The Choir Director (27 page)

“Well, needless to say, we have to make a lot of decisions,” Deacon Frye continued. “We’re in about five million dollars of debt, not including the mortgages on the church and on the school, which are somewhere in the neighborhood of two and a half million. But according to what Trustee Wilcox has told me, we’ve missed several mortgage payments, and it looks like the lien holder is about to call our note.”

“Oh, no!” Voices rose up in consensus.

“Oh, yes,” Maxwell said in a calm, even tone. “We’re in financial trouble, and the only way out is bankruptcy.”

Like a tornado of disbelief, voices began to rise to the ceiling, and now everyone was looking at me.

“How could you get us into this?” one deacon shouted.

“Bishop, this is your fault!” another added.

Deacon Frye stood up, raising his hand to regain control of the room. “Don’t blame the bishop. He’s not the one in charge of our finances.”

Trustee Lisa Mae Watson stood up and pointed at Simone. “No, but she is.”

Simone looked at Lisa Mae. “Look, you try to keep track of a school, one hundred employees, ten buildings that are in constant need of repair, and hold down a full-time job, okay, Lisa
Mae? No one should have to do all that for a measly five hundred dollars a week.”

“James Black did, and he never cashed one check from the church.” Lisa Mae folded her arms. “Can you say the same?”

Simone turned to me. “I don’t have to put up with this. I bust my behind for this church every day, for peanuts.”

Deacon Frye intervened on her behalf, though I was sure he must have laid into her when they met about this mess. “It’s not the bishop’s fault. It’s not Trustee Wilcox’s fault either. It’s all of our faults. We are all leaders of this church.”

“Here, here, Deacon Frye.” I stood, speaking up for the first time.

Maxwell was talking confidently, but I know he didn’t believe his own words. Just like everyone else, he blamed Simone for this fiasco, but it wasn’t going to solve anything to rake her over the coals. We were going to need her to get past this.

“We need to find solutions.” I turned to Maxwell. “Deacon Frye, what are we going to do?”

“Yeah, yeah. What about this great plan the bishop had about our choir making money?” Deacon Stevens piped up.

“You know the choir won one hundred thousand dollars in prize money last month,” I reminded everyone.

Someone in the group countered with, “Yeah, and Aaron Mackie got to keep fifteen thousand of that, didn’t he?”

I ignored the comment and soldiered on, hoping to instill some positive energy into this conversation. “They’re on their way to the Eastern Regional Gospel Championship in the next week or so, where they could win another two hundred thousand and a shot at nationals.”

Maxwell shook his head. “That’s just a drop in the bucket. We need way more than two hundred thousand, and that’s only if they win. What we need is time to rebuild the congregation and the offerings. The choir has started to prove it can help build attendance, but the only thing that will give us time is to file bankruptcy and sell some of our properties.”

“What do you think, Trustee Wilcox? Do you have any solutions?” I asked.

“We have an offer on the property that the senior housing is on,” Simone said. “It’s for two million dollars. I say we sell it.”

“Sell it?” I snapped. “You’re the one who talked us into buying that property for three million dollars last year. Had us clean out the treasury and school fund to pay for it! We wouldn’t have a construction loan if you hadn’t insisted we needed the money to build that place. Those buildings are three-quarters of the way finished, and you want us to sell them for two million, along with the land?” If she weren’t a woman, I think I would have hit her.

Deacon Frye spoke up. “As somebody in the construction business, I can tell you that what we could have gotten last year for the property is considerably less this year. Although, Trustee Wilcox, two million does seem kind of low. Let me see what I can get us. Once we file bankruptcy, the sharks will smell blood and we might not get that much. We may have to strike while the iron is hot.”

I didn’t want to agree, but I felt I had no choice because our situation was so dire. Perhaps if I had been better informed before the meeting, I would have had time to come prepared with suggestions. But because I wasn’t, I had to trust Maxwell’s expertise. “Do what you can, Deacon. I’d hate to sell that property for half of what we put into it.”

