Danny sat alone in a window seat at the coffee shop a short walk from his apartment in the West Adams District. The room was comfortable, with clusters of cushioned chairs, worn wooden tables, and racks of throwaway neighborhood newspapers and magazines scattered on surfaces. The space was so comfortable, it felt contrived to Danny. The tables, floors, and walls were all made from distressed wood that could not have been as old as some of the magazines scattered around the room.
Must have taken a lot of planning by some West Hollywood queen to make it look this lived in, he thought.
There were only two other customers. An attractive young woman was sitting on a comfy couch in the center of the room. An aqua, orange, and blue scarf was wrapped around her head like a turban, and a bouquet of sandy brown dreads sprang from the top. Brown beads and milky white cowrie shells dangled from the tip of each braid. She wore large round earrings, each bearing the pounded imprint of the jeweler’s hammer. Her baggy dress was accessorized with wooden and bronze African bracelets and silver rings with large green and amber stones. She sat alone, with her legs folded under her, reading Love Poems by Nikki Giovanni.
Danny noticed her sandals. They were expensive and wrapped her delicate feet with straps of new brown leather. Third-generation Baldwin Hills, he thought as he sipped his iced coffee.
The only other customer in the shop was a man who on occasion discreetly tried to make eye contact with Danny. He looked to be in his mid- to late forties. In an odd way he reminded Danny of Hezekiah. But that was not unusual. The mailman, bus drivers rolling by, and even Lester Holt from The Today Show reminded Danny of Hezekiah. The man in the coffee shop was tall, with a thick, black, bushy mustache. So thick and so black, Danny assumed he either dyed it or used a mascara brush to make it look so perfect. He wore a black suit and a red tie. He seemed out of place in the casual neighborhood coffee shop, but he was nonetheless comfortable across the room reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of steaming coffee, occasionally glancing in Danny’s direction. Danny could see the man from the corner of his eye, but he never looked directly at him for fear of inadvertently initiating an unwanted connection.
The room smelled of freshly roasted coffee beans being brewed by the lone barista. The mournful voice of Nina Simone whispered gently from places unknown.
“There a light
A certain kind of light
It’s never shown on me
I want my whole life to be
Lived with you
Lived with you
There’s a way
Everybody say
Do each and every little thing
What good does it bring
If I ain’t got you, if I ain’t got you
If I ain’t got you.”
Danny wished the song would end. It seemed the music was playing so cruelly just for him, a sad soundtrack to his life.
You don’t know
What it’s like
Baby, you don’t know
What it’s like
To love somebody
To love somebody
The way I love you
As Danny looked out the window at the steady stream of cars whizzing by on the boulevard, he heard a gentle tap on the wooden table.
Danny looked up sharply and saw the warm smile of Gideon Truman, who was standing above him.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Gideon said. “I said your name, but you didn’t hear me.”
Gideon looked very casual wearing a navy blue jogging jacket over a white T-shirt, denim jeans, and white running shoes.
“I was listening to the music,” Danny said without standing. “Such a sad song. It reminds me of my life. Have a seat.”
“Let me order you another coffee. What are you having?”
“I’ve barely touched this one,” Danny said, noticing his drink for the first time in the last ten minutes. “You go ahead. Maybe I’ll get another one later.”
When Gideon retuned, he sat at the table, directly opposite Danny. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me again,” he said, casually placing a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a napkin on the table. The vapor from the cup formed an aromatic partition between the two men. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again after our last encounter.”
“What do you mean? You were very kind to me. I have to apologize for getting so emotional. You caught me off guard with those e-mails.”
“I should be the one apologizing. It was very insensitive of me to confront you like that. I’ve been a reporter for so long, I guess I sometimes forget people have feelings.”
“Thank you. I realize you’re just doing your job.”
“That’s no excuse. I should have been more aware of how this all must have impacted you.”
Danny looked Gideon directly in the eyes and asked, “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”
“I have not. I can only imagine what you’re going through, Danny. It must be very difficult for you.”
Danny looked again to the window. A cyclist wearing fluorescent yellow biking gear and a bulbous helmet rode by. The number 210 bus, filled with commuters, rolled to a stop on a nearby corner to unload and load more passengers. Stoplights at the intersections flashed yellow, red, and green, and old ladies trying to look invisible in coats too bulky for such a sunny day rolled two-wheeled metal carts filled with a week’s worth of groceries home. The world seemed to go on carelessly, oblivious to Danny’s pain.
“Some days I don’t think I can get out of bed, it hurts so much,” Danny finally responded. “It’s as if it was me who was shot that morning. Sometimes I wish it had been me. Then at least I wouldn’t have to live with this pain.”
Gideon resisted the urge to reach out and touch Danny’s hand. Instead, he motioned to the barista behind the counter to bring another glass of iced coffee for Danny.
“I know it feels like your life has ended, but it’s true that time heals wounds. Give yourself permission to mourn. It’s all part of the healing process.”
