Lady Arykah Reigns

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Uh-oh,” Adonis said.

  “Uh-oh is right,” Lance confirmed. “I see a suspension coming.”

  “Oh, Babe. I’m sorry.” Arykah felt terrible that she was the reason that Lance’s position as pastor was in jeopardy.

  “Me too, Bishop,” Monique added. “I regret what happened last night.”

  “Well, it’s no use crying over spilled milk. I won’t know my fate until I get to church in the morning.”

  “Do you want me to go to the meeting with you? I can explain my actions, and it may smooth things over with the deacons.”

  “And if that doesn’t work, you can always show a little cleavage,” Monique offered. “I bet those old men would foam at the mouth for a peek.”

  “Especially Deacon Jerry Wallace. He’s so old he probably ain’t seen a boob since the seventies,” Arykah added.

  Monique laughed at the thought. “Girl, I bet if you walk in that meeting with just a little bit of your triple Ds exposed, the deacons will probably appoint you as pastor. And Lance would be the first man.”

  The two ladies giggled.

  “I’m glad the two of you are taking this matter seriously. You really have no idea the extent of the damage you caused. And the embarrassment.” Lance paused and shook his head from side to side. “Oh my God.”

  “I’m offering to go with you to meet with the deacons.”

  “Maybe we both should go with you, Bishop,” Monique offered. “We’ll apologize. It could help.”

  Lance didn’t address Monique. He looked at his wife. “You ain’t going nowhere near Freedom Temple.”

  “And neither are you ,” Adonis said to Monique.

  Arykah’s eyebrows rose in the air. “What do you mean?”

  “Hello? Do the words ‘restraining order’ ring a bell?” Adonis asked Arykah. “That envelope you two were served with less than an hour ago is real.”

  Arykah looked at Lance. “Why can’t I go to church?”

  “Because Angela may be there.”

  The look on Arykah’s face was cause for alarm. “What do you mean I can’t go to church because Angela may be there? Who in the devil’s hell is Angela?” Her loud voice caught the attention of others in the restaurant.

  “Lower your voice,” Lance said. “You gotta stay five hundred feet away from her, Arykah. You and Monique assaulted her in the church. The restraining order is to keep both of you away from her. She sees you as a threat.”

  “And that means . . .” Adonis started as he looked at Monique and Arykah, “neither of you can be anywhere near her, and that includes the church, the nail shop, the weave shop, grocery store, and wherever else Angela may be.”

  “Oh hell to the no!” Monique yelled out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This is some freakin’ bull right here. So, the lady elect can’t go to church but the pastor’s ex-girlfriend can?”

  “Where they do that at, Lance?” Arykah asked him with raised eyebrows.

  Lance threw his hands in the air. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. It is what it is.”

  “That broad is trying to take your place, Arykah.”

  Lance scolded Monique with his eyes. “Would you stop trying to get her fired up? No one is trying to take her place.” Lance looked at Arykah. “No one could ever take your place.”

  Arykah was way past pissed. She met Lance eyeball for eyeball. “You be sure to tell the stank ho that.”

  “Point-blank and the period,” Monique added.

  Six

  Diva Chanel jumped at Arykah’s knees as soon as she entered the foyer.

  “There’s my beautiful girl,” Arykah said. She scooped Diva Chanel up and kissed her wet nose. “Did you miss Mommy? Huh? Did you miss me?”

  Diva Chanel’s petite tail was wagging hard as she licked Arykah’s face.

  “I gotta take a shower, Bishop. That jail cell was nasty.” She turned to see Lance set the house alarm. “You wanna join me?”

  “Nah. I got some thinking to do.”

  Lance’s cellular telephone beeped. He removed the telephone from the holster on his belt loop and checked the text message.

  I know your wife is out of jail. She better not be at church tomorrow .

  “Who is that?” Arykah asked.

  “Nobody,” Lance quickly answered. “Um, just an alarm that I set to remind myself of the meeting with the deacons.” His lie was effortless. Lance knew that if he revealed the true message of the text, Arykah would be back in jail in no time. He erased the text and headed down to the lower level of the estate. “I’ll be in my office.”

