Lady Arykah Reigns

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Lady Arykah Reigns Page 3

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols


  The five ladies, affectionately known as “Team Arykah,” sat in the first lady’s office at Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ. Mother Myrtle Cortland, Chelsea Childs, Darlita Evans, Gladys Blackmon, and Arykah’s best friend, Monique Cortland, occupied chairs around Lady Arykah’s desk. It was after Arykah had purchased each of them a pair of Christian Louboutin stilettos and treated them to a spa day when the ladies had nicknamed themselves.

  Arykah had summoned each of the ladies to her office before morning worship began.

  “What do you think Lady Arykah wants to speak with us about?” Darlita asked the team.

  Monique shrugged her shoulders. “Beats me. She wouldn’t go into detail when she called this morning and asked that I meet her here.”

  “All I know is,” Gladys started, “when Lady Arykah calls a meeting, something is up.”

  Myrtle nodded her head in agreement with Gladys. “She sounded mysterious when she called me this morning. Her only words were, ‘Mother Cortland, I need you to meet me in my office at ten o’clock.’”

  Chelsea chimed in. “Uh-huh. That’s what Lady Arykah said to me too. I asked her what the meeting was about and she wouldn’t tell me anything. She said she wanted to wait and share it with all of us together.”

  The door to Arykah’s office opened, and she walked in carrying Diva Chanel in the palm of her hand. She saw her team sitting, dressed in their Sunday best, around her oak wood desk. Arykah didn’t offer a greeting. She gave each of the ladies a somber look.

  The ladies didn’t know what to think or say. The first thing they noticed was Arykah’s beautiful pink floor-length dress. Her wide-brim pink and yellow preacher’s wife hat was pulled down on her face. Arykah wore the hat tipped to the right side so that it covered her right eye. In her hand she held a yellow Hermès Birkin bag that she paid a whopping $16,000 for. Arykah’s pale pink, high-heeled, strappy stilettos represented pure elegance. She didn’t disappoint. She never did. As always, Lady Elect was as sharp as a two-edged sword.

  Gladys, Darlita, and Chelsea all cooed at Diva Chanel’s pink outfit. Myrtle and Monique had already seen Diva Chanel’s wardrobe. Her closet was almost as big as Arykah’s.

  The ladies, along with the entire Freedom Temple Church family, looked forward to seeing what their first lady would wear to church every Sunday. When she and Lance stood at the door to the sanctuary, right before morning worship began, the praise and worship leader would ask the congregation to stand and receive Bishop Howell and Lady Arykah.

  Lance, in his tailor-made suits, and Arykah, dressed to the nines, strutted down the center aisle. Arykah always felt the heat from all the eyes that would scan her from head to toe. And even though the organ and drums made plenty of noise, Arykah could still hear, “Wow , look at that dress . . . Oh my, those heels . . . She’s beautiful.” Arykah felt like a young bride each Sunday as Lance escorted her to the front pew before taking his seat in the pulpit.

  Darlita wanted to rise from her chair to hug and kiss Arykah. She hadn’t seen her since the Sunday before she was attacked. But the mood that Arykah exuded kept the ladies in their seats with their mouths closed. No one wanted to be the first to mumble a word.

  Only Monique and Myrtle had seen Arykah since she had been attacked. Monique was Arykah’s best friend, and Myrtle was the mother she never had. Arykah couldn’t keep them away. She had refused visits from Chelsea, Gladys, and Darlita. But each of them had given Lance their love to pass on to Lady Arykah.

  Without uttering a word, Arykah took off her wide hat and hung it on the coat hanger just inside her office door. Her hair was pulled back into a tight princess bun. Not a single strand was out of place. She came and sat in the high-back leather chair behind her desk. Arykah put Diva Chanel down on the floor to allow her to sniff her surroundings.

  First, Arykah looked at Monique, her friend since childhood. Arykah considered Monique to be her sister. They had been through thick and thin together. There wasn’t anything that Monique didn’t know about Arykah. Monique had always had Arykah’s back. They had fought together. They had smoked dope together. And they had lied and cheated together. Arykah knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if there was one person she could depend on, it was Monique. She was Arykah’s ride-or-die chick.

