Chapter Thirty-five
The dull-gray desk’s cigarette burns, dents, and gashes spoke to Detroit’s underclass’s frustration and angst at being voiceless. Too many stories of pain were etched in each mark with very few fairy-tale endings. It all depressed Lawton. He wasn’t a desk jockey, but he had experience where some poor souls had hit, kicked, and poured out their sorrow—on the desk—at being robbed of their hard earned cash or worse, a loved one’s life. Today’s report would be a good one, and he wanted to get it done. He wanted to get back out on the street for the rest of his shift.
He pecked out his report when his phone rang. It was Tanya, his friend Kevin’s fiancée. “What’s up, girl? You planning something with Kevin?”
“Hey. I know you appreciate straight talk, so I’m going to get straight to the point.” She took a shallow breath and rushed on. “Even though Kevin told me it was none of our business, I felt you should know—”
Lawton hated gossip so he interrupted her spill. “If Kevin thinks you should keep it to yourself, do that.”
Tanya wasn’t listening to Lawton or hanging up without sharing. “Oh no, after seeing you and Esther all hugged up when we hung out, I was not feeling the rumor about her and Pastor Stokes getting busy. As a faithful Love Zion member, I was tryin’a take the high road on all this messiness. But, this latest news? Imagine them going at it in the church office. Honey, the angels is crying over this one. In the church? Really! They say Naomi, the church secretary, fell out when she walked into her office after service and heard the sounds coming from Pastor Stokes’s closed office door. How a lady that old ran out of the church as fast as they say, is beyond me. Lawton, she coulda keeled over in the parking lot from the shock or exertion. Poor baby was scandalized.”
Stunned, Lawton stared blankly at his computer.
“Hello, hello . . . You there?”
“Which was it? Did she fall out? Or run? A body can’t do both.” He could hear Tanya sputtering.
“Listen, girl, next time, listen to Kevin. And don’t pass this lie on to anyone else. Good . . . bye.”
Fussing under his breath and ending the call, he was drawn immediately into another. The mobile radio on his belt went off, and he was ordered to hit the streets. The one hundred fifty-fourth homicide in Detroit had just occurred. He kicked his desk, marking it again, grabbed his hat, and marched out of the office. The petty drama Tanya tried to bring was nonsense. What he faced daily was real.
Lawton peered over at his partner, Glen, who was staring out the squad car window. “You mighty quiet over there. What’s up with that? I know you looking for a suspect, but come on, man.”
Glen looked embarrassed. “I was tryin’a mind my own business. But since you pulling me in . . . did Kevin’s girl, Tanya, call you?”
Lawton gripped the steering wheel. “I’m going to say this one time. Esther’s not like that, okay, dude?”
“That’s what I told Kevin, but he gets caught up in drama. He even watches those reality shows. Everyone knows they’re scripted,” Glen said, now self-conscious.
Lawton watched a gold Sebring round the corner without braking. “Hey, what’s the description of the one dude we’re looking for? Was it tatts all down his arms driving a gold car?” Lawton saw the driver’s arm resting outside of the car’s window as he turned the corner. In a wifebeater, the driver’s arm was tatted from his shoulder to his wrist.
“Yeah, that him up ahead?” Glen asked as he braced for a chase.
“Affirmative,” Lawton hit his siren and pursued. “Call it in.”
Lawton could tell exactly when the suspect decided to make a break for it. The gold Sebring’s speed accelerated. He pushed his pedal down and stayed right there with him as Glen called out their location. Lawton’s mind blurred his present situation with his earlier news. He saw Briggs bringing food to Esther’s house. The scene skipped to Esther swinging her body to the cha-cha. Then a closed door and sounds of pleasure floated through the wood. Lawton pushed the pedal harder, the car in front pushing his speedometer to ninety to stay ahead. Lawton saw Esther lean forward to kiss him, his face waxing into Briggs’s. He was now pushing his speedometer to ninety too.
