Delilah’s long blond tresses spilled down one side of her head as she leaned across the table inside Le Posh. She smiled at several of the other churchwomen. They sat at a nearby table, wearing vogue designer dresses and jewelry, and they acknowledged her by saying “Praise the Lord. God bless you, Sister Delilah.” Many others around the room had simply nodded and waved when she entered the restaurant. Like the other women, she, too, had dressed to impress. And impressed she had. Delilah’s genetics defied the age on her Medicare card.
“How long are you going to read that menu?”
Delilah looked up and began to smile. “Not long.” She nodded toward the door. “I was just waiting for our other guest to arrive.”
Ima entered Le Posh and was relieved to see that it wasn’t as crowded as before. When the waiter escorted her over to where Delilah sat, Ima put on a fake smile. It was curiosity that’d brought her there when Delilah had all but ordered her to come, but once she saw Sharvon was there, too, her smile faded and the real Ima came through.
“I thought you said you wanted to talk to me and buy me dinner,” Ima hissed at Delilah. Without looking at or mentioning Sharvon, she added, “I do have more important things to do than participate in one of your group sessions. I even took the express bus to get here, because my car is acting up.”
Sharvon didn’t say a word; she cocked her head and gave a “What the hell?” look to Delilah.
“Just sit down, Ima,” Delilah ordered as she ignored Sharvon’s questioning stare. Knowing there were others watching them, she smiled the entire time.
Normally, Delilah wouldn’t dare relax her elbows on a table in such a ritzy place, but this time she did and she rested her chin upon her hands. “In about five minutes the Upstate First Ladies Club is going to meet. I’m not a first lady, but I know these women from some of my seminars. I told them I needed to be here to listen so I could help them at our next meeting.”
Sharvon was the first to speak. “So what does this have to do with me? I’m no first lady.”
Removing her hands from under her chin, Delilah sat back. “You’re not one now, but you want to be.”
“Well, that’s hardly my problem or goal,” Ima lied, smiling at the obvious state of discomfort Delilah had placed Sharvon in.
“Actually, it is your problem,” Delilah told Ima. “You wanted to be a first lady about a year ago, but it seems the original first lady beat you to the title. And don’t sit here and pretend you ain’t still trying for the gold.”
“I guess she told you,” Sharvon murmured.
“Don’t be tossing stones, Sharvon. You could get some nasty cuts living in that glass house of yours,” Delilah warned.
Delilah straightened her shoulders and began talking softly, changing her manner as she began to speak. “You two think you know all there is about being the wife of a man of God. And I don’t care if it’s a small church or a megachurch. It takes a special anointing for a first lady to succeed in the role. Many women are not anointed. Some women have selfish motives and want all the glory but don’t want to put in none of the work. Being the first lady is much more than fashionable hats and designer clothes, fancy cars and homes.
“You have to be a woman of high moral fabric. You have to know when to speak and when not to. A first lady needs to be thoroughly versed in psychiatry, and most had better know how to take care of their men at home. Most of the women you see here tonight found out the hard way.” Delilah suddenly fell silent, as did all the others in the room.
A tall and slender, fortyish-looking, beige-skinned woman rose from her seat. She had large cornflower-blue eyes and wore little make-up, yet she looked as if she had walked straight out of Glamour magazine. Looking directly ahead, as though she knew all eyes were upon her, she walked into the center of the room, where a small table had been set up. A handheld microphone lay on top.
The woman reached into her Leiber dandelion suede gator handbag, a handbag that looked all of the fifteen thousand dollars it’d cost, and withdrew a pair of glasses. After donning the glasses, she quickly scanned the papers in her hands before laying them aside.
“Now, she’s got it going on,” Ima whispered. “Those collection plates must be overflowing for sure.”
Delilah remained silent, and Sharvon shook her head at Ima’s ridiculous conclusion.
The woman looked over at Delilah and nodded, acknowledging her presence. “Allow me to introduce myself,” she began. “My name is Althea Love. My husband is the head bishop, Arthur Love, overseer of Jehovah Jireh Temple in Piedmont. Of course, that makes me the first lady.”