Danny looked again at Gideon but did not respond. In the midst of the silence, the barista arrived with a tall glass of cold coffee. The ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass as he placed it in front of Danny.
“Thank you,” Danny said to the young man, seeing the tattoo of a snake wrapped around his arm.
“Do you have anyone in your life you can talk to about how you’re feeling?”
“Hezekiah was my confidant. I’ve only told one person about him. I was too afraid he would get hurt if someone knew about us. He had always warned me if anyone found out about us, it would destroy him. Ironic, isn’t it? Before he died, he told me about a reporter who had found out about us. The reporter who was found dead in his home two days after Hezekiah was killed.”
“Do you think their deaths are related?”
“I didn’t think that until you showed me the e-mails. Now it feels out of control. I don’t know how many people out there know about me. Are you going to tell me who gave you the e-mails?”
“I’m sorry, Danny. I can’t.”
It hurt Gideon to hold back the information from Danny. He wanted to tell him everything, everything he knew about Hezekiah, but more importantly, everything he knew—and those things he didn’t know—about himself. When he looked in Danny’s eyes, he sensed Danny could tell him things about himself that he didn’t know. It was the exact sense of vulnerability he had felt in the presence of Hattie Williams. He felt Danny could see into his soul and tell him secrets he had kept from himself.
Gideon felt exposed and in dire need of a diversion. “Who do you think killed Hezekiah?”
Danny did not hesitate in his response. “I know who killed him. She may not have pulled the trigger, but I know she had something to do with it.”
Gideon looked surprised. “She? Who are you talking about?”
“His wife, Samantha Cleaveland.” When Danny said her name, he felt a sense of relief. By saying it to Gideon, the knowledge was no long
er his burden to bear alone. He didn’t know why, but he trusted Gideon. Not to keep a secret, but to be sensitive enough to know which facts were important enough to share and those that were best kept private because they might harm someone unnecessarily.
“Did she know about you too?”
“Hezekiah told her a few weeks before he died. On the morning he was killed, he had planned to announce that he was stepping down as pastor.”
“How do you know that?”
Danny had a puzzled look on his face. “He was my lover for two years. We talked to each other about everything. We didn’t have secrets from each other. I didn’t want him to give up everything for me, and I tried to talk him out of it. But his mind was made up. It wasn’t only me he was leaving the church for. He was leaving it for himself too. He felt his life had been a lie up until that point. He felt he . . .” Danny stopped mid-sentence. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Are you going to report this on your show? I guess it would make you an even bigger reporter than you already are.”
Gideon had forgotten he was a reporter until Danny reminded him. He felt more like a man helping someone he loved through a difficult time. At that moment Gideon was embarrassed he was a reporter, and wanted to apologize for the profession he had chosen.
“Danny, I want you to know I would never do anything to hurt you. If you tell me something that you would prefer be kept between you and me, then you have my word it will go no further than us.”
Danny looked into Gideon’s eyes and said, “For some reason I believe you. Maybe it’s because I need to believe you.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Danny. I respect and like you too much to lie to you.”
“Why not? You’re a reporter. I thought you guys would do or say anything to get a story.”
Gideon was embarrassed again. His face was flushed beneath the sun-bronzed skin. He needed to convince Danny that he could be trusted. “I won’t deny I’ve said and done some things in my career to get a story that I’m not proud of, but for some reason I want you to trust me. For some reason I feel the need to earn your trust.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t really know. Maybe because deep down I’m the one who really needs someone to trust.”
“I understand that. Hezekiah and I came to the same conclusion. He once told me he loved me so deeply and gave his love unconditionally because he needed me to love him. He felt I was the only person who could truly love him. I felt the same way about him. The more I loved him, the more he seemed to love me in return.”
Gideon resisted the urge to touch Danny’s face. He understood how Hezekiah could fall so deeply in love with this gentle soul that sat across the table from him.
“So, what makes you think Samantha had something to do with his death?” Gideon asked, again needing a distraction from his raw emotions.
“Have you met her?”
“Yes, only once.”
“I suspect once is enough if you’re able to look beyond that thin veneer of piety. She’s an evil woman. I know that sounds dramatic, but I also know it’s true.”
“But she loved him?” Gideon asked with genuine naïveté.
“Samantha Cleaveland only loves herself. It’s obvious. If the world had found out Hezekiah was gay, she would have lost everything. The church, the television ministry, the house and, most importantly, the power. She ran New Testament Cathedral when Hezekiah was alive, and now that he’s out of the way, she doesn’t have to stand behind him anymore. With him dead, she gets to play the brave grieving widow and keep everything. She’s the only person that benefits from his death. I warned Hezekiah she would do anything to stop him from leaving her, and she did. He didn’t believe me.”
Gideon sat in disbelief. “Can you prove any of this?”
“I can’t prove anything. I don’t care what happens to Samantha Cleaveland. I just want to move away from this city and put this behind me. I feel like that’s the only way I’ll ever survive this.”
