“Me neither,” Robin said, taking a large bite of her egg roll. “Um, this food is good.”
“Good and greasy,” Passion countered around a forkful of chicken fried rice. “Just the way I like it.”
Passion and Robin were silent a moment, devouring their tasty dishes, and then Passion probed again. “So, Robin, tell me wuzzup?”
Robin smiled as Passion mimicked the voice of their teens. She felt she could maybe share a few things with an old friend.
“Well, for starters, I’m divorced, no kids.” Robin filled Passion in on her ten years in Tampa, Florida, after leaving Atlanta, her turbulent marriage and its equally turbulent end, the split-second decision to stay in Los Angeles after visiting almost two years ago, and her current employment.
“You’ve been here two years?”
“Off and on.” Robin didn’t want to tell Passion or anyone else where she’d actually resided during most of her LA stay—in prison for identity theft and credit card fraud. “I took some time off to, uh, visit family…came back a couple months ago.”
“Wow, girl, you must be rolling to be able to take off work like that.” Even as Passion said this, her thoughts returned to the gun left lying on the pawn shop counter.
“Hardly,” Robin replied. “But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”
Like shoot somebody? “So, where are you staying?” Passion asked.
“Downtown,” was Robin’s short reply.
Passion studied the face of her former running buddy. Twenty years was a long time; maybe she shouldn’t expect the two girls-turned-women to be as close as they once were. Still, Passion didn’t understand the guardedness she sensed in Robin’s demeanor—eking out conversation as if words cost money.
After an awkward silence, Passion reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I stay over in Leimert Park. Let’s hang out one day soon. What’s your number?”
They exchanged phone numbers and then Passion rose to leave. “You coming?” she asked Robin.
“Uh, in a minute, girl,” Robin said, looking up at the menu, prominently displayed along the restaurant’s back wall. “I think I’m going to get me something to go.”
Passion leaned over and hugged Robin. “Well, it was good seeing you, Robin. Take care, and let’s talk soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
Robin waited until Passion walked out the door, and then placed a take-out order. There was just one other purchase she needed to make before leaving the area.
Passion wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t leave the strip mall when she got in her car. Instead, she sat watching the door to the Chinese restaurant. A couple minutes later, Robin came out of the restaurant, looked around briefly, and headed back to the pawn shop. She looked around again before going inside.
Passion waited until she saw Lin unlock the gun case and hand something to Robin. “I knew she was going back to buy that gun,” Passion said to herself as she started the car and left the parking lot. “What is going on with you, Robin Cook? What is really going on?”
Love Like Hallelujah
1
Remember to Forget
Cy moved with calm precision, feeling perfectly at home among Victoria’s Secret’s wispy feminine apparel. Not the most traditional gift to give his soon-to-be wife, but Cy couldn’t think of anything he’d rather see her in than a silky negligee, except her bare skin. He knew her body would show off to perfection the diamond necklace he’d just purchased at Tiffany’s, and he wanted a delicious piece of lingerie to complement the eight-carat teardrop. He couldn’t help but smile as he fingered the delicate fabrics of silk, satin, and lace, unmindful of the not-so-covert glances female shoppers slid his way. It hardly mattered. His fiancée, Hope Serenity Jones, had captured Cy’s attention from the moment she’d appeared at the back entrance of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church, a piece of sanctified eye candy wrapped in a shimmering gold designer suit.
Female admirers ogled Cy as he continued his deliberate perusal. He stopped at a hanging negligee, red and pink flowers against a satiny white background. The top had thin spaghetti straps that held up a transparent gown hitting midthigh. The thong had an intricately designed rose vine for the string, a trail he would happily follow once it was on Hope, first with his fingers, then with his tongue….
A perky, twenty-something salesclerk came over with a knowing smile. “Are roses your favorite flower?” she asked, flirting.
“They could become my favorite,” Cy countered easily, “if worn on the right person.”
“That’s a very popular design,” the salesperson offered, encouraging the purchase.
“I’ll take it,” Cy said, as he casually handed the lingerie to her.