  Next, Arykah looked at Chelsea. She had grown on Arykah. Chelsea was originally a member of Mother Pansie’s and Mother Gussie’s team. Chelsea, along with most of the other women at Freedom Temple, was told that they had to hate Arykah. But one cold Sunday morning, Chelsea had complimented Arykah on her boots. When Arykah had given Chelsea a business card for a guy that made boots to fit thick calves, Chelsea had confessed to Arykah that she was the mothers’ pawn. Chelsea apologized to Arykah and hugged her. Arykah accepted Chelsea’s apology, and they had been close ever since.

  After a moment, Arykah looked at Gladys. She’d never forget the day that Gladys had brought her fifteen-year-old pregnant daughter, Miranda, to her office. Miranda wanted to terminate her pregnancy against her mother’s wishes. Arykah had counseled Miranda and convinced her that her baby was a miracle and all babies come from God no matter how they were conceived. Arykah had also saved Miranda the embarrassment of Mother Pansie’s rule that all unwed mothers must stand before the church and confess their sins of fornication and ask the church for forgiveness. Gladys appreciated Arykah coming to her daughter’s defense and vowed, from that day on, to support her pastor’s wife.

  Then Arykah looked at Darlita. Darlita was a mess when she had met Arykah. She was in a loveless marriage with a serial adulterer. Darlita’s husband wasn’t only unfaithful but also verbally abusive toward her. Arykah had to dig deep within herself to save Darlita. She shared with Darlita the abuse she had received from an ex-boyfriend.

  Arykah had challenged Darlita to love herself and get out of that relationship. Darlita had taken Arykah’s advice and moved in with her brother. She filed for divorce and is now living an abuse-free life. Darlita consistently thanked Arykah for saving her life.

  Finally, Arykah looked at Myrtle. Arykah had known her for years. She had first met Myrtle when Monique was dating Myrtle’s son, Boris. Myrtle, a no-nonsense woman, had captured Arykah’s heart when she didn’t defend her no-good son when he mistreated Monique. Arykah and Myrtle had joined forces and tried to get Monique to leave Boris and his ugly ways. But eventually fate stepped in, and Adonis had stolen Monique’s heart right from under his own cousin’s nose. And it was Myrtle who came to Arykah’s rescue when she learned of all the dirty deeds the mothers at Freedom Temple were doing to Arykah.

  The scene in Arykah’s office was like mobsters sitting around the table waiting to be reprimanded by the boss. No one said a word. They waited for the mob boss to speak.

  Arykah shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “I’m back.”

  Team Arykah relaxed and exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Chelsea was pleased. “And not a moment too soon. You were truly missed.”

  “Had another Sunday gone by I was gonna put out an APB on you,” Gladys chuckled.

  “I wanna thank each of you for your prayers and the flowers and the cookies and the cakes and the pies,” Arykah said patting her belly. “There’s a saying that food is the way to a man’s heart, but I gotta admit it’s always been the way to my heart too.”

  “We know,” Monique said. “How could we forget the story you told us about Bishop Lance cooking dinner for you on your first date.”

  “That man cooked a meal and baked a dessert. Shoot, I was hooked,” Arykah said. “But when I saw him pour me a glass of grape Kool-Aid on ice . . . Chile . . . the bishop could’ve gotten it that night.”

  The women screamed out in laughter.

  Myrtle chuckled. “Girl, you’re a mess.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back, Lady Arykah,” Darlita offered. “It just hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

  “It’s good to be back, Darlita,” Arykah stated truthfully. She was anxious to
get her life back to normal. “But I wanted to meet with all of you before morning service just to say ‘thanks.’” She looked at Chelsea, Gladys, and Darlita. “I am fully aware that you wanted to come by the house and visit, but I just wasn’t up to it. Truth be told, my face was swollen, my mouth had stitches, and I didn’t want anyone to see me that way.”

  “Lady Arykah, you don’t have to apologize or explain anything to us. We understood.”

  Darlita and Gladys nodded their heads in agreement with what Chelsea had just said.

  “And I’m aware of all the phone calls you made to me. I just didn’t wanna talk because—”

  “You’re doing it again,” Gladys said, cutting Arykah’s words off. “There is no need to explain. We get it.”

  “Mother Cortland and Monique kept us in the loop,” Darlita offered. “We were given a progress report almost daily.”

