by Ronn Elmore
By the time the car slowed to a stop in front of Nina’s home, Dwayne’s mind was racing. Both women had given him a great deal to think about.
He held her arm as she lifted her gown and moved up the stairs to the second level. Nina put her key in the door, opened it slightly, then turned back to Dwayne.
“I really had a nice time. Thank you, Dwayne.”
“Believe me, it was my pleasure.” He hesitated before leaning over and kissing Nina’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seven
As he looked up, Dwayne was relieved that Vanessa was the last client he’d booked for the day. At thirty, and financially well off, having recently divorced a major R&B performer, Vanessa was attractive, intelligent, saved, sanctified, filled with the precious Holy Ghost, and angry enough to bite somebody!
It seemed “for the fifty-eleventh time” (her words), she had fallen head over heels in love with yet another positively wonderful, spiritually mature, truly caring man at her church. After about two minutes together—oh all right, two weeks—they’d both begun to use words like “commitment,” “our future together,” “marriage,” and, oh yeah, “God sent us to each other” in their late-night four-hour telephone conversations and their fervent Day of Pentecost-style prayer sessions.
Problem was that by mutual decision, the relationship had ended with great drama (God had “unsent” them to each other?), and Vanessa’s ex-beloved had struck up a starry-eyed courtship with some other sweet young thing in the choir or the singles’ group, or on the usher board or the prayer team.
Vanessa considered herself a poor innocent victim who was made to fall in love with a wolf in sheep’s clothing. To hear her tell it, she had been abused by this Christian Casanova who was now, according to her, “running through every woman in the church.” All she wanted to know was what the Lord Himself, the pastor, the LAPD, or the resurrected prophet Isaiah were going to do to make sure it didn’t happen again.
Vanessa’s beef was one he’d heard a thousand times over the years from his clients as well as men and women at his seminars. That she had been made to fall in love with someone. Dwayne was always frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get her to understand that nobody makes anybody else fall in love, challenging her to determine what she was going to do to make sure this didn’t happen to her again… and again and again.
Just one hour after he’d ended the session, Dwayne was back home, the frustration of his failed attempt to get Vanessa to see what she was doing now behind him. The lights above were as soft as the music that drifted through the room. Dwayne sat in one of the eight Queen Anne chairs at the dining room table, staring at the papers and folders in front of him. But he didn’t need to read any more; he could recite most of what was in front of him from memory.
For the last six days, he had thought of little else. Even as he moved through his day, listening to and counseling his clients with the professionalism they’d come to expect, the television proposal was foremost on his mind.
It wasn’t just his own musing that held him hostage. Beverlyn Boudreaux had not made it easier for the thoughts to loosen their grip. She’d called four times before he finally returned her calls, though he’d done so at a time he knew she wouldn’t be available, leaving a message on her voice mail and ignoring the home number she’d given him.
Dwayne had a feeling that Beverlyn would pursue him until she got the answer she wanted, but he would make his own decision. He pushed back from the table and walked to the window overlooking Hollywood Hills. Even though the hour was late, lights twinkled, flickering in syncopation, like Morse code. Dwayne stared at the glittering mountain for several minutes, before turning away in puzzlement.
He lifted the folder labeled “Dr. Dwayne E. Grandison, Host,” then tossed it on top of the rest of the clutter. As he stared at the disorder, he could almost hear Yvette’s voice.
“I told you, Dwayne, you were destined for television.”
Dwayne smiled slightly. Indeed she had told him that, predicted it the day he moved into his office.
“You know, Dwayne,” Yvette had whispered as they’d watched the last of the orange-uniformed movers place the coffee table in the middle of the reception room, “this may be our first step forward, but I know it’s just the beginning. First, you’ll be helping people here, but one day, you’ll be reaching people in greater numbers.”
He looked up at her.
“I’m talking about television,” she said. “A program that …”
Dwayne had laughed, but his amusement ended with her somber glare.
“A program that would minister to millions across the country. One that would provide healing for the hurting and deliverance for the lost. People need to hear you, and you have to reach the most people in order to best serve God. You have a higher calling than this practice.”
Now, as he stood in the middle of their home, he felt as if Yvette were standing beside him. Her words were clear.
People need to hear you… you have to reach the most people in order to best serve God. The words were similar to those Beverlyn had used.
In fact, both had said he had a higher calling. The music in the room’s background interrupted the reverie, and Dwayne smiled before walking to the stereo and turning up the volume. Sean’s voice came through the Braun speakers as if he were performing in the middle of the living room. Dwayne sat down on the couch and listened as the background singers joined in, clapping their hands to the upbeat tune, declaring God’s Word to be true.
Dwayne loved hearing his best friend sing, but it was the words to this song that made him smile. There was no doubt in his mind that even with all he’d been through, he was blessed. It had been hard to see his blessings when Yvette was snatched from his life. But if there was one thing that he was sure of, it was that God was faithful. And as the days had turned to months that had now suddenly flowed into a year, it was God’s hands that allowed the passage of time to slowly heal him. It was the Lord’s love pouring all over that was making him feel whole again.