“Will this be all?” she asked, unconsciously moving closer to the live Adonis who had walked into the store and (blessings abound!) into her area.
“No, but I’ll keep shopping on my own,” Cy murmured as he eyed something on the other side of the store. The salesperson followed without thought. “I’ll let you know if I need any help,” he said with emphasis.
“No problem, I’m here if you need me.” The salesclerk turned around, a look of regret barely concealed behind her cheery smile. Cy was oblivious to the wistful stares his six-foot-two frame elicited from the saleswoman and other shoppers. His naturally curly jet black hair may have been hidden under a Lakers cap, but his raw sexuality was in plain sight. He had no idea that his sparkling white smile lit up the room like the noonday sun or that the dimple that flashed at the side of his grin was like a finger beckoning women closer.
Cy picked up a bra and panty set that had Hope’s name written all over it. It was a soft, lacy, yellow number. The panty was designed like a pair of shorts—very short shorts—and Cy reacted physically as he thought of Hope’s bubble booty filling them out. He quickly added this set to the black and beige more traditional sets he’d selected earlier.
While making his way to the perfume counter, another outfit caught his eye—the perfect backdrop for the diamond pendant. It was a lavender-colored sheer nightgown with matching floor-length jacket. The beauty was in its simplicity, and he smiled again as he thought of how Hope would look wearing this purple paradise. He held it up and closed his eyes, mentally picturing her ebony splendor wrapped luxuriously inside the soft material rubbing against her silken skin as he kissed her sweet lips.
Cy felt the presence of someone behind him. Figuring it was the attentive saleswoman, he turned to apologize for taking so long to make his decisions, and for the growing pile of lingerie she’d collected on his behalf. The smile died on his lips, however, as did the clever banter he’d thought to deliver as he completed the turn and stared into the eyes of the person he’d most like to remember to forget…Millicent Sims.
Or so he thought, initially. The woman could have been Millicent’s twin sister; that’s how much alike they looked. But after the initial shock subsided, Cy realized it wasn’t her. The eyes were similar, but this woman’s nose and lips were larger. Her face was a bit fuller, the cheekbones less prominent. One thing was definitely the same though; the woman looked at him as if he were a chicken nugget and she the dipping sauce. He quickly excused himself and went around her, making a beeline for the cash register. A close encounter of the Millicent kind had cooled his shopping frenzy.
Moments later, he closed the rear door of his newly purchased BMW SUV. It had been hard to get him out of his Azure, but looking back it hadn’t made sense for a Bentley to be his main driving vehicle. As the salesman had promised, Cy found the BMW to be a perfect ride for jetting around the city. He fired up the engine, hit the CD button, and zoomed out of the parking lot. The sounds of Luther Vandross’s greatest hits, redone to perfection in snazzy jazz styles as a tribute to his memory, oozed out of the stereo. Cy bobbed his head as Mindi Abair got ridiculous with her alto sax version of “Stop to Love.” As he crossed lanes and merged onto the 405 Interstate, his thoughts drifted back to Millicent.
His heart had nearly stopped when he thought he saw her; it had been a while since she’d crossed his mind. He wondered how she was doing, where she was. Even after “the incident,” he wished her well.
The incident. It had been a while since he’d thought about that, too. But seeing Millicent’s near twin in Victoria’s Secret had brought the memories back with a vengeance. That crazy Sunday when out of the blue, and in the middle of a regular church service, Millicent had wafted down the aisle in full wedding regalia. It had shocked everyone in the sanctuary, him most of all.
Cy had had months to replay those events in his mind, and they’d mellowed with time. Now, he thought about the Millicent Sims he knew before she’d lost her mind that Sunday morning. He remembered the way he felt when he first saw her, tall and regal with beautiful hair, flawless skin, legs forever, and a smile that made his heart skip a beat. He’d quickly asked her out, knowing those fine looks would test the limits of his celibacy vow. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize that aside from good looks and Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, they had little in common. He also quickly felt Millicent’s desire to take their relationship to another level, one of the physical kind. Though sorely tempted, he did the right thing and broke it off with her after a couple months. Now, however, he wondered what it would have been like to have those long legs wrapped around him, his dick tapping that flawless skin. His manhood jumped in response to these thoughts, the smaller head seconding the bigger head’s thoughts.
