Lady Elect

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Well, he’s in a marital counseling session and can’t be disturbed.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to disturb him,” Arykah said. “May I leave a message for him?”

  “What’s the message?”

  “Will you please ask Bishop Lance to call me when he becomes avail—”

  “Is this for a counseling session?”

  “No, I just—”

  “Well, what’s the reason for your call?”

  “The reason I’m call—”

  “Are you a member of this church?”

  “No, I’m a friend.” Finally, Arykah was able to give a complete answer.

  “What kind of friend?” Mother Gussie asked nastily.

  That telephone call five months ago was the reason Arykah never called the church when she wanted to reach Lance. To avoid another interrogation, she simply dialed his cellular phone.

  Arykah knew Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie were good friends that cackled like two hens locked up in a chicken coop. And she was sure that Mother Gussie shared with Mother Pansie the event that went on in Arykah’s office at church the day before.

  “I’m blessed and highly favored of the Lord,” Mother Gussie said most assuredly.

  Arykah rolled her eyes in the air and silently exhaled a long sigh. Yeah, whateeeveeerrr.

  “What can I do for you, Mother?”

  “I’m calling to let you know that one of our members, Brother Cartwright, lost his son, Justin, last night.”

  Arykah sat at her desk at the realtor’s office going over her scheduled appointments for the day. “Oh my. I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t think I know Brother Cartwright personally. What do he and his wife do at the church?”

  This was the first death in the church since Arykah had married Lance. She wasn’t sure what her response should have been or what her duties as the pastor’s wife were when a member died.

  “Brother Cartwright is a widower; we buried his wife last summer. He isn’t active in the church and his son, Justin, wasn’t a member.”

  “How old was Justin and was his death tragic?” Arykah asked.

  “Justin was twenty-seven years old and according to the police report, he died from a drug overdose.”

  “Oh my God. How awful. Brother Cartwright must be devastated. Have you informed the bishop?”

  “Yes, and that’s why I’m calling,” Mother Gussie said. “Whenever there’s a death in the church, Bishop Howell goes to the family home and prays with them. But this morning, he has a meeting with a developer from Japan at ten o’clock. The meeting was scheduled three weeks ago and since the client came all the way from Japan, the bishop felt he shouldn’t cancel. He asked that I call you to see if you were willing to go in his place to console the Cartwright family.”

  What? Arykah’s eyes bucked out of her head, and her heart dropped from her chest to the pit of her stomach. What did she know about consoling a church member and his family? Aside from saying “I’m sorry about your loss,” Arykah didn’t know what to do.

  How dare Lance throw her to the wolves to fend for herself? Couldn’t he get one of the associate ministers to do this good deed?

  And what about the deacons? Aren’t they the ones who are supposed to go out and console families in a crisis, like tending to the widows? Can’t they tend to the widowers too?

  Arykah began to sweat, but she didn’t want to give Mother Gussie and her cackling hen-friend the satisfaction of thinking that she couldn’t handle the situation. She quickly pulled herself together. “Of course, Mother. I would be more than happy to represent my husband,” she lied. “What is Brother Cartwright’s address and what time is the family expecting me?”

  Arykah jotted down the information she needed.

  “I will call Brother Cartwright and let him know to expect you at one o’clock this afternoon,” Mother Gussie informed Arykah.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Arykah said and hung up the phone. She looked at her schedule of appointments and saw that she was supposed to show a 7,400 square foot home in the southwest suburb of Warrenville. The estate listed for 2.5 million and Arykah was elated that the listing had landed in her lap a week ago. The potential buyer was in the NFL. When Arykah learned that the wide receiver of the New York Giants would be flying in to Chicago for only a few hours to house hunt for a home for his mother, a Chicago resident, Arykah became excited. The agent of the football player was adamant that the realtor be on time at one P.M.

