Derrick had never valued Lionel’s levelheaded efficiency more than this moment. His assistant’s unruffled poise helped to calm Derrick’s rattled nerves. “Thank you,” he said. He turned to Kelvin. “I’ll deal with you later. Do me a favor and drive the Jag back to the house.”
Kelvin nodded somberly, trying to respect the serious mood and hide his excitement at driving the luxury car. But Derrick saw it anyway. “Give the keys to Mother Moseley as soon as you get home. I want the car to stay parked while we’re gone.”
Kelvin’s somber mood was no longer an act. “I can’t drive it at all?” he asked, having pictured in an instant cruising various California boulevards with his friends. “Can I at least go get something to eat first?”
Derrick was too preoccupied to argue. “Have that car home in a couple hours.”
“Sure, Rev,” Kelvin said as he took the keys from on top of the desk and headed toward the door. Just before he opened it he turned. “I’m sorry about not making it to church on time today, and I hope everything turns out okay with your uncle.”
Derrick walked over and hugged his son. Moments like this made him all too aware that tomorrow was not promised, and that one should always be satisfied that if the last words spoken ended up being your last words period, that they were ones you’d want to leave behind. He almost lost his composure then, not knowing what he’d do if he didn’t reach his uncle in time. “I love you, son,” he said.
“I love you too.”
Derrick turned to Vivian, who’d gathered up his briefcase and a couple personal items from atop his desk. “You ready?”
Vivian nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Robin sat up as a black town car and a black Mercedes, both with tinted windows, hurriedly exited the church parking lot. The car turned in her direction and passed directly by her. She tried hard to peer through the dark glass, but she had left her prescription glasses at the motel. Staring at the car as it traveled away from her, she wondered if her target was inside, but quickly dismissed that possibility. A shiny, pearl-white Jaguar was the cage that would be carrying her prey. Robin watched as the town car took the on-ramp to the 10 freeway. Seeing that, she sat back and lit another cigarette. The Montgomerys lived in Beverly Hills and never took the freeway home, at least not on the two or three occasions that she’d followed them. No, her plan was still solid. She just had to bide her time.
Kelvin called Princess as soon as he stepped out of the executive suites. “Where you at?”
“What kind of greeting is that?” she replied.
“The kind that’s gonna get you a ride in the Rev’s Jag if you’re still out front. He and Lady Vee had to bounce—an emergency situation. They’re on their way to the airport and he gave me the keys to drive his car home.”
“Ooh, for real? Where are we going? Hey, let’s roll to Malibu, or maybe even Las Vegas!”
“Girl, are you out yo’ mind? You know the Rev wasn’t gonna leave without putting the car on lock. Old Ms. Moseley is already at the house waiting to confiscate the vehicle soon as I get there.”
“Why you calling me then?”
“Where you at?!” Kelvin walked to the car, which was parked directly in front of the executive offices. “Come over here, to the buildings behind the church. And lose your entourage. It’s just gonna be me and you today.”
Kelvin showed his swagger by striking a pose of cool as he leaned against his father’s car. Within minutes he spotted Princess walking toward him. There was a sway in her hips and a smile on her face as she headed to her man.
Kelvin frowned, turned, and got in the car. He started the engine and began backing out before Princess had barely gotten the door closed.
“What’s your problem?” Princess asked, looking at Kelvin as if he’d lost his mind.
“You, that’s what,” he responded. “Walking over like you want me to tap that ass right here in the parking lot.” Kelvin gave her a sideways glance as he smoothly and carefully navigated the Jaguar out of the lot. “Thought you wanted to keep us on the down low around the folks.” And around the other girls at this church who I’m trying to get with.
“I do,” Princess pouted.
“Why? I never understood what that was about, being all secretive and thangs. So Derrick knows your parents, so what? You’re eighteen, grown. They think you’re not gonna date nobody? Who knows, it might make them feel better that you’re with their good friend’s son.”
