“I’m not married.”
I feel my heart jump. Okay, he’s fine and single. Keep it moving, Dorcas, keep it moving.
Okay, she’s not moving. She’s still talking, and she’s working my nerves. “Did you enjoy the service?” Dorcas asks, trying to make her voice sound deep and throaty, like some kind of Eartha Kitt wannabe.
“I did. Thank you for asking.”
His voice is rich, deep, and smooth—exactly how it should sound. I hate to see a fine brother open his mouth and sound like Pee-wee Herman.
“I’m Dorcas. If you need anything, let me know. We want you to come back and visit us again.”
We? Us? Who are these pluralities? That heifer knows she wants this brother not only to come back to church but to scoop her up out of her lonely little existence. She’s so thirsty.
I can’t stand her.
Speaking of thirsty people, here comes Oscar, pressing his way through the crowd and trying to make it to me. Looks like I’ll have to meet Mr. Adonis some other time, because I’m not about to let him think Oscar and I are a couple. I slip out of my aisle and out the church doors into the parking lot. Oscar, of course, gives chase.
“Emoni … wait up,” he gasps.
“What is it, Oscar?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me. My treat.”
I smile at him. I’m not totally heartless. “Not today, Oscar. I’ve got to finish up some articles for the church newsletter. I’ll eat something at home.”
“Do you want some company?”
Why does he have to be so relentless? “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’ll be fine.”
I leave him standing there looking lonely and walk over to the other side of the parking lot, where Sascha and her little friends are congregated. The loser Kevin Moore is there with his arm wrapped around Sascha’s waist. Obviously, neither of them is going to go out of his or her way to dispel Sister Ophelia’s gossip; it’s like they want everyone to know they are sleeping together. Sascha looks up and sees me, then pushes Kevin away. I don’t know why she’s trying to hide her mess from me. Everyone else knows.
Sascha’s best friend, Gina, asks, “Sascha, you driving tonight?”
“I don’t know, y’all,” she replies loudly enough for me to hear. “Emoni is tripping, and she just snitched on me and Kevin the other night.”
“I’ll drive, then,” states Alissa, the third member of Sascha’s crew.
“Ain’t nobody getting in that hooptie. Sascha, when is your father going to get you a car?”
I snicker to myself, because I know the deal. Daddy told each of us that we would get a car the day of our college graduation. But Sascha started dating Kevin her freshman year and failed all but one of her classes. She dropped out after one semester.
“Here’s a thought,” I offer when I get close enough to join the conversation. “Why doesn’t Kevin get himself a decent car? He’s a grown man, right? Grown enough to take my little sister to bed, but he can’t even drive her to the movies?”
Kevin looks at me with pure hatred in his eyes. Whatever. Somebody around here has to speak the truth.
Just as Kevin is fixing his mouth to say something foul, Tyler walks up and interrupts his flow. Gina and Alissa shamelessly flirt with my brother, who doesn’t really take them seriously. They are too ghetto for his tastes, but they still try. It’s sickening, but me and Sascha are used to it. The only son of a mega-church pastor is a good catch.
Tyler asks, “Sascha, what did I tell you about hanging with these two?”
“You know you love us,” says Gina, using an almost unrecognizable sexy tone.
Tyler smiles seductively. “Where y’all kicking it to?”
“You want to kick it with us, big brother?” Sascha asks, breaking up the flirtation between Tyler and Gina.
Kevin glares at me and pulls Sascha into a tight embrace, practically molding his body with hers. Again she pushes him away. I feel my anger rising at his brazenness.
“Kevin, we’re still at church—”
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Right, right. I keep forgetting about that ‘Holy Ground’ thing.”
Tyler seems to notice my blood boiling and walks over to me. He gives me a big bear hug, lifting me off my feet. I can’t contain my smile, even though I still want to spit fire at Kevin.
“Sorry about this morning, sis,” says Tyler. “Next week I’ll wear a tie for you.”
“Yeah, right.”
Sascha pleads her case again. “Come on, Emoni. Let us use your car. Oscar will take you home.”
