Fortune & Fame: A Novel

by Murray, Victoria Christopher

  He shrugged indifferently, and actually seemed to be getting an attitude with her. “I’m sure you knew this was going to come out.” He squeezed her chin, then pushed past her, dismissing her. Mary’s anger got the best of her because she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  “No! Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you. We’re not finished discu—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Nathan spun around, grabbed her by her throat, and pushed her up against the wall.

  “Woman, don’t you ever put your hands on me!” he hissed.

  To say she was stunned would be a major understatement. She had never seen this side of her husband.

  “Y-you’re h-hurting me,” Mary said, struggling to speak as she grasped at his arm.

  He actually tightened his grip as he leaned in and, in a much calmer tone, whispered in her ear, “I found you in the gutter and I hand-picked you for my vision, so you will do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

  “Pastor, is everything all right?”

  Both of them turned toward the voice coming from the end of the hall. Nathan quickly leaned in and kissed Mary, then stood back and released her before turning toward one of his associate pastors.

  “Sorry, Rev. Mills, you caught me and the missus making out again.” He popped Mary on the butt and grinned widely. “I just have a hard time keeping my hands off this woman.”

  Reverend Mills relaxed and then chuckled. “Yeah, me and my lady like it a little rough from time to time, too.”

  Nathan pulled Mary closer into a hug. She was so scared she was shaking.

  “Well, just wanted to tell you that was awesome out there today,” Reverend Mills said, his voice booming with giddiness. “You said you were gonna put Pleasant City on the map and you sho’ are doing it!”

  Nathan joined in his laughter. “Well, Reverend, I assure you, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Mary struggled to fight back tears, not just because of what happened, but because his words sent chills up her spine and for the first time since she’d left prison, Mary found herself asking who was this man she had married.

  Chapter

  THIRTEEN

  Natasia

  Natasia felt like she was still shaking, though as she held her hands in front of her, she could see that they were steady. Maybe she was fine now. Maybe the shaking she felt was all inside. Maybe she was just shaking because she was waiting for Hosea.

  It had taken her a few minutes to calm down after her breakdown at the altar. She hadn’t planned for her meeting with Hosea to go this way; she hadn’t expected to be crying all over the place. But how she was acting wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t been prepared for the way her heart swelled when she saw Hosea walk into the sanctuary and stand behind the podium. And she certainly hadn’t been prepared for this morning’s message.

  From the altar, Hosea had touched her with his words, and then at the altar, he’d held her in his arms.

  Now, she tried to settle into the leather of the sofa in Hosea’s office as she waited, but she still felt as if she was shaking. It had to be the memory of what had happened just a few minutes ago that had her this way.

  It had been such a release to finally say those words out loud to someone besides a doctor.

  “I’m dying.”

  But then, the relief came in the way that Hosea had held her, stroked her hair, and whispered that she would be okay. His actions made her cry even more, but from happiness, not pain. Hosea hadn’t known that, though, and that was when he’d rescued her, rushing her back here to the sanctum of his private office.

  He’d made sure that she was sitting before he’d said, “I have to go back out there, but I’ll be right back. I have to . . . talk to my wife. Are you going to be okay here?”

  She’d wanted to tell him no, tell him that after what she’d just confessed, he should stay with her and forget all about Jasmine. But all she’d done was say, “Of course, I’ll be fine.” Then, as an added measure, she’d said, “Go talk to Jasmine.”

  So, he’d left her. But now he’d been gone for too many minutes. She didn’t want to be anxious, but if he was talking to Jasmine, there was no telling what she would say. He could stomp back into his office, call her a scheming, lying harlot, and throw her out.

  “Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.”

  She prayed that her whispered pleas would be heard and answered. He just couldn’t allow Jasmine to throw another grenade into her plans.

  Natasia leaned back, rested her head on the leather, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then another and another, until she was filled with some semblance of peace. With a sigh, she sat up and with nothing else to do, she slowly surveyed Hosea’s office. The dark, wood-paneled walls and built-in bookcases gave the office such a masculine feeling, but the picture frames that seemed to be everywhere added the warmth.

  She didn’t have to get up to see the faces that smiled back at her. Photos of Hosea’s children—his daughter, or rather Jasmine’s daughter, who looked like she was getting ready for some kind of modeling career with the way she posed in each picture, always camera ready. Then, there was the son—Hosea’s natural son, whose pictures showed that he probably had to be shoved in front of the camera. There were dozens of pictures, chronicling their early years. And though each picture made her smile, there was a place in her heart that ached. Because these pictures should’ve been photographs of the children she was supposed to give birth to for Hosea.

  When her eyes wandered to the frames on Hosea’s desk, Natasia quickly turned away. There was no need to look at pictures of Jasmine. She’d rather look at a blank wall.

  The door opened . . . she took a breath.

  When Hosea stepped in and smiled, she exhaled and all her leftover anxiety dissipated.

  “I’m sorry I took so long,” he said.