Vigorous applause followed before she waved her hand for it to cease and began speaking again. “Although we all are familiar with and know our sister Delilah Dupree Jewel-Pillar, she has brought along guests today.” She turned slightly and looked at Sharvon, who’d turned in her chair to face the center of the room. “Allow me to introduce Ms. Sharvon Becton. Ms. Becton is a partner at the prestigious Singer, Berry, and Becton law firm, which is not too far from here.”
Sharvon nodded when she heard the obligatory applause. She turned and smiled at Delilah but was surprised to see that Delilah remained stone-faced. She quickly turned back in her seat to face the woman who appeared ready to introduce Ima.
First Lady Althea pointed to Ima. “To the left of our beloved Sister Delilah is her other guest. Please welcome to our meeting today Ms. Ima Hellraiser. Ima is the niece of Crossing Over Sanctuary’s church mother president, Mother Sasha Pray Onn.”
Unlike the applause Sharvon received, whispering began and ended, with just a few of the women lightly tapping their hands together, as if trying to wave off something nasty. The difference in enthusiasm appeared noticeable to First Lady Love, and she said, “C’mon, ladies. Is this how we show agape love to our guests?” That time the applause was louder, but the disdain remained on some of the women’s faces.
Sharvon was surprised at how she suddenly felt sorry for Ima, who suddenly looked pale and embarrassed. As much as Ima had done and said some things Sharvon felt were meant to get under her skin, Sharvon didn’t appreciate the obvious lack of respect coming from the so-called women of God.
Delilah still said nothing. Her gaze remained upon First Lady Althea.
One of the women read the minutes from the last meeting, and then it was time for the women to suggest topics or review current issues that’d not been resolved.
“I definitely feel as though what I brought to the table at our last meeting was not resolved,” a voice from the floor announced.
“Yes, First Lady Magbee?” First Lady Love moved aside so that the woman could come to the table and use the microphone.
First Lady Magbee rushed over and grabbed the microphone. With one hand on her ample hip, she narrowed her eyes and began from where she’d left off while still seated. “And you can believe, I don’t aim to leave here today with it remaining the same.”
Both Sharvon’s and Ima’s mouths dropped, and they even managed to give one another a strange look of disbelief.
It was Sharvon who first spoke up, whispering, “What in the world could she be upset about?”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Ima replied, shaking her head. “Look at her.”
The woman, short and squatty with a pretty face, wore enough heavy and expensive jewelry around her neck and wrists to never have to go to a gym to work out.
First Lady Magbee continued. “I’ve been telling all of you we need to come clean. I know I’m not the only one who’s sitting up in church every Sunday and smiling as though everything is okay.”
The eyes of most of the women fell upon Sharvon and Ima. They quickly looked away, as though to say, “We have no idea what this woman is talking about.”
First Lady Magbee went on to reiterate how she needed the first ladies to tell their congregations the truth. “Every week we’re standing by the door with our illustrious husbands, smiling while we watch either their baby mamas sticking
out a hand for a supposed handshake or some money or one of their men on the side doing the same. I’m sick of it!”
Again, all eyes fell upon Delilah’s table, where Sharvon and Ima sat gape-mouthed. Delilah still hadn’t said a word or made a move.
First Lady Love gently took the microphone out of Lady Magbee’s shaking hand. “I don’t believe this is the sort of conversation we need have in front of our guests,” she reminded Lady Magbee. “I’m certain our sister Delilah had other things she wanted discussed with these young women, who, as I understand it, aspire to be first ladies, too.”
Lady Magbee held a jewelry-laden hand out in front of her before she turned and snatched the microphone back. “And I don’t believe this is the sort of conversation that should be kept a secret in the damn closet, along with your husband!”
Sharvon and Ima sat almost head-to-head when they moved their chairs in closer to see and hear better. Delilah still remained silent, except now she was smiling.
All the way back to Pelzer, Ima and Sharvon tried to outdo each other as they discussed the woes of the first ladies at the meeting.
