After I signed the paper, Blanche said, “I’d like to give you time to settle back in, but as I mentioned, this client requires immediate attention. I’ll have Martin explain what’s going on, and we’ll have you set up an introductory meeting as soon as possible. There are a couple other clients we’ll have you take over, but this particular one is top priority. I trust you’ll give it your best. It’s good to know I have someone I can count on with this kind of client.”
Blanche stood and shook my hand. “Nice to have you back on board, Trina.” She smiled, and I almost believed her. Her smile left almost immediately as she looked at me from head to toe. “You’re going to need to get some new clothes, do something with your hair, and for God’s sake, put on some make-up. You’re not in Africa anymore.” She sat back down at her desk and turned toward her computer, dismissing me.
I sucked in a breath and bit my tongue to keep from replying. I left quickly, wondering if I should have pushed for a six-month contract or working from home. Blanche wasn’t the kind of person you could make any changes with after signing on the dotted line. I shrugged off the little concerns nagging me and walked to Martin’s office.
A huge smile spread across his face when I walked in his door. “I am so glad you’re back, Trina.” He stood to shake my hand. It was weird for him to be so happy to see me. Not that we didn’t get along or anything before I left. He was just one of those people I said hi and bye to without ever having much other conversation. I kinda thought he might have been threatened by me. I was one of the firm’s top public relations specialists. Even though I specialized in Christian clients and non-profit organizations, I could serve regular businesses just as well. I couldn’t quite put my finger on anything in particular, but there were a couple of subtle comments he made at group meetings that made me wonder if I were a threat to his male ego.
He gestured for me to take a seat across from him. “This client has your name written all over it. And honestly, I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
I frowned. “Why not? Too churchy for you?”
Martin’s eyes widened. “You mean Blanche didn’t tell you about the client?”
I shook my head, starting to get a little nervous.
He half grimaced, half smiled. “Whoa boy. Wait ’til you see this one. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
He pulled a folder out of a stack on his desk and thumbed through it. “That’s just like Blanche. She probably buttered you up with how great you are and how valued you are to the team to get you to take your old job back. Failing to mention that she’s assigning you to work with the devil himself. What’d she promise you? A corner office?”
I wasn’t about to tell him about my raise. I didn’t want to add any tension by him knowing I made more money than he did. I smiled weakly. “No, I didn’t even think to hold out for the corner office.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll learn. With Blanche, there’s always a game. One day you’ll be able to play it.”
I nodded, content to let him think I was naïve and stupid.
He pulled a couple of sheets out of the folder. “Anyway, this is the client you’ll be working with.” He pulled out a newspaper article and chuckled. “Boy, Blanche really got you good.” He shook his head in pity, like he was wondering how I could have been so stupid.
When he handed me the article, I sucked in a sharp breath. “You can’t be serious.” It was the very same article I had read in the newspaper at the airport. About Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines being arrested.
I stood up. “There’s no way I’m taking this client.”
“You know them?”
I took a deep breath to get myself together. “I’ve been following the story on the news. It’s awful. I think the last count was eighteen boys and young men coming forward so far. What PR could they possibly want?”
“Oh, it’s not the men being accused. It’s the pastor of the church they used to serve under.”
My eyes flew open. “Bishop Walker?”
Martin squinted his eyes at me. “So you do know them.”
No sense in lying. “I used to go to church there years ago. I left because . . .” I took the article from Martin and glanced at it again. “So why is he hiring a PR firm? As far as I’ve heard, no one’s accused him of anything . . . yet.”
“Trina, you know.”
We said it together, “Damage control.”
Martin passed me the whole folder. “I’m sure his first and foremost goal is to distance himself from these men as much as possible. He wants to make sure his name stays clear and that his image and his church’s image isn’t the least bit affected by all this. From what I understand, he’s built quite an empire. You know those mega churches are huge money makers. He can’t stand to lose the status, nor the money he’s gained.”
My first inclination was to argue with Martin about mega churches being money makers. Unfortunately, I knew that in Bishop Walker’s case, it was the truth.
Martin continued, “Because of your legacy here, this firm still has the best reputation in the area for dealing with churches. He said we came highly recommended.”
I put the article back in the folder and laid it on Martin’s desk. “There’s no way I can take this client.”
“Did you sign an offer letter?”
I gulped and nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I have to take this client. I accepted the job, not this particular client.”
“Yeah, but you know as well as I do that accepting the job means you’re willing to accept whatever client is assigned.”
Blanche knew that as well. Here I was thinking I was getting over with a twenty percent raise. It was probably nothing compared to what Bishop was prepared to pay to keep his name from being dragged through the mud with his deacon and pastor. Blanche had played me, letting me think I was getting over on her.
And because I was so desperate for money, I had fallen right into her trap. The worst part was, I hadn’t even taken the time to pray about the situation. I had just assumed it was God, meeting my immediate need.
