by Pat Simmons
What did she do on her days off, and with whom? Rahn pushed redial to KMMD-TV.
“Sports,” Greg Saxon answered, once Rahn was transferred.
After the preliminaries, Rahn got to the point of his call. “Invite me back for a follow-up interview.” It wasn’t a request.
Greg’s deafening laughter pierced his ear.
“What’s so funny?
“That’s a first—an athlete demanding to talk to the media. We can get updates from the police. That’s old news,” Greg said nonchalantly.
Excuse me? “The threat on my life is now old news? It wasn’t that long ago.” Rahn felt disrespected. He needed that pity party to last a little longer. “Listen, man, I’d really like to see Shae again—”
“So, that’s what this is about. You can see her on Saturday and Sunday at five and ten, then Monday through Wednesday, six and ten.”
As if Rahn didn’t know her newscast schedule. Since the day he’d first seen her, he had become a loyal viewer—not for the news but for the newswoman. Shae had already mesmerized him on Saturdays, then again on Sundays, especially at the end of her newscast, when she pulled out a hat like the ones his mother wore to church.
Shae’s headpiece had sparked a lighthearted banter among her coanchors, but God help him if Shae didn’t seduce him with her smile every time. The close-ups on his high-def television made him want to reach out and touch her, and Rahn had—at least, he’d placed his hand on the screen, as if it was a point of contact. Now who was the groupie?
5
As the newest media personality in St. Louis, Shae was expected to make appearances at local events. The station’s strategy was simple: more visibility in the community might convince more viewers to switch to KMMD-TV for their weekend news.
This time, Shae waited backstage behind the thick velvet curtains at the majestic Fabulous Fox Theatre, smiling to muffle her screams of excitement at coming face-to-face with the night’s main attraction. Tall and handsome Boris Hawkins engulfed her in a big hug. Stepping out of his embrace, Shae scrutinized the childhood friend she’d had a crush on throughout most of her teenage years. He was still fine, with his hazel eyes and dimpled smile. Last she’d heard, he had married. Hopefully, they were still together.
Boris gave her a slow appraisal. “You are looking hot, girl.”
Shae blushed under his compliment, knowing there had been a few adjustments in her appearance since the last time he’d seen her. The Carmen sisters were a standout with their long hair, courtesy of their African and Italian heritages. Shae’s mother always said it was a woman’s glory.
Well, her glory had dimmed after the affair she didn’t know she was having with a man she didn’t know was married. Her hair length wasn’t teasing her waist, as before, but at least it would spill over her shoulders again once she removed the weave. Plus, she was no longer a size seven.
That had been a long time ago. She had accepted her size ten with grace, but she freaked out when she had to slip into a size twelve garment like the red dress she was wearing that evening. Despite the size, Shae had liked the way she looked when she checked herself in the mirror before leaving her condo.
“Stop it,” she teased, playfully punching Boris in the arm. Elated about seeing him, Shae couldn’t think of a better way to spend her Friday night than at a gospel concert, and one that honored the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” The event’s organizer, Jodie Thomas, greeted the crowd, cutting into Shae and Boris’s impromptu reunion. “Thanks for joining us tonight for the benefit concert.”
“I wish we could catch up later, but I’m flying back home tonight,” Boris told Shae. “Monica is pregnant with our first child.” He puffed out his chest and grinned.
“Oh, congratulations.” Maybe someday, God will have a man who’ll love me like that, she thought.
“Please welcome our mistress of ceremonies for the evening, KMMD-TV’s news reporter and weekend anchor Miss Shae Carmen, also dubbed ‘The Hat Lady,’” Jodie said by way of introduction.
Shae gave Boris a quick hug before dashing off. As she glided across the stage to an enthusiastic applause, she could feel the excitement in the air. From the moment she entered the historic theatre, she experienced a taste of the nostalgia of an era long before she was born. The gold trim, marble pillars, winding stairs, plush carpet, and velvet upholstery spoke volumes of the caliber of its original patrons’ pocketbooks. She briefly wondered at the entertainers who had wowed audiences in the theatre’s heyday.