  Arykah was torn. This could be her biggest sale to date. That is what she had worked so hard for. She couldn’t risk not showing up for her appointment and losing the largest commission check that she’ll probably ever receive. And she certainly couldn’t ignore Lance’s request to represent him and Freedom Temple at Brother Cartwright’s home. By marriage, Arykah knew she was obligated to honor her husband. She hung her head, closed her eyes, and exhaled. She was frustrated, but Arykah had no choice but to pass along the listing to someone else.

  At WGOD radio station, Monique’s secretary informed her that Arykah was holding.

  Monique picked up line three. “Hey, First Lady. What’s poppin’?”

  “I feel like pulling my weave out. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  Just like many times before, by the sound of her voice, Monique knew that Arykah was fit to be tied about something, and it was always a church issue. Monique turned away from her computer, crossed her left leg over her right knee, then gave her best friend her full, undivided attention. “Okay, what happened now?”

  “That cow from the church just called me,” Arykah said.

  Monique frowned. “Who?”

  “The broad that sits outside of Lance’s office.”

  “Oh, you’re talking about Mother Gussie?”

  “Yeah, that cow,” Arykah said nastily.

  “You shouldn’t call Mother Gussie a cow, Arykah,” Monique reasoned. “You are the pastor’s wife. What if someone else hears you?”

  Monique couldn’t see Arykah shrug her shoulders.

  “I don’t care,” Arykah confessed.

  “Well you should care. I keep telling you that you must watch your mouth at all times, even when you’re away from the church.”

  “I’ll watch my mouth when she and that other cow, Pansie, watch theirs. Shoot, why am I the only one who has to put on a front?”

  “Because that’s what preachers’ wives do. They front.” Monique realized that there was no use in trying to reason with Arykah. It was like talking to a brick wall. “Just tell me why Mother Gussie called you.”

  “The son of Brother Cartwright, a member of the church, was found dead last night. And apparently Lance always visits the family when someone dies. Well, the cow called to inform me that Lance has clients from Japan visiting the construction company today and he can’t go to console the Cartwright family. So, he asked that I go in his place.”

  “Is that what has you so mad?” Monique asked. She didn’t see the big deal.

  Arykah raised her voice. “I’m mad because I have to miss out on showing a mansion worth over two million dollars. And I’m mad because I don’t know a thing about consoling a family. I mean, I don’t see why one of the deacons weren’t called to do this. I don’t even know Brother Cartwright.” Arykah repeated her previous statement. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Well, what did you think the duties of a pastor’s wife were?” Monique asked.

  Arykah shrugged her shoulders again. “Heck, I don’t know. How about sittin’ on the front pew looking extra fly in big beautiful hats and wearing lots of bling. What else is there to do?”

  Monique chuckled. It was time for her friend to grow up. “I hate to burst your bubble, sis, but as a preacher’s wife, your duties are the same as Lance’s. So, I suggest you get your behind out of that office and over to Brother Cartwheel’s house and start consoling.”

  “His name is Cartwright, and am I supposed to take a bucket of fried chicken with me?”

  Moni
que laughed. “You are so ghetto.”

  At Freedom Temple, Mother Gussie dialed Brother Cartwright’s home and informed him that Lady Arykah would be arriving at 11:00 A.M., the exact time he requested. She knew that by giving Arykah the wrong time to be at Brother Cartwright’s house would set off a bomb and Mother Gussie was looking forward to the explosion.

  At twelve fifty-five, Arykah stood on Brother Cartwright’s front porch. She continually rang the doorbell without getting an answer. Then she walked to the bay window to peek through the vertical blinds and lace curtains. There was no movement inside the living room. Arykah looked toward the driveway and noticed that it was empty of cars. A cold breeze whipped across Arykah’s face and neck. She pulled the collar of her full-length Chinchilla up around her neck, then checked her diamond Cartier wristwatch and saw that it was just about 1:00 P.M. She was right on time.

  Arykah rang the bell again. When she didn’t get an answer, she reached inside her purse for her cellular telephone and dialed the church. Maybe she had jotted the wrong address down when Mother Gussie had given it to her.

