All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  The comments under the live video were going crazy. Lots of people gave full blown testimonies about what the ministry had done in their lives.

  “And Fatima, tell us your testimony,” Pastor Wright said. “And about the wonderful things God did for you with this ministry.”

  “I used to live at the Rebekah Home, and was truly destitute without Jesus. When Brother Alexander came to the home with the ministry team, I received the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Soon, I was baptized and serving as a co-laborer in the vineyard right along with Alexander.”

  The pastor laughed. “And then you became co-laborers in another way, correct?”

  “Yes. Alexander became my Boaz and has been such a blessing to my life.”

  I looked over at Twila who still was shaken by seeing and hearing her attacker on screen.

  “You need to hear some of this,” I said. “He found his wife in the homeless ministry at his church. She was homeless.”

  “I’m not surprised. If the arrogant prick had to rape somebody in a sex club, he definitely ain’t got game enough to pull a woman who has it all together,” Twila said.

  I glanced at the comments under the video, because someone with the screen name Christina God’s Champion Reynolds was typing in all caps. Yelling at the post. Not everyone seemed to be a fan of good Brother Alexander.

  The comments were crazy, but persistent.

  FAKE.

  GOD AIN’T IN THAT.

  STOP PLAYING WITH GOD.

  “Somebody’s straight up trolling him, Twila. A lady is going in typing in all caps.”

  Twila shrugged. “You know megachurch pastors have haters.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think the messages are directed at Pastor Wright.”

  Twila crawled across the floor and I held the tablet out to her while still reading the screen. Then, a comment popped up that made Twila snatch the tablet out of my hands.

  BOAZ MY ASS. BOAZ DIDN’T RAPE RUTH.

  “The wife, Fatima, called Alexander her Boaz,” I said. “These messages are for him.”

  “Is this Christina person saying that Alexander raped her?”

  “Sounds like that to me.”

  Twila set the tablet down on the floor. “I was waiting on God to show me a sign before I made a move.”

  “You were waiting on God?”

  Twila rolled her eyes. “Listen here. You know I still pray, and I even go to church sometimes.”

  “I didn’t say anything. No judging here.”

  “Anyway, I talked to my therapist about this, and I told her that I had to do something. I couldn’t let him hurt someone again.”

  “I agree with that. He must be stopped.”

  “I think . . . I think I have an idea on what to do about this.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  “I don’t think so, not yet.”

  The look in her eyes scared me. No matter what, I didn’t want my sister getting hurt trying to go after that man.

  “Please don’t do anything dangerous. And if you do, at least tell the bruhs first.”

  “I don’t think I’ll need our fraternity brothers for this one. I’ve been approaching this the wrong way all along.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Twila scrambled to her feet. “Sorry, I can’t help you with the closet. Just throw away half this shit, ’cause you don’t wear it anyway. I have some research to do.”

  I watched as Twila completely transformed from the afraid and bothered to the determined and fierce. Both versions of my sister scared me, but I knew she had to execute her plan and do whatever she needed to do to feel safe and secure again.

  I stood ready to intervene though, and so would the rest of our crew.

  Chapter 38

  TWILA

  Right after that fireside chat, I inboxed Christina God’s Champion Reynolds. I didn’t know if she’d respond or even see the message since we weren’t friends on Facebook. Not only had she responded, but she’d agreed to meet me for lunch.

  I didn’t know what to expect, because from her messages, the woman seemed to be suffering from some kind of mental health issue. Every response she’d sent me was in all caps, and she hadn’t used any punctuation. I wondered if I could get any real information out of her, or if she was reliable.

  I recognized Christina from her profile picture on Facebook. Her face anyway. None of her pictures were below her neck, and when she entered the soul food restaurant I saw why. Christina couldn’t be any less than four hundred pounds, and that was probably a low estimate. I stood up and waved so she could see me, and she approached me with a huge smile on her face.

  I wanted to hug her, but we were strangers, so I held out both hands and gave her warm two-handed shake. She smiled some more and sat.

  “Twila, thank you for reaching out to me,” Christina said. “I knew I was doing the right thing by posting those comments. Most of the church members have blocked me, but the pastor won’t for some reason.”

  “Do you think Pastor Wright thinks there is truth to what you’re saying?”

  “No. He just thinks I’m crazy.”

  “Um . . . oh.”

  Christina laughed. “I suffer from chronic depression and food addiction, but I’m far from crazy. Plus, I have a disability that keeps me from working.”

  “I see. And that’s how you ended up in the Rebekah Home?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I had gotten behind on my rent, and I was evicted. My social worker recommended that I go to the Rebekah Home.”

  “I see.”

  The waitress brought a pitcher of sweet tea and water to our table. Christina looked up and smiled.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Is this sweet tea?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you mind bringing a pitcher of unsweetened?” Christina asked.

  “Yes ma’am. Would y’all like to order?”