Glen’s voice was urgent. “We’re approaching the Livernois and Davison intersection. All units to the vicinity. We are pursuing a gold 2005 Chrysler Sebring. License plate: Young—” Glen’s voice was muffled by a screeching of tires and a loud metallic tearing sound. There was static, and then the line went dead. Both only saw a red haze as smoke and feeble groans curled into the air.
Esther was at work when she received a phone call from Mother Reed who commanded her to come to her home. It was so uncharacteristic of Mother that Esther put her pile of work away and left the office. Now, she drove down Livernois Avenue and slowed as traffic came to a standstill. She could see and hear an ambulance weaving past her through traffic, and police directing people away from the scene of a four-car accident.
Esther groaned. She looked behind her, and she wasn’t in a situation where she could turn around. She accepted her fate and rubbernecked like the other drivers. She could see a squad car was included in the pileup.
“Thank you, Jesus, Lawton’s still doing his paperwork from earlier today,” Esther whispered.
Esther eased the car forward as the police officer directed them around the scene. She looked over and thought she saw a dazed Glen being pulled from the wreck. Naw, that can’t be. Her hand shook uncontrollably as she then saw two firemen pry the car door back, as two paramedics lifted out another body. This body was the same length and bulk as Lawton. Immediately, Esther swung her car to the side of the road and jumped out.
“Hey, lady, you can’t do that! Keep it moving,” the officer barked at her as she approached and ran around him. He looked furious when he couldn’t leave his post to pursue her.
After Esther dodged him, she couldn’t get to the ambulance in time. They had loaded the body and were driving off. She turned, searching for the man she thought was Glen. She saw him being loaded into another ambulance. She overheard him speaking to another officer who was taking notes. “It was like he was crazed . . .”
“Was that Lawton?” Esther screamed. “My God . . . was it Lawton?”
Glen nodded in affirmation. “Henry Ford Hospital, hurry.”
Esther ran back to her car. She hit Mother Reed’s phone number on her cell as she peeled past the wreckage. “Mother? You won’t believe what happened. I was on my way to see you, and I came on my friend Lawton in a car accident. It looks bad. I’m on my way to the hospital,” Esther stated, tears falling, frantic.
“That’s good, baby. You go ahead and call me later. I’ll be praying for him,” Mother Reed said simply.
Esther ended the call and concentrated on her driving. Her hands were trembling, and she felt faint. Come on, heart . . . beat. Esther’s hand patted her heart as she steered on to the freeway. “Satan, you can’t have him. I’m just getting the chance to love him.”
Chapter Thirty-six
“Briggs? This is Charles. Man, you got problems, and your problems are directly connected to my beautiful sister-in-law,” Charles blurted into his cell phone.
Briggs was working on his sermon for Sunday. He didn’t know what had his friend so rattled, but he knew it couldn’t be good. “You need to slow down, Charles, and tell me what’s going on. What problems?”
“A pretty ugly rumor is going around the church that you and Esther were caught having sex in your office.”
“What!” Briggs jumped up.
Charles continued the bad news. “Yeah, man. That’s the gist of it, but adding to that tidbit, they all know you’re married. Brother, your stuff is imploding all around you. And I know you had your reasons, but folk just ain’t gon’ care.”
Briggs huffed. “Esther doesn’t deserve her name dragged through the mud. Oh . . . man. Somebody needs Jesus or a beat down bad. Sorry, man.” Briggs breathed in and out. “God is in control. You said y
ou would have my back, and you’re a man of your word. I can’t believe nobody else brought this to my attention. I thought I was reaching my flock, but it looks like we all have a long way to go.” Briggs heaved a sigh. “What’s Esther saying about all this?”
“I don’t think she knows. She’s had some bad experiences with rumors in the church, and everyone keeps dancing around telling her. Last time she didn’t handle it well.”
“Charles, this is the last thing she needs right now. She’s still trying to get this whole zoning issue wrapped up. I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Charles had given him the heads-up. He was finished. “Hang in there, Briggs. I’ll be praying for y’all.”