  “Good afternoon and thank you for calling Praise Temple. How may I help you?”

  Mother Gussie greeted cheerfully. She was extra happy to answer that particular call.

  Thanks to caller ID, Mother Gussie recognized Arykah’s cellular number and was anxiously waiting for her to call. It was showtime.

  “It’s Arykah.” It wasn’t a good afternoon for Arykah; therefore, she wasn’t about to return Mother Gussie’s greeting.

  “Yes, First Lady. What can I do for you?”

  “What address did you give me for Brother Cartwright ?” Arykah asked.

  Mother Gussie confirmed that the address that Arykah had jotted down was correct.

  “Well, I’m here, and it seems like no one is home,” Arykah stated.

  “I didn’t think anyone would be there at this hour. The family has arrangements to make.”

  Arykah became irritated. “Well, didn’t you inform Brother Cartwright that I’d be here at one o’clock?”

  Mother Gussie was having a wonderful day. “One o’clock? You were expected hours ago, at eleven this morning.”

  “What the f—” Arykah had to catch herself and calm down. She had almost cursed. She didn’t want to lose her temper. She took a moment to inhale and exhale. She reminded herself that she was the first lady of a church.

  The day before she married Lance in Jamaica, Arykah and Monique had pampered themselves at the hotel’s spa at the Rui Resort in Montego Bay. Arykah’s face was facing downward in the opening of the pillow as a man massaged her back and shoulders.

  Arykah thought about the worldly things she’d be giving up once she said “I do.”

  One thing Arykah was known for was not holding back her tongue. Often she’d let curse words flow freely from her lips without caring who she said them to or how the recipient received them. As long as she got her point across, Arykah didn’t care. She felt liberated whenever she cursed. When it dawned on her that the next day she’d become a pastor’s wife and she could no longer express herself the way she wanted, she opened her mouth and gave herself a treat. Profanity rolled off her tongue like never before.

  Monique was lying on the massage table adjacent to Arykah. She looked up and over at her friend. The expression on Monique’s face was a Kodak moment. She looked like a deer that had been caught in headlights. “Arykah, what is wrong with you?”

  Both masseuses stopped. They couldn’t speak English but could tell by the way Arykah was rolling her neck from side to side and bobbing her head up and down that something was wrong.

  Every curse word that Monique had ever heard in her entire life spouted from Arykah’s mouth. Four-letter words, five-letter words, six-letter words, and some words that had too many letters to count were let loose into the atmosphere. She kept on and on.

  “Arykah!” Monique shouted.

  Arykah stopped cursing and looked at her best friend. “I had to get that out of my system. Today is the last day that I can curse.” Arykah grabbed the masseuse’s hand and put it on her back. “You can continue now.” She placed her face back down in the hole of the pillow.

  “Mother Gussie, you told me to be here at one o’clock. I wrote the time down next to Brother Cartwright’s address that you gave me.”

  It hadn’t gone over Mother Gussie’s head that Arykah had almost cursed. Arykah’s careless slip of the tongue proved what Mother Gussie had thought all along; the pastor’s wife was incompetent and wasn’t fit to hold the position as first lady.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Arykah, but you’re mistaken. I specifically remember telling you that the Cartwright family expected you at eleven. I guess they got tired of waiting.”

  With her free hand, Arykah massaged her temple. She felt a migraine coming on. “I know what you told me, Mother Gussie.”

  “Humph, apparently you don’t. The bishop won’t be too happy to hear about this here mistake you made.” With that being said, Arykah heard a click in her ear.

  She walked down Brother Cartwright’s front steps, went back to her car, and sat in the driver’s seat. Finally, she started the engine, turned the heat up to its highest setting, switched the gear to drive, and pulled away from the curb.

  Arykah was livid. There was no doubt that Mother Gussie had set her up to fail. She had been tricked by the enemy. Arykah knew that her next step had to be a call to Lance’s construction company. She would bet money that Mother Gussie was calling Lance as well. On her cellular telephone, she quickly pressed the number on speed dial.