Just a few weeks ago, he had packed away Yvette’s things. Not to rid himself of her memory, but to move forward. Now doors were opening to opportunities to serve the Lord in ways he’d never dreamed. But how would he do it?
“You only have to tape once a week,” Beverlyn’s words rang in his ears.
“Dwayne, you’re always saying you’re not ready for this or that. But you know that God has your back! Look at all you’ve accomplished.” This time it was Yvette’s voice he heard when he’d told her he didn’t think he could really handle a private practice without working someplace else first.
Dwayne leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. Exhilaration, shock, fascination, and amazement all mixed to form an emotional volcano ready to erupt. But after a few minutes, he sat back, letting a smile settle on his face. Suddenly, he jumped up from the couch and turned down the volume on the stereo. He reached for the phone, punching in the numbers quickly.
“Hey, Lafayette. What’s up, man?”
“It’s about time I heard from you. I give you tickets to the concert and you don’t even call me to tell me how things went.”
“Lafayette, we need to talk.”
“Hmm… sounds serious,” Lafayette said with mock alarm. Dwayne could hear papers shuffling and figured his brother was preparing for Sunday’s sermon. “Robbie and the kids have turned in. Why don’t you come over?”
“It’s not like that.” He paused and took a deep breath. “It’s time for a family council. Can you call Mom and set it up for tomorrow?”
A low whistle escaped from Lafayette’s lips. “Okay, Dwayne. You got it.”
As Lafayette returned the receiver to its cradle, he didn’t know whether to be concerned or elated. Over the last year, he had come to be more protective of his brother. He’d known for some time that Dwayne’s marriage to Yvette had been on the rocks, although his brother, for the most part, remained characteristically quiet on the m
atter, preferring (he’d guessed) to confide in Sean.
Dwayne’s marriage had been a sore point between them, as Lafayette had advised Dwayne against marrying Yvette in the first place; he felt that she was much too worldly for him, and he resented the way she pushed Dwayne toward superficiality.
Not that Lafayette didn’t like nice things. His near-million-dollar home in the best section of Ladera Heights had in its driveway his Lexus, Robbie’s Mercedes, and an Escalade, which either he or she used to taxi the children, all thanks to the money he earned from tapes, books, and engagements on the high-profile and charismatic African American church circuit. With an average five thousand to ten thousand dollars per appearance, there was additional income of twenty thousand to thirty thousand dollars each month.
But his brother had always been more reserved, and Lafayette had been turned off by Yvette’s hold on him as well as her constant reaching for the success ring.
Chapter Eight
Dwayne dated the file notes from his last client, Autumn Jones (known to her fans as Jade), a chart-topping and beautiful R&B star caught up on the fast track of the hip-hop industry with all the trappings: fast cars, foul language, trendy wardrobe, premium exposure on the gangsta rap scene, high stress, and self-destructive habits including her on-again, off-again addiction to cocaine and abusive relationships.
Jade swore that she did all she did for her current fiancé, Trey, because she loved him. Trey wouldn’t work (or even work hard enough to find work). So as her schedule permitted, Jade hunted down and followed up job leads, chose (and often bought) his outfits, and drove him—or let him drive—to appointments in her red convertible Porsche. And when Trey blew yet another interview with his “don’t care” demeanor, Jade (hush-hush) paid Trey’s rent yet another month—her version of unconditional love.
Closing her folder, Dwayne massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers.
“That bad, huh?” Monique walked in, catching him unaware. “You look worn out.”
“Yeah.” He let out a sigh of exhaustion.
Stacking a pile of manila files neatly in the out-tray to the right side of the large maple and glass desk, she announced, “Here’s tomorrow’s lineup.”
Dwayne didn’t even look up.
“Okay, boss, what’s going on?” Monique folded her arms in front of her.
“It’s just been a long day.”
“For the past few days—or should I say since the Beverlyn Boudreaux concert—you’ve been acting strangely… like you’re holding back on me.” Monique slumped into the chair adjacent to the desk. “C’mon, fess up. Was it your date with Nina?”
Monique’s stern stare was just one indication of her determination to get an answer. The other was clear in the frown lines in her forehead. Dwayne stood and gathered the files, dropping them into his briefcase.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to walk out of here without saying a word.”
Dwayne picked up his briefcase and walked around the desk. “You’re right—something is going on.” He put his arm around Monique’s shoulder as they walked into the anteroom, stopping at Monique’s desk. “In a day or so, I’ll share it with you.”
“C’mon, you can tell me now. You can’t just leave me hanging since I’m going to find out anyway. What’s a day or two?” Dwayne laughed when she swatted her hand at him in feigned anger and told him, “Get out of here.”
He turned toward the door, putting his hand up to gesture his departure. He was still smiling when he got to his car, but by the time he turned the ignition key and pulled out of the parking lot, a new uneasiness had washed over him. Dwayne was ninety percent sure of his decision, but he still felt obliged to discuss it with his family. Sharing news of this sort had been a long-held family tradition.