“No.”
“It’s not like you have any plans.”
“You don’t know whether I have any plans or not.”
“What?” asks Kevin. “Is there a prayer meeting tonight?”
I am lost without a comeback for that raggedy Kevin, so I turn away. I mean, I’m a normal God-fearing single woman. I’m not out here acting like Jezebel, but I’m no Bible thumper, either. It annoys me how some people try to make me feel bad about living right.
I leave them to their plans and walk over to my car. I don’t care to know what they’re up to, anyway. I just want to go home, have a bowl of ice cream, and watch the newest episode of Grey’s Anatomy that I Tivo’ed.
Under my breath, I’m muttering curses at Kevin as I click the automatic lock on my car. I’m so engrossed in my irritation that I don’t notice Mr. Adonis standing right in front of me. He scares the living daylights out of me when he steps up to open my car door.
“So, chivalry is not dead! Thank you,” I say.
Oh my God, that sounded so stupid, but I had a brain freeze and couldn’t think of anything better. My hand goes to my hair. I want to make sure my little swoop bang is still covering that majestic-size pimple on my forehead.
Mr. Adonis smiles again. Again I have to fight for my next breath. “My mother raised me well,” he says.
It makes absolutely no sense how fine this man is. His complexion is a smooth chocolate. He has slightly slanted eyes and a nose that boasts an Indian ancestor or two. And the waves on his low haircut did not come out of a box. Makes no sense at all.
“So … did you enjoy the service?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I told Sister Dorcas.”
Dang. So he knew I was eavesdropping. Have to think quickly.
“Oh, I’m surprised that’s all. You were staring so hard at my booty when I walked past that I’m shocked you even heard the message.”
Mr. Adonis throws his head back and lets out a loud and unhindered laugh. Like he’s never heard something so funny in his life. I can’t tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. He holds his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Darrin Bainbridge. And you are?”
“Emoni Prentiss.”
“Bishop Prentiss’s daughter?”
“Yes, one of them. Welcome to Freedom of Life. I hope you visit again.”
“I will.”
I step into my car, hoping Darrin doesn’t see my hands trembling as a result of his unreasonable good looks. His eyes are following my every move, which does nothing but make me more nervous.
“Are you going to join the church?” I ask after Darrin closes my door.
“I am seriously considering it.”
“We have a great … singles’ ministry.”
Darrin’s smile turns into another laugh. “So I’ve heard.”
Dang that Dorcas. She beat me to the punch again. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
“Count on it.”
“Have a blessed week,” I say as I pull out of the parking spot.
I glance into the rearview mirror as I drive away. Darrin smiles and waves. How had he known I would even look back? Am I that transparent? I wave back, my heart filling with hope. Maybe I’ll have my first romance with Mr. Black Adonis.
Chapter Six
Darrin
Hush my mouth and call me a believer. Well, not exactly, but I am most definitely impressed. Seei
ng Freedom of Life in person is worlds different from seeing it on television. They must’ve spent a grip decorating that church. And when I say a grip, I mean add up the building funds of about one thousand little storefront churches and then work your way up.
Bishop Prentiss can hang in the preaching department, too. He didn’t preach on anything new—I’ve heard the Prodigal Son message dozens of times—but his manner left me with a pleasant feeling. Bishop Prentiss didn’t hoop and holler like the old-school Baptist preacher at Priscilla’s church. He just intellectually broke down the Scriptures, and the crowd went wild.
After the service started, I was honestly trying to pay attention to the message when one of the juiciest booties I’d ever seen sashayed past me in a snug navy blue skirt. I have never seen the likes of that in Cleveland. That behind must’ve been nurtured on biscuits and gravy and sweet tea.
Now I know that the booty belongs to Emoni Prentiss, Bishop’s daughter, which makes her off-limits. Totally off-limits. Even if she is funny and sassy. Even though she has a tiny waist to match that behind. I don’t need any emotional attachments compromising my story. And a brotha could get emotional over a booty like that.
