by Dijorn Moss
“I respect that!” Paul says.
“I do too and since you didn’t find the guy I was looking for, I don’t have to pay you the other half of your fee.”
“Not so fast.” Spider stops me and hands me an envelope. “I told you I would find him.”
I open the envelope and sure enough, Spider is right.
Tamara Rhodes was a state champion in the long jump. Ms. Rhodes was also Tony Robinson’s high school sweetheart. After high school they broke up because Tony wanted to focus on playing football. Tamara got married and changed her last name to Gibson. Tamara’s husband, Todd Gibson, was killed in a car accident in 2007. The information that Spider left me showed that Tamara relocated from Richmond to Sacramento in 2010.
I stand outside of Tamara’s townhouse and I ring the doorbell. Moments later a woman opens the door and I assume she is Tamara because her face is the same as the yearbook photo. She has the same shape and similar body shape as Pastor Robinson.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Minister Dungy and I was wondering if Tony Robinson was here?”
“What do you want?” an obviously male voice asks from the living room.
“I think you know what I want.”
“It’s okay,” the man says.
Tamara steps aside and I enter the house and makes a beeline to the bedroom. On the couch is a man. When I finally get a good look at him I feel a wave of emotions. Tony Robinson sits on the couch watching SportsCenter.
“I’ve never seen you at the church before,” Tony Robinson says calmly.
“I was asked to come in and intercede.”
“There’s nothing to intercede in. I’m done and I’m tired.”
“I know what happened and I want to help.”
“I don’t think you do,” Tony says.
“Oh, I do. I found out why you left and I understand. You have every right to be upset, but there are some people who are worried about you and need to know you’re okay.”
“You mean my wife? She finally notices me?” I look to Tamara, who is in the kitchen, fixing us something to drink. I looked back at Tony and he waves her off. “Don’t worry about that. Tamara is an old friend and she was there when I needed her.”
Tony has every reason to lie to me and yet I believe he is telling the truth about Tamara. Tony has remained faithful to his wife and I think that has a lot to do with his marriage vows and the fact that Tamara probably never got over the fact that Tony broke her heart.
“Listen, Tony. You’re upset, I know. You’ve been betrayed, I know. If you want to walk then that’s fine, but at least tell that to her face. You’re a man’s man; don’t be a coward now. Face her and tell her what you want. Tell her how much she’s betrayed you.”
I know that I pushed it with the “coward” comment, but I can tell from Tony’s body language that he is not easily offended. I just hope that he is willing to at least sit down and talk with his wife.
“I’m not a coward. When I found out, I wanted to grab my wife by the throat and squeeze and squeeze.”
Tony did not grind his teeth when he spoke. He makes a strangling gesture with his hands as he speaks about his wife, but even that gesture is passive aggressive.
“She doesn’t deserve him.” Tamara sits down with a drink in hand. People lack civility, when I enter an apartment and not get offered a drink.
“Tammy, enough,” Tony says.
“No! I’m not going to be quiet; not for you, or him.” Tamara points at me. “Or for your wife. You deserve better. Do you know that he scored four touchdowns in the state championships?” Tamara says to me.
“Don’t start that!” Tony says.
“It’s the truth!” Tamara says. “I was head cheerleader. I was there.”
“It’s also the truth that we lost that game. My great game was overshadowed by a defeat. My whole life has been a series of humiliations and this one is the biggest one.”
I lean forward and lock eyes with Tony. “Look, Tony, I know you feel like you’ve been kicked in the gut, but this is not the way a man resolves his issues. You don’t have to sit on this couch with this lovely young lady and relive a time that’s long gone.”
“Who do you think you are coming up in my house like you the police?” Tamara stops talking when I hold up my finger.
“You’ve said enough.” I look at Tony while I speak to Tamara. “Tony, at the very least talk with your wife before you consider leaving.”
Tony does not respond to my request in words. The drop of his head tells me all I need to know.
Chapter Twenty-six
A suite at the Marriott in downtown San Francisco is not at all cheap, but the experience is minimal compared to the success that this meeting can produce. I enter the lobby of the hotel room and pick up my key. I carry a heavy duffle bag and make my way up to my room.
I step off the elevator and nervousness sets in my stomach. This is the first time I have done anything like this before. I will find out if this is something that I can get used to as far as couples counseling goes. I arrive at room 507 and slide the key card into the door. The light from the window illuminates the room, but I need a darker atmosphere. I set my bag down and cross the room over to the blinds. I close the blinds and a glimmer of light protrudes through the curtains.
I go back to my duffle bag and retrieve the contents of the bag: two small boxes filled with scented candles. I position the candles in different sections of the room. I made sure to get the candles with the short stems so that I don’t start a fire. After the candles are lit I proceed to unpack expensive wine glasses, rose petals, massage oils, and all the other stuff I picked up based on suggestions from a cheesy magazine.
