The Choir Director (36 page)

“No,” I told her. “James passed away.”

“Oh my God. Are you okay?”

She reached out for me and I pulled away. “Don’t touch me. Just don’t touch me, okay? Not now.”

It was late, probably sometime after midnight. I was seated at the piano in the choir practice room, diligently practicing “Blessings,” a song I’d written for the choir to sing for nationals. I’d never worked so hard on anything in my entire life. I just had to win, because, as the bishop put it the other night, the fate of the church rested squarely on my shoulders. I’d told him confidently that we would win this thing. I’d meant it at the time, but as each day passed, I could feel the pressure increasing every time a church member wished me well or told me how much they were counting on me. I wasn’t about to let anyone down, and I was not going to be defeated. Especially not by that bitch Simone.

Speaking of Simone, that wench continued to blow up my phone on not only a daily basis, but on an hourly one as well. Can you believe the nerve? Simone was like an apple with a worm in it. She looked good on the outside, and was pretty sweet as long as you didn’t get too deep into her, but she was purely rotten on the inside. I just wished she would leave me the hell alone. You’d think that after everything that had happened between us, she’d get the hint, but she didn’t.

Tia, on the other hand, was everything that Simone was not. Hearing from her always brightened my mood, which was why I was happy to hear her ringtone. “Hey there, beautiful,” I answered.

“Hey, babe. I just wanted to say good night.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” I pressed a couple of keys on the piano.

“You still at the church?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get it together.”

“You already have it together, Mr. Mackie. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I won’t. Good night.”

“’Night, babe.” She kissed into the phone, and I did it back before hanging up.

“Well, isn’t that cute? You’re all kissy face with that black bitch on the phone, but you won’t even answer my calls.”

My back was to the door, but I’d know that voice anywhere. I turned to look at Simone, and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck—not just because I didn’t want her there, breathing the same air as me, but because of what she was wearing, which was practically nothing. Say whatever you want about her, but you could never take away the fact that Simone was one of the sexiest women on the planet.

“What do you want?” I snapped. “I really don’t have anything to say to you.”

She had a smug look on her face as she sashayed over to me. “What do I want? I want my man back. That’s what I want.” She stood looking down at me. I watched as she ran her hand across the top of the piano, continuing to speak before I could shut her down. “I want to lie on top of this piano with your head buried between my legs as you play me a song. I want—”

“Well, that’s not happening. And watch what you say. We are in a church.” I stood up just to get the image she’d described out of my head. Simone knew that was one of my fantasies. And well, to be honest, I’d been with Tia only a couple of weeks, but this celibacy thing was starting to get to me. I think I was officially the king of cold showers.

“That never stopped you from suggesting it in the past.”

“Well, that was fantasy and role-playing. This is reality, and we’re in a real church. A church you’ve been kicked out of, I might add. What are you doing here anyway? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

“I came here to see you. I want you back, Aaron. I know I made some mistakes, but I wanna make it work this time. I swear.”

“Have you totally lost your mind? Get the hell outta here, Si-mone.” I pointed at the door.

“You’re gonna have to drag me out.” She put her hands on her hips and shot me a daring look.

“I will if I have to. I’d prefer it if you left on your own. It’s late and I have work to do.” I walked to the door, opening it. Believe it or not, that arrogant wench sat down on my piano bench.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk.” She crossed her legs defiantly, like she had the final word on the matter.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Simone. Now, get out!” I was struggling to keep my temper in check.

“Aaron, I’m trying to be nice here. This could go in an entirely different direction. I still haven’t forgotten you called me a bitch when we were in Maxwell’s office.”

“Well, if the shoe fits …,” I said, unable to believe her audacity. She wanted to focus on one word I’d used, like she hadn’t just helped pull off the biggest scheme ever against the church. Didn’t she realize that this church was my bread and butter, my livelihood? If she was messing with the church, then ultimately, she was messing with me.