Just thinking about Emoni is making me restless, so I decide to take a swim in the gym. Priscilla followed through and hooked a brotha up with a sharp two-bedroom apartment in Lithonia, where a lot of the up-and-coming black folk live. I would’ve preferred Buckhead, but since I’m not paying the bills, I’m not complaining.
Before I can make it out the door, the telephone rings. “Hello?”
“Hey, boo. How’s Atlanta?” Shayna says in her raspy and sexy tone.
I feel the frown form on my face. I did not give her my new phone number. “Shayna. I was going to call you later.”
“Don’t lie, boy. I had to get your number from your mother. Plus, you didn’t answer your cell phone.”
I make a mental note to inform Priscilla when I break it off with a woman. “That’s cool. I thought you were mad at me.”
“I might be. A little.”
“Don’t be. I’ll buy you something really nice when I get home.” Here I go making promises I have no intentions of keeping. Just want this conversation to end on a high note. It’s not good to have a woman somewhere hating you or hating on you.
Shayna giggles. “Of course you will. Have you met Bishop Prentiss yet?”
“No. I went to my first service today, though.”
“What did you think?” Shayna’s excitement travels across the telephone lines.
“Well … it was different.”
“Are you having second thoughts about trying to destroy a man of God?”
I reply honestly. “I’m not here to destroy anyone who doesn’t deserve destroying. Anyway, so far I haven’t seen anything unusual, so this may be a waste of time.”
I watched Bishop Prentiss exit the church. Bishop and his wife got into a nice but not extravagant Cadillac. The son drove a used but well-kept pickup truck, and Emoni drove a used Toyota Corolla. It was not at all what I had expected from a man who was fleecing his flock. Maybe he keeps his fleet of cars at the house.
“I told you,” states Shayna matter-of-factly.
“His church seems to love him. They have nothing but good things to say about him.”
“I told you.”
“Yes, you did. But you didn’t tell me how well he can preach. I have to say, I was impressed.”
Shayna laughs. “Uh-oh! Watch out now. You just might mess around and catch the Holy Ghost up in there.”
“Baby, I am in no danger of that.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well, I was on my way out when you called.”
“Got a date already?” Shayna sounds irritated.
I’m irritated that she’s irritated. “No … going to work out. I’ll call you sometime next week, okay?”
“Uh, okay.” And now she’s hurt.
I place the receiver back in its cradle and make another mental note to buy a new phone that’s equipped with caller ID. Don’t want any more distracting conversations with Shayna.
The fitness room is virtually abandoned when I enter, and most of the equipment looks brand-new. I pass by the weight benches, treadmills, and stair-stepper machines and open the door to the indoor Olympic-size pool. I can’t wait to get into the refreshing water.
I’ve stripped down to my trunks and am about to dive into the pool when someone else walks into the fitness center. It’s a female who looks familiar, and on closer inspection, I see that it’s Dorcas.
She’d looked nice at church, even though she was pretty plain, but she looks much more appealing in her workout clothes. She has her long hair pulled up into a ponytail on the top of her head, showing pretty skin the color of a caramel apple and dotted with freckles. Her eyes are clearly the focal point of her face: large, brown, and framed by thick dark eyelashes. Her spandex workout clothing gives me a much better view of another sweet-tea-and-biscuits body.
She looks over at me and frowns like she can read my mind. She pushes open the door to the pool room. “Do I know you?”
I pull off my swim goggles so she can see my face. “I’m sorry. We met at church this morning.”
Her frown softens immediately upon recognition. “Oh, Brother Darrin. I’m sorry. I thought you were some stranger ogling me.”
“Was I ogling? I thought I was simply admiring.”
She blushes. I’m in there like swimwear.
“Do you live here?” she asks.
“I just moved in a week ago. I’m from Cleveland.”
“Ohio? You’re a long way from home,” replies Dorcas. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
She snatches off her spandex shorts and walks over to the pool in a one-piece Speedo. Now I am ogling.