  “Very good,” Arykah said. She exhaled and looked at all of them. “Now, what’s the tea, ladies? Spill it. I wanna know everything that’s been going on in my absence.”

  “Wellllll,” Darlita sang, “there has been a lot of talk about how you had Mother Pansie falsely arrested.”

  Arykah’s eyebrows rose. “Falsely arrested? Really?”

  “Lady Arykah, there are women here who were raised in this church by Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie. The mothers ruled Freedom Temple for years before you got here. The majority of the congregation really thought that the mothers could do no wrong.”

  Arykah looked at Gladys. “But it’s so sad that the congregation, especially the women, were mere puppets dangling from the mothers’ strings.”

  “I know that to be true because I was one of them,” Chelsea confessed.

  “The bottom line is that you can expect to get the cold shoulder from folks, and then again, there are others here that sympathize with what the mothers did to you,” Darlita said.

  “And folks are asking questions,” Chelsea added. “There has been some talk and rumors. No one really knows why, in detail, Mother Pansie was arrested at church.”

  Gladys chimed in. “And people are wondering why Mother Gussie hasn’t returned to Freedom Temple. I hear that she hasn’t taken any calls from anyone.”

  “What is her husband, Deacon Hughes, saying?” Arykah asked Gladys.

  “He hasn’t been to church since you were attacked.”

  “The bishop hasn’t made a formal statement to the congregation,” Monique stated. “When someone asks him where you are he simply states that you’ve taken some time off and that you’ll be back soon.”

  That was news to Arykah. She had thought for sure that Lance had addressed the congregation. “I had no idea about any of this. I don’t know why Lance didn’t address the people.”

  “I think you should,” Myrtle said to Arykah.

  Arykah looked at her with a horrific expression. “Me ?”

  “Well, someone should,” Monique said. “If the bishop hasn’t done it by now, then he probably won’t do it at all. But the congregation should know what happened to you.”

  “I agree,” Chelsea added. “And they should also know who was responsible. I think you should go downstairs and tell the entire church how cruel the mothers were to you and what part Mother Pansie played in your attack.”

  Myrtle shook her head from side to side. “Uh-uh. That’s not the correct way.”

  All of the ladies looked at Myrtle with raised eyebrows.

  “Look at me however y’all want. The church does not need to know details. I agree that Lady Arykah should address the church.” Myrtle looked at Arykah. “But you shouldn’t disclose private information. It’s okay to tell the folks what happened to you and why you were away from church for five weeks but leave it at that. Ain’t nobody stupid. They already know why Mother Pansie was arrested. The detective read her, her Miranda Rights as she was taking Mother Pansie out of the sanctuary. Folks also know why Mother Gussie ain’t been back to Freedom Temple.”

  “I’ll make a statement right after praise and worship before Lance takes his text.”

  “And just be classy about it,” Myrtle advised Arykah. “No need to get ghetto and say, ‘Mother Pansie had me raped and that’s why her wrinkled, old butt is locked up.’ I can see you now waving your hands and rotating your neck. That’s so ghetto.”

  The ladies laughed because they knew Myrtle was speaking the gospel truth about Arykah.

  “But I am ghetto,” Arykah admitted. “That’s how I do it. I’m going downstairs and get it turned up.”

  “Not in the church,” Myrtle said sternly. “You ain’t turning nothin’ anywhere. You’re the bishop’s wife. You’re a first lady, Arykah, and you should conduct yourself accordingly.”

  Darlita, Gladys, and Chelsea liked the ghetto side of Lady Arykah and would have loved for her to put on a show, but they also knew that Myrtle was correct in the way Arykah should handle the congregation.

  Arykah threw her hands in the air and surrendered. “All right,” she said. She looked at Myrtle. “For you, and only you, I’ll be delicate.” She looked at Gladys. “Now, Gladys, I wanna know your plans for Miranda’s baby shower.”

  Gladys exhaled. “Lady Arykah, I’m just gonna be real with you. You know I work two jobs just to make ends meet. As much as I would like to give Miranda a shower, I just can’t afford the food and decorations. And besides, my two-bedroom apartment isn’t in the best condition. I wouldn’t wanna host a baby shower there anyhow.”

  “Well, the girl needs a shower, Gladys. You can’t afford to buy a crib, high chair, diapers, swing, stroller, and everything yourself. So, guess what?”