“Don’t push it!” She pointed a finger. “Now, why don’t you come over here and let me unzip those pants so I can suck that dick like I used to? I know Tia’s prudish ass ain’t sucking it for you, and I know how much you love a good blow job.”

I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure, although my Johnson was not cooperating at all. Just the thought of having her mouth around my stuff had me fully erect, and there was no hiding it from Simone with the thin pants I was wearing.

“My, my, my. What do we have here? Somebody missed Momma, didn’t he?” She was almost singing. She gestured for me to come to her, and I took a couple of steps closer.

The thought of walking over and letting her do what she’d suggested came to mind. Simone did have some impeccable oral skills. I watched her lick her lips as she waved for me to come closer. Again, even though it had been only a couple of weeks, it felt like a lifetime since I’d done anything to relieve my sexual tension, and I was so backed up. All that kissing and touching I
did with Tia hadn’t helped any either. One time wouldn’t hurt, would it? I mean, even if Simone decided to tell Tia, I could always deny it. She’d never believe Simone over me. Tia trusted me.

I stopped in my tracks. When it came down to it, that was the point: My girlfriend trusted me. I looked down at my penis and shook my head.
Sorry, dude. For once it’s time for me to start thinking with the big head and not the little one.

I looked up at Simone. “I asked you to leave nicely. I’m not gonna ask again.” I pulled out my cell phone. “I still don’t understand why you would do what you did to this church. Then again, I’m still trying to figure out why you lied about your father to the police and me. Or why you lie about anything, for that matter. I guess now I know why your father wanted me to run his company instead of you.”

“Don’t you judge me, Aaron Mackie.” I guess I finally hit a nerve. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. What it’s like being me.”

“Poor little spoiled rich girl. Thinks she can do whatever she wants. Well, here’s a news flash: One day you’re going to die a very lonely, bitter woman. ’Cause from what I can see, there’s only one thing you’re good at other than being miserable, and a brother can find that on any street corner in Queens for a bag of weed and a forty ounce. Now, get out of the church before I call the cops.”

She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin defiantly. “Make the call. But then I’m just going to call your friend Andrew Gotti.”

I froze with the phone halfway to my ear. Just the mention of Gotti caused panic to spread throughout my body. I’m sure Si-mone could see it all over my face.

“That’s right. I know all about Andrew Gotti.”

“So, what about him? What’s there to know? Just another white man, as far as I’m concerned.” I tried to pull myself together and act cool, like I wasn’t pressed, but I don’t think she bought it for one second.

Simone started walking her fingers across my piano in a taunting manner. I wanted to grab her hand and break each finger. “I’m sure the bishop would love to know about him. Oh,
and Tia would just lose her mind if she found out Gotti was your parole officer.”

My back went straight as a board and I swallowed hard.

“So, you were in jail?” she questioned. She might not have been sure, for all I knew, but I had pretty much just told on myself with my body language.

“Yeah, I was incarcerated.” I glared at her defiantly. “What about it?”

“You got the nerve to get mad for telling a little white lie about my father, and you’re an ex-con on parole?”

I hated the way that sounded.

“I didn’t lie to you, Simone, or anyone else for that matter.”

Simone came closer and stuck her finger in my face. “But you didn’t tell the truth either.”

“It just never came up,” I said, though I knew my point was weak.

“Omitting the truth is just as bad as a lie. Maybe worse, because you’re intentionally being deceitful. I believe it’s what the saints refer to as
lying by omission
.” She put her finger to her chin and looked upward as if she were deep in thought. “Do you really think you would have passed that vote if the church boards knew you were on parole?”

I didn’t answer, so she continued. “Hmmm, I wonder who else you’ve omitted the truth from? The bishop, or maybe Tia?”

I could see the wheels churning in her evil little head. “Look, you can’t tell anybody about this.” I was no longer trying to play it cool. This was serious. She had to know that I needed her to keep her mouth shut about all this.