“But you can’t just let her get away with it. If what you’re saying is true, don’t you think she should be held accountable?”
“She will be,” Danny replied calmly.
Danny looked again to the window. He could see Hezekiah’s reflection looking back at him in the glass. The man he had loved so deeply was now reduced to a faded image in a window plastered with flyers for the next local spoken-word competition, workers’ comp attorneys, and car-detailing discounts.
Gideon continued, “Have you considered, Danny, that you might be in danger? If she killed once, who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again?”
“Of course I’ve considered it. I’m awake half the night thinking about it,” Danny said sharply. Hearing Gideon speak the words made the threat more real and frightening. “If you were able to find me, I’m sure she’s already done so by now.”
“All the more reason for you to come forward about your affair,” Gideon said, leaning over the table that separated them. “If no one knows about the connection between you and Hezekiah other than Samantha and possibly the person who killed him, then if something happens to you, she would have no fear of it being linked to Hezekiah’s murder.”
Gideon’s voice grew louder as he spoke. Danny scanned the room for prying ears. The man in the suit had left. The attractive young earth woman was still engrossed in her book, but now with the addition of earbuds. The tattooed barista was distracted by the grind of roasted Sumatra coffee beans.
“Don’t you see?” Gideon continued, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If you spoke publicly about it, I don’t think she’d be stupid enough to touch you, for fear of both trails leading back to her. The longer you hide, the longer you’re in danger.”
“And, more importantly, you would get another salacious story to add to your already impressive credits,” Danny said sarcastically.
Gideon flinched from the directness of the comment. The fragile young man had somehow made him forget again that he was a reporter. There was no denying the outing of Pastor Hezekiah T. Cleaveland would launch his already enviable career into the stratosphere. But while he was sitting in the little coffee shop with Danny, the thought had never entered his mind. Instead, he had become consumed with figuring out how he could come to Danny’s rescue.
“I can understand how you could think that,” Gideon said after recovering from the blow. “But that was not my motivation for suggesting you come forward.”
“Then what is your motivation, Mr. Truman?” Danny asked suspiciously.
Faced with the blunt question, Gideon was reminded of how he felt whenever he was confronted by one of his many obsessed fans: the marriage proposals from women who believed their union was destined by God; the neatly wrapped packages of homemade cookies, which were immediately tossed into the garbage; the woman who had professed her eternal love for him every morning and every evening at the studio gate, forcing him to file a restraining order against her. If he knew how I felt about him after only meeting twice, he would file a restraining order against me too, Gideon thought.
“I’m suggesting it because I don’t want to see another person hurt,” Gideon finally said. “You may think I’m an opportunistic talking head, and I can understand how you could come to that conclusion, but I’m not. I don’t like to see bad things happen to good people, and if I were in your position, I would hope someone would care enough about me to give me the same advice.”
“Well, you’re not in my position, are you?” Danny said coldly. “And I don’t believe for a second that you’re not interested in exploiting me to benefit your own career. It’s because of people like you that Hezekiah and I had to look over our shoulders for two years. You’re no better than the reporter who found out about us. He was willing to destroy anyone and anything in his path to get a headline, and I have no reason to believe you would not do the same.”
Danny stood up abruptly. His chair scraped the wood floor, sending a screeching reverberation through the room.<
br />
Without looking at Gideon, he calmly said, “You don’t seem to understand that if I came forward, I’d be placing myself in even more danger than if I stayed silent. At least this way I won’t have to deal with the wrath of the whole country for defiling their beloved pastor Cleaveland. It would be like putting a target on my back. This meeting is over, Mr. Truman. I’m sorry I agreed to meet with you and that I wasted your time.”
Danny moved swiftly toward the door.
Gideon stood and shouted, “Danny, wait!” But it was too late. The front door had already closed behind Danny. Gideon could see him walking past the window and jaywalking across the street.
The young woman, still reading love poems on the couch, resisted the urge to look in his direction. Hope they work it out, she thought. They make a cute couple.
“And we’re on in five . . . four . . . three . . . two and . . . ”
“Good evening, America. I’m Gideon Truman, and welcome to Truman Live.”
Four cameras were pointing at Gideon from different vantage points in the television studio. Each capturing a side more attractive than the one before. He was framed by an electric blue backdrop that made him resemble a living Andy Warhol painting hanging in a Manhattan gallery. He was bathed in blistering studio light. Crew members pushed buttons, moved hefty electrical cords, and focused lenses as Gideon read from the scrolling teleprompter just below the camera in front of him.
“We are continuing our coverage this evening of the brutal murder of Reverend Hezekiah T. Cleaveland, pastor of New Testament Cathedral and head of the worldwide television network.”
The key to Gideon’s popularity was his ability to make each viewer believe he was talking only to him or her. The viewers felt that they were having a quiet chat with an old friend in their living room or bedroom. A fact he himself didn’t even realize.
When Sunday Comes Again Page 15