“Have mercy,” Sharvon blurted. “I’ve been in a ton of courtrooms. I’ve heard all sorts of testimonies, and some things have been major surprises—”
“Yeah,” Ima butted in. “But I know you ain’t never heard no mess like that. How they gonna sit up there and brag about how long they chased the man and wore him down, using every trick in the book, and then complain? In fact, I’m still shocked that those ungrateful women would air their dirty laundry and yet couldn’t forgive their husband’s indiscretions after they got all that hush money and gifts.”
“Well, I’ve got my pride, and there aren’t enough gifts in the world for me to put up with all that nonsense,” Sharvon commented. “When two of them nearly went to blows when it came out that their husbands were truly low-down with their down-low activities, I was almost ready to order some popcorn. Unbelievable!”
Out of nowhere Sharvon and Ima suddenly gave each other high fives and laughed.
With the exception of earlier ordering them into the car because they’d wanted to stay and watch a couple of first ladies throw down, Delilah had hardly said a word. Every so often she peered into the rearview mirror at them. She’d start shaking her head at Sharvon and Ima, sitting in the backseat, trading observations of what they’d called “dumb moves by supposedly smart women.”
“It wasn’t like all of them still had youth on their side or were particularly good-looking,” Ima continued. She kept jiggling in her seat and thumping her head, as though she were the crazy one. “I just don’t get it. The way they told it, they all had the fine homes, their kids in boarding schools, and got a little sexual touch-up every once in a while from their whorish husbands. It’s not the ideal situation, but I don’t know of one that is.”
“Perfect or not,” Sharvon said, “if those men felt like they weren’t ready to marry, then those desperate women now sitting and complaining, with their titles of first lady, shouldn’t have chased after those men in the first place. I’m certain they got some type of signal from their husbands’ hesitancy or behavior before they got to the altar.”
No sooner had the words left Sharvon’s mouth than Delilah finally spoke up. “Bingo!” She quickly reached beside her and grabbed two books, flipping them over into the backseat. One nearly popped Ima upside her head. “You two got the first lesson. I need you to read this book I just gave you so you can quickly learn the second one before you really are caught in a mess. God is not going to change His plans just to fit yours. Stop trying to use a plan B when God’s plan A is so much better and predestinated.” Delilah then began humming before she murmured, “Ain’t no truer saying than youth being wasted on the young.”
Sharvon and Ima each took the paperback books, turning them over, as though looking for a key to unlock their insides.
Sharvon began reading the title on the front cover. “Tell Prince Charming to Keep that Slipper—”
“I’m Standing on My Own Two Feet,” Ima added as she read the last part of the book’s title. “Who in the world is Elder Olivia Stith-Bynum? I’ve never heard of her,” she told Delilah.
“Sometimes when I’m holding a workshop just for women, and single women in particular, I have Elder Stith-Bynum as a guest speaker, or I’ll have the women read her book for our discussion,” Delilah explained. “You just make sure you two read it, ’cause I got Betty’s wedding coming up, and I don’t have time for the craziness you two are laying on folks. I’m hoping when you’ve finished with it, you’ll put the brakes on your nonsense.”
Delilah took a breath and added, “I ain’t asking you two to become good or best friends. I ain’t that crazy and as dumb as you are acting, and neither of you are that crazy, either. I’m just saying that for the sake of your self-esteem and that you not feed that male ego beast that’s roaming between the reverend’s ears and his thighs, that you do better for yourselves.”
Ima leaned over closer to Sharvon than she’d ever wanted and whispered, “What did she just say?”
Sharvon tilted her head in Ima’s direction and whispered, “She said we should cut it out trying to get Leotis. Get our heads out of our backsides, and for us not to expect to share make-up tips or clothes.”
The car remained quiet as Delilah pulled off Highway 85. It was easier to drop off Ima first at her apartment near the Promised Land before heading toward Sister Betty’s house. It was obvious by the numerous boarded-up homes, rusted car remains in driveways, and other blight that Ima didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. Sharvon reacted to it by biting her lower lip, and she was about to cower in the backseat, as though she didn’t want anyone to see her, but she caught Delilah’s disapproving look as she watched her reaction in the rearview mirror.
