by Dijorn Moss
“Are we taking care of you? I mean, are we paying you well?”
Kent shrugs his shoulders. “Y’all paying me all right.”
That’s all I need to hear. I reach into my pocket and pull out two one hundred-dollar bills. I fold them and extend them out to Kent. “A little extra something for you and we put this whole thing behind us.”
Kent hesitates before he takes the money, then he opens the door. I walk in, and this time, I’m not surprised to see drinking, smoking, and naked girls being chased around by so-called men of God. I slam the door shut, and get their attention. Pastor Jackson is sitting down smoking a cigar with a half-naked Asian girl on his lap.
“What do you want, Nic?” Pastor Jackson asks.
“I just want to simply bring that which is dark to the light.”
The men start laughing. I’m sure that they think they are above the law and that they have God in their back pocket.
“Last I checked, you weren’t invited to this party,” another pastor says.
“I guess you haven’t heard the news. Randall Knott was arrested this morning and charged, so your casino adventure is on hold for at least the next forty years.”
“What do we care for? We didn’t cut him a check. There’ll be other opportunities,” Jackson says.
“It doesn’t bother you one bit that Cole lost his life dealing with Knott?”
“It was Cole’s idea to deal with Knott. You can’t dance with the devil and expect to lead,” Jackson says.
The men start laughing again, and I’m getting that sour taste in my mouth that proceeds throwing up.
“Now don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you,” Jackson says.
The men enjoy their laugh, and I get a text telling me that my friend is outside.
“Enjoy the laugh, because like I said, I’m here to let in the light.” I walk over and open the door.
A cameraman comes bursting in, taking photos, with my friend Paul trying to get past Kent. The pastors and girls try to scramble and hide. I walk over to Kent, who has Paul in a full nelson and put my hand on his shoulder.
“The police are on their way. Leave now or go to jail,” I say.
It takes only a moment for Kent to realize what I am telling him, then he releases Paul and disappears. After Paul shakes off Kent’s assault, he then walks into the room.
“Now, this is my kind of party,” Paul says as the shameful pastors still try to run and hide. “Don’t worry, gentlemen, we have all of your pictures, and they will be in the paper tomorrow morning, but that’s the least of your problems.”
Paul is right, that is the least of their worries. I gave Paul the order to call the police just as soon as he met up with Mike and got the penthouse key. The Cloth is going down for embezzlement, among other things.
“Big mistake, Nic,” Jackson says to me from the other side of the room. “Big mistake!”
He may be right. It’s a mistake to set fire to my profession and expose a dirty, dark secret within the church. It is a mistake, but for now . . . It feels good.
Hours later, with a slew of reporters at the scene, I have a cigarette and watch as members of the Cloth are packed away in police vans. Most of them have their heads down to cover up their image, except for Pastor Jackson. Pastor Jackson has his head held high. He does not feel shame for what he has done, and I don’t know whether to applaud him for his conviction or to be repulsed by it. Paul emerges from the slew of reporters.
“Two great stories in one week. You’re back on my Christmas list, my friend,” he says with a grin.
“That’s all I wanted for Christmas,” I say.
“You know, they’re going to crucify you. You’re not going to be able to do what you do anymore now that they can’t trust you.”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m thinking about retiring anyway.”
“Really?” Paul asks.
I take a puff of my cigarette and let the smoke out. “I’ve seen too much, and I have done too much. I want my remaining days on this earth to be peaceful.”
“Good luck with that,” Paul says.
“I don’t believe in luck. I believe in God’s will.”
“Well, since you’re retired, I might as well buy you a burger down the street.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“I mean, it’s not the best retirement party, but it’s something,” he says.
“It’s more than enough.”
Paul and I walk down the street looking at the names on the walk of fame and debate the merits of the recipients. I spend the evening with a friend laughing and joking, and for the first time, I don’t feel the weight of being a fixer on my shoulders. I am no longer Minister Nic Dungy, church problem solver. I am Nicodemus Dungy, and I can be at peace with being nothing more than what God created me to be.
Epilogue
Flying high above, I realize it’s been six months since I left Crystal Cove. I didn’t expect to see the island anytime soon, and I’m sure glad that I am returning on better circumstances.
“We’re getting ready to touch down, Doc,” Donny says.
I look out ahead and see only clouds. Donny has been flying for so long that his instincts tell him when he is close to his destination. It’s rare to see a smile on Donny’s face, but it’s understood considering that he’s doing what he loves and that this is a special day.
I look outside the window and see the picturesque water and the outline of Crystal Cove. I have a smile on my face as if it’s the first time I’ve seen the island. I didn’t expect to be back so soon. I guess the events that transpired from my last visit brought the two closer together. I always felt like the phrase “Life is short” was relative. Life may appear to be short, but it feels a lot longer when a person is alone.
Donny lands the plane with precision, and I wonder what will happen to this airport. Demetrius is dead, and Randall Knott is in a federal prison. Knott confessed to everything and got a reduced sentence. That means this airport, which is a symbol of the power struggle between Knott and Demetrius, is now open to new ownership. I pray that the new owner, or owners, will see the predecessors’ demise as a cautionary tale.
“We have to hurry. I’ll drive you to my place, and we can change in time before it starts,” Donny says as he ties down the plane.