Maxwell continued delivering more bad news. “I’m not finished. We’ve got a couple more orders of business. We need to repay our back debt. We owe a lot of people a lot of money, and they’re breathing down our necks.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked.

“We may need to sell the school to pay off some of this debt,” Deacon Frye said. “We owe the city and state a considerable amount for back property taxes, sales tax in our stores … The list goes on and on.”

“What exactly do you plan to do with the money from the sale of the housing property? Why can’t we use that?”

“The construction company has a lien against the property. That’s why they stopped working. Once we pay off that lien and pay the bank back for the construction loan, that money is spent.”

I looked over at Simone. Had she paid any of our bills over the past year?

“We need to give it some time. We’re moving kind of fast. First you’re talking about selling the senior housing property. Now you’re saying we may have to sell the school? That’s too much.”

The school was James’s baby. He’d invested a lot of his personal time and money into that place. It was considered one of the best private schools in New York. Losing the school would be a terrible blow to our church’s reputation—and mine.

“Well, let’s see if we can work it out,” Deacon Frye conceded. “But I make no promises. That school costs a lot of money to run, and the courts will probably make us sell it or the church. One or the other.”

“Deacon Frye, how did this happen? And how can we prevent it from happening again?”

This time, Maxwell turned to Simone. “I’m not sure how it happened, Bishop, but from the internal audit my people did, I can see there are a lot of discrepancies. It looks like someone has been robbing the church blind. The only way to truly find out where the money went is to hire an independent auditing agency that specializes in nonprofit accounting and have them examine the books. We may also have to bring in the police.”

“I don’t think we need to spend that kind of money at this time,” Simone objected. “Not when I can have my accountants do it for free.”

I ignored her completely. From the way things were looking, Simone couldn’t possibly expect us to give her any say in the matter. “All in favor of an outside audit say aye.”

Everyone except Simone held up their hands.

“So, there it is. We’ll hire an outside agency.” This was one of the darkest moments of my tenure at First Jamaica Ministries. I needed to get out of there. Maxwell had laid out the facts about our shattered finances, and I needed some time to digest the bad news. “Deacon Fyre, thanks for making us aware of our dire situation. If there is no further business, I move to adjourn this meeting.”

I felt totally drained. Maxwell had delivered terrible news, but we were still in the eye of the storm. Once word got out, we would have to brace ourselves for one hell of a hurricane.

I was pacing back and forth so relentlessly that I was probably wearing grooves in my living room floor as I waited for Aaron to pick me up. Everything seemed to put me on edge lately, ever since Maxwell Frye had laid the blame for all of the church’s financial troubles at my feet. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the meeting, so I was living in constant dread of word spreading to the general congregation. When Aaron found out, it would be embarrassing, but that was nothing compared to my father finding out. The prospect of his reaction had me petrified.

That’s why I was such a wreck tonight. My father was in town, and he’d shown up at the dealership unannounced once again, this time with two white men nobody had seen before. I was at therapy at the time—well, okay, I was shopping, but that counted as retail therapy as far as I was concerned. Of course, you know those bastards who work for me didn’t even pick up the phone to tell me he’d been there until after he left. Thank God I’d sent him his check so he wasn’t in a bad mood when I talked to him. He said he wanted to meet me and Aaron for dinner.

The doorbell ringing was the only thing that halted my pacing.

“Hello, handsome,” I greeted Aaron.

He walked in looking just as good as ever. I took in his manly scent. Some people had their own money, some people had their own zip code, but this man had his own scent, and I loved it. If we didn’t have to go meet Daddy, I would have jumped him right then and there in my living room. Instead, I had to settle for a very passionate kiss that made my insides weak.

“Hello to you too,” he replied happily when we ended our kiss.

Things were better between me and Aaron ever since our fight
in the parking lot. When I went to his place later that night, I fully expected he would make me do as I’d promised and tell him all about Jonathan Smith being my father. As it turned out, though, he was not too interested in talking. I suspected that had to do with two things: one, he was happy to let me use my mouth for something other than talking, and, two, he seemed none too interested in spilling the details about the two thuggish-looking white guys who’d pulled up on us in the parking lot. So, I guess he understood that if he didn’t want to answer questions, then he didn’t get to ask any either. That seemed to be working for both of us pretty well ever since.

