The Retreat (6 page)

After Joshua ran up the stairs and closed both doors, Will took Chauncey by the arm and walked him to the car. Chauncey got into the passenger seat and Will made his way back to the driver's seat.

“Where are we headed?” Will asked.

“Monterey Bay.”

Will had never even heard of Monterey Bay. The farthest he had been outside of Long Beach was Palmdale to visit family. He did not have a clue as to what was in store for him. All Will knew was that he had nothing to lose.

Quincy pulled up to his former two-story brick house. He paused for a minute, noticing that the lawn and the rosebushes were freshly trimmed. He remembered when he and Karen first bought the house and how they celebrated on the lawn, where Quincy picked her up and kissed her.

Quincy oversaw all of the details of the house. As an architect, he knew what enhanced the beauty of a home and what detracted. Quincy would have built their first home himself, like his original plan, but work on downtown lofts were too time consuming, so he settled for the home that he would have built if he'd had the time.

His father always told him that a man is not a man until he can walk on floors that he owns. One of Quincy's happiest moments was when he paid off the mortgage of their house and only had to worry about property taxes.

This was the first time Quincy had been to the house since he discovered that Karen was having an affair. He wondered if it was too soon to return home. God only knew what damage he might cause with his full set of golf clubs. He had to remind himself that he was Quincy Page, and Quincy Page did not lose control. No one was built like him, and for that, he could go into this house and face his unfaithful wife.

Quincy opened the car door against a heavy wind and let the car door close. He then followed the brick walkway to the white door with the gold lantern positioned right above the doorbell. Quincy pulled out his keys and was surprised that she had not changed the locks. Karen stood in the entrance dressed in a brown turtleneck and black slacks. That was sad for eleven-thirty at night.

Karen was too attractive a woman to dress so conservatively; this was another glaring example of why Quincy was not necessarily fulfilled. That she dressed so seductive and sexy around A-MOG burned him to the core.

Quincy noticed that she had gained some weight since the last time he'd seen her. Maybe he was exaggerating, but maybe she was going through a depression. Unfortunately, Quincy could not feel too sorry for her. Karen had made her choice, and now she had to live with it.

“You have any golf clubs with you?” Karen asked.

“I wouldn't crack jokes if I were you. You're lucky I'm even here.”

“Where have you been?” Karen folded her arms.

The audacity of this woman; she cheats on me with another man and has the nerve to ask about my whereabouts. He was raised to be a gentlemen and to never, under any circumstances, put his hands on a lady, but Karen was pushing it.

“Don't worry about where I've been. You weren't concerned about me when you were lying up with ol' boy.”

“Look, you never gave me a chance to explain. That's why I called you to come over. I wanted to talk to you about our marriage.”

“We don't have a marriage. You cheated on me, remember? Our marriage exists only on paper, and come next week, that's about to change.”

“So you're going to file for divorce?” Karen asked.

“What do you think? There is nothing you can say or do that will keep me from divorcing you.”

“I've been praying that God will move your heart to try to work this out.”

Quincy saw frustration emerge on Karen's face. He played coy because there was another issue to be resolved. Quincy had reclaimed his position of power in this marriage.

“I ain't trying to be funny or nothing, but how are you going to ask God to move my heart when you're the one who cheated on me, and you still haven't told me who it was you cheated on me with?”

“It's hard to talk to you when you have a golf club in your hands.” Karen lowered her head.

“I ruined a perfectly good nine iron. But that's beside the point. The point is you can't even tell me who it is. Is it somebody I know?” Quincy waited a moment, but there was no response. “Here you go again with that silence. You care more about keeping your secrets than talking to your husband.”

“It doesn't matter. You're still going to divorce me anyway.”

“Why are you protecting this man, or is it a woman?”

“No! No! I ain't into women.” Karen's face turned furious.

“I was about to say…” Quincy's words trailed off as his thoughts started to connect the dots. Quincy had been so blinded by inconsolable rage that he could not see that the person his wife was protecting was right in front of him.

“He's a minister at the church, isn't he? I know that the only men you seem to admire more than me are those ministers at the church.”

Karen's eyes enlarged, and that admitted her guilt.

“He is. You're willing to let your marriage go up in smoke just to protect your pastor.”

