“Where’s who?” Dior barked, keeping distance with a straight arm between them.
“Don’t think I’m a moron. Where’s that dude you had the drinks and laughs with?”
“Oh Armand, he’s gone. I didn’t want to know him like that. He was just a nice guy I met. You were tied up, I didn’t think I needed permission to hang out and I did not want to be stuck in my room the entire time, so I let him stop by the hotel for drinks.” Richard chewed on her explanation. It didn’t sit right with him. He zoomed into the bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain. He checked the closet and under the bed.
“What did you do with him?”
“I sent him home and why are you asking me that with your wife on the next wing?” Dior challenged. “You’re a trip and my head is throbbing. What’s in a kamikaze anyway?” Richard’s chest heaved in and out slower now. He glared at the black lacy underwear she had on.
“Who is that for?” he asked suspiciously.
“For you, Richard — who else would I be going through all of this for? Armand wanted to hook up but I told him no. After I got your funky message, I almost changed my mind but then I went on ahead and left you three of them, telling you to come and see about me.”
Richard was proud of her. She’d shunned another man to be with him. He leered smugly at Dior. “Armand wants some of this? I’ll bet he does.”
“You had me wondering if I came here for nothing. I’m tipsy, horny, and in need of attention. Oomph, I was about to get at it myself.” She cast a fleeting glance at the oils and battery-powered gadgets resting on the nightstand by the bed.
Richard lunged at Dior, kissing her furiously. She moaned hungrily while unbuttoning his shirt with ten busy fingers. “Hurr’ up, daddy. I got to have it. Ooh, I’m burning up.” Richard flung his clothes on the floor then climbed on top of Dior. Her legs flew open wildly. Richard wrestled off her panties. His fingers roamed into her as he unhooked her skimpy bra with the other hand. Dior taught him that maneuver the second time he came running back to her. “Ooh yeah, you remembered,” she cooed tenderly, reaching for a stack of condoms in the top drawer. Richard slapped her hand away then forced himself into her. She squealed loudly, clamping her heels around his waist. Dior threw her all into pleasing him. Ulterior motives added an extra incentive. Richard was grinding frantically with his eyes closed. Dior kept hers open so she could watch her plans unfold in the pale moonlight. The pastor was digging into her with reckless abandon, his back sweaty and bowed. Dior groaned heartily when she felt him swelling inside of her. “Come on and get it,” she exclaimed heatedly. “Ooh, get every last drop. It’s yours, daddy, all yours.”
Richard pounded mightily. “Yeah, it’s all mine. Don’t ever give this to anybody else. It’s mine, baby, all mine,” he ranted until his muscles seized. He grunted and gasped. “Ohhh my God, you’re so good to me.”
“Uh-huh, always will be too.” She wiped the sweat from his face with the bedsheet. “Go on and rest. You deserve it.”
Richard didn’t argue. He rolled off, basking in the mind-numbing climax that floored him. “Whew-wee, ain’t nothing supposed to feel that good,” he joked, drifting off to sleep.
Dior grinned satisfactorily as she propped two pillows behind her back. “Yes it is,” she said, thinking of the tools she used to nab him. She planted a kiss on his shoulder, grinned again, and then pointed the remote control at the television. Dior went to wake him when the late news station reaired his interview and the subsequent dousing he received but she thought better of it. The longer he stayed there, the harder it would be to explain his whereabouts to his wife when he did find his way to her room. Nothing happened strictly by chance if Dior had anything to say about it. She set out on a mission, set her traps, and set up Richard to make a mistake he couldn’t climb over. Even Nadeen had a breaking point, one of no return, she reasoned. With momentum on her side and the wind at her back, Dior figured Richard’s lengthy disappearance and wrinkled clothes just might be the feather tipping the scales in her favor.
The alarm clock read 1:05 a.m. when Richard raised his head to look at it. He peered around the room, a stranger to the surroundings. Then it occurred to him: He wasn’t in bed with his wife. “Ohhh, this is bad . . . very bad,” he yelped.