  Arykah stood holding Diva Chanel. She didn’t like Lance’s body language. He seemed nervous when she asked who had texted him. She watched him walk down the steps until he disappeared from her view. He could be telling the truth, Arykah thought to herself. Lance did have a meeting with the deacons in the morning, and he did have reason to be nervous about it. She took Diva Chanel to the master suite.

  Downstairs in his office Lance made absolutely sure that Arykah was not in earshot. On his cellular telephone he searched his contact list for the name “Arthur.” When he had found the name, Lance touched the telephone number beneath it.

  After only one ring Lance heard, “I knew you’d call.” Angela purred like a kitten.

  “I want you to drop the charges and retract the restraining orders against Arykah and Monique.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m asking you to. Arykah is my wife, Angela. She belongs in church.”

  “Well, hood rat and hood rat number two should have thought of that before they jumped me.”

  “You’re not innocent. What you did was foul. Asking Arykah, in front of everyone, how to get your ex-lover back. What did you think was gonna happen when you told her who you were?”

  Angela didn’t answer Lance’s question. “She’s not the woman for you, Bishop.”

  Lance didn’t want to engage in that topic. He didn’t need to explain to Angela, or anyone else, why he married Arykah or why she was perfect for him. “I want the charges dropped.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Lance exhaled and looked toward the staircase to make sure Arykah wasn’t descending. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “What do you want?”

  “Come to me right now. I’ll open up a bottle of wine and you and I can discuss it.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Do you want the charges dropped or not?” Angela shouted. She was no longer purring. She was demanding.

  “Angela, I’m not gonna play this game with you.”

  She chuckled in his ear. “If you want your wife to stay out of jail and back in church, then you will play. Naked Twister.”

  Lance disconnected the call. He erased his call log and powered off his cellular telephone. He placed it on the charger on top of his desk. Then he sat in his chair and logged on to his Desktop computer. Lance searched for the sermon he was set to preach in the morning. He hoped that he would get the chance to grace the pulpit. It depended on what the deacons would do.

  After her shower Arykah was on the floor in her closet. “My Lord, I messed up again. I know You’re disappointed in me, Jesus. I let You down, and I’ve embarrassed my husband. I brought shame to the church and because of me, my best friend is facing jail time.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “Father, this first lady thing is too hard for me. I don’t think I can do it. I try and I try and I try, but my back is constantly being pressed against a wall. I don’t know what You expect of me, Jesus. What do You want me to do?”

  The tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Arykah wiped them away. “I apologize, Father. My mouth can get out of control sometimes, and for that I’m deeply sorry. I know I need to learn how to let things roll off my back. But, Lord, I’ma tell You this right here and right now. Angela Moore will not take my husband away from me. You better snatch her before I do.”

  Arykah stopped herself when she realized that she h
ad just threatened God. “Okay, Jesus, I’ll make a deal with You. I will stop cussin’ and almost cussin’ and lashin’ out if You’ll allow the deacons to be easy on Lance. Please don’t let him lose his position as pastor because of my actions. Lance is a good man, Lord. Freedom Temple needs him.”

  She heard Diva Chanel scratching at her closet door. “Father, I pray that You hear me.” She paused. “Please hear me.”

  Diva Chanel licked Lance’s nose. Sunday morning came quick for him. It seemed like as soon as his head hit his pillow, the sun was peeking through the miniblinds.

  He stirred. “Good morning, Diva.” He looked over his shoulder and saw that Arykah’s side of the bed was empty. He grabbed Diva and snuggled with her. “Where’s your mom?”

  Lance got out of bed and carried Diva Chanel with him to the master bath to search for Arykah. When he didn’t find her there, he went to the kitchen. No Arykah. “Where is she?” he wondered out loud. He set Diva Chanel down on the floor, and she took off running back to the master suite. Lance followed and saw her jumping and scratching at Arykah’s closet door. He scooped Diva Chanel up, then opened Arykah’s closet door by pressing his thumbprint against a black magnetic pad on the wall. The door opened, and Lance saw Arykah on the floor praying.