She stepped to the podium and smiled. “Good evening. It’s an honor for me to be part of this festive occasion tonight. Shall we all stand to begin with a prayer”—she paused and glanced down at the program—“by Elder Ellis, followed by the congregational singing of the Black National Anthem, ‘Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing’?”
The minister gave an emotional prayer for tolerance and unity, which inspired the audience to sing the anthem with vigor. Afterward, Shae returned to the microphone, eager to introduce her friend. “Some of you may not be aware that I’m originally from Philly, so I know this group personally, and they can jam for the Lord. So, as they say, let’s get this party started! Please welcome Boris, Brian, and Blythe Hawkins.”
The brothers entered from the other side of the stage. Shae twirled around, preparing to retreat backstage, when, like lightning, Boris snuck up behind her.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He tugged her to the center with him. “Hey, St. Louis. It’s true we go way back with Shae and her sisters, who were once considered Philly’s musical prodigies. Don’t let her broadcast voice fool you; this sister can croon, too.”
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying as gracefully as she could to loosen Boris’ firm but gentle hold.
Coming from a family of musicians, she and her sisters had earned a reputation for their talents, locally and in several surrounding cities. Growing up, they tried to mimic the Jackson 5, the Winans, Sister Sledge, the Clark Sisters, the Newell Sisters, and other family singing groups. Stacy would command the keyboards, while Shari manipulated the high notes on the alto sax. Shae’s role model had been Sheila E. as she’d perfected her craft on the drums. Brecee was out of control with her Chuck Berry antics on the guitar. But musical prodigies? She didn’t think so.
“Do you want to hear her sing?” Boris coaxed the audience, ignoring her pleas to bow out.
The noise was thunderous until finally Shae conceded, but not without pointing a finger at Boris as she would a naughty child. “One song.”
He laughed and then whispered his selection: “He’ll Make a Way.”
It felt good to use the gift God had given her as she hit the high notes. Boris and his brothers captivated the audience with their baritone melody, which blended with hers as if they were her backup singers.
The crowd remained on their feet, clapping and praising God, as Shae and Boris engaged in a “battle of the voices” duet. When the song ended, Boris linked his fingers through Shae’s and urged her to take a bow, then stepped back for her to receive all the applause.
“Thank you.” Shae smiled and waved. Boris rewarded her with another hug before she left the limelight, blowing kisses at band members she recognized.
As she approached the stage door, one of the photographers lowered his camera. It was Kevin, from work. Wherever a KMMD media personality was in the community, the station sent a photographer to shoot a few minutes of B-roll to air for its viewers as proof. “You’re definitely in the wrong business.” He gave her a thumbs-up.
Left alone in the shadows of the stage, Shae reflected on the memories of her childhood. She couldn’t help but miss the countless times she and her sisters had performed at churches and family gatherings. Despite living separate lives and working in challenging careers, whenever they got together under one roof, they still jammed out a few songs with their instruments if they brought them along.
The piano in Shae’s
condo was a reminder of home, forcing her to fight back a bout of homesickness. Stacy was the true pianist. When Shae wasn’t dabbling with the keyboard, she programmed a list of music just to watch the keys move as the songs played.
As the Hawkins brothers wowed the audience, it dawned on Shae that she hadn’t sung “He’ll Make a Way” since her disastrous breakup with Alex. But that was all right. That song had been a breakthrough. The past was gone, and she had to look to the future. Shae was no longer angry and mistrusting when it came to men. That didn’t mean she was ready to date, only that bitterness no longer consumed her.
Overcomers inherit all things, God whispered His Word from Revelation 21:7.
***
Rahn boarded a plane to Virginia for a long weekend at home. His mother had been ecstatic when he’d called to tell her his plans. During the flight, he pondered what twist of fate might cause him to cross paths with Shae again. He prayed for another act of God, albeit one less threatening than a carjacking.
