by Dijorn Moss
“Nice. A minister who can dance, preach, and pick a good Moscato,” Victory says.
“I became all things to all men so that I might win some.”
Victory is in the process of mashing up potatoes. I can smell the garlic. “I’ve never seen anything like that today. What God did through you was amazing.”
“Yes, it was, which is good because I’m not really a Sunday kind of preacher.”
“Well, I enjoy your sermons. So where are you from, Minister Dungy? It’s like you appeared out of nowhere like a ghost.”
And like a ghost I shall leave. There is no room in my world for a relationship or marriage. “I stay on the road so much that I don’t really have a home.”
“And how does that sit with Mrs. Dungy?”
I chuckle because she couldn’t be any more blatant, but she has charm.
“I wouldn’t dare put a woman through my schedule. I already have a hard enough time keeping up with my schedule.”
I can tell that Victory is disappointed by my statement, but I would rather she be disappointed than heartbroken.
“A man should have a good home to go to. It’s not good for a man to be alone.”
“I find satisfaction in how many men I get back to their homes.”
All of a sudden a Nerf ball hits Victory on the shoulder, followed by a procession of laughter. Victory puts down the mashed potatoes and grabs the ball.
“And you wonder why you didn’t play Division I baseball.” Victory throws the Nerf ball and hits a man squared in the head. There is another procession of laughter.
“Pretty good,” the guy says as he picks up the Nerf ball.
Victory resumes her duties of preparing the meal. “I’m sorry. My brother is . . . stupid!”
“No apologies necessary. You played sports?” I ask.
“Softball in high school and college. I played at Arizona State.”
Victory finishes with her preparation and starts to set the tables.
“I’m ready!” Victory yells and we all assemble around the table.
There is a nice spread of food from the pot roast to the garlic mashed potatoes and a green salad. We all take each other’s hands.
“Go ahead, Minister Dungy,” Victory says.
I feel Victory nudge my hand and I know that I can’t pass the buck. “Everyone with bowed heads.”
We pray and it is the first time I’ve prayed in public over a meal in a long time. What is going on inside of me is both strange and great. It is great because I can feel myself change for the better, but it is strange because I feel like I am changing to the person I used to be. For the first time in God knows how long, I sit at a table and have a good meal and decent conversation, with Victory and the members of her family.
“So, Minister Dungy, what did you think about the pastor who killed himself about a month ago?” Mark, Victory’s brother, asks.
I almost choke on my food. I’d prefer for the conversation to remain on whether the 49ers were Super Bowl contenders and if Obama would get a second term. Anything but a conversation about Pastor Lewis.
“I think it was a sad state of affairs,” I say.
“Did you know him?” Mark asks.
“I had met him a few times and I thought I knew him, but I was wrong.”
“I wonder what would cause a pastor of all people to commit suicide,” Aunt Bay says before she takes a sip of her wine.
The answer is the guy at your table. The guy who brought you the wine is responsible for the minister’s death. “We can’t judge people because only God know what’s in their heart.”
“All I know is that . . . that was real sad,” Victory says.
“But there is something to be said about a man of God, a minister, who resorts to such a cowardly act,” Tiffany, Victory’s sister, says.
“Not a coward,” I say, unsure if I want anyone to hear it.
“What else would he be if not a coward?” Tiffany replies.
“I don’t know . . . a hopeless individual, but not a coward. It’s not easy to end one’s life; otherwise, none of us would be sitting here, because we have all found ourselves at a low point. And yet we keep on because we are products of hope. For someone to come to a point where hope is not enough is a lot of things, but I wouldn’t be quick to call him a coward,” I say.
“Well said, Preacher,” Mark replies.
“I don’t know. I just think that an ambassador of faith and hope should be able to walk out their faith,” Tiffany says.
“I agree with you, but in the real world we see our leaders fall flat on their faces all the time. None of us make it through life unscathed, so I wouldn’t be quick to call someone a coward or otherwise if they can’t see beyond the moment.”
“Well, you just put me in my place, Mr. Preacher,” Tiffany replies with a roll of the neck.
“It happens,” I say and the rest of the table bursts into laughter.
Thank God for the laughter because it turns the conversation to other, trivial things. Pastor Lewis reminds me of my failure as a problem solver and, for his sake and mine, I can’t afford to fail Pastor Robinson.
Chapter Twenty
The next day I get a call from Paul and he asks me to meet him at the Golden Corral restaurant. I do not know what made Paul want to meet with me at Golden Corral, but I know it must be important so I decide to go and meet my friend at the restaurant. I pull up next to Paul’s rental car. Paul rented a maroon Chrysler after I picked him up from the airport and dropped him off at his hotel. I get out of my car and I get into the passenger side of Paul’s car. Paul’s body language conveys that he has no intention of going inside of the restaurant.
“I guess you got a hankering for yeast rolls,” I say to Paul in an attempt to lighten the mood. All Paul gives me is pursed lips and an awkward stare, as if I am in trouble. “What?”