  “No, don’t be. You didn’t know that I’d be here today.” She paused. “Is everything all right?”

  In that roundabout way, she was asking about Jasmine. Making sure that Jasmine wouldn’t be joining them anytime soon. But Hosea only responded with a nod. That was a good sign.

  “So,” Hosea said as he unbuttoned his jacket, then lowered himself onto the sofa. It surprised her when he sat so close, but then, it shocked her when he took both of her hands in his. “Tell me,” he began again, “what were you talking about at the altar when . . .”

  She waited to see if he was going to finish the sentence, but when he didn’t, Natasia finished it for him. “When I said I was dying?”

  He nodded.

  Natasia sniffed, fighting back fresh tears that were threatening behind her eyes. “I’m dying, Hosea.” She paused, giving those words a chance to settle. “It started a year ago. I was diagnosed with lupus. An advanced case because my kidneys have been affected.”

  He frowned. “Lupus? I’m sorry . . . I don’t know much about that.”

  “Most people don’t,” she said, “because it’s not a simple disease. But to explain it briefly, my immune system is attacking my organs, my kidneys, to be exact. What I actually have is lupus nephritis, stage four, but that’s probably getting too technical, it’s probably too much.”

  “No, it’s not.” He gently squeezed her hands. “I want to know everything.”

  She sighed. “Really, that’s pretty much it. Even though I’ve officially known this for about a year, I’ve had symptoms for a while. But that’s the challenge with lupus. It has so many symptoms, it affects people in so many different ways, you just never know.”

  “How did they diagnose you?”

  “I’d been having swelling in my ankles and legs for a while. At first, I thought it was just bad blood circulation because I hadn’t been exercising the way I used to.”

  Hosea gave her a small smile. “You?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it.

  And in that moment, memories of the bike rides they’d shared on the trails surrounding Lake Michigan filled her mind. She’d be
en the one to get him up early to bike, or jog, or go for a leisurely walk—anything to keep moving.

  But when he left her, that part of her life stopped. It was like there was no longer any reason to stay in shape without him.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I hadn’t been active for a while and the swelling just kept getting worse and worse. It wasn’t until I became concerned about my urine, which suddenly darkened, that the doctor was finally able to give me a diagnosis.”

  “And the prognosis?”

  She shrugged. “Most people who are diagnosed live at least five years. Over seventy percent live over twenty years. What complicates my situation is my kidneys. The doctors have prepared me. This could suddenly get very serious, and when it does . . .” She paused and took a deep breath. “This is a death sentence for me.”

  Hosea shook his head. “No, we have to get a second opinion.”

  For the first time, the smile that had filled her heart since she’d first laid her eyes on him this morning, made it to her lips. It was the way he said, “we,” that gave her joy.

  “I’ve done that already. I went to a second and then a third doctor. And each told me the same thing.”

  “So, what are you supposed to do?”

  “Well, they’re managing my symptoms with all kinds of medications, but my doctor’s main goal is to do everything we can to delay the degeneration of my kidneys. The thing is, it’s inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before I have kidney failure.”

  “Okay, so besides your medicine, what else can you do?”

  “Take it easy, reduce stress, all the things that we should be doing anyway.”

  Hosea nodded, though Natasia could tell that he was deep in thought.

  He said, “Wait, I forgot to ask. What are you doing here? Are you seeing doctors in Atlanta?”

  She frowned deeply. “No, my doctor is still in Chicago, though I will need someone here. I’m in Atlanta because of the show.”

  “What show?”

  And right then, she knew the truth. Jasmine was a liar, though the real truth was, she knew that already. “I’m the executive producer on First Ladies. I thought you knew.”

  “No!” Hosea shook his head repeatedly as if he was never going to stop. “I didn’t know.”

  “Jasmine told me that she’d told you.”

  The way his eyes narrowed, the way his nostrils flared just a little, made Natasia want to jump up, throw her hands in the air, and give herself a high five. She wondered what else she could say, what could she add, that might take his anger up another notch.

  But instead, she played it safe. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just thought . . . look, Hosea. I’m not here to cause any problems for you and Jasmine. It’s just that I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She lowered her head; at first, just for effect. But when she felt the tears ready to burst through, she let them flow. Because the tears and the words she’d just spoken were real.

  She didn’t have anywhere else to go. After her parents’ death in an automobile crash when she was a teenager, and her first fiancé’s death in a bungie-jumping accident, she’d promised herself that she was never going to take the chance of loving again. Clearly loving her back was dangerous—it meant death to anyone who did.

  But then, she’d met Hosea. And that’s when she knew that her parents and even her fiancé were up there looking down on her. They’d opened up heaven and sent her an angel. Someone to be with her forever so that she’d never be alone.

  But forever hadn’t lasted very long and when Hosea left her, it felt like death all over again.

  That’s why she’d never accepted him leaving and had worked so hard to get him back, setting it all up so that she was hired to work on Hosea’s TV show, Bring It On, while it was being filmed in Los Angeles. But when Hosea rejected her again, Natasia had given up and in the six years since he’d had her fired, she’d lived life like she was on an island alone.