I picked up the folder and started toward Martin’s door.
“Wait, there are a couple of other clients I’ll be passing over to you. Other church stuff. Nothing as juicy as this one, but you know pastors and church people have a way of getting themselves in trouble. Bunch of hypocrites and liars. You’d think—”
“I’ll be back for the other clients, Martin. I need to talk to Blanche.”
I forgot all about office protocol and Blanche’s mean-spirited temper and barged into her office. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to take this client.” I dropped the folder on her desk.
She held up the offer letter and didn’t say a word.
I stood towering over her desk. Maybe if I were completely disrespectful and a bit threatening, she would fire me. “What would make you think I would accept this client? Remember the situation a few years back I refused to take on, with the pastor having babies by young women in the church? This is ten times worse than that. How could you possibly think I would take it?” I put my hands on my hips, realizing she knew full well what my reaction would be. “How convenient that you didn’t mention who the client was while you were making your offer. You know me well enough to know I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with this.”
A calm smile spread across Blanche’s face. “I also know you well enough to know that if you weren’t desperate for a job right now, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You did a good job standing up to me and getting the raise you wanted. But don’t think for a second your nonchalant act had me fooled. We need each other right now. You do the job. I’ll pay the money. Everybody’s happy.”
“Happy? How can I be happy working with this kind of client?”
“Give me a break, Trina. You’re so self-righteous. Traipsing off to Africa, sleeping in the jungle with the poor, sick, starving people of the third world so you can prove what an awesome Christian you are. Bottom li
ne is, you had a price and could be bought. I might have had to pay you more had you known who the client was, but bottom line, money talks.”
I started to open my mouth to tell her just what I thought about her, but she held up the offer letter and pointed to my signature at the bottom. “This conversation is over. Call the Bishop and set up an appointment.”
I stood there for a minute with my mouth open. She dismissed me by turning back to her computer again. I had no choice, but to leave her office.
And to go to my desk to call Bishop Walker.
Eleven
When I talked to Bishop Walker’s secretary, she told me he was looking forward to meeting with me immediately and that Blanche had told her I would be available to meet that afternoon. I rubbed my temples and let out a deep breath. It wasn’t even worth going back to Blanche’s office to argue. I was stuck with Bishop and his scandal, and the sooner I moved forward with this thing, the sooner I could get it over with.
Two hours later, I found myself entering the administrative offices of Love and Faith Christian Center. When I introduced myself to Bishop Walker’s secretary, she got up from her chair and almost ran over to shake my hand. It looked like she had to stop herself from hugging me. “I’m Nadine Turner. So glad to meet you. Trina, you said?”
I gently tried to pull my hand away from her tight squeeze. “Yes, Trina Michaels. Glad to meet you as well.”
She still didn’t let go of my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. Bishop will be glad to know you’re here as well.”
I could only imagine the stress she had been under since the news broke. I was sure reporters had chased her into the building the first couple of days, maybe even followed her home.
And I couldn’t imagine the number of phone calls she’d had to field. I wondered how many times she had considered quitting. Looking in her eyes though, I knew she was one of those women who were hopelessly devoted to her pastor, no matter what he did.
She walked back over to her desk and picked up her phone. “Your public relations specialist is here. Yes, sir. Trina Michaels, sir.” She hung up the phone and gestured toward a large door behind her desk. “He’ll see you right now.” Her face beamed like she thought I should be honored to be meeting with the Bishop and that he was willing to see me right away. Honored? She had no idea how much I really knew about him.
She opened the door for me and gestured for me to go in. I almost expected her to curtsy before closing the door.
“Ms. Michaels, please come in.” Bishop Walker stood to shake my hand. He looked a lot older and more tired than he looked when I left the church seven years ago. Being evil had that kind of effect on a person.
He looked at me like he was trying to place my face. I wondered if he would remember me. He’d had about nine thousand members when I left, so it was doubtful. I probably looked familiar because Monica and I were best friends, and he knew her well because her husband was the minister of music. He had probably seen my face more than the average member, but it was never like he knew me by name. “Please have a seat, and make yourself comfortable.”
I sat down in the chair across from his pretentiously large desk. I focused on the wall for a second, looking at his degrees, citations from the church council, and pictures with some city political officials. What stood out the most were the pictures of Martin Luther King Jr. and a black version of the typical picture of Jesus. I tried to keep from rolling my eyes. He didn’t deserve to have either of them gracing his wall.
“I do appreciate you coming on such short notice. Ms. Silver let me know you were just coming back from a missionary journey in Africa and had just returned to work.” He put on an admiring face. “So good to know that I’ll be not only working with a Christian, but one that obviously has the heart of God for His people. I’m sure the strength you gained there will be a great help to me in maneuvering such a difficult time in the life of this church family.”
