Pastor Wilson seemed to be enjoying the praise and worship so far. If they were going to go rogue and introduce new music into the service without his approval, it was a good idea to start out with the Byron Cage song they were doing. He was Pastor Wilson’s favorite gospel artist.
As they transitioned into “Born to Worship,” Blaine took the microphone from its stand and walked to the edge of the stage.
“We need your help on this next song we’re about to do,” Blaine said to the congregation. “I know we sing a lot about purpose and destiny, but no matter what God has called you to do, He has first equipped and readied you for worship. From the womb, you were a worshipper. The first thing you did when you came out of yo’ mama’s belly was to cry out. So we need everybody to participate on this song. It’s simple. Sing with us.”
Camden glanced over at his father while he played. Pastor Wilson stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Physically, Camden was a carbon copy of his father. Pastor Wilson was over six feet tall, and his blackness shined under the pulpit lights. His black horn-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose and motionless. While Camden couldn’t see any anger in his expression, Pastor Wilson definitely didn’t seem to be caught up in the spirit of worship.
The congregation, on the other hand, was on fire. With every key change, Blaine’s rich vocals rang out over the sanctuary. Dawn hit every high note, Amber came with every gravelly ad lib, and Akil’s deep tenor completed the harmony. If it was just a performance, it would be perfect, but because it was ministry, anyone who heard them would say it was anointed.
Even if Pastor Wilson didn’t approve of what they were doing, Camden knew he would save his anger for later. The congregation was ready for a revival Word, and Pastor Wilson would never leave them wanting.
After praise and worship was over, Camden got up from the keyboard to go and sit with the rest of the group for the sermon. Their father had a personal keyboardist who had played for him for years. They had an intricate collection of hand signals and vocal cues so that the music complemented the tone of Pastor Wilson’s message. Since Pastor Wilson had never asked him to play while he preached, Camden never let on that he knew the signals as well—like an NFL quarterback taking plays from his coach.
Dawn had saved Camden a seat next to her and she smiled at him as he sat down. Lately, Dawn had been making sure that everyone knew they were an item, and Camden was okay with it. He’d never purposely kept their romance a secret, but he did know that once tongues started wagging about them, he’d only have a short time to marry her before his reputation started to suffer. At twenty-five, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to a lifetime.
When Dawn stared up at Camden, her long eyelashes glistening with a mixture of mascara and her tears from worship, it reminded Camden of the first time he met Dawn at Bible camp when they were thirteen years old. Back then, her chocolate brown face was chubby and she had a mouthful of braces and a big puffy ponytail that stood on top of her head.
“You Pastor Wilson’s son?” were Dawn’s first words to Camden as she stared up at him with a determined look on her face.
She’d caught him off guard with the question, plus he thought that everyone knew his father. It was their church’s camp, after all.
“Yes. I’m Camden Wilson.”
“Well, I hope you don’t think we’re gonna let your team win the Bible Bowl just ’cause you’re the pastor’s son.”
“I don’t think anything. I know my team is going to whip your team.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Camden had been wrong. Dawn’s Bible Bowl team beat his for the next three years straight until they decided to join forces and co-captain a team when they were sixteen. That was also when they’d started dating.
Everyone thought they were so cute and had been planning their wedding since Dawn wore a puffy white gown to prom. Camden didn’t object to it, because he loved Dawn, but she wanted marriage and children. He wanted to pursue a music career, and he didn’t think he could do that with the demands of a family to take up all of his time.
After Pastor Wilson’s rousing sermon, So G.I.F.T.E.D took to the microphones again and sang a reprise of “Born To Worship.” So many people moved from their seats for prayer that the ministerial staff couldn’t even handle them all.
Blaine made eye contact with Camden and motioned to the edge of the altar area. Camden’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw the thin man in the electric blue suit. He was wearing big glasses that took up half his face, and his rings sparkled as he lifted his hands to heaven. He was Royce London, the highest-selling gospel artist of all time. He could make careers with just one recommendation.
Royce was from Atlanta and had visited their church in Dallas many times, but he’d never gotten up from his seat to participate in worship. Camden allowed himself to say a little prayer. If this was the time for So G.I.F.T.E.D to take off into the stratosphere, then so be it.
After service was over, Camden and the rest of the group made an escape to the choir room. They always did that after service so that they could decompress and not have to have conversations with everyone when they were physically and emotionally spent.
“I don’t think Pastor Wilson will be angry,” Dawn said as Camden randomly tapped piano keys. She sat down next to Camden on the piano bench and lightly stroked his fingers as he played.
“He shouldn’t be,” Amber said. “The congregation enjoyed the song.”
Pastor Wilson walked into the choir room—he never did that. But this time he was escorting Royce London into the room. Camden’s midsection tightened, but a huge smile broke out on Blaine’s face. Camden was glad that his charismatic brother was there to do the talking. He was also glad to be seated because his knees would be knocking if he was standing up.
Pastor Wilson said, “Worship was incredible tonight, you all. I just love when you all walk in your giftedness.”
Camden’s eyebrows came together in a confused expression. Pastor Wilson hated when they did anything unscripted. This change of heart had to be because Royce London had taken notice.