Princess wondered how she could tell Kelvin that he was the last person her parents would want her dating.
“Lemme call the home front and tell Ms. Mother Moseley that a brothah’s got plans.”
After the call, Kelvin connected his iPod to the car’s stereo system. An up-tempo original hip-hop beat, produced by one of his college friends, pulsated from the high-end system and reverberated off the soft, leather seats. Kelvin was so busy profiling and Princess was so deep in thought about what and what not to share with Kelvin that neither of them noticed the beat-up Dodge that began following them as soon as they left the church.
Robin drove, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the wheel. She kept one eye on the road and one eye on the white car weaving in and out of the heavy Sunday traffic. Fortunately Derrick wasn’t in much of a hurry today; even in her hoopty, she was keeping up just fine.
Robin took a hand off the wheel long enough to take the gun from the passenger seat and place it in her lap. She thought of her plan, about what she had in mind for Vivian, and a sneer appeared on her face. There’d be no guard to stop her this time. Robin would jump out of her car and pop a cap in Vivian before their fancy garage door was halfway up. “It’s been a long time,” she said aloud. “But you’re finally gonna get what’s coming to you. And I’m gonna get what should have come to me a long time ago…Derrick.”
The white Jaguar took a turn that Robin wasn’t expecting. “This isn’t the way to your house, muthafucka!” she screamed. She gripped the wheel with both hands again, speeding through traffic until there was only one car separating her car from Derrick’s.
The unexpected turn befuddled and unnerved Robin. She shook her head, tried to clear its fuzziness. Wanting to be sure she was thinking straight, she’d taken three times the normal dosage of Peridol before she’d left the motel, an act she thought would make her feel good. Unfortunately, the opposite effect was happening. Robin felt foggier than ever. And she was even more delusional.
“Yeah, thought you could lose me, didn’t you? Just like all those years ago, back in Georgia, I mean Florida, I mean…you know what I mean! You took my man, Vivian,” Robin whined, pointing to the head on the passenger’s side of the car. “Why you always got to come and take my man?”
Robin’s maniacal mind merged memories of working with Derrick at his first church with those of the twenty-something mistress who enticed Robin’s husband away from their ten-year marriage. “I told you I was gonna get you,” she bellowed. “I told you that nobody took my man and got away with it.” Her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “Nobody, muthafucka…”
A totally different drama was unfolding inside Derrick Montgomery’s Jaguar.
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Kelvin said. “Your dad used to roll with my mom before he married your mom?”
“Right.”
“And then after your dad got married, he was still hittin’ it with my mom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Damn. So then what happened?”
“Mama found out about it and my parents separated for a while.”
“Real talk?”
“And…” Princess paused before revealing the extent of her and Kelvin’s unique connection. “She was pregnant with me at the time.”
“Naw…c’mon now!”
“Serious.”
Kelvin changed lanes and merged into the freeway traffic, which was fairly light for a Sunday. He moved over into the fast lane and increased his speed.
“How you know all t
his?” he asked after a pause.
“Heard Mama talking about it with Aunt Viv. That’s why I know they all would freak the bump out if they found out we were together.”
“Damn girl, you almost my sister!” Kelvin shoved Princess playfully before placing a hand on her leg.
“Almost ain’t is, nucka. And somebody’s glad about that.”
Kelvin squeezed Princess’s thigh. “Somebody sure is.”
Kelvin saw his exit and looked over his shoulder to change lanes. “Damn! What’s that car doing?” Kelvin watched as an old, beat-up hoopty almost broadsided his father’s spotless ride.
“What?”
“That car almost hit us,” Kelvin said, suddenly exhibiting the frightened nervousness of an eighteen-year-old. “Let me get away from this fool!”
Instead of exiting the freeway, Kelvin merged back into traffic and accelerated. He looked in his rearview mirror. The rusted out hoopty had dropped farther behind him, still weaving in and out of traffic.
“That fool must be high,” he said, relaxing with the distance building up between them. “’Cause he’s trippin’!”
