Lady Elect

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Apparently Brother Cartwright had kept Justin’s other life a secret. Having the drag queens in the sanctuary won’t be a problem as long as they are respectful. But the late Sister Justine Cartwright’s side of the family is here as well and her youngest brother, Isaiah, Justin’s uncle. They are very disturbed by the drag queens’ presence and wants to open up a can of whoop-you-know-what on them.”

  Lance hung his head and shook it from side to side. “Oh my Lord.”

  Carlton wasn’t finished delivering bad news. “And, Bishop, the deacons are fit to be tied. They wanna open up a can of whoop-you-know-what on you.”

  Lance repeated his previous statement. “Oh my Lord.”

  The choir was rendering in song when Lance and Carlton walked down the center aisle toward the pulpit. Lance saw the Cartwright family sitting on the right side of the sanctuary. To his left, he saw the backs of heads with long hair taking up the second through the eighth pews. It took every ounce of Lance’s self-control not to look at the faces of the people sitting opposite of the Cartwrights when he passed them by.

  As he walked up the three steps into the pulpit, Lance glanced at Adonis sitting behind the organ. Adonis was doing his best to keep his spiritual composure and concentrate on the choir, but he had to smirk at the way Lance was trying to control his own body. Adonis knew by Lance’s stiff neck and the way he coordinated his upper torso that the bishop was fighting with himself not to look into the faces of the people sitting behind the deacons.

  When Lance had reached his seat in the pulpit, he looked at the deacons sitting on the front pew, now on his right. All three deacons scowled at him. They were angry, and Lance knew he was in trouble. “I’m the pastor of this church, and if I say that Brother Cartwright can have his son’s funeral here, then that’s what will happen. If the deacons give you any grief about it, direct them to my office.” His own words had come back to haunt him. Lance wished he could prolong the funeral forever just so that he wouldn’t have to face the wrath of the deacons.

  A situation like that was exactly why rules had been set up. Surely the deacons would be waiting in Lance’s office after the funeral. Lance will have to take his butt whooping like a man and learn from this experience. He closed his eyes and listened to the choir.

  “Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming forth to carry me home.”

  The choir’s words were exactly what Lance wished for at that moment. He wished for a chariot to whisk him away and take him home.

  Lance couldn’t fight the urge any longer. His eyeballs were winning the battle. He gave in to temptation and allowed his eyes to roam over the figures sitting behind the deacons.

  Oh my Heavenly Master, Lance thought. If Carlton hadn’t warned Lance ahead of time, he never would’ve believed that the women he was looking at were actually men.

  About fifty of the most beautiful drag queens in the world were sitting in the sanctuary of Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ.

  Wigs, sewn in weaves, natural hair that had been processed, pressed, and flat ironed were on top of heads of faces that Lance thought should grace the covers of Ebony, Essence, and Jet magazines.

  Perfectly arched eyebrows and eyelids adorned with various colors of eye shadow blended to compliment light, medium, and dark skin tones brought Lance’s attention to false eyelashes. He saw petite noses above full painted lips. There wasn’t a mustache or beard in sight. Though he tried his best not to stare, Lance didn’t see one Adam’s apple.

  He was blown away. Pink, yellow, lilac, orange, and mint-green skirt suits and dresses, some with hats to match, reminded Lance of a roll of Sweet Tarts candy. They looked more like they were attending Easter Sunday service on the first day of spring, rather than a funeral near the end of winter.

  Freshly painted manicured fingernails dangled over the sides of the pews down the center aisle. Because they were seated, Lance could only view the drag queens from the waist up but guessed that many a stiletto were in the house.

  When the choir finished singing, Minister Weeks stepped to the podium and invited to the altar anyone who wished to say a few words in Justin’s remembrance; then he sat down and waited.

  No one from the Cartwright family stood. A full thirty seconds had passed when Lance saw one of the drag queens stand from the fourth pew, excuse himself as he passed the others still seated, and walk seductively toward the altar. He stood next to Justin’s closed casket.

