Wilcox stated, then looked over at Simone and me. “Those two won’t be having any dessert, at least not here. Theirs will be served in bed.”