Briggs knew he needed to call Esther, but he needed to figure out how he could put a positive spin on the whole mess. The zoning board, rumors, and he was scheduled to go out of town tomorrow to confront Monica. He bowed his head to pray when the phone rang.
“Hello, Briggs?”
Briggs was surprised. “Reverend Gregory?”
“Yes. Son, I hear the weather is a little rough at Love Zion right now.”
Briggs swallowed and tried to think of something optimistic to say. “It’s a storm I can handle. I’ve learned through some hard times to tread water.”
Reverend Gregory answered him with the authority of one who commanded the waters. “Stop treading, Briggs. That means as coheir to the throne, you have the authority to speak to the elements. So speak. Get your personal life in order. I personally felt the chemistry between you and Esther, and it was an initial worry for me. But I knew God had sent you, so I knew that everything would work out.”
“We’re innocent of any wrongdoing, Reverend,” Briggs said, humbled.
“Innocent in deed, but maybe not in thought. I don’t want to spend a lot of time debating that issue. As your mentor, I’m telling you that the prayer closet is open. Through His power, get your house in order.”
“Reverend, I know . . . Reverend? Reverend?” Briggs stared in astonishment at the phone. Reverend Gregory had hung up on him.
Briggs stormed out of his office. He wondered what it was about storm analogies for Reverend Gregory and Mother Reed. Was it an older folk thing? God was merciful, and he didn’t encounter anyone as he headed for the sanctuary. He needed to take everything to God in prayer.
Monica and Randall luxuriated in the opulence of the penthouse apartment. Leftover champagne, and half-eaten chocolate-covered strawberries lay amid rose petals strewn on the oversized satin lounger. They lay in bed feeding each other succulent peaches. The juice flowed down Monica’s chin, and Randall wiped his finger across her chin with tenderness. They then kissed again.
After Randall asked for his divorce, they spent a blissful week in bed and only emerged to dine at the most fabulous restaurants in Atlanta. Monica was so sure of Randall that she no longer cared when she ran into one of Briggs’s fraternity brothers. She was finally with the man she loved. They were in a world of their own. To her, the fallout from discovery no longer mattered.
Both were startled by the heavy knock on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Randall pulled on his robe.
“No, darling, for once you stay and let me serve you.” Monica’s face shined with happiness.
He beamed, and lay back with his arms behind his head, while she jumped up and walked to the door tying her robe. Peering through the peephole she couldn’t see anyone, she turned to Randall twisting the door knob. “I don’t see—“
A small whirlwind of a woman came barging into the room. Her angular pale face was almost translucent in the morning light, but her eyes were flaming sparks of midnight blue. She was a miniature duplicate of Randall.
“Randall, get-out-of-that-bed-right-now!” the pint-sized woman’s voice of steel dripped with centuries of mint juleps sipped beneath magnolia trees, under Southern skies.
“Mother?” Randall cried in disbelief as he pulled his robe around him.
Her face was filled with loathing at the sight before her. “You have shamed all of your family. You have wreaked destruction on our lineage and our future generations. Get up, put your clothes on, and go home to your wife and children.”
Monica wanted Randall’s mother to know that they were more than a one-night stand. “Ma’am, I know it looks bad, but truly we’re in love . . .”
The eyes that had focused solely on Randall now turned their wrath to Monica. The hatred that leaped from her pupils was so vivid that Monica could feel a physical blow to her body. “Young woman, listen to me very well. I won’t repeat myself, and I won’t lower myself to talk to you after this moment. The men in our family lineage have toiled with the likes of you since the first one was taken in chains off the slave ships. The women in our family have endured, and we have prospered despite this blight. Never has one of our own deemed it necessary to leave his home for one of you. It has never happened before, and it will not happen now.”
Randall tried to shield her from his mother’s wrath. Monica was getting to see in action the woman Randall had called a true dowager of her time.
As Randall started to put his arm around Monica, his mother turned to him.