Dior rubbed her eyes, squinting at him and feigning innocence. “What is it?” she grumbled.
“It’s after one o’clock,” he answered, stepping on his shirt as he pulled his slacks up to zip them. “Where are my drawers? Never mind. I’ve got to go.” He dipped into the bathroom to splash water on his face. Dior sat up in the bed with a sheet draped over her breasts. She did her best to appear sympathetic.
“Is there something I can do to help, Richard?”
He tucked his shirttail inside his pants then opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Get up and put the dead bolt on.” He was afraid of Armand doubling back and getting some of what he was forced to leave behind.
Dior’s bright smile illuminated the room. She hopped up and placed a second lock on the door at Richard’s suggestion. In the bottom of the closet, she riffled through her luggage to find the double pack of Early Pregnancy Tests she remembered to bring from home. She hadn’t been positive of her ovulation schedule the first time she let Richard in without a condom, but Dior had this date circled on her calendar. Having her trip to New Orleans sponsored by him was icing on the cake. With so much riding on Richard’s inability to control himself in her presence, she would have gladly sprung for the ticket herself.
Richard slinked down the hall. There was no use in conjuring up a lie to dump on Nadeen. He’d really done it now. When he saw his bags sitting against the wall outside of his room, he stopped. Afraid to take another step, Richard sighed despondently. He was willing to beg and grovel on bended knee if it came to that. He rubbed at the corners of his eyes to remove any lingering evidence that he’d been asleep. Phillip was right; he should have prayed for God to lead him, then he should have followed.
Richard slid the plastic keycard into the slot to get in. A red light flashed. Richard looked up at the door number. He had the right one but Nadeen had the magnetic lock changed, rendering his key useless. “She actually went and put me out,” he said to himself. “Nadeen, don’t do this.” He knocked gingerly so as not to wake up the girls in the next room or other church members staying on their floor. Richard drew in a calculated breath when Nadeen answered the door. Her hair was wrapped in a silk scarf. Her eyes were nearly puffed shut from crying.
“I set your things out,” she said, void of all maliciousness. In the partially open doorway, she yawned casually. “Your key won’t work because you’re not welcome in my space anymore. I don’t trust you. I’ve tried to deal with it, work with it, and get over it. I can’t continue stacking your lies and trying to make something good come out of them. You need help, Richard. It’s obvious you don’t need me.”
“What does this mean? What am I supposed to do?”
“You should have been asking yourself that question every time you left my bed and raced off to hers. Before I forget, your cell phone is in the zipper pocket. Dior left three messages. I listened to all of them. Now I see why you can’t turn her down; she’s willing to do anything you want her to. Congratulations.”
“Nadeen, we’ve been together a long time. Baby, I know this doesn’t look right but I . . . I . . .”
“Please don’t tell me you can explain. If I pulled something like this, you’d try to kill me and you know it.”
Richard couldn’t argue with her. He would have violently assaulted everyone connected with Nadeen’s affair. “I don’t know what to say but . . . but . . . I . . .” he stammered, from his knees. “I’m sorry, Nadeen. Please believe me. I’m repentant. I’ll let her go.” She yawned again, staring directly through Richard and the seemingly rehearsed act to restore what he’d lost. Nadeen heard some of the doors on their floor open after Richard resorted to pleading. She slapped at his hands when he reached
for the hem of her nightgown.
“I’m going back to bed. Get away from this door, Richard, and that’s the last time I’m saying it before calling security.”
Annoyed more than apologetic now, Richard hated Nadeen’s resolve to stay the course. “Wait a minute now. You’re carrying this way too far, Nadeen. I said I was sorry!”
“You certainly know what you’re talking about. You are sorry and by the way, Brotha Pastor, your shirt is inside out. Next time, get your little girlfriend to dress you better.” Nadeen slammed the door, shut Richard out of her room, and then flopped onto the bed. Mahalia came in to see about her.