“You ready to get out of here and go meet Daddy?” I grabbed my purse.

“Of course. What exactly does he want to see me about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to give you your own dealership,” I joked.

“Like you would ever let that happen,” he joked back.

“No, that would be cool—as long as you remember that I’m the boss.”

“You’re just mad because your father likes me more than you.”

“Will you cut it out?” I slapped at him playfully. “He’s my father, not some girl you’ve got sprung.”

“You mean like you?” He winked and squeezed my behind.

“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish,” I dared him.

“Oh, if I start, I’m gonna finish. What time does that restaurant close? Because your father just might have to sit around and wait for a while.” He planted a hot kiss on my lips, and I wanted to melt. Why was this man teasing me? He knew I couldn’t act upon the heated passion that rested between us.

“Come on, Mr. Mackie, you little devil. You know we can’t stand my father up.”

“Hey, why I gotta be a devil?” He acted offended.

“Because your horn is showing.” I reached down and massaged his stiff package. “Now, let’s go. Daddy’s waiting.” I let go of his stuff and headed for the door before it was too late.

When we arrived, my father stood up from his table in excitement before the host could even lead us all the way over to him.

“It’s so good to see you,” he greeted. Call me crazy, but I just
assumed he was talking to me until he said, “You, too, Simone.” He pulled Aaron in for a manly hug and a thump on the back.

“It’s so good to see you, too, Mr. Wilcox.”

When they finished their male-bonding session, I gave Daddy a kiss and Aaron helped me to my seat before sitting beside me. The waiter came over shortly after, and we ordered our meals, then chatted like we hadn’t just seen my father a few weeks ago. Aaron had that kind of effect on people—not just women, but people as a whole.

That was my man, and I was proud of him, as could be seen by the grin that stayed plastered on my face as I watched him converse with my father throughout our meal. I was feeling so much better than I had earlier that evening—until Daddy said, “So, uh, Aaron, I know you’re all into that music thing, and my people at the church tell me that you do a fine job at it, but have you ever thought about going into the car business?”

I could tell Aaron was a little caught off guard by my father’s question. In fact, so was I.

“No, can’t say that I have, Mr. Wilcox.” Aaron sat back in his chair.

Was he seriously interested in the idea? I sure hoped not. He was my man and all, but it wouldn’t do our relationship any kind of good if we were both working in the car business.

“Well, a man with your gift of gab should give it some thought. I could see you becoming the top salesman and moving on to practically running the company.”

What the hell was he talking about, running the company?
I
ran the company!

Daddy continued on like I wasn’t even at the table. “With someone like you on the team, I could open up that chain I’ve always dreamed of.”

And why hadn’t he shared that dream with me before? I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.

“Uh, Daddy, Aaron doesn’t want to get into the car business.”

“Hush, Simone. Let the man speak for himself.”

Aaron glanced over at me. I’m sure he could see I wasn’t happy. He let out a chuckle. “I’m flattered, Mr. Wilcox, but singing is my thing.”

“For now, maybe, but I could see you helping me get this chain thing off the ground. I could train you. Teach you everything I know. I could come to New York for a while and work with you side by side. It would be like building my dream with the son I never had.”

Finally my father turned to me like he’d decided to finally invite me into this conversation. “Then again, who’s to say you won’t end up being my son-in-law anyway?”

Aaron looked over at me, as if I had any control over the stuff that was coming out of my father’s mouth. I wanted to sink down in my chair and crawl under the table. For the first time in a long time, I was completely innocent, but that didn’t change the look Aaron gave me before he spoke to my father.

“Look, Mr. Wilcox, I like your daughter a lot. We have a lot of fun together, but I’m just getting used to the idea that she’s my girlfr—”

“I know, I know. You’ve already told me. You and Simone aren’t getting down like that.” I was now officially more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life, sitting there listening to my father attempt to use slang. “But it’s just a seed I wanted to plant in your head, and hopefully the good Lord will water it in my favor. Amen?”