He let out a deep, troubled sigh. “I still can’t believe this is happening. As a pastor, my life’s quest has been to protect and serve the sheep God has placed under my responsibility. To disciple them in the things of God and to help them reach their greatest potential. To think that I may have failed any of my sheep . . . that God would have entrusted them to my care and that under my watch, they were . . . violated . . . I can hardly bear it.”
He truly deserved an Academy Award. I thought about Monica crying at my kitchen table two years ago, telling me how Bishop Walker had known that Kevin was involved in homosexual activity since he was in high school. He had sent his lover away and taken away Kevin’s responsibilities as a church musician. When he believed that Kevin had gotten it “out of his system,” he put him back in charge of his choirs. With Kevin as the minister of music, his church experienced steady growth.
When Kevin and Monica came to him about getting married, he had rushed them through premarital counseling and married them off as quickly as he could. Somehow, during the premarital counseling sessions, Bishop Walker conveniently forgot to tell Monica what he knew about Kevin’s past.
When she came to him after finding Kevin cheating with that same lover who had moved back to town years later, he swore them to secrecy, sent the lover away again, and tried to sweep the enormity of the situation under the rug. He claimed that he would counsel them and pray with them and everything would be all right.
He probably wore the same fake troubled and concerned face talking to Monica that he was wearing for me right now.
I nodded and smiled, pretending to be equally troubled and concerned. I would let him keep talking and putting on his award-winning pious, pitiful act just so I could see where he was coming from. I would have to trust that God would keep me from throwing up all over his expensive, thick carpet.
“By the way, your work comes highly recommended. You handled a situation for a dear pastor friend of mine a few years ago. He and his wife were going through a divorce at the time, and you know how the Christian world frowns on divorce. Gives me such confidence in your ability to walk with me and my congregation through our current pain.” He shook his head and pressed his lips together.
Did he really think there was any comparison? Yes, divorce and Christianity were controversial, especially for a pastor who’s supposed to be able to keep his family life together as a qualification for being in a position of church leadership. But there were no criminal charges involved with a couple getting a divorce. And there weren’t eighteen innocent boys’ lives affected either.
I decided to put on a little act of my own. “It’s my pleasure to serve fellow members of the body of Christ, especially pastors that put themselves on the front line of battle—caring for people’s souls and making themselves direct targets of the enemy. I understand that sometimes difficulties occur and that even though people would put men of God on a pedestal, they’re human just like everyone else. Susceptible to temptation and the flesh and regular human weaknesses. Or in other cases, willing to cover the sins of another in love, just as the Bible instructs, for the greater good of the body as a whole.” Perhaps if I came across as understanding, even compassionate, he would admit that he knew. That would at least make him easier to work with.
He put on a shocked face, obviously taken aback by my implication. “Ms. Michaels, I assure you that’s not the case in this situation. While I understand that love covers a multitude of sins, this is clearly not the kind of situation where that scripture would apply. I would never have covered the sins of these men if I had known. The number of lives they’ve affected is far too great. It’s never for the greater good of the body when young boys are hurt.”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to convince me of his innocence. I was stuck with him whether he knew about the men’s crimes or not. “Then that makes our campaign all the more important, Bishop Walker. You and your church are almost as much victims of these men’s crimes as the boys.” God would have to forgive me for pouring it on so thick.
He nodded, taking off his shocked face and assuming a new, victimized face, seeming to appreciate my level of understanding of his distress.
His office door opened, and his secretary entered with a cup of coffee on a tray with cream and sugar. She set it on a small table under the picture of black Jesus and carefully counted out two teaspoons of sugar. She poured some cream in it, stirred it and checked the color, and then added a couple more drops of cream. She brought the coffee cup over to his desk and set it down with a napkin. Bishop barely nodded his acknowledgement of her.
“Would you like anything, Ms. Michaels?” he offered.
“Water would be fine.” I tried to hide my surprise when his secretary actually did a little bow and scurried off to get me some water. If he had enough members like her, he didn’t have to worry about his church numbers decreasing too much.
Bishop picked up the cup of coffee and took a small sip. He frowned and set it back on its saucer. I was afraid his secretary would get chewed out for it being too hot or too sweet or too something when she came back.
“So Ms. Michaels, how would you suggest we begin?”
“I think the first thing you’re obligated to do is hold a press conference to explain your position.”
His eyes widened like that was the last thing he wanted to do.
I continued, “I’ve seen the news since I’ve been back. Every time you hold up your hand to a camera and walk away, it looks like you have something to hide. People will start to believe you knew. Even faithful members of your congregation will start to wonder. If you sit down and explain yourself to the press, just like you have to me, I’m sure people will understand that you knew nothing of what was happening over the last twenty years.” I tried to keep the venom out of my voice when I said that. Did he really think me or anyone else would believe that he was completely ignorant to what was going on right under his nose for twenty whole years?
Selling My Soul Page 8
