“I’m only talking about replacing the money that we’re putting out.”
“I don’t care what you’re talking about … it’s illegal. And you’re so caught up in this election that you’re not even thinking. You have a degree in finance, for God’s sake. You ran your godbrother’s nightclub for years. I know you know a little something about this.”
“I didn’t think it was illegal,” she said, her voice softer now.
“Well, it is. So, before my wife is thrown into jail, I’m just going to end this.”
“Hosea, don’t,” she said.
But he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
“Hosea!” she called again. Her heart thumped. This was bad—really bad. Because even if Hosea didn’t quit the race, it would be over when he stood in front of the congregation tonight and told everyone that they didn’t have a million dollars.
She couldn’t let this happen.
She grabbed her cell and punched in Mae Frances’s number, but the call went straight to voice mail—just as she expected. Of course, Mae Frances was still at the spa. Mae Frances had always been her savior, the one who could solve anything and everything.
Who could help her now?
In a second, she had the answer to her question. Shoving her purse onto her shoulder, she dashed through the door and turned to the stairwell rather than to the elevator. She didn’t have waiting-for-the-elevator kind of time.
On the ninth floor, she scanned the numbers on the doors until she found 9302. She knocked—three raps, hard—as if she were the FBI, and Pastor Griffith answered accordingly.
“Where’s the fire?” he asked when he swung open the door.
“It’s Hosea,” she said, stomping into the room. “You have to stop him.” Then she noticed the pastor, still in his suit pants, but his jacket was gone and his shirt was gone and all he wore was his wifebeater. She sighed and took her eyes away from his chest and focused instead on his face, especially his lips.
That wasn’t any better. She had to find a way to concentrate on the task in front of her, so she focused on his nose. “Hosea said he’s going to quit. He’s going to tell the treasurer not to cash that check.”
“I take it he didn’t know anything about the million dollars,” Pastor Griffith said calmly.
“No, I pledged that. But I was going to raise the money, not take it out of our account. Rachel Adams set me up,” Jasmine said, her words coming quickly, knowing she was talking against time. “And now Hosea is down there,” she said, pointing toward the door, “giving up everything that we’ve worked for.”
Pastor Griffith raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“Yes, we. Pastor Griffith, I know you’ve done a lot of work on this campaign, but I haven’t been just sitting back.”
“And that”—he pointed toward her—“may be our problem.”
He motioned to Jasmine to have a seat, but she stayed standing, her arms crossed. The pastor reached for his cell phone, then paced back and forth as he barked orders to whoever was on the other end.
Less than ten minutes passed before Pastor Griffith said, “Okay, great. Tell Pastor Bush to meet me in his suite in five minutes.”
He clicked off his cell, then said, “It’s taken care of. The check is good. Hosea is still in the race; he’s being informed right now how this is gonna go down.” The pastor sat down in the chair adjacent to his bed and crossed his legs as if everything was going to be all right. “He’ll be fine with it.”
Jasmine exhaled a long breath. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “But now I need to ask you for something.” He stood and walked toward Jasmine.
Everything inside of her made her want to back away, but she stayed where she was, showing him that she wasn’t intimidated, she was not afraid. Didn’t he know that she was Jasmine Cox Larson Bush?
Sure, he was fine, but she’d taken down men even finer than him. Still, her heart pounded as he came closer; he only stopped when there was nothing more than an inch of air between them.
“Now that I’ve helped you out”—he licked lips that seemed plumper when he was this close to her—“are you willing to do something for me?”
From the moment she’d first seen the gorgeous pastor, Jasmine knew that he’d been attracted to her.
She stood strong, though, and told him the truth. “I love my husband.”
He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I love Hosea,” she repeated, “and I’m not going to ever do anything to jeopardize our marriage.”
He chuckled. “Well then, you’ll have no problem doing what I was going to ask you.” He paused and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. “Can you please stay out of this, Jasmine?” he asked. “Please let me do what I know how to do, and that’s get your husband elected.”
It took her a moment to digest his words. This wasn’t the come-on she’d expected.
He said, “Isn’t that what we both want?”
She nodded.
“Well, if you want it as much as I do, you’ll stay out of this from now on.”
All she could do was nod, then scurry from the room.
Oh, my God! Jasmine thought once she was outside. Pastor Griffith must’ve thought she was a fool! How could she have been so wrong? She’d been sure that he was making a pass at her. It couldn’t have been just her imagination.
Well, whatever Pastor Griffith was doing or not doing, it didn’t matter. He’d made that million-dollar check good, and though she wondered what he’d done, she pushed it out of her mind. It wasn’t like she needed to know. She just needed to concentrate on this election—and Rachel Adams.
It was funny. Rachel had probably thought she was destroying Hosea’s chances today, but instead, she’d almost certainly just secured Hosea’s election. Still, Jasmine wasn’t about to let Rachel get away with this. She needed to pay for what she’d done. It was finally time to execute Mae Frances’s big plan.