  Before Lance had gone to bed the night before, he saw Arykah in that same position on the floor of her closet. He wondered if she had come to bed at all.

  “Cheeks?”

  Arykah looked up at him. “Hey, Babe.”

  “Have you been in here all night?”

  Arykah exhaled. “Yeah, I had some serious repenting to do and some serious pleading to do.” Arykah tried to get up, but her legs were numb. “Oh, Bishop, I can’t move,” she moaned.

  With his free hand, Lance extended his arm to Arykah. She grabbed his bicep and pulled herself up from the floor. “Oh my goodness, my legs feel like I have a thousand needles in them.” Arykah hobbled out of the closet, sat on the end of the bed, and stretched her legs forward. “I’m exhausted, Bishop.”

  Lance set Diva Chanel on the bed next to his wife. “Well, you’ll have all morning to get some rest since you can’t go to church.”

  “Oh yeah . . . that,” Arykah sighed.

  Lance proceeded to his closet to select his attire for church.

  “What time is your meeting with the deacons?” she asked.

  “Nine o’clock.” He searched through all of his tailor-made suits. “Maybe I should wear black. This could be the death and funeral of my pastorship at Freedom Temple.”

  Arykah rose from the bed and went into Lance’s closet. “Listen, God and I talked for hours. We met at a crossroads, and He and I came to an understanding. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “If only that was true,” he chuckled.

  Arykah stepped to Lance and kissed his lips softly. “It is true. Trust your wife. I have your back.”

  Lance wrapped his arm around Arykah’s waist and pulled her closer to him. “I know you do, Cheeks.” He looked into her eyes. “You are an amazing wife.”

  She smiled. “I try to be, Bishop. I really do.”

  “You’re psychotic. You’re a hothead. You’re a loose cannon. Sometimes you need to be buckled in a straitjacket. And I honestly believe that you’ll shoot somebody. But you know what? There ain’t a better woman on this earth for me.” Lance meant those words wholeheartedly. As crazy as Arykah was, he could not have found a better wife.

  Arykah chuckled. “Well, heck, I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered.”

  “You should be flattered, Cheeks. It’s your love that gives me fuel.”

  Arykah took Lance by the hand and led him out of the closet. “In that case, Pastor, follow me over to the bed. The first lady is gonna send you off to church feeling mighty good.”

  Lance didn’t enter the main church doors. Instead, he had driven his car to the rear of the church and entered the back door. He didn’t want to deal with anyone asking questions about what happened on Friday night or Arykah’s whereabouts. He had only one thing on his mind, and that was facing the deacons. Lance knew that by Sunday morning the entire congregation would know about Arykah and Monique fighting. He would make a formal statement to the church if the deacons didn’t dismiss him.

  He ascended the rear stairs up to his office. When he saw his office door ajar, he knew the deacons were already waiting for him. The closer Lance got to his office the more nervous he became. His heart beat out of his chest when he entered. He saw all five deacons sitting around his desk.

  “Praise the Lord, Deacons,” he greeted.

  No one returned Lance’s greeting. He became even more nervous. He took his seat behind his desk. “How’s everybody doing this morning?”

  Still no response from the deacons. They silently stared at him.

  Lance leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. What he really wanted to do was start packing his personal belongings. He was sure the deacons were giving him his walking papers.

  “Okay, I’ll start,” Lance said. His palms were sweaty. “Um,” he paused. “Well . . . first . . . um.” Lance extended his long legs beneath his desk, then folded them beneath his chair. “I’d like to apologize for what happened in the fellowship hall on Friday evening. And also Lady Arykah sends her deepest regrets. And . . . um . . . the truth of the matter, Deacons, is—”

  “Where’s Lady Arykah?” Deacon Lloyd Turner asked.

  He cut Lance’s words off, and it worried him. “She’s at home this morning.”

  “She should be here with you,” Deacon Bronson Marshall said.

  Lance concluded that they wanted to fire him and Arykah together. “Well, she can’t be here because—”

  “That’s too bad,” Deacon L. C. Woodard said.