  That life and these years had been fine with her. She was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man nor friends, and not even God since He’d allowed so many bad things to invade her life.

  But the prospect of death being so close quickly changed her perspective. She was no longer strong and she didn’t want to be independent. She felt like the end of her life could very well be waiting for her right across the street, and she was afraid to face it by herself.

  “Natasia!” Hosea raised his voice just a little, as if he’d been calling her name for a while.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said, I know you’re not here to cause problems for me. You don’t have to worry about me thinking that.” He paused and peered at her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I am. It’s just that I’m a little overwhelmed with it all.” She lowered her eyes and looked up at him through her eyelashes, a gesture that she remembered he loved. “Thank you,” she said as she fluttered her lashes.

  He stared at her for an extra moment, inhaled, then let go of her hands before he looked away. He gave himself a couple of seconds to breathe before he turned back, all business once again. “Do you think you should be working? Maybe you should be taking it easy. Take some time off.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I can’t sit around and wait for death to come. I’m going to fight it, Hosea.” She paused and read his eyes. “Especially now that you know. Especially now that I have you on my side.”

  Not even a second ticked by before he said, “You do have me, you know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to be here for you all the way.”

  “Thank you, because without you . . .” She stopped as if the words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat.

  “Oh, Natasia,” he said softly. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “You never have to worry about being alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

  His words, his arms made her feel safe, safer than she’d felt in years. But still she sobbed. Because she finally had someone. Hosea was going to be there for her all the way.

  Just like she knew he would.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  Rachel

  Honeyyy!” Rachel squealed as she ran into her husband’s arms at Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. Yes, she was being a little extra for the cameras, but she really did miss her husband.

  Lester hugged her tightly but lost his smile when he noticed the camera panning around, capturing their embrace. “Ummm, what’s that?”

  Rachel leaned in close to his ear and whispered. “Reality shows film everything. Just go with it.”

  Lester didn’t bother hiding his displeasure as he pulled her to the side, out of the camera shot. The cameraman, Chauncey, must’ve sensed the tension because he lowered his equipment and motioned for the sound and lighting guys to do the same.

  Rachel knew she probably shouldn’t have ambushed her husband like this, but if she had told him, he would’ve nixed it.

  “Rachel,” Lester began. “You know I don’t like this.”

  “Aww, come on, sweetie.” She flashed a seductive smile at him. “It’s no big deal.”

  He set his briefcase—an expensive leather attaché that Rachel had never seen before—down on a nearby chair. “Rachel, it’s one thing for you to be on this show. I told you how I feel.”

  Rachel stepped toward him and adjusted his bowtie, something else that he’d taken up since becoming president of the American Baptist Coalition. “And I told you. I need you.” Rachel had told her husband about Jasmine, but she’d wanted to wait to tell him about Mary face-to-face. She wanted to make sure they’d taped a couple of episodes. Because of all the drama they’d had with Mary in the past, he would try to put his foot down and demand that she not take part. Rachel used to be able to manipulate Lester and make him do whatever she wanted, but those days were long gone, especially now that he was president of the ABC. Now,
in addition to an improved wardrobe, he was always trying to prove that he was “the man of the house.” She let him think he was most of the time. It’s not that she’d become completely submissive (never that), but in the ten years that they’d been married, she knew how to get what she wanted from her husband.

  “Hosea’s doing it,” Rachel lied.

  “What?” Shock registered across Lester’s face.

  Now was the time to throw on her pouty face. (Okay, maybe she did still manipulate Lester from time to time.) “Yes, Hosea wants to do whatever he can to support Jasmine. And sweetie, she is really trying to steal my thunder.”

  “Rachel,” he sighed.

  She shrugged, hurt that he didn’t believe her. “Okay, you’ll see for yourself.”

  “I just don’t understand why you two can’t just bury the hatchet and move on. It’s like I don’t know if you’re friends or foes.”

  “You and me both,” Rachel replied, sucking her teeth. She was definitely starting to believe Jasmine was not to be trusted. And to think she’d thought they’d developed some type of sisterly bond. “But the fact remains that Hosea is on board,” Rachel continued. “I mean, he didn’t talk or anything, but he is on camera.”

  Lester paused like he was thinking. He admired Hosea greatly, to the point that it was sickening. The first time they’d met, Rachel had been furious because Lester acted like he was meeting Barack Obama. But right now, she’d call Barack herself if it meant getting Lester on board.

  “Okay, fine,” he said, relaxing. “I trust Hosea’s judgment.”

  Rachel put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “But you don’t trust mine?”

  He smiled. “Okay, sweetheart. We both know sometimes your judgment is a little skewed.”

  She turned back to Chauncey. “You can continue filming.”

  “So, how was your flight?” Rachel said, her voice raising several octaves as she got into character.

  Lester laughed as he shook his head. “It was fine.”