“Do you know how much I love you?” Paul asks but he does not allow me to respond. “I love you so much that I can’t stand you right now.”
“Boy, if you don’t start making sense . . .”
“And if you don’t start telling me what’s going on with you and this church, then I’m going to run this story in the paper tomorrow.”
My heart sinks. My whole business and credibility will be compromised if word gets out about this case. “I’m here helping a pastor find her husband.”
“Are you sure about that? Is that your story that you’re sticking to?”
Anger rises up in me. I no longer see Paul as my friend but a scumbag of a reporter.
“Hold on now. You gave me your word. Now you offered to look into the source of the money. You promised that if I let you look into the financial records you wouldn’t run the story. Your word may not mean much to you, but it means something to me.”
Paul lets out a sinister grin and then he lets out a demented laugh. It takes a lot of self-control for me not to punch him in the face. I hate someone knowing something I don’t know and I hate someone gloating even more.
“Luckily I don’t have many friends so I see no need in losing any.” Paul picks up the file and hands it to me. “I found out who’s paying you. Your fee may have come from the church but the money came from another source.”
What else is new? That is one thing I can say about Paul; he has a flair for the dramatic. I open the file and on the first page is a copy of my check and on the next page is a copy of a deposit made by Another Level Productions. “What’s Another Level Productions?”
“I have to remind myself how green you are at times. Another Level Productions is one of the biggest adult film industries on the West Coast. They film movies out in San Fernando Valley but the office of the CEO, Brian Perkins, is based out of San Francisco.”
Now that is a surprise, that my fee is being paid by a CEO in the porn industry. Why would the church have any ties to the porn industry? Unless there is someone who is affiliated with the adult film industry. “Thank you, Paul. This information has really helped
me out.”
“You owe me,” Paul says.
“Put it on my tab,” I reply. “So do you want to go in here and grab lunch?”
“I just finished eating. I got to run. I’ll see you later and let me know how that lead turns out,” Paul says.
“Will do.” I get out of the car and go inside. I figure I can get a good meal while I thumb through the file.
The restaurant has a pretty good crowd for a Monday afternoon. Now, as a kid I was fond of old movies that starred Clark Gable and Paul Newman. Those guys were so cool and I think my infatuation with smoking stemmed from those legendary actors. But when I scan the restaurant, I feel more like Humphrey Bogart: out of all the restaurants in Sacramento, Victory has to be at the one that I decide to dine in.
Victory is by the salad bar and she is alone and her conservative white blouse and black skirt convey that she is on lunch break.
“Sir, are you going to eat?” the elderly cashier asks.
The cashier not only gets my attention, but she gets Victory’s attention as well.
“Yes, I’m going to eat.” I fumble through my pockets in search of money. I pay the cashier and Victory waits for me at the entrance of the different food stations.
“Stalker,” Victory says.
“Yes, I know. I’m going to have to get a restraining order on you.”
“Whatever! I see that you’re alone. Want to be my lunch date?” Victory asks.
“Sure.” Before I can say anything else, Victory takes me by the arm to the salad bar and leads me through the various stations.
“Don’t forget to try the yeast rolls,” Victory says.
I grab two yeast rolls just to appease her. We grab a booth at the corner of the restaurant and share laughs between bites.
“I can’t believe you survived a whole dinner with my family.”
“Your family is not that bad. Trust me. I’ve seen worse.”
Victory smiles and for a few minutes she looks as if she is going to say something, but instead she stuffs her mouth with her salad.
“I really like hanging out with you,” I say.
“Me too. This is nice, this is fun. We should do this more.”
“I wish we could, but in truth I’m not that guy.”
“What guy?” Victory asks.
“The type of guy who could do this.” I gesture with my hands. “That’s not me. I’ve always been terrible with relationships.”
“Who’s to say I want a relationship?” Victory said.
Victory’s statement chips away at my ego. “Well, what is this to you? What do you want it to be?”
“What it is—uncomplicated.” She smiles.
She is preaching to the choir with that statement. “Look, Victory, you’re like this huge magnet and I can’t shake the fact that I’m drawn to you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle disappointments.”
I wish I could shed this mentality and develop a more positive one where couples get married for the right reasons and stay married for the right reasons as well. If I could adopt that kind of mentality then and only then could I entertain a future with Victory. But now is the essence of my domain and now is not the time to consider love and happiness.
“Can I ask you something?” Victory asks.
“You strike me as a woman who doesn’t need permission to ask anything. Go ahead.” I gesture for Victory to go on.
“Why here? Why Jubilee Temple?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a traveling evangelist, I assume, and of all of the churches you pick ours to help out. Sure, we’re not a store front church but we’re not a mega church neither, so why here?”
“Let’s just say I was called.”
“You must have a powerful anointing,” Victory says.
I haven’t thought about my anointing until the other day when I prayed for the congregation. Prayer is such a vital tool in the Christian walk, and when I went full-fledged into ministry, I was a prayer warrior. Until recently I prayed over my food, while driving, and little micro prayers throughout the day, but nothing like the other day. God is in the process of awakening something that has lain dormant in my spirit. Maybe after this job, I can begin to seek a life beyond the problem-solving business.