  Carlton nudged Lance to look at Uncle Isaiah’s red face. He was so angry Lance could see his chest heaving up and down as he breathed.

  “Good morning, everyone.” The drag queen stood about six feet four.

  With such a soft and sultry voice, Lance found it hard to believe that the tone was coming from a man.

  “My name is Peaches,” he continued. “I just want to take a few minutes and say what a wonderful person Pinkie was.”

  Uncle Isaiah jumped up. “Who in the heck is Pinkie? His name is Justin. Sit your faggot behind down!”

  “Who are you calling a faggot?” another drag queen sitting opposite the Cartwrights yelled out.

  Uncle Isaiah didn’t know who asked him the question, but he turned to face all of the drag queens. “I’m calling all y’all faggots.”

  Every drag queen in the sanctuary stood, with heights resembling a basketball team, and began yelling obscenities at Uncle Isaiah. The men in the Cartwright family came to Uncle Isaiah’s defense and met the obscenities, word for word. Brother Cartwright hung his head in shame.

  Lance quickly stood and approached the podium. “Quiet in the church!”

  The deacons on the front row had moved themselves out of the drag queens’ way as they moved slowly but surely in the direction of the Cartwrights.

  “Quiet in this church! Quiet in this church!” Lance’s words couldn’t be heard over the yelling and shouting.

  Carlton stepped next to Lance and grabbed the microphone. “Everyone, calm down and take your seats. Please be seated.”

  Someone from the Cartwright side of the church threw the first punch and the brawl was on. The event happening at Freedom Temple Church Of God In Christ was a shame before the Lord.

  Wigs were snatched from heads and thrown across the sanctuary. Punches, jabs, scratches, and kicks, along with plenty of profanity, filled the church. Pandemonium had erupted.

  Lance and Carlton witnessed Peaches pick up Uncle Isaiah and fling him toward the front of the church. He landed against Justin’s casket, and it slid off the riser and tumbled to the floor along with flower arrangements and wreaths that sat upon pedestals. Brother Cartwright saw his son’s casket fall. He started crying openly, but he didn’t move from his seat.

  “Deacons, get order in this church!” Lance demanded.

  “This is your mess, Bishop. You get order!” one of the deacons yelled back.

  It was a scene from a horror movie. The Cartwrights and the drag queens fought like cats and dogs.

  Lance stood flatfooted in the pulpit and yelled into the microphone. “Everybody get out! The funeral is over. Leave the sanctuary now!”

  He laid the microphone down on the podium and ran out of the pulpit toward the fight. Carlton and Adonis were on his heels. The three of them began pushing and shoving anyone and everyone out of the sanctuary. Between the three of them, it took a half hour for them to clear the sanctuary. When the last member of the brawl was shoved outside, Lance locked the church doors and leaned against them, out of breath.

  “Call the police,” he said to Carlton.

  The fighting continued outside until the Chicago police had arrived. Thirteen arrests were made and Uncle Isaiah was the first to be put in handcuffs.

  Four pallbearers were allowed back into the sanctuary to pick up Justin’s casket and carry it out to the waiting hearse. There was no telling what position Justin’s body lay in at that time.

  Lance examined the mess the Cartwrights and drag queens had left behind in the sanctuary. Hundreds of flower petals were scatte
red near the altar. Eyelashes and press-on fingernails lay about the center aisle. Individual micro-braids took up residence on the pews. Lance looked down at a sparkling gold tooth on the floor.

  Adonis and Carlton came and stood next to him. “Are you all right, Bishop?” Adonis asked.

  He looked at them both. “How in the world could this have happened?”

  Carlton chuckled. “That’s what the deacons wanna know. They’re waiting for you upstairs in your office.”

  It was time for Lance to face the fire. “Weeks, I want you to handle the burial. Are you prepared?”

  “You taught us to always be prepared, Bishop.”

  Lance patted Carlton on the back. “Thanks, Weeks. I appreciate it.”

  Carlton proceeded to his car to follow the hearse to the cemetery, and Lance slowly climbed the stairs to his office.