  “Howell Construction. Vivian speaking.”

  “Vivian, it’s Arykah. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Arykah. And you?”

  Vivian and Arykah got along very well. There wasn’t a time when Arykah had visited the construction company or simply called when Vivian hadn’t treated her with respect.

  “I’ll be doing much better once I speak with Lance,” Arykah said. “Is he available?”

  “He’s behind closed doors in the conference room with his guests from Japan. They just sat down to lunch. I can put your call through if you like.”

  The last thing Arykah wanted to do was interrupt Lance with her complaint about his secretary at church, but at least Mother Gussie hadn’t gotten to him either. “That won’t be necessary, Vivian. It can wait ’til later.”

  “Are you sure?” Vivian asked. “Mr. Howell told me to always put your calls through to him, no matter what he was doing. I don’t wanna be in the hot seat when he finds out that you called, and I didn’t put your call through to him.”

  Arykah smiled at Vivian’s words. They proved what Lance had been telling her since the day they married; that he’d always make time for her. “You have nothing to worry about, Vivian. I don’t want to disturb Lance, and neither you nor I have to mention that I called.”

  There was a celebration taking place when Arykah arrived back at the realtor’s office.

  When she walked in, she saw fellow agents surrounding the agent that Arykah had passed the million-dollar listing to. The word “congratulations” was flowing throughout the office.

  Without saying a word, Arykah turned back around, got in her car, and started the engine.

  She sat behind the wheel with tears flooding her eyes. That two-million-dollar sale was hers. It was hers before Mother Gussie threw a monkey wrench in her plans. Arykah reached in her glove compartment for a Kleenex tissue. She blew her nose and dried her tears before starting her car and driving away.

  Moments later, she reached in her purse for her cellular phone and called WGOD radio station and was told that Monique was in a meeting. If there was ever a time when Arykah needed her friend it was right then. Her emotions were all over the place, and she needed Monique to talk her down. Monique was gifted in that area. Whenever Arykah was about to fly off the deep end or do something that would eventually come back to haunt her, Monique was there to calm her down and t
alk sense into Arykah’s ears. Today was one of those days when Arykah could benefit from one of Monique’s pep talks. She wanted to drive to the church and give Mother Gussie a piece of her mind. There was no doubt that Mother Gussie had set her up.

  To calm herself down, Arykah got on the Dan Ryan Expressway and drove for two hours. She needed to collect herself. She felt comfort in knowing that Lance would have Mother Gussie’s hide when he learned of the trick she pulled. Just as he did when he sat Mother Pansie down and checked her when she had called Arykah trailer trash.

  Arykah was thankful that she could count on her husband to have her back.

  After driving for two hours, she headed home. Lance should be there by now, and Arykah couldn’t wait to fall into his loving arms.

  When Arykah entered the kitchen from the garage, she found Lance standing at the stove adding the finishing touches to a pan of meatloaf and potatoes before placing it in the oven.

  “Good evening, sunshine,” Arykah greeted him.

  “Good evening,” Lance responded without making eye contact with her. His words were quick.

  Arykah knew that Mother Gussie had gotten to Lance. She could tell by his mannerisms.

  Lance always greeted Arykah with open arms and a kiss, but not that evening. But Arykah hadn’t spoken with Lance yet. So far he had only heard one side of the story, and there was no telling what Mother Gussie had said to him. Once he heard her side of the story, she was sure Lance’s coldness toward her would thaw.

  Arykah walked further into the kitchen and set her briefcase, purse, and keys on the center island. Then she stepped to Lance and tried to kiss his lips, but he turned away from her and Arykah caught the corner of his mouth.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked him.

  Lance rinsed his hands in the sink, dried them with the dish towel, then laid the towel on the counter. He leaned back against the sink, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at his wife. “I don’t ask you for much, Arykah. And because I don’t ask you for much, I expect that you’d be more dedicated and committed to whatever my needs are.”