“I’m sorry, Mama. Don’t cry anymore, you’ve still got us.” Roxanne stood at the foot of the bed, awaiting permission to come aboard.
“My girls,” Nadeen whispered, with them on either side of her. She pulled the covers up to her neck, held them tightly, and stared into the darkness.
Twenty-nine
Not Yet, I Don’t
The following morning Richard ate breakfast in his room, the same one Dior abandoned at her previous hotel. Since it was his money that paid for it, he couldn’t see letting it go to waste. Richard spent the remainder of the night wondering how he had allowed himself to be drawn in by Dior’s schemes and led astray by his own carnal desires. He didn’t want to be near her or anyone who might have known about what happened the night before. Being thrown out by his wife was the lowest point of his life. Richard kept hearing Nadeen’s words resonating in his ears. “You certainly know what you’re talking about. You are sorry,” she’d said sullenly. There was no fire behind it, no spiteful rage to speak of. The love of his life had given up on him. He couldn’t find it within his heart to blame her. If Richard could have taken back the past five weeks, he would have. Unfortunately, too many things had been said and done for that to be remotely possible. While checking out of his room, he realized that life didn’t accept the slightest regret. Life was all about making the best of a bad situation and moving forward.
Cartloads of luggage were being packed into bus storage compartments as the vehicles idled against the curb outside the Marriott. Richard paid the taxi driver then grabbed his bags from the backseat. With egg on his face and painstakingly unsure of exactly who knew about his having been ousted, he set his bags on the sidewalk and lamented.
After several minutes passed, a smattering of church members began to exit the hotel. Two women boarded the first bus. Both of them neglected to speak to him. Soon after, several of them avoided eye contact completely. Others nodded out of respect but it was clear that the rumor mill had opened early on the weekend and the faithful were taking sides. From the outset it appeared Richard was behind in the polls. Then a ray of sun shone on his face.
“Good morning, Brother Pastor,” Phillip said, with Rose two steps behind him. “Rough night, huh?” Richard chuckled lightly to keep from crying.
“I should have known you’d caught wind of it. Morning, Rose,” Richard added, out of common courtesy, knowing full well she stood with Nadeen despite the bloodline she shared with him.
“Yep, and the wind is kicking up quite a bit of gossip,” Rose informed him. “Question is, what are you going to do about it?”
Richard’s eyes softened before he answered. “Everything in my power with God at the wheel.” He awaited her response. It was a safe bet that she’d relay his sentiment to Nadeen as soon as she could.
“Oomph” was her stoic reply. She squeezed Phillip’s hand then hopped on the first travel coach. Never had such a short dissertation sent Richard reeling like Rose’s potent utterance. She’d conveyed her position soundly without saying a solitary word. It was very likely Nadeen would be just as decisive when refusing to mince hers.
“Is it worse than I thought?” Richard asked, praying it wasn’t.
“Man, it’s worse than you can imagine. Nadeen was in the business center at the crack of dawn booking three tickets to Georgia.” Phillip patted him on the shoulder, knowing he needed a hug. “She still loves you. You’ve got to remember that when you’re putting your marriage back together.”
“My kids, Phillip, I can’t have them not believing in me,” Richard confessed.
“They’re daughters, Richard. That means they’ll never give up on you. Now, if you had to depend on two rusty-butt boys, you’d be better off moving in with me and Rose.”
“I hear you, although I don’t think Rose would have me.”
Phillip considered the chances then grinned playfully. “No, probably not, but Rose isn’t the conscience of the congregation. You’re still our leader so you’d probably want to fix your face and handle your business in private. Buck up, here comes the gang.” Phillip’s gaze landed behind Richard. A frown weighed it down like an anchor. Nadeen raised her sunshades to read from a small sheet of paper she’d pulled from her purse. Her eyelids were red and swollen. It made Phillip sad to think what she must have suffered. Richard felt it too.
“Hey, y’all. Nadeen, I . . .”