She dives into the water and swims a quick freestyle lap, her arms slicing the water and her legs propelling her like a fish. She pops out of the water when she finishes and smiles at me.
“So what made you come to Freedom of Life?” she asks.
I ease into the warm water and reply, “A friend of mine at home is a partner. She suggested that I check it out.”
Dorcas nods. “Well, what did you think?”
“I’ll be back again, that’s for sure.”
She cracks her neck and stretches. “Wanna race?”
“Sure.”
“On your mark … get set …”
Dorcas takes off before she says “go,” leaving me to catch up on her head start. Easily, I pass her by. Her swimming skills are nothing compared to mine. I have muscular legs and toned arms, and I swam on the teams in high school and college and for a hot minute considered training for the Olympic team.
I’m waiting at the edge of the pool with a slick smile when she emerges from the water.
“You cheated,” I say.
She shrugs. “But you still won.”
“Do you want to get something to eat later?”
“Not today. Maybe another time.”
She jumps out of the pool and starts to dry herself off. I’m still ogling and trying to figure out how this girl just turned me down. I’m not too familiar with being rejected.
She continues, “I don’t want to keep you from your workout. It was nice seeing you again.”
“Same here. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again.”
Dorcas cracks a faint smile. “Perhaps. Bible study is on Wednesday, and the singles have a meeting on Saturday evening.”
Sounds like if I want a date with this girl, it’s going to be at church.
Chapter Seven
DIARY OF A MAD BLACK BLOGGER
What up, my cyberspace homies and homettes? So, I told y’all I was on location, right? Trying to see what I can see about this “Mand of Gawd.”
Check this.
The church is slamming … I’ve never seen such a thing. Of course, I grew up in the land of storefronts. Oh, you ain’t know? Cleveland is kn
own for having a tiny storefront church on just about every corner. I’m talkin’ ’bout a Baptist, Pentecostal, Holiness, Church of God in Christ, AME, and Reformed-Baptist-Fire-Baptized-Holiness-Church-of-the-Lord-Our-King all in one neighborhood.
So this whole mega-church thing is new to me. The carpeted sanctuary with padded stadium seats is ridiculous, and the shuttle bus from the parking lot (because it’s a ten-minute walk if you’re late) is all brand-spanking-new. When I walked in and saw television screens on every wall, I got ready to hear about how I could name and claim my victory, deliverance, healing, salvation, and financial blessings all by sowing a seed.
BUT I DIDN’T HEAR IT!!!! That’s right. Bishop So-and-so (can’t give all the details yet) didn’t even have an offering. This dude has little slots in the lobby for people to place their freewill offering. And I’m gone say this real quietly. He actually preached about something real. I left feeling uplifted.
Yeah.
So I’m thinking this dude might be on the up-and-up when it comes to the money. BUT! And I should probably say BUTT.
He’s got a daughter that is hella fine. Well, fine in that girl-next-door-your-mama-want-you-to-marry kind of way. Anyhoo, sweetie was feelin’ me. She couldn’t help herself.
And y’all know … it ain’t nothin’ more scandalous than a PK (preacher’s kid, for the short-bus people).
Still on a mission, yo. And by the way, tell somebody about my blog! Gotta get my hit count up so I can get that long advertiser dough. Y’all know how I do.
Hit me up in the comments section!
COMMENTS
Jia 8:59 p.m.
MBB, you dead wrong for lusting after the bishop’s daughter. All PKs are not the same! I should know. My daddy was a pastor, and I didn’t do anything to embarrass him. I kept my dirt on the low, you know what I’m sayin’?
Tyrone 9:14 p.m.
Yeah, that’s real talk, bro. Them pastors’ daughters be off the chizzain! Keep us posted.
Chapter Eight
Darrin
Let’s say that Dorcas’s little rejection has interested me enough that I’m eager to see her again. Eager enough, in fact, that I’m sitting at one of the front tables in Freedom of Life’s Bible study class. Plus, I want to meet Bishop Prentiss face-to-face, and I figure that it’ll happen in a more intimate setting.
The Bishop's Daughter Page 4