  Lance was confused. He cocked his head to the side and looked at each of them. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s too bad Lady Arykah isn’t here. We wanted to let you both know what a wonderful job you’re doing here at Freedom Temple. Since the day we appointed you as the pastor of this church, you have done an outstanding job, Bishop,” Deacon Jerry Wallace said.

  Lance was totally thrown for a loop. He was dumbfounded. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting to hear.

  “We think Lady Arykah is doing a fine job. She’s rough around the edges, and we didn’t know what to expect when you brought her here. But the love and support she’s shown to the ladies and young girls hasn’t gone unnoticed,” Deacon Bartholomew Tidwell added.

  When Lance realized his mouth was hanging open he quickly covered it with his hand.

  “Bishop, we were very impressed with the way Lady Arykah conducted herself on Friday night,” Deacon Jerry Wallace commented.

  Lance frowned. Are they talking about the same Lady Arykah and the same Friday night that she and Monique beat Angela Moore down?

  “She answered every question with grace, truthfulness, and dignity,” Deacon Lloyd Turner added.

  The frown lines across Lance’s forehead became deeper. “Did y’all see the fight?” he asked in a high-pitched tone.

  “Yeah, we saw it, Bishop. You know we don’t approve of fighting in the church.”

  Lance looked at Deacon Bronson Marshall. “Of course, Deacon. And again, Lady Arykah and I are both ashamed, and we assure all of you that it will never happen again.”

  “You ain’t still messing around with Angela, are you?”

  Lance’s eyebrows rose at Deacon L. C. Woodard’s question. “Still messing around with her? Deacon, Angela and I were over when I was called to preach.”

  “But does she know that?” Deacon L. C. Woodard asked.

  Lance looked at all of the deacons. “I’m gonna make sure of it.”

  The deacons called the meeting to a close. They stood, shook Lance’s hand, and blessed him.

  “Let the Lord use you this morning,” Deacon Jerry Wallace encouraged Lance before leaving his office.

  Lance sat in his chair and ex
haled a huge sigh of relief. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Did that really just happen?” he asked himself.

  He wondered why the deacons had given him another pass. And the endorsement they gave Arykah came out of left field. Before Lance arrived he was as nervous as a hooker sitting in church. Now he could preach.

  He leaned back in his chair and thought about what had just taken place in his office. The more Lance pondered the clearer things became.

  At one time Deacon Bartholomew Tidwell faced eviction from his home. A retired Chicago firefighter, Bartholomew had confided in Lance that he couldn’t afford the taxes on his home. He had only three days to pay before his home would be up for auction. His ailing wife was unable to work, and Bartholomew’s fixed income hadn’t been enough to make ends meet. Lance wrote a check covering the cost of the taxes, gave it to the deacon, and wished him well.

  Three years ago, on a Sunday night, Deacon Jerry Wallace had called Lance to say that he had been arrested for soliciting prostitutes. Too embarrassed and ashamed to call his children or wife, Deacon Wallace had to face his pastor and confess what he had done. After posting his bail, Lance prayed with Deacon Jerry Wallace and laid holy hands on him. The deacon was delivered from his sexual addiction, and Lance had kept his secret.

  It was during Lance’s first year as pastor of Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ when Deacon Lloyd Turner was stricken with prostate cancer. A widower at only sixty-two years old, Deacon Turner had no children. It was Lance who drove him to the hospital and waited until the operation was over. And it was Lance who drove Deacon Lloyd Turner home. Every morning before he went to work, Lance stopped by the deacon’s house to prepare his breakfast, assist him to the bathroom, and made sure the good deacon took his medicine.

  Deacon L. C. Woodard’s lust for alcohol had cost him his driver’s license when he was charged with his second DUI. Four times Lance got out of his bed extra early on Sunday mornings and drove twenty-five miles past the church to get him, just to make sure that Deacon Woodard could attend Sunday morning service. With his personal money Lance bought a van and hired a driver to chauffeur Deacon Woodard, and others without transportation, to and from church.