“Not yet,” she answered, in such a way that made Richard wonder if she would ever be ready or willing to discuss their marriage and family again.
“I understand.” Richard manufactured a smile for Mahalia then reached out to help with her backpack. She sidestepped him, snatching her bag from his grasp.
“No thank you,” she said, rushing her words. “I can manage.” She sniffled, then followed her mother onto the bus.
“I could use some help, Daddy,” sang Roxanne, dragging a carry-on bag like a reluctant puppy. Richard’s heart melted inside his chest when she offered to share hers with him.
“I could use some too. Thank you so much, Roxy.” He reached down and hoisted her off the ground. He squeezed his youngest child so hard, she wiggled to get loose.
“Ouch, Daddy, I can’t breathe!”
Richard relaxed his grip immediately. “You made me so happy I got too excited.”
“Well, the next time you help me, not so rough.” She winked at him then giggled heartily. “Bye, Daddy. See you when we get home, if Mommy lets you in.” Richard looked away when a wave of emotion swept over him. Roxanne exhibited the kind of love Richard needed to rebuild his life: unconditional love, giving for the sake of giving. If the other women in his household followed suit, he might stand a chance. On the other hand, Roxanne was only eight, uncorrupted by pain and fashioned in the image of innocents. In her eyes, Richard could do no wrong. Nadeen wasn’t so naïve and Mahalia knew better.
During the eight-hour bus trip home Nadeen stared endlessly out of the window. Rose entertained Roxanne as best she could in the seats directly across from her. Mahalia prayed all the way. She wanted Dior dead. Among her sincere petitions begging for the heartless homewrecker to be wiped off the face of the earth was an unwavering plea for Dior to meet with a slow, horrible death so she would know what it felt like to drown in an ocean of agony. With every prayer Mahalia grew more determined, more engrossed in hate. She boldly summoned Satan for assistance and pledged her allegiance to him if he carried out her wishes. Although misguided, she meant every word.
On the third bus, less than half of the merriment that had ushered the men to New Orleans accompanied them home. Phillip overheard whispers questioning the pastor’s extracurricular activities, how long he’d been giving in to his carnal man at the detriment of the inner one. There was nothing Phillip could do but hope the murmurs subsided instead of billowing into a heated fire of discontent. Phillip labored to find a decent moment of rest while vowing silently to stand by his friend. He was tortured nonetheless by restlessness.
In the first seat on the bus, Richard slept like a baby. Concern for his job was absent. The survival of his family was paramount. Everything else was a distant second. In the back of his mind, Richard assumed his tenure in the church was a lock. Phillip couldn’t disagree more.
At nine thirty on Saturday evening, Richard settled the account with the bus drivers in the rear of the church parking lot. He glan
ced at his watch as the last few members started for home. Nadeen was the first to leave once they had arrived. She couldn’t get away from Richard and the memories of a disastrous trip fast enough. The blame lay squarely on his shoulders. Now that the hotel and travel bills had been paid and the work M.E.G.A. set out to do completed, Richard faced a daunting task. Building an overwhelmingly successful ministry constructed for the purpose of saving souls was easy compared to saving Nadeen and the girls from the fallout over his impropriety.
Richard entered his ritzy subdivision, with mansions lining the landscape. He still found it hard to face himself. It was even more difficult addressing Nadeen. As the garage door opened, Richard breathed a sigh of relief. His wife’s car was there and it hadn’t been loaded down with luggage. He thanked God for however much time he’d been given to make appeals and amends. When he tried to jiggle the doorknob leading from the garage to the utility room, it wouldn’t budge. Before he could question why Nadeen felt it necessary to shut him out once again, he heard a car approaching the house from the circular driveway.
Richard exited the garage. He squinted into the headlights of a blue airport shuttle van. His first inclination was to send the taxi away. Nadeen opened the front door as he rounded the van on the driver’s side. “Hey, man, you can go!” Richard yelled angrily.
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