Chasing Faith

by Stephanie Perry Moore

  I stood in the bathroom for several minutes, trying to fix my hair and makeup so I wouldn’t look so bad. Although I was mad at Sebastian, I kept hoping to hear a knock on the door, and my man’s voice saying, “Hey, baby, I’m sorry. Let me explain.” It never happened.

  After several deep breaths, I finally managed to control my anger. I twisted my shirttail over the sink and got out as much water as I could before tucking it back in. After pressing my palms against my pant legs to get out some of the wrinkles, running a brush through my tangled hair, and slopping on some foundation and mascara, I stood up straight and took another deep breath. Then, after two long minutes, I opened the door, ready to return to my post.

  Before I got two steps down the hallway, Sebastian stopped me.

  “Get out of my way,” I said as the anger began to erupt again.

  He reached up and gently touched my chin. His nearness almost made me melt into his arms.

  He lifted my face, and I looked into his beautiful eyes.

  Before I could get lost in their depths, I pulled back and gave him a piece of my mind. “What are you doing? You think you can just walk up to me after all this time and I’ll just fall for you all over again? I’m here to do a job, not to socialize with you. Now, let me go and get back to your date.”

  Sebastian gripped my waist, stopping my escape. “Yes, Jenny is my date. But just for this evening. We went to Harvard together. She’s helping me with my campaign.”

  “Why haven’t you called me?” I demanded.

  “I just got back from South Africa.”

  “What?”

  “I went over there to take some medicine, food, and supplies to a village my church has been supporting for years. I got so caught up helping the people there, I caught meningitis. I apologize for not calling you, but I was pretty out of it.”

  “You really expect me to believe that?” I seethed. “I’ve been with your dad off and on for the last month and a half, and nobody told me you were sick in South Africa. And you couldn’t have called me when you got well enough to fly home? Now you’ve got a white chick on your arm? I don’t buy it.” I pushed him off to the side and stormed back out to the van.

  When I got in, drenched again, I got a hearty chewing-out from my supervisor.

  “Where have you been, Agent Ware?” he barked from the front seat. “You can’t leave your post like that. It wasn’t your turn to take a break. Your behavior was completely unprofessional. I know you’re only temping for us, but if this neglect continues I will be forced to relieve you of your duties.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. His tirade had little effect on me. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make me feel worse than I already did.

  At that moment my career didn’t seem very important, but I sucked it up and said the right things. I went back to doing my job, scoping out the house I desperately wanted to be in. But I was on the outside looking in, and that was probably the way it would stay.

  The next night there was a big campaign party at the Stokes estate. The rain had stopped, and the night sky held only a trace of wispy white clouds.

  The grounds were beautifully decorated with bright flowers and six large canvas tents. Each tent was filled with a different country’s unique artifacts and food. I didn’t have to wear my uniform, but I decided not to wear the black gown Sebastian had bought me. Instead I’d gone out and bought myself a sexy cocktail dress.

  The royal blue satin covered only one of my shoulders, fit tightly to my waist, then draped outward. I’d had my nails done in a squared American manicure and pulled my hair up into a sweeping style that hid my earpiece. I wanted Sebastian to see what he was missing.

  But when I saw him, my heart broke again. He was with a different girl this time—Penelope, the one from Christmas, the “friend of the family.” She looked perky and cute, and it made me sick just looking at her. I backed up and blended into the crowd.

  It was a grand party. Political notables, movie stars, and three gospel performers all mingled, chatted, and laughed together. I wandered about from one spot to another, shadowing my protectee. I spotted Sebastian far too often, always having fun. He certainly didn’t seem to be looking around for me.

  I went to the bar and ordered a soda. As the bartender handed me the glass, a warm hand touched my waist and rubbed it sensually. My instinct was to splash my drink into the face of whoever was touching me. But to my relief, when I turned around, I saw Max grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hey, baby,” he cooed.

  I gave him a blank stare. “What are you doing here?”

  He pointed to a group of guys gathered around the Jamaican table. They were the same friends I’d seen with him in New York.

  “Thanks to your introduction, we’re really in with our next president,” Max said as he popped some chicken seasoned with West Indian spices in his mouth.

  I grinned. “So you think Reverend Stokes is going to win.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said with confidence. “Who do you think paid for this whole shebang?” He spread his arms, almost spilling his glass of wine.

  “You helped pay for this party?” I asked, wondering if he was bragging or just drunk.

  “You bet. My little group paid for the whole thing. Two mill.”

  I whistled. “That’s a lot of money. Is it all legal?”

  He smiled. “Don’t you worry about that.” He leaned over and started to give me a big kiss on my lips, but I pulled away when I realized what he was doing.

  “What do you think you’re doing? I’m working here, chump.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his slobbery lips. “You look so good I forgot you’re here in a professional capacity.”

  “Agent Ware,” Agent Moss called through my earpiece. “Cool Falcon has left your vicinity. Do you think you can stop talking to guests long enough to do your job?”

  “I gotta go,” I said to Max.