  “I’ll have the fried catfish basked with greens and macaroni and cheese,” I said. I needed comfort food. I’d pay for it later with a pre-wedding crash diet.

  Christina looked at the menu, and said, “I’ll have what she’s having, except no macaroni and cheese. I’ll have the baked sweet potato.”

  I felt bad eating the worst, fat-filled things off the menu, when this lady who was clearly trying to be healthier was making better food choices.

  The waitress smiled and left, and then Christina turned her attention to me.

  “Where do you know Alexander from?” she asked. “The request to meet was really weird when I got it. It kinda scared me, to be honest.”

  “I don’t know him. Other than the fact that he raped me.”

  “So, you don’t go to the church?”

  “Not that church, no. But Alexander raped me at a night club with a room for swingers.”

  “Like a room where everybody gets freaky?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at how she said it. “That’s exactly right.”

  “That seems like exactly the place a minister might be,” Christina said. Then she burst into laughter. “No shade, I’m not judging you, but it just seems kinda ironic that Alexander would be there.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t in the ministry then. This happened a couple years ago.”

  “He’s been in that ministry for ten years.”

  The small talk was fine, but I wanted to get down to the facts that I came here to gather. “So, why did you make that comment about Boaz not raping Ruth? Did Alexander rape you?”

  “Well, no. I’m not Ruth. He didn’t marry me.”

  I was confused for a second. “Are you saying that . . .”

  “He raped his wife? Yes. He raped Fatima when we were both residents at the Rebekah Home. This was before they were married.”

  So many thoughts rushed through my head at once, but one blared out more than the others. Why would a woman marry a man who raped her?

  “And you know this for sure?”

  Christina nodded. “Yes. We were roommates at the home.
He had taken her out on a date. She went with him back to his apartment to pray for her miracle, and he raped her right there.”

  “She told you this?”

  “Yes. She was so broken up about it. She said he used some kind of electric thing on her that made her not be able to move.”

  “A taser.”

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Did she report it to anyone?” I asked.

  “No, no. He was a minister from the megachurch. No one was going to tell.”

  “Well, you’re telling me now, so how does that work?”

  “I’m no longer a homeless woman. We were both desperate for help from that church, and I needed a place to stay.”

  I sighed and nodded. I understood. They weren’t gonna snitch on the one who was helping them, in case the help disappeared.

  “How in the hell did Fatima end up marrying him?”

  “Something happened to her, when she was younger. She got raped by several men in her family, including her daddy. I think Alexander’s rape wasn’t that bad in her opinion.”

  “But marriage though?”

  “He offered her more than the apartments the rest of the homeless women were being approved for. He gave her a home and respectability. I heard that they have a child.”

  The little girl. Yes. She looked at least three, maybe four. Alexander had raped Fatima before that night at Club Phenom.

  “She married her rapist. I can’t believe it. I wonder what her life must be like.”

  “I wouldn’t know. She’s one of the church members who blocked me. We were so close when we were in the shelter together. She left with Alexander and wouldn’t speak to me again.”

  “Did you ever tell her she should report Alexander to the authorities?”

  “I did, later on. I thought she should at least tell Pastor Wright.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She thought that if she stayed married to Alexander then he wouldn’t hurt someone else. She said she could give him what he wanted.”

  This made me sick to my stomach. Especially the fact that Alexander was parading her around like some sort of ministry mascot.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you,” Christina said. “Maybe if I had told someone about Alexander raping Fatima it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Only if she had been willing to report him too, and it sounds like she wasn’t. I appreciate you for meeting with me today, though.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you about to leave? I was really looking forward to lunch.”

  Even though I was itching to leave and come up with a plan to attack Alexander, I relaxed in my seat. I could use the carbohydrates and down-home goodness, and Christina seemed to need the food and the company. I could pause for a couple hours.

  Didn’t want to be hasty anyway. Whatever I did decide to do was going to have to finish Alexander, and not leave him free to harm another woman.

  Chapter 39

  HAHNA

  It seemed like this week had flown by. It was already Friday afternoon which meant that in less than twenty-four hours, Sam was going to be living under my roof. Sam had already contracted a property manager to handle the renting and maintenance of his bachelor pad, so there was nothing left for him to do except move on into my home.

  Corden and I were working a little late on the Christmas party plans. We needed a theme and quick, because I wanted to start inviting folks before they got invited to other corporate parties.

  “How about, Share Data on Christmas Day,” Corden said.

  “Oh, gross. That is pretty bad, Corden.”

  “Wait. I’ve got it. How about, ‘Data Baby?’ ”

  I sat blinking at Corden. He was delirious. Long week had him talking crazy.

  He got up and did a little dance. “Sir,” I said.

  “Data Baby . . . we’ll fix your data, but there’s a fee . . . not free . . . we’ll analyze your data tonight!”

  He sang this to the tune of “Santa Baby” and again I blinked. In silence. This was more than the long week. I needed to call someone to come care for him. Symone’s number was on his emergency contacts.