John Grandison established the family councils to discuss issues that affected the family. “I want us to sit down and talk about things together,” his father had said. “It’s important because there are things I do that will affect you, and the opposite is true too.”
Days later, they had their first official family council meeting, initiated by Lafayette. The only topic Dwayne wanted to discuss was his comic book collection and how he could earn extra money to buy a new skateboard. But his brother convinced him they should boycott the family dinner to convince their parents to get a dishwasher.
“This will work, Dwayne,” Lafayette said as he made a sign reading, “Down with dirty dishes,” with a red marker.
“But I like helping Mom with the dishes,” seven-year-old Dwayne whined.
Lafayette, then fifteen, grimaced. “That’s now. In a year or two, you’ll be thanking me.”
When their parents sat down for dinner, the brothers entered the dining room with their picket signs. Dwayne and Lafayette marched around the table twice, with their surprised parents’ eyebrows raised. Then Lafayette presented their demands.
“Dad, you said whenever we had any issues, we could bring them to the family council. Well, Dwayne and I have an issue. We want a dishwasher. All our friends have dishwashers. We’re the only ones still doing dishes by hand.”
John Grandison glanced briefly at his wife (who could hardly contain her laughter), then his sons. Trying to keep a straight face, he delivered his reply in earnest. “Boys, thank you for bringing your issues to me. Now, let’s sit down and have dinner.”
Lafayette grinned at his father’s response. Surely, that meant that he’d agreed. After Lafayette and Dwayne had taken their seats, John said grace, then was silent as Bernice filled their plates with baked chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green beans. Just as they began to eat—the aroma of the dinner tickling at their noses—their father announced, “Boys, I want you to know that your mother and I are very happy with the dishwashers we have. There will be no change in the near future. Now, let’s eat.”
It hadn’t bothered Dwayne. He’d been able to eat everything on his plate, but Lafayette barely touched his food—an openmouthed, stunned look on his face.
There had been many family councils after that first one—all more serious. They’d discuss marriages and even when and how Lafayette would join his father in the pulpit. As a family, they’d shared every major decision, up to the last family council, which was held almost five years ago upon the death of Bishop John Paul Grandison, head of the family, the victim of a massive coronary.
Dwayne turned onto Mount Vernon Drive and parked his car behind Lafayette’s Lexus. Robbie’s Mercedes was in the long driveway. Dwayne closed the car door, trotting up the concrete stairs to the front door, and used the key he’d had from childhood to let himself in. He stood silently in the foyer for a moment, listening to the muffled voices emanating from the dining room. The voices fell silent as Dwayne moved past the stairway toward the back of the house, his heels clicking against the hardwood planks.
Even with the darkness of night and the heavy oak dining and buffet decor, the room seemed filled with light. His mother sat at the head of the long table and Lafayette and Robbie sat on either side. Their faces were filled with concern and questions. Dwayne smiled, hoping to ease the tension.
“Hey, everyone.” He relaxed his shoulders and walked to his mother, leaning over to kiss her cheek, then greeted Robbie before casually unbuttoning his jacket and sitting next to his brother. But even with his easy manner, their faces revealed worry.
“So how are you, son?”
“Great.” Dwayne answered cheerfully, hoping to ease the concern that had shadowed him for the past year. Maybe the news would erase their uncertainties with regard to his future happiness.
“Well, Dwayne,” Bernice began, her voice trained to be steady in even the most stressful situations, “we’re waiting. What’s this important news?”
Dwayne took a deep breath. “No long faces. I’m about to make a major decision and I just wanted some input from my family. I’ve been offered a big opportunity. Beverlyn Boudreaux has purchased a television network—the Jubile
e Network—and she’s asked me to host one of the programs.”
Bernice released an audible breath and then began to mull over what she’d just heard.
“That’s wonderful,” Robbie said. “What kind of show?”
“Kind of an extended and yet different version of what I did on Oprah last summer. The details haven’t fully been worked out because I haven’t given my answer.”
“Well, this meeting means you’re interested.” Bernice’s was a leading statement.
“I think it’s great,” Robbie interjected. “You’ve done well, Dwayne, and television will mean a great deal more exposure for your book and your practice. I can’t wait to tell the kids. They’ll be so excited. Their uncle—a TV star.”
Dwayne turned to his mother, then back as Lafayette began to speak. “Sounds like a great opportunity, but will your schedule allow for this plus your practice and the commitment you’ve made to Man-to-Man?”
“My commitment to you is solid,” Dwayne reassured his brother. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see what all of you thought before I gave my answer.”
“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind, son,” Bernice surmised.
“I think I’d like to try this. I don’t know just yet how it’s going to work with everything else on my plate, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. And they’re offering me a lot of money.”
“And, of course, you’ve prayed about it,” Bernice asked.
“Not as much as I should, but I won’t do anything before I do.”
“Well, that’s where you’ll get your answer. And we’ll all be in prayer with you.” While she’d always directed her children to pray, a twinge inside told her that there was something disturbingly seductive about this deal. She would pray too, but for now she knew the only role she could play to the son who for the last year had been drowning in his sorrow was to be supportive.