  Before I could walk away, he grabbed my hand. “I want to get together.”

  I pulled my hand free, then took off to find Reverend Stokes. He was usually easy to pick out in a crowd, because people were always gathered around him, trying to shake his hand and push their political agendas. But there were so many celebrities at this party, there were little groups of fans all over the place.

  I couldn’t get on the radio and say, “Hey, guys, where’s the man we’re supposed to be watching?” That would make me look incompetent. I searched everywhere, but couldn’t find Reverend Stokes. I did, however, find his son. I strode up to Sebastian.

  Before I could ask him about his father’s whereabouts, he said, “So, I guess I’m not the only one who’s been dating other people.”

  “What?” I said.

  “I saw that man kiss you.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Look, I don’t have time to entertain childish insecurity. I need to—”

  “I know I got you all confused,” he interrupted, “but I really want to get together with you. We need to talk so I can explain. I’ve…I’ve missed you.”

  “Well, you’ve got a great way of showing it,” I countered. “Now, I’ve got work to do. And I’ll start by asking if you know where your father is.” He made me so mad I didn’t even want to ask him where his father was, yet that was my duty. Sebastian silently pointed across the way. I quickly bowed my head to him as a way of saying thanks. Then, I left him standing there in a daze.

  As I crossed the courtyard, I looked up at the beautiful Georgia sky and thanked the Lord for giving me back my integrity.

  After praying that prayer, I spotted Cool Falcon on the other side of the courtyard. I eased up behind my protectee as if I’d never left his side. Once again God was blessing me.

  The party was still going strong at two A.M. No one seemed to want to go home. The evening just got livelier, which meant my job was getting tougher. When people consumed alcohol, they often became impossible to control.

  One guy spilled his drink on the Reverend Sto
kes, and when he lunged forward I had to jump in front of my protectee to make sure it wasn’t a ploy to stab him. Two of my colleagues escorted the drunken man to the bar and made him drink some coffee.

  A few minutes later, I heard a series of pops. I stood by the protectee, but through my earpiece I could hear several agents running toward the pool area.

  “False alarm,” I heard the detail supervisor announce. “Just folks playing with firecrackers. Everybody go back to your post.”

  We need to end this party, I thought. It’s getting dangerous. But that wasn’t my call to make.

  When the agents left the front gate to investigate the rowdy disturbance, the paparazzi slipped through. Dozens of tabloid reporters swarmed in and started interviewing guests.

  I quickly led Reverend Stokes into the house. As we neared the door, I heard one reporter say to another, “This is quite a spread. Wonder how the good reverend’s paying for it.”

  My colleagues tried to clear out the unwelcome guests, but they weren’t having much luck. All of a sudden several reporters started surrounding Max and his associates.

  “What’s going on?” I heard one say to another as they rushed to join the throng.

  “Those guys are criminals,” the other informed him. “Organized crime money funded this party!”

  Reverend Stokes’s face turned pale.

  “The mob?” Jack Applebee, Stokes’s campaign manager, looked like he was about to choke. “Is that true?”

  Press Secretary Dan Greenville put his arms on the shoulders of Jack Applebee and Reverend Stokes and said, “Let’s not lose our heads here. You know how those magazines distort the truth. We need to clear everyone out and shut down the party as quickly as possible.”

  “Is it true?” Reverend Stokes asked his men. “Is my campaign being funded illegally?”

  “We’re…not completely sure,” Jack stated. “We did a preliminary background check on those guys, but nothing extensive. You seemed pretty comfortable with them, so we didn’t go any further.”

  “I’ll go talk to those men myself.” Reverend Stokes took a step in Max’s direction, but Dan Greenville stopped him.

  “Sir, go inside. We’ll take care of this. We’ll find out exactly who these men are and what their motives were for giving you so much money.”

  What had Max gotten me into? The main reason no one checked his guys was that they came highly recommended by me, one of the agents on the detail. Clearing people and checking them out carefully was a part of this job.

  When we got the candidate safely inside, the legitimate press started calling. Everyone wanted to know why Reverend Stokes was accepting money from the Bambino crime family from New York.

  “We are not in a position at this time to answer those questions,” Applebee and Greenville told all the callers. “A full statement will be given at dawn tomorrow.”

  As soon as my shift ended and I was cleared to leave, I went looking for Max.

  Several guests were standing at the end of the driveway, waiting for their limos. I searched carefully and finally found Max standing beside a white stretch limo with his Italian-looking friends. “I’ve been looking for you,” I said in a frantic tone.

  Max shook his head and said, “This party’s getting crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Max, I’m nervous,” I said, looking around to make sure none of my fellow agents saw me with him. “Can you meet me in the lobby of my hotel in thirty minutes? I’m at the Ritz downtown.”

  “It’s four o’clock in the morning,” he whined.

  “I know, but this is important.”

  “All right. Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.” He looked over his shoulder at his friends.

  “Thirty minutes,” I repeated. “Don’t be late.” I heard him laughing with his buddies as I headed for the nearest exit.