“Before I leave, I want to take you out on a real date,” I say.
“And I just might be inclined to go.” We both share a laugh and a meal.
Chapter Twenty-one
Another Level Productions has an office in downtown San Francisco inside a five-story post-modern building. I don’t know what to expect as I enter the building. I guess I am expecting half-naked women to be walking around and followed by adoring fans and cameramen. That is not the case. At first glance this doesn’t seem like a place where a top adult film executive would have their office. This seems like a building for lawyers or accountants, but then again the best place to hide is in plain sight. I weave my way through heavy foot traffic and approach one of the security guards at the desk.
“Nicodemus Dungy to see Brian Perkins.” I hand the security guard my ID.
The security guard takes my ID and checks it with his current information. He then hands me a visitor’s pass and I go on with my job. “Thank you.”
I enter a busy elevator lobby and watch as the numbers on the elevator count down to the lobby floor. When the elevator arrives I enter along with several other business execs. I am heading to the third floor, which means I have a short but uncomfortable ride ahead of me.
When I arrive at the third floor I am amazed at how quiet the floor is compared to some of the other floors that I get a glimpse of while on the elevator.
“How may I help you?” a pretty secretary asks.
“Nicodemus Dungy to see Brian Perkins.”
“His office is to your left.”
I walked down a long, narrow hallway to Brian Perkins’s office. I knock on the door.
“It’s open!” I hear from the other side of the door.
I open the door and there is Brian Perkins both on the office phone and texting.
“Look, man, there’s a lot of money riding on this. You need to talk to your girl and get her on board.” Brian makes eye contact with me. “Hey, let me hit you back later.” Brian Perkins hangs up the phone and sizes me up and I have already sized him up. He’s a short guy.
“Hi, Nicodemus Dungy.”
“Brian Perkins.” He shakes my hands. “Have a seat.”
I observe the pictures on the walls of provocative women and adult movie titles. The pictures hang on Brian’s wall like gold records.
“I bet you got some stories to tell me because Christians are the biggest freaks.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about? You’re walking around with my money in your pocket. What do you mean you don’t know?”
This guy knows a whole lot about my profession and I don’t like that. All the information I have on him came from the Internet.
“When Li-Li called me and told me that she needed a huge favor. I knew that it had to be big.”
“Li-Li?”
“Oh, you don’t know. Oh, this is too good.” Perkins starts to dance up and down in excitement. “This is too good.”
Brian hops up and goes over to his flat-screen TV where he has a DVD player play a movie that is already in the DVD player. Moments later I see an intense sex scene already in progress.
“Anyone look familiar?” Brian says.
Brian has such a smug disposition, but when I look closer I do see someone who looks familiar. On closer observation I see a younger and thinner Pastor Latonya Robinson. The image will forever be burned into my memory. I suspected that Pastor Robinson was not being upfront with me, but never in a million years did I expect to see a movie with her engaging in the horizontal polka.
“Okay, that’s enough.” I motion for Brian t
o turn the movie off.
“Yeah, she was one of my best. Man, she was talented. Sexy, smart, and, boy, she made me a lot of money.” Brian shakes his head.
Brian goes on to talk about Pastor Robinson as if she were a poet or a musician. All I saw was a misguided girl who now did everything in her power to erase the past.
“So what happened?” I ask.
“Before her dude disappeared, I didn’t know. She just up and left. Gone! Cut off all contact. Then one day I get a call from her and she tells me that she’s a minister and that she needs to hire some guy to find him.”
“So you gave her a loan?” I ask.
“Oh no, sir!” Brian sits up in his chair. “I’m not a bank. I don’t give loans. That’s her money. At the time when Li-Li left she had just finished four movies and I was waiting for the money to come in. She knew that and she never needed that money until now. You can say what you want about me, but I ain’t no crook.”
Good thing I am sitting down because my head is spinning. I need to have a talk with Pastor Robinson, aka “Li-Li.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Come on, Nic! Pull yourself together!” I have to tell myself because this is the second time I almost rear-ended someone since I left the Another Level Productions office. My body is physically in the car but my mind is divided between Tony Robinson and his wife’s freaky past. Though I know where I am heading next, I have no sense of direction in regard to this case. I travel along the 580 toward Stockton where I am sure to find Pastor Robinson.
The meeting at Brian Perkins’s office was surreal. At the same time the revelation that Pastor Robinson used to be a porn star starts to come into focus. I now understand why Pastor Robinson has such a strong ministry with women and such a lousy marriage. Pastor Robinson specializes in women who have been written off by society. I can only imagine how long Tony Robinson knew about his wife’s past before he decided to leave. I began this journey with a lot of unanswered questions; now I have only a few questions and only one person who can answer them.
“Sisters, we have to become virtuous women. Women who personify the scriptures,” Pastor Robinson says.