  Adonis saw that Lance wasn’t in a hurry. “You want some backup, Bishop?”

  He stopped and looked back at Adonis. “Yeah, I do, but this is one whooping I deserve. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  On his way out of the church, Adonis peeked into the sanctuary and saw the cleanup crew hard at work.

  The deacons were seated around Lance’s desk when he walked into his office. He disrobed, loosened his tie, and sat behind his desk. Without looking into anyone’s face, Lance said, “Deacons, I made a mistake. I tried to help a member, but from here on out, I will abide by the rules of the church.”

  Chancellor Wells, the eldest of the deacons, spoke. “And that’s all that we ask, Bishop. See, you’re a young cat, but we’ve been around much longer than you, and we know that the church can’t help everybody. There are reasons why we established certain rules, and most of them are for the protection of our pastor.”

  Lance accepted the rebuke like a man and shook each deacon’s hand. He was grateful for the slap on the wrist and appreciative that they hadn’t thrown him out of the church for bringing such shame on them.

  Never in all of her life had Arykah laughed at something so hard. Listening to Lance describe the funeral had her mouth wide open and her head thrown back screaming and laughing at the same time. Tears ran down her face, and her abdomen ached, but she couldn’t stop. She was practically rolling on the living-room floor.

  “I’m glad you’re getting a big kick out of this, Cheeks. Had you been there, you wouldn’t have laughed.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that. It’s a good thing I didn’t go to the funeral. As soon as Justin’s uncle told that man to sit his faggot behind down, I would’ve hollered.”

  Lance shook his head, turned away, and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna cook.”

  The telephone on the end table next to the sofa rang as Lance was walking by, and he saw Adonis’s name and home number on the caller ID. “It’s for you, Cheeks.” He knew it was Monique calling to gossip with Arykah about what Adonis shared with her about what had happened at the funeral. When Lance set a wok on top of the stove, he heard Arykah scream in laughter. For half an hour, she and Monique had a good time laughing at Lance’s expense.

  When Arykah sat down at the kitchen table opposite of Lance, she still couldn’t stop laughing. “According to Adonis, the drag queens came in their own limousines.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Lance said. “I wasn’t in the pulpit five minutes before all heck broke loose. When we shoved everybody outside, I wasn’t interested in looking to see who was riding in what.”

  “So, are you gonna address what happened at the funeral when you get to church tomorrow morning?”

  “I wish I didn’t have to, but I know I should say something. I know it’s hot gossip right now. I’m sure every member already knows what happened.”

  Arykah chuckled. “Well, I bet the next time the deacons say that you can’t eulogize somebody, you’ll listen.”

  Lance agreed. “You got that right.”

  Chapter 7

  The fire alarm jolted Lance’s body awake. In a panic, he sat straight up in the bed.

  His nostrils inhaled smoke. When Lance looked to his left and didn’t see Arykah, he threw the covers from his body, jumped out of bed, and ran from the bedroom. “Cheeks! Cheeks! Where are you?”

  Arykah heard Lance call out to her. She was in the kitchen fanning flames over the stove with a dish towel. The black smoke filled her lungs. She was coughing and gasping for air at the same time. “I’m in the kitchen,” she managed to say.

  Lance arrived at the archway of the kitchen. The smoke was thick, and the alarm was screaming. Through the black cloud in the kitchen he could see Arykah’s silhouette. He saw her waving a white cloth over orange flames at the stove. “Oh my God,” Lance exclaimed. He ran to the pantry for the fire extinguisher, then rushed to Arykah’s side. The flames were dancing about twelve inches high above the stove. “Move back, Cheeks.”

  Lance pushed Arykah out of his way and extinguished the fire. It took about fifteen seconds for the entire fire to cease. When the last flame was blown out, he turned to his wife. “What happened?”

  Arykah stood in the middle of the kitchen in a short pink sheer teddy. It was her intent to prepare breakfast for her husband and serve it to him in bed. Arykah wasn’t a professional cook. Frying chicken, making spaghetti, and boiling hot dogs, she could handle with no problem. She really didn’t think that frying bacon and scrambling eggs would be very difficult.