Yeah, Pastor Griffith had asked her to stay out of this … and she would … the day after tomorrow.
Jasmine moved down the hall as she pressed the keys on her BlackBerry.
“First Lady,” she exclaimed the moment Cecelia answered. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Cecelia said. “I will always take calls from the first lady and the pastor who were willing to put so much of themselves into the Coalition even before the election. The bishop and I were just talking about you two.”
“Well, thank you,” Jasmine said, relieved because this conversation could have been going in a whole ’nother direction—if Pastor Griffith hadn’t stepped in. “But actually, I was calling to ask if you would join me in doing something tomorrow.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, since it’s Men’s Day and a free day for us, I was thinking about leaving the hotel. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, you know.”
“Yes, I read that about you.”
“Well, none of us have had the chance to get out and I was thinking that it might be good for you and me … and Rachel Adams to go out … to the Beverly Center maybe. That’s an amazing mall and they have great restaurants, too.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. And Lady Jasmine …” She paused. “I’m glad you want Rachel to go with us. I can tell there’s a bit of a strain between the two of you.”
“Yes, but I want to fix that,” Jasmine said as she rolled her eyes. “Because whether her husband or mine is elected, this has to be all about the Coalition. So I want Rachel and me to get to know one another better because in the end, we’ll probably be working together.”
“This is true.”
Jasmine inhaled—she’d come to the most important part of the call. “I would like your help, though. I’m not sure Rachel will accept an invitation from me and—”
“Consider it done,” Cecelia said before Jasmine could even ask the question. “I’ll talk to her this evening.”
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“Great. Thank you so much, Cecelia.”
She hung up the phone, so pleased. Either way, she’d won. If Rachel refused to go, Jasmine would have Cecelia to herself. And if Rachel decided to go with them … well.
Jasmine sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. This day had taken so much out of her. All she wanted to do now was to spend some time with her children. And then maybe even get in a nap.
Because it was going to be a long, late night—for her and Mae Frances.
Chapter
SIXTEEN
You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
Rachel smiled as she sashayed in front of her husband in their hotel suite. He’d followed her up after the meeting and she knew it was only to lecture her about what had just happened. But Rachel wasn’t about to let her husband spoil her good mood. She softly patted his cheek. “And that would be why you love me, my dear.”
“Did you really have to do all that grandstanding?” Lester asked, shaking his head. Although his tone was chastising, he smiled. “And what’s really going on? Because I know you wouldn’t have called all that attention to the Bushes’ donation if you didn’t have an ulterior motive.”
“The only motive I had is letting everyone know that Jasmine Bush is a liar,” Rachel replied matter-of-factly. Game recognized game and Jasmine could act all sanctified, but Rachel saw her for what she truly was. “I just wanted that fact to be exposed, which it will be the minute that check starts bouncing like it’s in the NBA.”
“The Bushes are rich. What makes you think their check will bounce?”
Rachel eased down onto the sofa and slipped out of her heels. “Yeah, they may be rich, but they’re not wealthy. Wealthy people are the only ones who can just up and donate a million dollars of their own money.”
“Rachel …”
“Lester, let’s stop talking about that horrid woman. I’m worn-out and I would love to relax before the kids come back from the children’s day excursion.”
“I just—” Rachel’s cell phone rang, cutting Lester off. Her eyes lit up when she glanced at the caller ID. “Ooh, be quiet. This is the call I’ve been waiting on.” She took a deep breath and answered. “Hello.”
“Hey, Rachel, it’s Jetola.” Rachel held her breath as she waited for the news she’d been anticipating all day.
“Hey, Jetola. Thanks so much for getting back with me. Were you able to get in touch with your sister?”
“I was. And she was all too happy to do anything for you.”
Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been working on this plan since she’d arrived, and it looked like it was going to finally come to fruition. “That is wonderful.”
“How’s ten o’clock in the morning?”
Rachel enthusiastically pumped her fist. “Ten in the morning is fine. I’ll make sure Cecelia is there. You just don’t know how grateful I am. I owe you sincerely.”
Jetola laughed. “Girl, please. We’re the ones that owe you. But it all worked out. My sister really played it up so she was able to get her boss to approve the story.”
“Wonderful. And it’ll air nationally?”
“Yes, there in LA and nationally. My sister also does freelance reports for TV One, and since the ABC is so huge, she said they’ll probably be interested in the story as well.”
Rachel wanted to jump from her seat and do a jig around the room. First, Regina West, now this? Oh, she was about to be in like Flynn.
“Well, her name is Melinda,” Jetola continued, “and she’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at ten. Take down her number in case there are any problems.”
“Oh, there won’t be,” Rachel said, jotting down the number anyway. Rachel said her good-byes and let out a yelp as she hung up the phone. She ignored Lester, who had been standing there looking at her throughout the entire conversation.
“What was that about?” Lester finally asked.