While he was enjoying an evening with his mother, sister, and nephews, Marcus texted him with a different twist of fate:
Getting praise on @ gospel concert. Guess who was the MC? Shae Carmen. Guess who can sing? Shae Carmen. Sorry u missed it. Hope u had a GREAT evening. LOL
6
Shae was an instant sensation when she walked into the newsroom the next day. Her producer, Terri Lane, folded her arms and tapped the toe of her shoe. “Hm. After watching the video of you at the gospel concert last night, I’m not sure if we should have you belt out a solo or stick with the hats at the end of the newscasts on Sundays. Maybe we should do both.”
The scatterbrained expression on Terri’s face indicated she was serious. The woman was known for taking risks if it would mean higher ratings than the competition. Shae doubted management would go that far, but stranger things had happened in the newsroom.
A bouquet of flowers rich in color seemed to lure her to her desk. “Wow.” They were beautiful.
Diane snickered. “I’d say you were a real big hit.”
Shae reached for the card. She flipped over the envelope and read aloud, “‘Will you marry me? We can start with dinner. Raphael.’ The man listed his cell number.” She was flabbergasted at the fake proposition. “Do I have ‘desperate’ stamped on my forehead or something?”
“Nope.” Diane shook her head. “But it is your first proposal since you’ve been here. Humph. A background check may prove he’s a sexual predator.” She rocked in her chair. “Don’t get caught up in all the hype. I’ve been proposed to four times. I said yes twice, got married once, and got divorced a year later. I should’ve married the one I dismissed.”
Talk about stats; it appeared her colleague had them. Diane had the personality and looks to get any man’s attention. More than once, she used her assets to her advantage to make a person tell her everything she wanted to know. But romantic entanglements were definitely not her forte.
Shae laughed and scooted the floral arrangement to the side. “I won’t, don’t worry. He’s forgotten already.”
“Oh, and don’t forget the Emmys deadline. KMMD loves awards banquets. You never know what story you’ve reported that will win.”
“Okay.”
A few hours later, Shae was in the middle of following up on leads about corner stores that were a cover-up for meth labs when she received another delivery from the florist. The multicolored blossoms reminded her of a rainbow. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said in awe.
Diane stopped what she was doing and waited for the scoop. “Me, neither, so hurry up and see who sent them. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Really?” Shae lifted a brow and waved the sealed envelope in her hand. “Then I guess this can wait until you get back.”
Diane huffed and folded her arms.
“All right.” To put her colleague out of her misery, Shae pulled the card out of the unsealed envelope and read silently. “Bummer, no marriage proposal.” She tried to keep a straight face as she feigned disappointment. “It’s only an invitation to a private three-day cruise.”
“Now that would be hard to pass up.” Diane gathered her things. She was almost out the door when she backtracked. “Scratch that. The dude probably doesn’t have any money. He’s looking for a sugar mama. See ya.”
Reclining in her chair, Shae laughed at Diane’s assessment. Moments later, her smartphone chirped twice, alerting Shae that her eldest sister had sent a text.
Thinking about my sisters. “And we know that all things work together…” Romans 8:28. Love, Stacy
It was a group text to her, Shari, and Brecee. Shae missed them terribly.
While some siblings grew apart as they neared adulthood, the Carmen sisters’ bond had only strengthened, through thick and thin. They were there for each other, night or day. As long as there was United or Southwest Airlines, distance wasn’t an issue.
Shae texted her back, I believe that! Amen.
Less than an hour later, Shae was interrupted again by yet another flower delivery. She was beyond annoyed, but she didn’t take it out on the bearer of gifts. She thanked the guard for bringing the flowers to her desk. They were mixed with an abundance of greenery and could definitely be considered more a plant than a bouquet. Once he left, Shae frowned as she snatched the envelope.