Princess looked back and didn’t see the car. She relaxed as well, taking her hand and placing it near Kelvin’s crotch.
Robin grabbed the gun, her mind in a frenzy. “What, you tryin’ to shake me? You tryin’ to lose a muthafucka?” she yelled at the Jaguar. “I told you that I was gonna get your ass. I told you!” Robin pressed the gas pedal down as far as it would go, and zoomed around the slow-moving semi that had temporarily hidden her from view. Thinking she might lose them again, Robin stuck her left hand out the window and tried to aim the gun at the Jaguar. Being right-handed, trying to use her left one was a risky proposition; her shot hit the side mirror of an unfortunate SUV. Robin continued firing wildly, her car wobbling as she tried to aim, drive, and shoot.
“Dammit,” Robin exclaimed, even as drivers around her reached for cell phones to dial 911.
Kelvin and Princess were oblivious to the crisis they thought they’d outrun. Kelvin slowed down, tilted his body into a mean lean, kept one hand on the steering wheel and placed the other one back on Princess’s leg.
“Where are we going? I’m hungry,” Princess asked.
“Um, me too,” Kelvin replied with a mischievous grin.
“Shut up,” Princess said playfully, batting Kelvin’s hand away from her breast.
The hip-hop track that had been bouncing off the car’s interior came to an end, replaced by the sounds of horns honking. Both Kelvin and Princess looked around, finally realizing that LA traffic was crazier than usual. Cars were speeding around them, or pulling over. Kelvin looked in the rearview mirror and saw the reason why.
“Is that a gun?” Kelvin shouted.
“What? Where?” Princess screamed back at him, looking around.
At the exact moment Princess screamed, Robin’s wheels locked. Panicked, she dropped the gun and grabbed the wheel with both hands, unsuccessfully trying to regain control. The gun skidded off the asphalt, under several cars, and would later be recovered by the LAPD. The Dodge skidded in the opposite direction, clipping the back end of a pickup truck and doing a one-eighty before flipping over twice and coming to rest upside down in the freeway’s center lane. Miraculously, the SUV with the shot-out mirror and the rear bumper of the pickup truck were the only cars affected by Robin’s erratic actions. The only cars except the one now resting, tires still spinning, on its hood.
Kelvin’s leg shook so badly he could hardly press the gas pedal and get the Jaguar to the side of the highway. Once he pulled over, he put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and sat with his forehead pressed to the steering wheel. His heart raced, as did his thoughts as he tried to come to grips with what he’d just witnessed.
Princess stared straight ahead, motionless as a statue. Time seemed to stand still as the surreal scene of the grizzly accident repeated itself in both their minds. Within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the hazy silence, shaking both Kelvin and Princess out of their trancelike states.
“That was some crazy shit,” Kelvin said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I saw it, but I can’t believe it,” Princess whispered back. “What was wrong with that person?”
“I don’t know,” Kelvin answered, while wondering if he’d really seen a gun when he looked in the mirror.
“Did you really see a gun?” Princess asked, reading his mind. “Maybe it was some gang stuff going on.”
“I don’t know what it was,” Kelvin responded, finally calm enough to restart the engine. “But I just thank God we weren’t any closer. It could have been us flipped upside down.”
“Yes,” Princess whispered. “Thank God.” She looked back to see an ambulance, fire truck, and several police cars surrounding the overturned car.
Kelvin watched as well, and saw firemen and medical personnel looking into the windows of the badly battered vehicle. “Man, whoever that is will be lucky to get out of there alive.”
Princess looked back one more time as Kelvin steered the car onto the highway. “No,” she said before forcing herself to turn away from the tragic scene. “Whoever’s in that car is dead.”
Several people looked on as firemen used their equipment to pry open the smashed door on the driver’s side. A medic stooped next to the body dangling upside down, held in place by a durable seatbelt. Careful of the broken glass and large drops of blood, he grabbed the accident victim’s arm. Holding his fingers against the victim’s wrist, he waited a moment, repositioned his fingers and waited another moment. Then he turned and gave a curt nod to the fire chief standing behind him. “I think I feel a pulse.”