Rachel tossed the cell phone on the coffee table, then stood with her arms outstretched like she was modeling a new outfit. “Yours truly has negotiated some media coverage.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“That was Jetola Jones, from home, the mother of one of my Good Girlz. Her sister works at a TV station here in LA and they’re going to come out and interview me and Cecelia.”
Lester frowned. “You? Why would they interview you?”
“Because I’m the one hooking this thing up.”
“But it seems like they’d want to talk to Rev. King, or even me or Rev. Bush, since one of us will be the next president.”
“Oh, I knew you were busy, so we pitched the whole women’s empowerment thing,” Rachel said as she pushed by him and walked into their room. She had to go find something to wear. She’d go with a vibrant color so that she would really stand out on camera.
“How do you know Cecelia will even want to do the interview?” Lester asked, following her.
“Please. Cecelia King never met a camera she didn’t like.” Rachel paused. “I’d better call her, though, and make sure she can do that time. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” She ushered her husband out the door, covering his mouth as he started to protest.
After Rachel got rid of Lester, she picked up the hotel phone and called the front desk. “Yes, can you connect me to Cecelia King’s room, please?”
She waited with giddy anticipation while the call was patched through.
“Mrs. King,” Rachel said when Cecelia picked up.
“Rachel, I was just about to call you.”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. Cecelia actually sounded pleasantly surprised to hear from her. “You were?”
“Yes, but go ahead and first tell me why you’re calling.”
Normally, Rachel would’ve let Cecelia talk first, but she was so excited, she was about to burst. “Well, I was just seeing if you were free in the morning to do an interview with KNBC.”
“KNBC? As in the TV station?”
Rachel was glad Cecelia couldn’t see how hard she was grinning. “Yes, they want to talk with you about the convention.” She left off the part that she would be interviewed, too. Right now, she wanted Cecelia to think it was all about her.
“How in the world did you manage that? Our publicity people have been trying to get them for weeks and can’t even get a return call.”
“I have a friend who works at the station, so I called in some favors. They’re going to do a piece for the news and a separate piece that will air on TV One.”
Cecelia gasped. “Rachel, that’s fantastic! I’d love to do it. Do I need to get the reverend as well?”
“Actually, their focus for this story is on the women of the American Baptist Coalition.”
“Spectacular!” Rachel could hear her beaming through the phone.
“Wonderful, they’ll meet us in the hotel lobby around ten fifteen.” Rachel wanted to allow fifteen minutes for her and Melinda to talk, so there would be no questions about the interview.
“That is so great, Rachel. I’m looking forward to it,” Cecelia said.
“I am, too.” Rachel was just about to hang up when she remembered that Cecelia was about to call her for something. “Oh, yeah, you mentioned that you were just about to call me?”
“Yes, since tomorrow is a free day, I was going to go over to the Beverly Center for lunch and a little light shopping, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me?”
Rachel paused, her heart skipping a beat. Cecelia wanted to go shopping with her? “Of course I’d love to go. We can head out right after the interview.”
“That sounds like a plan.” She paused, then added, “And, um, I feel I must tell you, Jasmine will be with us as well.”
Rachel’s bubble burst and silence filled the phone.
“I think it’s important that you two spend some time together, because regardless of the outcome of the election, you two could forge a powerful coalition,” she added hastily.
Hell would freeze over before Rachel eve
r worked with that scallawag, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Rachel wished she could take back her enthusiastic response, because spending an afternoon with Jasmine ranked right below getting a root canal. Then, suddenly, an idea hit her.
“You know, that’s great. As a matter of fact, why don’t you make sure that Jasmine is there for the interview as well, so we can just head out after that?”
“What a splendid idea, and thank you for extending the olive branch. You continue to amaze me.”
Rachel rolled her eyes as she hung up the phone. She picked up her cell phone and the piece of paper with Melinda’s number on it. She quickly typed a text message to her, then went to get her beauty rest so she’d be alert and ready for her television debut.
The next morning, Rachel was dressed in a fuchsia Tahari suit—the nicest suit she’d brought with her—and a pair of black Nine West pumps as she made her way down to the lobby. At ten on the dot, a tall, slender woman wearing a designer pantsuit walked in, followed by a portly, gray-haired, shabbily dressed man carrying camera equipment.
Rachel would’ve recognized her even without her photographer. She was the spitting image of her sister. “Melinda?”
“Rachel, it is such a pleasure to meet you,” Melinda said, hugging her. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. My niece raves about the Good Girlz program and I am eternally grateful to you, because I tell you, we were worried about that girl.” She shook her head.
Rachel waved her off. “Your niece is a doll. She just needed someone to help her channel all of that anger into a positive direction.”
“Well, you did just that. She’s at college now, doing well, and we have you to thank for that.”
“It was my pleasure. I miss the girls so much.”
The photographer motioned to the people milling around in the lobby. “Hey, I’m gonna go ahead and start getting video.”
Melinda nodded, then turned back to Rachel. “So, I got your text and that’s no problem.”
Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been nervous about sending it, but Melinda didn’t seem fazed. “So you understand?”
Sinners & Saints Page 13