As Cy exited the 90 Freeway into Marina Del Rey, Millicent’s words from that fateful day of their last encounter drifted through the melodies of Rick Braun’s rendition of “Dance With My Father.” He could hear them as loudly as if they were actually being spoken: Come! It is our time…. Cy’s dick went limp.
A horn honked. The red light he’d reached had turned green. Cy floored the gas pedal as if trying to outrun the memories of Millicent from that Sunday and his wandering sexual thoughts just now. He thought of Hope, physically different from Millicent yet beautiful both inside and out. His dick jumped again. He massaged it mindlessly, even as he once again tried to divert his thoughts and calm “Mr. Man” down. Man, sleeping next to my baby is gonna be hard tonight!
As Cy turned into his garage, he smiled. A yellow MG sat parked in the stall next to his. Hope. What an appropriate name she’d been given, because hope was exactly what she’d given him. Hope that he could have the love he’d always envisioned, that he’d seen his parents experience. Hope that he could find someone both spiritual and sexy, who could love God like an angel and love him like a courtesan. He now had no doubt that that was exactly what he had in the chocolate pudding waiting upstairs for him. They’d agreed to remain celibate until their wedding took place, but that hadn’t prevented them from getting to know each other. He hadn’t played the piano, but he’d definitely stroked the keys.
Cy turned the key and activated the elevator to the penthouse floor. Humming to himself, he looked at the lingerie packet and Tiffany box he’d concealed in a plain brown bag. He wanted to see her in something different every night of their honeymoon, before he saw her in nothing but his arms.
The house was quiet as he went inside. “Hey, baby,” he called out, noting the silence of the almost always playing stereo. He entered the large open space that was the living, dining, and den area. No Hope. He continued to the kitchen, where he saw the note as soon as he turned the corner:
Hey, Baby, tried to reach you on your cell. I’m with Frieda. Hollah.
Love you, Hope.
He set down the packages, pulled the cell phone from his briefcase, and noted a couple missed calls. Belatedly, he remembered how poor the cell phone reception was in some of the mall stores. Smiling, he hid Hope’s honeymoon package in the closet and decided to fix a protein drink before calling his baby. Yes, Hope was the woman he wanted to be thinking about, the one he wanted on his mind. He hoped Millicent was happy, but she was his past. The woman occupying number one on his speed dial was his future.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2007 by Lutishia Lovely
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 0-7582-4496-7
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
With Gratitude
Contents
Mr. Snakeskin Boots
I think you got something that belongs to me
Hearing from God
His “spiritual thing”
Blessed
Mama can usually smell that coming
Good, good
Ladies first
Girls and boys didn’t look alike “down there”
Waiting on Jesus—Your Mr. Right
Sistah Almighty and Sistah Alrighty
Was she being paranoid?
I love you, baby…tore-up feet and all
Lonely—and alone—again
Hello, husband
Trying to separate the “two becoming one” into two again.
…Getting ready to preach a revival when I need reviving the most
Lord, have mercy
God was with her and she was going to be okay
Thou shall not kill
Right on time
If this isn’t God…I don’t know what is
Some good news
Everything is not all right
A church girl
Are you sure she’s not bucking for First Lady?
Put feet to your faith
When the last time you had some, baby?
A cool glass of water in the Holy Land
The marriage bed is undefiled
The spirit of seduction
She felt like Cinderella
God, my Jehovah, Awesome Wonder
With or without you, I’m moving on
Girl, you know you need to quit
I am the resurrection and the life
Mum’s the word
S.O.S.—The Sanctity of Sisterhood
Her divine mate
It is our time
Seventy times seven
Everybody plays the fool
Sacred love
Love was a beautiful thing
Copyright
Sex in the Sanctuary Page 33