Knowing Delilah would want her to say or do something to take away the embarrassment from Ima, Sharvon asked, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” She was certain Ima would say no and they’d both be off the hook. But Ima told her that she could.
The two women got out of the car, and Delilah watched as they went up the walkway to Ima’s apartment. The apartments were all one-story garden units, and they were surprised when Elder Batty opened the door and came out.
“What in the world were you doing in my hallway?” Ima asked as she rushed him.
“I just needed to serve these papers,” he told her. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you for some time.” He turned quickly, and after seeing that Sharvon was with Ima, he added, “Sharvon is an attorney. Maybe she can explain things to you.”
Ima pushed out her leg to trip him, and Elder Batty hopped over it and scuttled away, tipping his hat toward Delilah as he jumped into his car and sped away.
Sharvon felt convicted. The fact that she knew about the lawsuit had her already too much in Ima’s business. She turned away. “Never mind,” she told Ima. “I can wait until I get home.”
Ima seemed preoccupied. She’d already ripped open the envelope before Elder Batty had gotten into his car. She would chase him down if need be. Seeing the shocked look on Sharvon’s face, Ima began smiling. “Well, glory to God,” Ima blurted. “Prayer does work.”
It wasn’t the reaction Sharvon had expected, so she had to ask, “Is everything all right?”
“It’s more than all right,” Ima replied as she shoved the papers into Sharvon’s hands. “You’re not my attorney, and I can’t say that we’re really friends, but doggone it, I got to share this news.”
Delilah continued to sit and watched the two women. She observed first the look of surprise on both Ima’s and Sharvon’s faces. Delilah then watched Sharvon hand the papers back before both women broke out in laughter. Since she and Sharvon already knew what Batty had been trying to deliver for some time, Delilah felt positive that it was a document informing Ima that the lawsuit had been dropped.
While Ima was doing a happy dance in front of her apartment, her aunt Sasha was te
n blocks away, feeling miserable inside of hers.
With her lips curled, Sasha began stroking her wrinkled neck as she leaned back and stared at Bea. “This is all your fault, Bea. You just had to go and hit Porky with that metal spoon. Now what are we gonna do? He’s threatening to sue, and we don’t have nowhere to hold the dang wedding reception. I don’t know what possessed me to go into business with your neurotic and violent self. I oughta punch you in the throat and cut you up for fish bait.”
For the past fifteen minutes Sasha had been fussing and threatening Bea. Ever since she’d found out that Porky put out the word that he would come after them and take every dime they could make from the business that hadn’t started yet, she’d given her false teeth a workout.
Bea let Sasha have it again with her same old threat. “Keep yelling at me, and I’ll stuff your munchkin butt in a pillowcase, tie it down with a rock, and toss you into that pond over yonder to join the other bottom-feeders.”
Before Sasha could answer Bea’s threat with another of her own, her doorbell rang. “I ain’t expecting no company.”
“It’s probably security coming up here to tell you to shut your big mouth,” Bea told her. “You gonna learn to have a little class yet.”
Sasha went to her door, and standing on her tiptoes, she looked through the peephole. She came eyeball-to-eyeball with Batty.
“It’s Elder Batty,” he said. “I just want to know if Bea is in there with you. I got to tell y’all something.”
Any hint of gossip was enough for Sasha to open her door to Jack the Ripper. “Come on in,” she said. “She-rilla is in the living room.”
As soon as Batty stepped inside Sasha’s living room, Bea gave him a wide-eyed look and asked, “What are you doing knocking on Sasha’s door? What’s going on with you and her?”
“Oh, hush up, Bea,” Sasha told her. “There ain’t nobody living or dead that want your leftovers.”
Grabbing Bea about her shoulders, with his eyes sparkling, Batty laughed, telling her, “Girl, please. Don’t nobody want us . . . but us.”
Sister Betty Says I Do Page 24