It seems like I missed my blessing, in more ways than one, by skipping the gospel concert. I really would like to see you again. Please call me.
Rahn Maxwell
He’d listed his numbers again.
Her annoyance dissipated. The man had no gimmicks, no ridiculous proposal to a stranger, no bogus invitation to a suspicious dinner aboard a yacht. She stared at his phone numbers, actually debating. Should she or shouldn’t she?
Granted, she was a recovering man-hater and didn’t know what it would take to convince her to go on a date again. But there was something tempting about Rahn Maxwell, aside from his addictive looks and celebrity status.
Shae gnawed on her bottom lip as she fumbled with the card. Until she could figure out what it was about Rahn that drew him to her, she would play it safe. But, while she tossed his note in the trash with the others, she did give his bouquet preferential treatment on her desk, sending the other two to the lobby.
Shae survived the rest of the work week with no further deliveries. All she could think about was her days off, which began after her shift. She was unaware someone was standing at her desk until he cleared his throat. Startled, she looked up.
“I need a favor—a personal one.” Greg Saxon from the sports department stood over her shoulder, looking frazzled.
“O-okay.” Shae crossed her arms, waiting expectantly for him to continue. Outside of work, they really didn’t know each other. Plus, the man was about to get married. What could he possibly want from her, and on a personal note, at that?
“My wedding is Saturday, and my soloist has been hospitalized with the flu. Is there any chance you could fill in? It’s just one song, ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’”
Caught off guard, Shae opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “Uh, I work on Saturdays, remember? I’m sorry, Greg.” Assuming that was the end of the conversation, she stood, preparing to check the board to see which story had been assigned to her.
“Wait.” He pressed his hands together as if in prayer. “The wedding starts at two. If you leave right after you sing, you won’t be late for work. I realize we haven’t known each other that long, and I wouldn’t have asked, but watching you on that video…”
The mastermind had it all figured out, did he? Shae decided to try reasoning with him. “What about someone in the choir? Anyone can sing ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ Besides, people are coming to witness you exchange vows. They won’t care if the soloist is a little off-key.” She hated to come out and say no.
Greg took the liberty of swiping Diane’s chair and scooting it closer, trapping Shae at her desk. “My fiancée’s friend sings like a songbird that stirs
the soul, but my babe cried when she watched the clip of you singing. Not everyone has your gift. Please.” He glanced around the newsroom, then looked at her again. “Listen, so many things have gone wrong with our wedding plans, and now this. I was hoping to lessen the burden by asking you.”
Her colleague was laying on the guilt. Yes, Shae had heard horror stories about wedding day fiascos, and if she ever got married, she hoped not to experience one.
Stacy’s text came to mind, and with it, Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”
Was this part of God’s purpose? Shae sighed. She really didn’t have any plans for Saturday. And how would she get blessed if she didn’t bless others? “All right,” she finally conceded. “But I’m going to be in and out.”
Greg exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for hours. “You just made our day.”
Suddenly the Lord whispered Proverbs 18:24: “A man that hath friends must show himself friendly.”
“Amen.” Shae smiled as she watched her coworker walk away looking 100 percent relieved. Greg loved his fiancée; Boris loved his wife. Surely, there was a man out there who would love her unconditionally. Surely, someday, she would be the bride, not the wedding singer.
7
I hope you’re planning to be at my wedding tomorrow.” Greg Saxon’s tone was almost taunting when Rahn picked up his home phone.
In all honesty, Rahn wasn’t planning to attend. A generic congratulatory card, signed with his apologies and some money inserted, usually made up for his absence at those events. Why was Greg following up on RSVPs when he should be enjoying his bachelor party? “Actually, I have other—”
“I should’ve called you yesterday,” Greg cut in. “I was in a jam, and to make a long story short, Shae is standing in for the soloist. It was a last-minute switch. I know you wanted another chance to meet her, so here it is. I suggest you take it.”