“Do not touch her in my presence. Do not shame yourself more before me. A divorce, Randall? A divorce? Did you not think Meredith would call me? And here you are playing house in the same room as your father before you. In one of our buildings. I almost killed the private detective when he informed me. Finish dressing, and I will meet you downstairs in the car.” She dismissed her only son and turned to Monica. “I have spoken to the manager of our building, and you have until Monday to vacate. This is a check for twenty-five thousand dollars, which I think is more than enough to compensate you. There are no common children involved; therefore, it is our usual payment for services rendered. Take it. I won’t ask you to leave town, because we really don’t care where you go. Perhaps you can convince the young pastor to take you back.”
The petite commando glided through the door with a bearing so regal even Monica had to admire her carriage through salty tears. She followed behind watching the older woman enter the elevator. When the elevator door closed, Randall took her in his arms.
She fell into him, sobbing. “She was awful, Randall. How could you let her talk to me like that?”
Randall kissed her tears. “Darling, darling . . . my interference would have only riled her more. Listen, sweetheart, I’ll have to go and meet her in her car or she’ll send some very unseemly men up here to get me. Mother is a bit of a control freak, but don’t worry, I love you, and I’ll find a way for us to be together.” Randall pulled on his pants, then grabbed his wallet and keys. His open robe flapped around him.
“I’ll wait here for you, my love. We’re stronger than this.” Monica threw her arms around his neck for a passionate kiss.
After Monica flung herself across the bed and began to weep, Randall rushed from the room to meet his mother’s demand. Monica tossed and turned through her sleep and was awakened during the night by a messenger at her door. He held a letter for her, and she signed for it. She opened the letter and read. When she was done reading, she hollered out in pain and crumpled to the floor.
My Dearest Monica,
It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do. But I can’t be cut off from everything I know. How could we live? Even if I get my children to come around—a forty million-dollar inheritance is a lot to lose. And Mother has promised I will lose it all. Please understand.
Love, Randall
Monica stood at the airport sobbing into her handkerchief. This had been the worst week of her life. She needed Briggs. She couldn’t believe Randall would fold like he did. She knew one thing. He had underestimated his wife. Randall’s mother’s ambush was carved on Monica’s heart by the cold hard nails of a true Confederate woman of the South.
She stood in line to give her ticket to the agent. Earlier, the luxury building manager advised her that she had to vacate the room
before noon. So much for a week to vacate. She would miss the opulence, the in-room gourmet meals, and most of all Randall. She had tried to phone him, but every number she had was disconnected or she was told he was unavailable. No manner of crying or pleading changed the answers she was given. Her only chance now was to fly to Detroit and salvage her marriage.
Two hours later, Monica had gotten off the airplane at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport. With her address book in hand, she hailed a cab and instructed the cabdriver to take her to her new home. She had spent the flight rehearsing what she would say when she saw Briggs. She knew that she would have to make it good and that it would take every bit of acting skills she had to persuade him to believe her lies. Since he had history believing her before, she was confident that he would again.
Briggs sat in his car in the church parking lot, and the words of his prayer and God’s answers resonated throughout his being. He wasn’t really happy about his instructions, but he knew that God’s Word was irrefutable. It wasn’t going to be easy; his flesh was going in an entirely different direction. And his heart? It was beating in time with his flesh, his soul giving it instructions that weren’t holy or in accordance with the will of God.
He had to face things. He had been hiding behind righteous words, but dwelling in unrighteous thoughts and feelings. Choices had been made, and now he had to live with them. There was one person who deserved an honest conversation with him. It was time he called her.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Esther could feel the vibration of the cell against her thigh as she sat in the waiting room at Henry Ford Hospital. She touched Lawton’s mother’s hand and motioned to her cell phone that she had an incoming call.
Esther’s phone went silent as she moved away. She hit the callback feature on her phone. “Hello? Did someone just call me?” she said in a strained voice.
The Devil Made Me Do It Page 22