13
Project Darius
Stacy lay quiet and content in Darius’s arms. He was always good, but had been especially attentive in tonight’s lovemaking, giving Stacy several orgasms before enjoying a sustained one of his own. But as usual, it wasn’t long before he jumped up and headed to the shower.
Stacy’s afterglow turned to an after “no.” After two years, she was tired of feeling like, like…How do I feel? Stacy wondered. It was hard to describe in words, in several words even. Darius would be totally into her one moment, and then totally disconnected the next—like now. She didn’t feel as if she were a part of him, as if she were really with him. A part of her always felt as if she were on the outside of Darius’s life looking in. She’d stewed on her situation ever since having lunch with Hope the month before—about the best way to handle getting what she wanted. Summer had given way to October and while she hoped the answer to the dilemma was in her womb, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. She’d told Hope about the baby but hadn’t told its father. The timing, and his mood, had to be perfect.
Stacy got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, slowly sipped a glass of water, and thought of why she and Darius couldn’t seem to take their relationship to the next level, why after two years things seemed to be at a standstill. In every instance his manager, Bo Jenkins, was either the “stand” or the “still.” He was why she could never spend the night at Darius’s house—because roommates Bo and Darius had agreed to not have overnight guests. What kind of joke was that? Grown men splitting the rent telling each other who can do what? Why she could never go out of town with Darius—Bo always made it seem that while he was indispensable, she would only be in the way. And what was worse, Darius listened. What kind of business manager tells a client how to run his personal life? Stacy knew Bo had discouraged Darius from getting married as well, saying a wedding at this point in time would diminish Darius’s largely female fan base. At the root of every issue she had with Darius was one thing and one thing only: Bo.
Stacy stomped into the bedroom. Darius sat on the bed, having just put on his shoes. She stopped directly in front of him, her unwashed punanny inches from his face.
“We’ve got a problem, Darius,” she said, hands on hips. “And his name is Bo.”<
br />
Darius kept his look neutral, masking surprise. Bo is exactly who Darius had been thinking of when Stacy walked in, and all while he showered and dressed. He stood up and brushed past her. “What now?”
Stacy ignored the chagrin in Darius’s voice. This wasn’t the first time that Bo being an issue had come up—so what. Obviously Darius didn’t understand just how much his business manager worked her nerves.
“This is what,” she said, sweeping her hand in a head to toe motion. “You being dressed, going home. Why can’t you spend the night at my house? Two years, and I can count the times you’ve spent the night. Bo, right?”
Tonight especially, the reason was Bo. He’d told Darius that there would be a surprise waiting for him when he returned home. But Stacy didn’t need to know that. “I told you,” he said, walking over to Stacy and using a hug to try and diffuse the situation. “I like to sleep in my own bed.”
Stacy pulled out of his embrace. “What’s so wrong with mine? It’s good enough for fucking, but not for sleep?”
“Stacy, don’t use such crass words.”
“Crass? Hmph. Crass, my ass, Darius, I want real answers.”
“Well, you’re not going to get them tonight, not with that tone of voice and not in that mood.” Darius decided to meet Stacy’s indignation with some of his own. That’s what he usually did to take the wind out of Bo’s sails. The move worked just as well on Stacy.
“Look,” she said, following Darius into the living room, where he retrieved his keys and travel pouch. “I don’t want to have an attitude with you, I really don’t. But you know where I’m at with us. It’s been two years; we’re both in our thirties. How long are we going to date?
“I want to really feel like you’re my man, Darius, not just when you’re in my house, or at the church. I want to be with you, really be with you: travel, hang out on the daily, wake up next to you, fix you breakfast.” She walked over to where Darius was standing by the front door. “Is that too much to ask?”
A Preacher’s Passion Page 6