Twenty minutes later, I have ordered the food, and two bottles of wines are chilling in an ice bucket. There’s a knock on the door and I sprint to the front door. I open the door and there is Tony Robinson on the other side.
“Come on in,” I say as I open the door wide enough for Tony to walk in.
Tony Robinson enters the suite and takes a moment to observe the décor.
“I don’t know about this, man,” Tony says.
“Listen I’m the last person to advise you on what to do with your marriage. But I do know this; if you could just let her see you and just talk to her and hear you out, you’ll feel a lot better about your decision.”
All Tony can do is shake his head in agreement. His ego has been bruised, but there comes a point when a man has to stop running and take a stand. That’s what this case has taught me: that I have to stop running from God because it is pointless. God is with me wherever I go.
I texted Pastor Robinson to meet me at the Marriott and that it was urgent. I didn’t know how Pastor Robinson would respond to a text from a man to meet her at a hotel, but sure enough there is Pastor Robinson at the door.
“What is it, Minister Dungy? I thought you quit,” Pastor Robinson says without any emotion.
I open the door and allow Pastor Robinson to see her husband at a candlelit dinner table.
“Oh my God.” Pastor Robinson starts to shake, and the last thing I need is for Pastor Robinson to pass out. I take her by the hand and lead her into the hotel room.
The door closes and Tony Robinson gets up and walks over to Pastor Robinson. When Tony gets within a foot of Pastor Robinson, she slaps him and them she hugs him as if he is a ghost that had been resurrected back to life.
“I came to say good-bye,” Tony says.
“I understand why you would want to leave and you have every right, but I prayed that God would give me a chance to tell you that I’m so sorry.”
As I watch Pastor Robinson it is like she held all of her emotions back until this moment.
“Sorry doesn’t begin to cover it,” Tony says.
“I know. I just didn’t want to lose you. You’re a good man and I didn’t want my past to ruin us.”
“That pulpit ruined us a long time ago,” Tony says.
/> “No, it didn’t!” I reply.
“No disrespect, Nic, but you don’t know,” Tony says.
“I do know. If Pastor Robinson lied to you about her past then that means that there was a communication problem from the gate. You have to be completely honest with each other if your marriage is to even survive. The past and the pulpit are a direct result of your lapse of communication,” I say.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you’re second place in my life. I just wanted to be something other than an ex-porn star. I didn’t want judgment; I just wanted to be free from my past.”
“You could’ve told me,” Tony says.
“You couldn’t handle it,” Pastor Robinson shot back.
“Would you want to be married to a man who couldn’t handle your darkest secrets?” Tony shakes his head as if he already knows the answer.
“No,” Pastor Robinson says, unable to make eye contact.
It is like I am not in the room, and I know that so long as Pastor Robinson and her husband are being honest, they might have a chance.
“So you found God and walked away from doing porn. Then you became a plain Jane in the bedroom.”
“Please, I ain’t no plain Jane. You wouldn’t be able to handle the real me.”
My mind flashes back to the young, misguided girl I saw in the video; that girl has become a grown woman. However, the grown woman has become insecure when it comes to matters of intimacy.
“Isn’t that what marriage is suppose to be about? The real you?”
“It’s hard for me to trust a man and be intimate with one. Every man in my life has exploited my sexuality and then I realized that I allowed them to. I don’t know the first thing about how to be intimate and not trashy.”
“It’s about being able to take an unflinching look at each other, like what you’re doing now,” I say as I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of nicotine gum. I am trying to quit, but as the saying goes, old habits die hard. I throw a couple of pieces in my mouth and savor the flavor before I continue. “What you guys are doing now should’ve been done a long time ago. More important than what the congregation, coworkers, or the world says about you is what God says about you and what you say about each other.”
Neither Robinson responds to my statement. They just stare at each other like two sad star-crossed lovers. The room is less tense, but melancholy nonetheless.
“Knowing what you know now, could you even love me?” Pastor Robinson says with tears in her eyes.
“I never stopped. Despite how much it hurts and how embarrassed I felt, I loved you before I even knew you and that hadn’t changed.”
Pastor Robinson collapses in her husband’s arms and she wails in joy. I think about what Minister Blackwell said to me recently. No one is beyond redemption.
“I’m going to let you guys have some privacy. I ordered a nice dinner on me that should be up in a little while, but before I do I just wanted to say this: fight for each other. If there was love there then it will remain,” I say as I head out the door.
“Minister Dungy,” Pastor Robinson says.
I turn around to look at her.
“Take care of yourself,” Pastor Robinson says.
I give her a wink as I head out the door. I don’t know if the Robinsons will reconcile. I just know that my work here is done.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The job is done, but I need to see Victory before I leave. This case was a mixed bag for me; on one hand I went to some dark places in order to uncover the truth. On the other hand this is the closest to normal I have ever felt, and this is the closest to God I have been in a long time. I need for this trip to end on a positive note and I can’t think of a better place than along the boardwalk in Santa Cruz.