“It's not the pastor.” Karen diverted her eyes.

“What does A-MOG mean? Can you at least tell me that?”

“I don't know what that means.”

“Maybe that's because you're used to screaming it out in some Super 8 Motel.”

“Don't talk to me like I'm some kind of whore. I made a mistake, and it's not like you're a perfect husband.”

“So I got to be perfect in order for you to be faithful?”

“I'm not saying that, it's just that I wasn't getting what I needed from you.” Karen pulled her hair back over her shoulders.

“Now if that would've been my reason, you would have called me a dog and thrown all of my clothes on the lawn.”

This marked the longest conversation they'd had without resorting to throwing things. She was not getting what she needed? What kind of nonsense is that? Quincy had tried in every way to please her. He gave her everything, and to her that was not enough. Quincy had no reason to believe her. Karen used to run around with her girlfriends from church and they would talk about Pastor Dawkins as if he were their pimp. One girl even called Pastor “Daddy D.”

Despite how inappropriate the comments and banter were, Quincy allowed them to slide because he did not suffer from insecurity, and he was confident in his relationship with Karen. Now he saw that he had been foolish. Karen was susceptible to strong men. He should have known, because that was how he won her over.

Karen placed her hand around her throat. That usually meant she felt a knot in her throat from being nervous. As a husband, Quincy would usually take advantage of this moment to reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

But as soon as he ceased to be her husband, something initiated by her infidelity, Quincy reveled in the fact that he could make Karen squirm.

“I wasn't thinking about saying anything. I was going to let it go, but at the same time I cannot imagine sitting there and allowing this A-MOG to continue to contradict himself in the pulpit. Isn't there a Men's Retreat this weekend?” Quincy said, knowing that there was.

Tears became visible in Karen's eyes. Quincy was convinced that she was reaching into her bag of tricks to manipulate him like she always did, but Quincy was not going for it.

“The Men's Retreat is not the place to air dirty laundry,” Karen said.

“You know, that's the perfect place, since Greater Anointing likes to pride itself on having a strong men's ministry and a strong turnout of men.” Quincy cleared his throat before he continued. “One thing I know about men is that they are not easily fooled. We're not like you women, who would just sit up there and worship the preacher. No, he needs to be brought to justice in front of other men, not women, who would only allow his actions to continue.”

Karen's tears had become too much for her hand to handle. She reached into her pocket and removed tissues. Every time she wiped her eyes, more tears would emerge. This only added to her frustration.

“What happened to you? You didn't used be this vengeful,” Karen said.

“I didn't know I would wake up one day to find that my wife of twenty years was having an affair, and the so-called God I pray to allowed it to happen. You would have a vendetta too.”

Karen placed her hands together like a prayer. “Please, Quincy, I beg you, don't go to the Retreat to make a scene.”

Quincy always got a rush from Karen's begging, whether it was a seductive plea during those romantic periods, or a pathetic plea like the one she was doing now.

“You forget I don't have to do what you say anymore. Divorce papers will be signed and on my lawyer's desk come Monday. You and I are done, and thank God for that.”

It wasn't enough to humiliate Karen. Her lover needed to pay too, and the Retreat was a perfect opportunity. Of course, Quincy was too old to play high school games, but at the same time he had been bested by another man. His pride was damaged and his swagger was in jeopardy. Would he regret not confronting Mr. A-MOG?

Quincy had another big deal on the table, but his business partner was more than capable of being able to handle it. He wanted to confront this hypocrite who called himself a man of God.

For the first time in his Christian walk, Chauncey was unsure of God's will. He could not begin to put into words the events of tonight. Will coming along on this trip was either an act of God or the devil. There was also the story of Jonah; Chauncey likened himself to the prophet who spent three days in the belly of a whale because of his disobedience. He neither wanted to be disobedient nor did he want to miss out on a blessing.
What if God placed Will on my path to show Pastor that I am ready for ministry? Could this hoodlum be a sign of Chauncey's childhood prophecy being fulfilled? Only time would reveal.

Chauncey expected to be bombarded with demonic rap music all along the Grapevine. The stretch along the 5 Freeway was dangerous without the accompaniment of Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre. To his surprise, Will did not entertain the sounds of gangster rap; instead he entertained the smooth sounds of Miles Davis and jazz music.