  “You are tripping. That is a great theme.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I can see the party flyer now. You’ll be in a sexy white Mrs. Claus outfit on the flyer, but with your smart looking glasses and a computer.”

  “Am I selling my ass or getting data analytics clients?”

  “Will selling ass get us a million-dollar account?” Corden asked.

  “If it did, would you be willing to,” I asked.

  “I thought we were selling your ass. My ass is too pretty to be sold.”

  “Well so is mine.”

  There was a light tap on the door. “I thought you said Sylvia left,” I said.

  “She did,” Corden replied.

  “Who’s there?”

  The door opened slightly. “It’s me, DeAndre. You had a visitor come in downstairs and Sylvia wasn’t here, so I walked him upstairs,” DeAndre said.

  “Oh, come in, DeAndre.”

  When he opened the door all the way, I wished I had told him to tell the visitor that our offices were closed for the day. It was my ghosting ex-boyfriend Torian. He was the absolute last person I wanted to see on the eve of Sam moving in with me.

  “You need anything else from me?” DeAndre asked as Torian walked over to my desk.

  Corden checked out Torian from head to toe and shook his head. What assessment was this? I couldn’t tell what Corden was thinking.

  “I’m good, DeAndre. Thank you for bringing him up here.”

  DeAndre left and I looked at Torian. “Have a seat, I guess. How can I help you?”

  “You guess I can have a seat? It’s like that Hahna? You’re going to apologize about saying that before I leave.”

  “I didn’t mean to be offensive. I’m just surprised that you’re here.”

  “Do I need to leave?” Corden asked. “We can finish the party planning next week.”

  “You’re having a party?” Torian asked.

  “Just a Christmas networking event. No, Corden, you don’t need to leave. Torian won’t be here too long.”

  “Again, you offend me. I have actual business with you Hahna, and you might not need to have a networking event after what I tell you.”

  “Again, not deliberately. Tell me your business.”

  “One of my clients, Yorkshire, Summerall, and Schmidt . . .”

  “The private equity group?” I asked. Now he had my attention. He should’ve started with those three names.

  “Yes, correct. They’re looking for a consulting firm to do some analytics for them. They’re trying to acquire a new business and their due diligence person just went the way of consulting and can’t help them anymore.”

  “And you recommended The Data Whisperers?”

  “Of course, I did. They want to meet with you next week.”

  Thank. You. God.

  “Is this a one and done or will it be a continuing relationship?” I asked.

  Honestly, I was willing to take anything at that point.

  “It depends on your proposal with their team. I have a relationship built with them, and I think we could approach this as a services package. We can put together a whole suite of analytics, marketing and accounting for YS&S and they would sell us to their peers.”

  We?

  “We’d have to work together?” I asked.

  “Not physically together, no. We’d bill our hours separately too. I just think we can attract more companies like them by offering a suite of products. Maybe that’s the key to saving The Data Whisperers.”

  “My company doesn’t need saving.”

  “Come on Hahna. It does. No shame in saying that, especially when I’m sitting here offering you a lifeline.”

  “And YS&S doesn’t care about what happened with Hale Brexton?” Corden asked. “Because I’m not trying to go through all t
he work to build a kick ass proposal just to have them pull up some internet story and shoot the whole thing down.”

  “They know all about slimy ass Brexton,” Torian said.

  “Corden, can we have the room for a minute?” I asked.

  Corden didn’t look like he wanted to leave. He stood slowly and gave Torian the evil eye as he rose. But, Corden knew how Torian had broken my heart when he’d disappeared on me. He’d apologized later saying that he’d had cancer, but I’d never tried to validate his story. I’d already moved on with Sam.

  “Another thing you need to do,” Torian said after Corden closed the door behind him, “is get some fresh blood and talent in here. Corden is played out.”

  “Corden has never betrayed me.”

  Torian took a deep breath and sighed. “I hope you aren’t thinking of rejecting this because of our breakup.”

  “We didn’t break up. You left.”

  “You know what I mean. This is what you need right now. To get your confidence back. I want to see you win, Hahna. Always have.”

  Skeptical didn’t begin to describe how I felt about Torian’s sentiments or his offer to connect me to YS&S. I mulled it over. We needed the influx of revenue that would come from this engagement. We also needed the reputation salvaging that would happen with a company this large acquiring The Data Whisperers’ services.

  What I didn’t need was Torian grinning in my face, thinking that he’d come to my rescue.

  “If anyone but me had walked in your office with this proposition, you’d already be coming up with the best value adding proposal you could think of. I’ve never been a slouch when it comes to making money.”

  “Yeah, only at relationships.”

  “You can’t still be bitter about that. You’re dating that writer, correct? I saw that he recently got a book deal.”

  “You’re following him online?”

  “Set a Google alert. I’m interested in his career.”

  This was creepy and weird and all the wrong things. Torian had never felt slimy that way. Not to me. Maybe there was a reason my friends had never cozied up to him. Not the way that they’d embraced Sam.