“I won’t tell a single soul—as long as you take me back to your place and make passionate love to me.” Simone had a coy, coquettish lilt in her voice.

I was tempted to take her up on it. I really did not need this to get out, at least not until I could win the national championship I was brought here to win. I stared at her as I contemplated my options, and for the first time, I felt like I understood how scandalous Simone really was. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. I wondered if she had something to do with the church’s missing money the bishop had been talking about. I
sure wouldn’t put it past her. I decided right then and there that she wouldn’t hold me hostage to her little games and drag me down to hell with her.

“Look, I’m not going to play this little game with you, Si-mone. The last thing I’m gonna do is sit here and allow you to blackmail me. I don’t care who you tell.”

Simone gasped as if I had slapped her. It’s like I took all the wind out of her sails by taking away her power over me. “This is not over, Aaron. Trust me, this is not over by a long shot.”

With that, Simone spun on her heels and stomped out of the choir room, slamming the door in her wake.

God, I hoped she didn’t call my bluff. If she did, how in the world was I going to explain this, especially to Tia?

We were lying in bed next to each other, but T. K. wasn’t touching me, and I wasn’t touching him. We had our backs to each other. This was unusual, because we’d slept in the spoon position for most of our marriage. Things had been like this since James’s death—or, as you may recall, the day Maxwell told T. K. about our past relationship. I never knew there could be such a distance between two people in a king-size bed.

I could hear T. K.’s breathing, and I could tell he was awake because he wasn’t snoring.

“You could have told me.” Suddenly, his voice pierced the silence.

“What?” I lifted my head. I wasn’t sure what he was saying; I was just grateful that he was talking to me. Right about now, even if he had said “Go to hell,” that would be better than the silent treatment he’d been giving me every day in our home.

“You could have told me about Maxwell.”

I took a breath, knowing that no matter how much I wanted to, there was no escaping this conversation. “He was the last thing on my mind when you and I started courting. You told me that you didn’t want to know about my past. You said you didn’t care who I’d been with, what people thought or said. You said all you cared about was me and you. So, I followed suit. From that moment on, it was always about me and Bishop T. K. Wilson. Everything else that had happened in my past, any other man I’d been with, I erased them from my mind—and that goes for Maxwell.”

I rolled over, facing T. K.’s back. Finally, he faced me. My heart was pounding against my rib cage. I knew he might start
asking more questions about Maxwell and me, questions from our past that could eventually lead up to the present. If he did, should I tell him? Should I admit to sleeping with Maxwell?

“You did know Maxwell and I were friends.” His tone was more accusatory than questioning.

“Yes, but that was way before I fell in love with you.”

“Why would you date me if you knew this?”

“I was through with him. I love you. I will do anything in the world for you. You just don’t know.” I stopped myself before I went too far.

T. K. let out a deep breath but didn’t respond. It was my turn to turn the tables now.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said. “Have you ever taken money from the church?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Did you?”

“No! Absolutely not!” T. K. shot straight up in the bed.

“Would you put your hand to God?”

He was appalled, but I was serious.

“Yes, I would. But why do you think I would steal? That’s preposterous.” He lay back down in the bed, but I could still feel the tension.

“Someone told me that you were stealing from the church.”

“Who said that? I’ve never stolen from the church. I’ve only given to it. You know that. You know me.”

“I know. It’s just that—”

“Who told you that?”

“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t say anything.”

T. K. shot me a look, reminding me that I wasn’t in any position to be calling any shots. “Maxwell. Maxwell’s the one who told me.”

“And you believed him?”

“He showed me papers, told me he would have you sent to jail. I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was I loved you.”

“That son of a—” T. K. knew he was about to hit the roof, so he stopped himself.

I waited quietly. I wanted to reach out and comfort him but knew it wasn’t the right time.

He said, “Maxwell’s been doing a lot of talking lately, especially
when it comes to me and you. He really does hate me, doesn’t he?”