  “I don’t know how the fire started. One moment I was frying bacon, and the next moment, flames shot up from the skillet.”

  Lance opened the kitchen windows and the door to the patio to let fresh air inside.

  Soon after, the fire department was banging on their front door. Lance quickly made his way to the front door and yanked it opened just as a fireman was getting ready to use his big ax to gain entry.

  “Is everything okay here?” a fireman asked Lance as he rushed inside, followed by three more firemen carrying a huge fire hose.

  “Yes. The fire is out, but there is a lot of smoke in the kitchen,” Lance stated.

  “Bring the fans inside,” the lead fireman yelled over his shoulder to his crew. When he arrived in the kitchen, the fireman saw Arykah placing a burnt frying pan in the sink.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Arykah said. Her statement wasn’t the truth. She was embarrassed at her failed attempt to seduce her husband with breakfast in bed.

  The lead fireman instructed his team to place three huge fans near the patio door to direct the thick smoke outside. He noticed the damage to the stove and the backsplash.

  “Someone trying to cook?” he asked.

  “Well, I—” Arykah started.

  “I was careless,” Lance interrupted her.

  Arykah wasn’t aware that Lance had returned to the kitchen. She saw him standing in the archway of the kitchen. “Huh?”

  Lance walked further into the kitchen and stood next to Arykah. “If my mother told me once, she told me a thousand times to never place a dish towel on top of the stove.”

  “You know,” the fireman started as he positioned one of the blowing fans closer to the patio door, “dish towels left on top of stoves are the leading cause of kitchen fires.”

  “I guess I gotta be more careful the next time I try to surprise my beautiful wife with pancakes in bed.” Lance kissed Arykah on the cheek.

  Arykah was speechless. Lance had just taken the rap for her mistake.

  As the smoke made its way outside, the kitchen became brighter. Lance noticed that one of the firemen was focused on Arykah’s attire. Her short sheer teddy left nothing to anyone’s imagination. Her every body part was visible. But her private body parts were for Lance’s eyes only. He spoke softly in Arykah’s ear. “You trying to get me locked up?”

  Arykah didn’t have a clue what Lance was talking about. “What?”

  “You want me to go to jail?”

  “Lance, what are you talking about?”


  “Can you please put some clothes on before I catch a case?”

  Arykah looked down at what she was wearing. In the midst of all the commotion, she had forgotten she was practically nude. Without another word, she scurried away. As she exited the kitchen, Arykah tried to cover her backside with her hands. But her backside was large. She couldn’t cover it all. The fireman didn’t take his eyes off of her. He got a good look at her voluptuous assets until she was out of his view.

  Lance cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. The fireman connected his eyes with Lance’s and knew that he’d better be about the business at hand. He shut the fans off and prepared to leave.

  After the firemen had packed up their gear and left, Lance found Arykah in the shower. “Is there room for me?” he asked her.

  “Absolutely,” she smiled.

  Lance stripped from his pajama bottoms and joined his wife in the shower.

  Arykah lathered her soap sponge with body wash and ran the sponge across Lance’s chest. “So, how much damage did I cause?”

  “Not much,” Lance stated. “It shouldn’t cost a bundle to replace the stove, hood, and backsplash. It’s not even worth getting our home owners insurance involved.”

  Arykah turned Lance around to face away from her. She lathered the sponge again and massaged his back and shoulders with it. “Why did you tell the fireman that you started the fire?”

  “Because I could tell that you were a bit embarrassed.”

  “Humph, that’s an understatement. I wanted to make breakfast and surprise you in bed.”

  Lance turned around, wrapped his arms around Arykah, and pulled her body into his.

  “Well, I appreciate the effort. You get an A for that.”

  “But I destroyed your favorite spot in the house,” she whined.

  “Obviously you don’t know where my favorite spot in the house is. Let’s rinse these suds off and I’ll show it to you.” Five minutes later, Lance brought Arykah to their bed and pointed at it. “This is my favorite spot in the house.”