“I want to introduce you all to Royce,” Pastor Wilson said. “The two tall ones are my sons Blaine and Camden. Blaine is the lead singer of the group. And also, these young people, Amber, Akil, and Dawn have been members of this church since they were little. We just love them here.”
Camden examined Royce’s face closely. Something looked a little strange about his skin. It looked too smooth. Wait. Was he wearing makeup? Yes, he was. Camden could see a slight difference in the shade of his face and the shade of his neck. Also, some of the makeup had streaked onto Royce’s shirt collar. Camden had heard of artists wearing makeup onstage, but to church for a revival?
Camden watched as Royce’s gaze fell on Blaine. “I am pleased to meet you all. I felt the spirit move in a way I haven’t felt since I was on tour with my group last year. Did you write that worship song?”
Blaine blinked twice before he answered. Camden wondered if he was going to try and take credit. “Uh, no. My brother Camden writes the songs.”
Royce quickly turned his attention and gaze onto Camden. “Do you have any other songs in your repertoire?”
“Um, yes. Yes, I do,” Camden said. “Would you like to hear something else?”
Royce nodded, and Camden started playing the introduction to another one of his songs. This one started out with a solo by Amber that really displayed her rich vocal tones. She took a few steps toward Royce as she sang. He closed his eyes and pointed one finger toward heaven. On the chorus, everyone came in and sang perfectly. Royce clapped when they finished.
“That was wonderful,” Royce said. “What is the name of your group?”
“So G.I.F.T.E.D.” Amber was breathless as she said this, from the way she’d just extended her vocals after already singing all night.
“G.I.F.T.E.D stands for God is faithful, today and every day,” Blaine said. “God’s be
en faithful by giving us this tremendous gift, and we honor Him by giving it back to Him.”
A faint smile graced Camden’s face as he listened to Blaine explain with pride and relish the name Camden had given the group. Blaine hadn’t even liked the name in the beginning. He’d wanted to call the group Flame and had even had some T-shirts made with a ball of fire on the front. He’d been outvoted.
“Maybe we’ll get to work together down the road. If you’re in Atlanta, look me up,” Royce said to Camden.
“We’d be honored,” Camden replied.
Royce reached into his pocket and took out a business card. He extended it toward Camden, but as he stood up to take it from his hand, Pastor Wilson intercepted it. Camden swallowed and sat back down.
“We will reach out to you if we plan to branch out with the group,” Pastor Wilson said. Camden wondered who he was talking about when he said “we.”
Royce clasped his hands and nodded. “Please do. You are doing great things for the kingdom. Thank you for introducing me, Pastor Wilson. You preached an awesome word on this evening.”
“I am happy you were in the house to see that move of God,” Pastor Wilson said. “I believe God planned for you to be in the house tonight. Kingdom business indeed.”
Pastor Wilson led Royce out of the choir room. Before he closed the door he looked back in and gave a nod of approval to Camden. It was a rare gesture that pleasantly surprised Camden.
“We about to blow up!” Akil said as soon as the door closed. He high-fived Blaine and hugged his twin sister. “Royce London is the truth, y’all. And he wants us on his next worship project.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said, “it almost sounded like he wanted to give us a record deal then and there.”
Camden didn’t necessarily agree with that, but he was glad they were all excited. Maybe now he wouldn’t have to twist their arms to get them to practice.
“Does anyone think Pastor Wilson is going to fuss at us about singing that song?” Amber asked.
“Nah. He’s all for anything that will put his ministry on the map,” Blaine said, as his phone chirped in his pocket. He took it out, looked at the screen, and smiled.
“Hey, I gotta get with y’all later,” Blaine said. “My constituents await.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and said, “You are disgusting.”
“But you love me, though,” Blaine said with a laugh.
Camden chuckled. Just about every single woman in their church who was under fifty had love for Blaine. He could have a date every night of the week if he wanted, and a wife at the drop of a hat.
“Y’all want to go out and get something to eat?” Dawn asked.
Amber and Akil were obviously waiting for an invitation for food, because they grabbed their jackets and purses and headed for the door. Camden stayed seated at the piano bench.
“You not going, Cam?” Amber asked.
Camden shook his head. “I want to work on some music at home. If we’re getting noticed by people like Royce, we have to tighten up.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Dawn asked.
“No, go on out to dinner, babe.”
Dawn smiled at Camden and kissed him on the forehead as she picked up her jacket. “Okay. I’ll call you when we get in.”
“Okay.”
When everyone was gone and the only sounds in the room were Camden’s exhales and his faint tapping on the piano keys, he let the idea of success sink in and settle into his spirit. Getting a record deal or even putting a song on Royce’s next record would absolutely mean something, but Camden wasn’t sure exactly what that was.
Mostly, Camden thought, it would prove to Pastor Wilson that his music wasn’t just something he did for fun or to keep from taking on more responsibility in the church. It was his calling.
Pastor Wilson did believe people were called to be musicians, just not his sons. He had a grand vision for Graceway Worship Center, and it didn’t have anything to do with record deals. It had to do with one church and three locations. Three campuses, led by three Wilson men.