  Gladys and all of the other ladies looked at Arykah mysteriously. “What?” They all said in unison.

  “Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ will host its first baby shower.”

  All five ladies gasped at the same time. They sucked all of the air out of Arykah’s office.

  “How are you gonna pull that off?” Gladys asked Arykah. “Miranda is an unwed mother. The church would never go for that.”

  Arykah veered at Gladys. Her neck danced as she spoke. “The church doesn’t have to go for anything. I’m the first lady of this church, and if I wanna throw a baby shower in the fellowship hall, then that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m not using any of the church’s money, just the space.”

  “I love it,” Monique hollered out.

  Chelsea chuckled and shook her head from side to side. “If Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie were here, they would spit fire.”

  “Well, they ain’t here,” Myrtle said.

  “Lady Elect Arykah Miles-Howell is here, honey,” Darlita offered, snapping her fingers in the shape of the letter Z.

  Monique smiled. “And she reigns.”

  Lance knocked on Arykah’s office door before opening it and poking his head inside. He saw that she was in the presence of her supporters. “Praise the Lord, ladies.”

  “Praise the Lord, Bishop,” everyone but Arykah responded.

  Lance glanced at Arykah and smiled as he did every Sunday morning when he poked his head inside her door. “It’s time to head down to the sanctuary.”

  “You go ahead without me.”

  Myrtle looked at Arykah curiously and cocked her head to the side. She knew that Arykah absolutely loved walking into the sanctuary with her strong and handsome arm candy by her side. She wondered why, on Arykah’s first Sunday back at Freedom Temple, she was reluctant.

  Lance frowned. He and Arykah had always entered the sanctuary together. He was looking forward to escorting his wife to the front pew on her first Sunday back in weeks. “Are you sure?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I’m just gonna finish up some things with the ladies.” Arykah forced a smile at Lance.

  Myrtle saw right through Arykah’s façade.

  “Okay then,” Lance said to Arykah. He looked at her one last time before shutting the door.

  “Where were we?” Arykah asked the ladies.

  Myrtle
was not happy with the way Arykah had just dismissed her husband. She wanted to speak with her about it, but not in the presence of the team. She addressed Darlita, Gladys, Monique, and Chelsea. “Service is about to start. You all go ahead.” She looked at Arykah in her eyes sternly. “I wanna speak with Lady Arykah.”

  Arykah could tell by the expression on Myrtle’s face that she was in trouble. She didn’t know why but knew that as soon as she and Myrtle were alone she would find out.

  The ladies stood and gathered their things. On the way out of her office Chelsea, Darlita, Gladys, and Monique gave Arykah a welcome back hug.

  Arykah saw Diva Chanel sniffing around a potted plant in the corner of her office. “Come on, Diva. It’s time for church.”

  “Sit down.” Myrtle’s words were not a request but a demand. Lance had informed Myrtle the day before of Arykah’s actions at her therapy session as well as in the car on the way home. Lance pleaded with her to do all she could to help Arykah.

  Arykah looked at Myrtle’s face and knew that she’d better take heed. She sat down in her chair.

  “What’s going on with you and the bishop?”

  Arykah shrugged her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

  “Every Sunday, you’re so giddy for him to escort you down to the front pew. What’s changed?”

  “Nothing has changed. I just wanted to catch up with you and the girls.”

  Myrtle lowered her head a bit and glared at Arykah. “Don’t lie to me, li’l girl. Something ain’t right between the two of you.”

  Arykah looked away from Myrtle and focused on what Diva Chanel was doing.

  Myrtle leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles. “I got all day if you do.”

  Lance told Myrtle that Arykah blamed him for her attack confidence in. Myrtle wanted to tear into Arykah for doing so but needed Arykah to confess it first.

  They heard Lance ask the congregation to stand for prayer.

  Arykah would rather be anywhere else other than where she was at that moment. She didn’t feel like being interrogated, especially by Myrtle Cortland. She had a way of pulling things out of Arykah that she didn’t want to release. Myrtle was an intercessor; she knew how to reach Jesus on others’ behalf. Arykah truly believed that Myrtle had missed her true calling. She belonged in a courtroom. She felt that Myrtle would have been a great prosecutor.

 

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