It takes Victory and me a couple hours to arrive at the beach. A week before Thanksgiving means that the weather is overcast, but none of that matters.
“You’re too cool for me,” Victory says before she takes a bite into her corn dog.
“Why you say that?”
“Look at you.” Victory stops and examines me. “You’re walking with your hands behind your back like you’re a prince. Yeah, you’re too cool for me.”
“What can I say? I got tremendous swagger.”
Victory and I share a laugh, then we share a sunset. We walk from the boardwalk onto the sand and sit down near the shore. Victory still has not finished her corn dog. We watch surfers skate along the water.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Victory points to the surfers.
“I know it take guts to get out there on those waves.”
“One day I’m going to come into some money and then I’m going to spend the rest of my life surfing.” Victory says.
“Sounds pretty ambitious.” I pick up a handful of sand and let it slip through my fingers as I used to do when I was a kid.
“You care to join me?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” My words are met with a playful shove by Victory. This moment is both real and special to the point where I don’t want to waste it on fantasies of two lovers who forgot the world and live in pure bliss.
“You’re no fun,” Victory says.
“Of course I’m no fun, I’m a realist.”
“It’s realistic to be happy.”
“Are you saying I’m not happy?” I ask.
“Not as happy as you could be.”
Victory has a point. I am happy with her, but that happiness is dangerous, and I can’t risk drawing Victory into my twisted world. Love is the ultimate risk and every day I see fools blindly risk everything for what they believe to be love.
“To be that happy would require for me to be a different person.”
“Love just requires for you to be who you are and for someone to love you just as is. Isn’t that what God teaches us?”
I answer Victory’s question with a kiss. She doesn’t pull away; instead Victory holds my lips firmly with hers and for a moment I am a guy who kisses a girl, nothing more. Victory pulls away and shows all of her whites.
I could’ve beheld her face all day, but I get a voice message from Minister Blackwell and I have to answer it.
“Hello?” I say.
“Get here now!” Minister Blackwell says.
“What is it?” Victory asks.
“We’ve got to go,” I say and, like that, the moment is over.
I drive over to the church with Victory in the passenger seat of her own car. I drive unaware of the speed limits and unaware of the silent argument that Victory and I are having. This is not how I want the day to end. Victory is disappointed and her silence eats away at my conscience. This is why I can’t get involved with someone. The church will always have a problem and will be in need of a problem solver.
Victory smiles and to the untrained eye, a smile is just a smile. Victory’s smile is more cryptic.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s just that two hours ago you were smiling; then the church calls and now you’re not.”
“I was really enjoying the day with you.” I can’t even look at Victory. I feel bad enough.
“I was too, but ministry calls. I just wonder why doing the Lord’s work causes you to become so stressed out.”
“I guess it’s an occupational hazard,” I reply.
“It shouldn’t be if you’re spreading the good news.”
I ponder Victory’s observation for a moment, and then I disregard her statements altogether. Since the suicide of Pastor Lewis, I have questioned my motives more than once, but right now I need to keep my head in the game. Just when I think the game is over there is a sudden game change and I need to know what happened.
Forty-five minutes later we arrive at the church and I get out of Victory’s car and hand her the keys.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” Victory says before she gets into the car.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll call you later.” I turn around before Victory has a chance to reply. I
need to get to this meeting right away.
I jog up the front steps and enter the church lobby. All of the lights are off except for the one by Pastor Robinson’s office. I walk over to Pastor Robinson’s office and knock on the door.
“Minister Dungy?” I recognize Minister Blackwell’s voice from the other side of the door.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Minister Blackwell opens the door and his face conveys that he is not happy to see me. I enter the office and notice that Pastor Robinson is in tears. This is not good.
“What did you do?” Minister Blackwell asks.
“My job,” I reply.
“Your job. I can’t believe this!” Minister Blackwell shakes his head.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You tell me, Mr. Clean. How did this happen?” Minister Blackwell fires back.
“Look, I don’t have time for these guessing games. Either somebody tells me what’s going on or I’ll walk.”
Pastor Robinson doesn’t say anything; she just sits at her desk in front of her laptop with her hand over her mouth. Pastor Robinson’s tears are still fresh when she turns her laptop toward me. I have seen a lot of disturbing things over the last few weeks, but these are images of a Web site that says Pulpit Sluts with a picture of Pastor Robinson holding a Bible on the left side, and on the right side is a video clip on rotation of Pastor Robinson from her days as a porn star.
“Who sent this?” I ask.
“You know who. He sent me an e-mail with this link. He says it goes out to the public tomorrow,” Pastor Robinson says, not taking her eyes off the laptop even though the laptop is turned away from her.
“What did you do?” Minister Blackwell asks.
“I had a meeting with the CEO of Another Level Productions,” I reply.
“That was not your job. Your job was to find First Gentleman Robinson and that was it. You brought this on her and for no reason.”
“I needed to know if the money I was paid had any connections to First Gentleman Robinson’s disappearance.”