Pastor Wilson had it written on his vision board. He’d named it. He’d claimed it.
Blaine accepted it as his manifest destiny, but Camden wasn’t feeling it at all. Camden had done everything but run from the idea.
Camden thought once more about that head nod from his father on his way out of the choir room. Something so small said so much. Maybe Camden didn’t have to worry about being pressured about preaching anymore. Perhaps his father was going to change his mind. Maybe Royce London would rescue Camden from his father’s vision.
CHAPTER 2
“I will never lie to you.”
Blaine blinked a few times and batted his long eyelashes, as if he was holding back tears. Then he leaned across the front seat of his car and planted a kiss on Trina’s lips. He pulled away and licked his lips slowly, tasting her bubble gum lip gloss. He savored the sweetness and smiled.
Blaine hoped that the heat generated from their kiss would make Trina forget the question she’d just asked. She wanted to know if he was seeing anybody else. Blaine thought, What does it matter? I’m here with her.
They were parked in the driveway of Trina’s grandmother’s house, but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get out of his car. Her perfume filled Blaine’s nostrils and made him a little dizzy, and added to the hunger caused by her flavored lip gloss.
Trina was one of Blaine’s girlfriends. There were others. None of them was going to be his wife.
Blaine didn’t even know if he wanted to get married. He didn’t know anyone happily married—not even his parents. Plus, the smell, taste, and touch of a new woman excited him too much to get himself tied down to just one.
If the woman who was destined to be his wife showed up, Blaine would recognize her. On a scale of ten she’d be a thirty. She’d be educated, child-free, and drama-free. Everything about her would be real, from her hair and nails to every single body part. She’d know how to cook his favorite meal (chicken and dumplings). She’d be refined enough to be the future first lady of Graceway Worship Center because even though Camden was closer to Jesus, Blaine knew his father would leave it all to him.
And she’d be a straight-up freak.
Since Blaine hadn’t met any women that met his qualifications to become his wife, he never made any promises to his girlfriends. He never commented on the future because he knew there wasn’t one. When they declared their love, he gave them good lovin’. But Blaine never, ever lied.
He couldn’t be held responsible for what they thought they heard.
“You did real good tonight, Blaine,” Trina said, changing the conversation away from their relationship to Blaine’s relief. “I felt it all in my spirit.”
Blaine nodded. “We did. We might even get a record deal.”
“Really?” Trina’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yep. Royce London wanted to meet us! Pray for us, okay?”
Trina dragged her acrylic nail across Blaine’s chest, making him shiver. “You know I can sing, right? Maybe I can be in your group.”
Blaine swallowed to hold in his laughter. Trina was taking great poetic license with the word “sing.” Her wailing could marginally be described as yodeling, but definitely not singing.
“Camden does all of the auditions. He’s really picky.”
“He’s your twin brother. Don’t you have any pull with him?” Trina’s glossy lips formed a pout.
Blaine leaned over to kiss Trina again and she pulled back, out of his reach. He sighed. He hoped they could change the subject away from her bad singing. Blaine didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he wasn’t going to lie to her either.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You’re ignoring me about being in your group. You don’t want all this with you on the road?”
Trina unzipped her sweater halfway, giving him a glimpse of her cleavage and her pink lace bra. He definitely wanted her, but not as a part o
f So G.I.F.T.E.D.
“That’s like bringing sand to the beach,” Blaine said with a chuckle. “I mean … Well, you know what I mean.”
Trina zipped her sweater back up and frowned. “I thought we had something, Blaine.”
“We do.”
“What?”
Here it was. The conversation that he hated having. The one he tried to bypass at all costs.
Blaine paused before answering. He took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. How to avoid lying and still get invited inside?
He said, “We’re really good friends who have a lot of fun.”
Trina sucked her teeth and glared at him. Welp. There will be no fun tonight.
“Ooh, I should’ve listened to Sister Regina. She told me you were no good,” Trina said.
Blaine’s nostrils flared as he exhaled angrily. Regina, his mother’s assistant, had cost him more than one piece of tail in the past six months. He should’ve never broken down and slept with her. She’d almost begged Blaine to take her to bed, and when he, in a weak moment, gave in, she decided that she was supposed to be his wife. Of course, that wasn’t happening and Blaine had told her as much. Unfortunately, he had underestimated how vengeful some women could be, and Regina had been one of the worst.
“Regina is just angry that I’ve moved on, Trina. She wants what you have.”
Trina frowned again. “I have nothing but a good friend.”
“You’re hurting my feelings. You don’t want to be my friend?” Blaine asked in a sweet voice as he gave her his signature puppy-dog eyes. If this didn’t work, he could chalk it.
Then he saw it, a twitch at the left corner of her mouth. He could see it. She was on the verge of giving in, was almost grinning at him.
Blaine leaned in close again and this time Trina didn’t back away. He blinked rapidly, flickering his eyelashes on her cheek. Butterfly kisses. Her lips parted and Blaine took that as an invitation. He smothered her mouth with his full lips and without forgiveness stroked her tongue with his.
The Favorite Son Page 2