  Agent Moss met me at the gate. “You’re keeping some interesting company lately.”

  “Just saying hi to a college friend. That’s not a crime, is it, sir?” I didn’t mean to sound nasty, but it was four in the morning and I was extremely stressed. Still, I should have known better than to taunt my supervisor.

  “Agent Ware, I saw you conversing with a known crime family.”

  “Sir, only the black gentleman I was speaking to is a friend of mine. I don’t even know those other guys.”

  “One of the first things you learned in basic training was to maintain a proper image. Being seen with the wrong people isn’t good for the Agency. Or for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said meekly. “Can I go now?”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Ware, I’ve already written you up for your behavior over the last couple of days, and I’ve tolerated you interacting on a personal level with the protectee’s family. Because you’ve proven yourself a capable Secret Service agent by saving Reverend Stokes’s life, I’ve looked the other way about you leaving your post, losing your protectee, and showing up late to work. You don’t have any more chances. One more screw-up, and you’re out of here—understand?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

  I climbed into the van and rode with my unit back to the hotel. No one asked what Moss had talked to me about, and I didn’t offer the information.

  The other agents went to their rooms, but I took a chair in an isolated corner of the lobby facing the double glass doors. There was very little movement in or out of the hotel at that hour. I desperately wanted to find out the status back at campaign headquarters, but could think of only one person who might know, and be willing to tell me. I called Sebastian.

  “Things were so wild when I left,” I explained, “I wanted to touch base and see how everything was going.”

  “The phones are still going crazy, but my dad’s got good people to put out fires like this. So there’s nothing to really worry about.”

  I wanted to shout, “But this might be my fault!” How could I tell the man I loved that I might have ruined his father’s chance at the presidency?

  I saw Max coming through the door and waved at him. “I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “I’d like that,” I said softly.

  “’Bye.” He spoke hesitantly, as if he didn’t want to get off the phone any more than I did.

  “Good night,” I said, hanging up as Max approached.

  “Hey, was that your boyfriend?” Max teased.

  “Don’t worry about who that was,” I attacked angrily, grateful that the hotel lobby was empty so I could lay into him. “What have you gotten me into, Max?”

  “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Chris. We had an agreement.”

  “What kind of agreement?”

  He looked down at his hands. “All I know is that Skip Bambino has some things he wants Stokes to propose to Congress if he gets elected. Supposedly, Stokes agreed. Then all of a sudden tonight he changes his mind and says he’s not going to do it. Well, Skip already invested a lot of money in the good reverend’s campaign, so now the Bambino family is putting a little heat on to make him honor their agreement.”

  “What does this guy want Stokes to propose?”

  Max shuffled his feet. “They want to divert some of the funds that are being used in the war on drugs.”

  “Max, how do you know this Skip Bambino?”

  “He’s the president of the bank where I work.”

  “Are you helping him launder money?”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “You know you’re working for a criminal.”

  “You’re assuming he’s guilty.”

  “Hey, I got chewed out by my superior today just for talking to you. I don’t want to lose my job over this! Besides, a man’s presidential hopes could be ruined here.” I had to restrain myself from reaching over and strangling him. “Max, I care about the Stokes family. If you’re hurting them—”

  “Oh, I see now. That Sebastian ki
d is your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

  “No,” I argued meekly. “Look, I can’t talk about this anymore. I need some sleep. My job is crazy. My love life is a mess. Everything in my life right now is upside down.”

  I went upstairs to my room and sat on the bed and started to pray aloud. “Dear Lord, please bestow upon me Your strength, wisdom, and grace. I made a mistake by even dealing with Max. I’m so sorry for this. Lord, don’t let Reverend Stokes’s campaign suffer because of something that wasn’t his fault. He’s a decent man who should not be penalized for something he didn’t do. Please get him out of this mess. It’s too rocky.”

  Chapter 11

  Avalanche

  I woke up the next morning with the covers nestled tight around me. The hotel room wasn’t cold, but I was shivering anyway. Beautiful music was playing on the radio station I’d left on all night. A gospel group was singing a song about the Twenty-third Psalm.

  I’d been frightened and confused about what might happen next. Reverend Stokes’s hopes of getting into the White House might be snatched away from him simply because I had connected him to corrupt people. But the song on the radio calmed my nerves as it assured me that God was in control.

  He was my Shepherd, my Protector, and my Guardian, and He knew what the day was going to bring. I didn’t need to worry about anything. All I had to do was put my life in God’s hands, because He would make me lie down in green pastures. That meant that some way, somehow, everything was going to be all right. Leading me beside the still waters meant that I didn’t need to fear, that raging waters would carry me into the sea. The Lord would renew my strength and restore my soul so I could face anything.

  Things might get crazy, but I didn’t have to be afraid because God would be with me. He’d give me whatever I needed to make it through. He would comfort me, even in front of those who might want to harm me. I could rest in the fact that God was with me and I would be with Him in eternity. That’s what the Christian life is all about. Not my circumstances changing, but my mind-set adjusting so I could see God in the good times and the bad.