“You listen to jazz?” Chauncey asked.

“What you think, I just listen to Lil Wayne and T.I.?”

Chauncey had no idea who those two hoodlums were. He assumed they were probably a bunch of young thugs with expensive chains and microphones.

Even though jazz was not as bad as rap music, Chauncey still felt like his car was being overrun by demonic forces. He couldn't sit idly by and let the devil have a place in his sanctified Cadillac. He knew that Will had a gun on him. Maybe Jesus would give him the power to strip the gun away and seize control of his car.

“Do you think we could change the station?” Chauncey asked.

“Do you think you could walk to Monterey from here?”

Chauncey glanced out into the ominous darkness. In the midst of a mountain that looked like jagged teeth and open fields, Chauncey decided to remain silent.

The next two hours were spent in unbroken silence. The music must have worked a nerve with Will since he turned off the stereo. The Cadillac devoured the miles as Will sped along the 5 Freeway.

“What got you into jazz music?” Chauncey asked.

“It relaxes me. It's the kind of music you can take on a ride like this and cruise all along the coast without a worry in the world,” Will replied.

Chauncey's mind went to the park. To him, jazz was like the rap music that had those thugs in a trance. It was demonic music to Chauncey. It was a form of music that promoted violence and greed. He did not understand how Will managed to escape its influence and how he found jazz music soothing.

“You ever listen to gospel?” Chauncey asked.

“No, not really. I mean, I heard a few songs from Kirk Franklin that were cool.”

“Yeah, well, Kirk Franklin is a little out there. I'm talking about some James Cleveland, some, ‘I don't feel no ways tired,'” Chauncey sang.

“That sounds like something the slaves sang on the ship,” Will said.

“Boy, you don't know nothing about music. James Cleveland had a lot of jazz influence in his music.”

“I just don't like being sold on some fantasy about a life that is better than this one.”

“What's wrong with going to a better place?”

“Nothing, it just reminds me that not even God can provide you with a peaceful life in this world. He has to wait and promise you something when you die.”

Chauncey had not encountered someone like Will. He seemed to be resigned to the idea that nothing good came out of life. That we live in a constant ebb and flow; one minute we are the victim, the next minute we are the assailant.

“I mean, you can't possibly think that all there is for you is robbing folks. Is that all you think you're meant to do with your life?”

“I don't know. I don't know what I'm meant to do. All I know is that this is what I'm good at and this is the hand that I was dealt, so I'm going to play it until it's time for me to leave the table.”

It was absolute hopelessness that Chauncey heard in Will's voice. He did not know what to say. What could this young man have possibly experienced that would give him such a grim view of life? “Well, God is good, and you shouldn't let the devil make you think that there is nothing to live for.”

“I believe that there is a God. I just don't think He's good, at least not in my neighborhood. As far as living, I'm only living for the moment.”

“What about your family?”

“My mom is an addict. My dad is always in prison. If you add up the amount of time we have spent together outside of prison, I think it would total about six months. I got my brother and sister, but at the rate I'm going, who knows how long I'm going to be here.”

Despite Chauncey's resentment toward his brother, he knew that his brother did not want to die without making things right with his family.

He knew that right now Henry was in that hospital bed fighting with every ounce to live. The problem was that Chauncey believed that he would eventually return to his habit and betray those who believed in him. Henry had betrayed Chauncey too much for Chauncey to believe in him.

Will, on the other hand, did not seem to want to live. It was like he wanted to be released from this curse called life. Maybe that's why he spent his nights feasting off of the devil's pie. The God Chauncey served believed in giving people life, and life more abundantly. But, at the same time, the enemy's sole purpose was to steal, kill, and destroy. He thought that there were people who would find death a more compassionate act than life.

The car returned to silence and they merged onto Highway 101. They were now only a few hours outside of Asilomar Campgrounds and panic started to set in. If Will did not value his own life, then what made Chauncey think that Will wouldn't kill him as soon as this whole experiment did not seem worth it? There was a gun and a long stretch of highway where a body could get dropped off and no one would notice.

With that terrifying thought in mind, Chauncey bowed his head.

Lord, please protect and do not let this boy kill me!