I guess the greatest change aside from Sammy and Adele finding love is an improved relationship between Donny and his father. I am hopeful that there isn’t a relationship above reconciliation. I hope for my own life that this is true. I haven’t seen or heard from Victory since she left. I wanted to call her, but that didn’t seem like the best way to apologize. I wanted to get on a plane and head to Sacramento and talk to her face to face, but I am too much of a coward. I’m not going to try to win her back. I just want to apologize to her and thank her for giving me a glimpse of what could’ve been; even something as simple as “I’m sorry” and “thank you” required too much courage on my part.
The area of the beach where I used to take my daily swims has been transformed into an outdoor chapel. About a dozen or so chairs are set up for an intimate ceremony where only close friends and family are invited. I consider myself fortunate that Adele and Sammy would want me present on their big day.
I stand next to Donny who is standing next to Sammy. The preacher is in position, and the guests have arrived.
“Boy, God is good. I didn’t think I would find myself up here again,” Sammy says.
“I meant to tell you, Mom says congratulations,” Donny tells him.
“Make sure you tell her I said hello next time you talk with her,” Sammy replies.
Sammy hired a local band to play music for the guests. They play island music which puts everyone in a festive mood. For a moment, the island is beautiful again, and I can let go of the fact that I almost died on this island.
The music changes, and everyone turns to see the bride coming. It’s Adele’s day, and she deserves to be the center o
f attention, but the person walking her down the aisle has my attention. Adele is being escorted by Victory. This is the first time I have seen Victory since she has left the island. Her eyes are locked onto me as well.
This moment couldn’t be any more awkward, and at the same time, beautiful. Imagine a man and woman who have long denied their feelings for each other are getting married. Now imagine that Adele and Sammy’s two witnesses are a couple that never really cultivated their relationship. That is the conundrum I have before me today. Adele has made a beautiful bride, and I am glad to see Sammy happy, but what I am really happy to see is that Victory made the trip. Victory is also beautiful in her signature sundress. Her eyes bounce back and forth from a tearful Adele to me. My eyes remain on her. I don’t even pay attention to the minister’s words. Victory glances at me through the corner of her eye and smiles. That smile, it always levels me.
“Adele, I’ve loved you since the day I first met you, and I can’t think of a better way to cement our love then with God and all of our family and friends present and a song I would like to sing.”
“Sammy, if you start singing, I’ll leave you at the aisle,” Adele says.
The whole crowd laughs. Even Sammy with his bruised pride lets out a laugh. It’s clear that these two are determined to love each other and not change. The rest of the ceremony plays out like a traditional wedding ceremony.
“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher says.
Sammy and Adele and the crowd erupt. The newlyweds walk into their new lives hand in hand. Everyone starts to make their way toward Adele’s house where the reception will be held. Everyone except for Victory, who stands at the shore and looks out at the ocean. This is my chance to set things right. I walk over to Victory and stand beside her.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” I say.
Victory looks over as the newlyweds help each other up the hill. “They look happy, and that’s the main thing.”
Where do I start? What can I say? The last word I heard from Victory was in the letter she left me. I still have that letter as a morbid reminder not to waste an opportunity to love someone special.
“Let me ask you something,” Victory says.
“Shoot,” I say.
“What happened in L.A. six months ago? Was that you?”
Victory must be referring to the night some of the most charismatic and renowned religious leaders got carted off in a van by the LAPD. Some in the church are heralding it as the black day in the modern church. I call it a good start to a much-needed reformation.
“It had to be done,” I say.
“Did it?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kept you in the dark, but I couldn’t fathom something happening to you on account of me,” I tell her.
“So, who are you? Are you the person who either fixes things or destroys things in the name of God?”
“No. Not anymore. I’m just Nic. I’m going to do what I should’ve done years ago and let God work on the flawed men and women of the world, myself included.”
Victory bites her bottom lip. She’s mulling over something. I pray that it’s something in my favor.
“Next time, you come and visit me,” Victory says.
That’s exactly what I want to hear. No relationship is beyond redemption, thank you Jesus.
“How about I take you on another trip? Just you and me,” I suggest.
“How? You don’t have a job.”
I chuckle to myself. If she only knew. “I’ll be able to manage it.”
“Come on, we have a reception to attend. Let’s not be rude.” Victory extends her hand.
I walk with Victory up the hill toward Adele’s house. Sammy and Adele are not the only ones starting a new chapter. I’m beginning to write a new chapter as well. My days as a church problem solver are a distant memory. From this day forth, I will put my energy toward my relationship with God, and I’ll give Victory a fair shot. Who knows? Perhaps I wasn’t meant to be alone after all.
Readers’ Questions
Should Nic have kept the money Pastor Bryant paid him?
In this book, we encounter a secret religious group known as the Cloth. Do you believe that such a group exists?
One of the major themes throughout the novel dealt with God and the prosperity doctrine. Do you feel that this was an accurate assessment of churches who teach prosperity?
Was it easy figuring out the murderer?
Do you think there is a future for Nic and Victory?
What do you think is in the future for Sammy and Adele?
Do you think Nic Dungy will stay retired?
Which character would you like to see in another book?
Would you be interested in reading another Minister Nic Dungy story?
In this book, you are introduced to an FBI agent named Kim West. Are you curious to learn more about Ms. West?
AUTHOR’S BIO
Dijorn Moss was born and raised in Carson, California. He graduated from San Jose State University in 2003 with a degree in English. Dijorn currently lives in Long Beach, California, with his wife, Trinea, and their son, Caleb.
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No Sin in Paradise Copyright © 2014 Dijorn Moss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2677-6
First Trade Paperback Printing September 2014
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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