But right now, she had a bigger fish to fry. While she’d sat in that jail cell, she’d been consumed with thoughts of how to make Jasmine pay. But nothing she could think of was punishment enough.
“Are you okay? You’re so quiet,” Lester said, snapping Rachel out of her vengeful thoughts.
“I’m just happy to be out of that place.” She leaned back in the car seat. Lester had been waiting with a driver when she’d walked out and she’d been so happy that he’d had the good sense to get a luxury Town Car. She sank down in the plush leather seats. “Where are the kids? Do they know what’s going on?” she asked.
“No. Brooklyn and Lewis are with Brenda and your dad. Nia and Jordan are at the kids’ coalition slumber party tonight. The only person that knows anything to my knowledge is Deacon Tisdale. I had to tell him so he could work on getting me the money for the bail.”
Rachel sighed. At least Deacon Tisdale, the treasurer of their church, was discreet. “What about everyone else? I’m sure Jasmine couldn’t wait to get back and blab to everyone at the hotel what happened.”
“Actually, no one has said a word about it other than Mrs. King. When I was leaving to come pick you up, she asked me for an update.”
“I hope you explained to her that they’d dropped the charges.”
“I did and I told her how you’d never stolen anything in your life. She looked a little skeptical but relieved.”
Rachel glanced out the window of the moving car. She’d made such progress with Cecelia this week. Even though the charges had been dropped, Rachel was sure the whole experience had left a sour taste in Cecelia’s mouth.
Yet another reason for her to hate Jasmine.
The driver pulled up to the hotel. Rachel was grateful that the lobby was fairly empty. Lester said no one really knew but she didn’t trust that for a minute. She was positive Jasmine had told anyone who passed about what happened. So Rachel just needed tonight to regroup, get her head together, and prepare for tomorrow’s formal nominating meeting. She probably would need to address this whole matter. It was an issue she decided to bring up with Lester later.
Rachel had just made it to the elevator when one of the men who had been with the Bush entourage came rushing toward her.
“Rachel! Are you okay?”
Rachel raised an eyebrow at this old man and his fake concern.
“Excuse me?” she said, cutting her eyes at Lester.
“How are you, Pastor Griffith?” Lester said, stepping in.
The man took Rachel’s hand. “Oh, don’t worry about me. We need to be concerned about Rachel. I imagine it was horrific having to spend the afternoon in jail!” His voice was loud and carried across the corridor, causing a few people to stop and stare their way.
Rachel had to take small, deep breaths to keep from losing it. She didn’t know this Pastor Griffith, but she did know he was on the Bushes’ side, so his concern about her was a big act and she was about to tell him about himself.
She snatched her hand away. “You know—”
“Pastor Griffith”—Lester must have known Rachel was about to go off, because he stepped in, cutting her off—“thank you for your concern, but Rachel is fine. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
Pastor Griffith shook his head. “I heard they found a nine-hundred-dollar diamond bracelet in her bag.”
“Again, it was all a misunderstanding,” Lester said.
“I just hate that for you. I am sure that was so traumatic for you,” Pastor Griffith said, his voice still raised, “to be carted out of a mall in handcuffs, then just thrown into jail!” Were his eyes actually watering up?
“You don’t need to be concerned about me,” Rachel said as calmly as she could. She glanced over to the people who were blatantly staring her way. “Someone tried to set me up. The police figured that out, which is why they let me go.”
“Well, that is fantastic news because I would hate for you to have spent the night in jail.” He was a great actor, because he looked like he was really worried about Rachel. Luckily, she could smell a con artist a mile away and Pastor Griffith definitely bore the stench of someone who was up to no good.
“Again, thank you, Pastor Griffith, but as you can imagine, my wife wants to go get some rest,” Lester said, stepping to Rachel’s side.
“Well, you just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Pastor Griffith said.
“Like that would ever happen,” Rachel muttered.
“Pardon me?” Pastor Griffith said.
“Nothing,” Lester quickly interjected. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you just want to go upstairs and lie down.” He led her on to the elevator.
“Can you believe the nerve of that man,” Rachel said as she watched Pastor Griffith wave from across the lobby. “He knows doggone well he could care less about me being arrested. Everybody knows he’s pushing for Rev. Bush, so why he’s trying to fake the funk is beyond me.” Rachel was pissed, but after the day she’d had, she couldn’t waste any more energy on this Pastor Griffith.
“So, are you going to get some rest?” Lester asked as the elevator door closed.
“Actually, I want to see my kids.”
Lester pushed the button for their floor. “Well, Brooklyn and Lewis are asleep, and you know if you wake them up, it’s going to be brutal trying to get them back down.”
She nodded. He was right about that. “Well, at least let me see Nia and Jordan.”
“They’re at the slumber party,” Lester said.
“Okay, but I still want to stop in and see them, say good night at least.”
Lester punched the button to the twelfth floor as the elevator rose. “Okay. They’re in 1202. It’s the suite at the end of the hall. Do you need me to go with you?”
“No, I’m fine. You go on up.”
“Actually, I need to run by Deacon Tisdale’s room and update him on everything.” He handed her the room key. “Here’s the extra key. I’ll just see you back in the room.”
“That’s fine,” Rachel said as the elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor. She stepped out and looked down the hall to room 1202. The sounds of squealing children reverberated through the door. She knocked several times but the kids were so loud they couldn’t hear, so no one answered.
Rachel was just about to turn and leave when the door swung open. Her son Jordan and another little boy stood in the doorway.
“Ma?” Jordan said. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, honey. I just came to check on you.”
“Awww, Ma, why you checking on me?”
“I just wanted to come hug you good night.”
Jordan looked mortified as the little boy next to him started snickering. Rachel shook her head, not about to get into it with her son. “Is Nia in there?”
“Yeah, all the girls are in one room. She’s been whining for you since we got here.”
That warmed Rachel’s heart. “Can you go get her?”
Jordan seemed all too happy to dart off. The other boy was quickly on his heels. Rachel stood with her foot propping the door open. She would’ve gone in, but all that noise was making her head hurt.
A few minutes later, the door swung back open and Nia bounced into her mother’s arms. “Mommy!” she said.
“Hey, baby,” Rachel said, hugging her daughter tightly. She was just about to say something else when she looked up to see who had just stepped out the door and was standing behind Nia. “Hi, Jacqueline,” Rachel said slowly.
“Jacquie’s my friend now,” Nia said excitedly as she took Jacqueline’s hand. “She’s not mad at me anymore for messing up her dress.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Are you girls having a good time?”
“The boys are being mean,” Nia said. “They put them in another room, but they’re still picking on us. Can I come with you?”
Rachel smiled. She was tired and really had wanted to just hug her daughter and keep moving. But how could she turn down such a sweet request?
“Okay, honey. We can pop some popcorn and watch a movie.”
“Oooohhh.” Nia stopped and looked over at Jacqueline. “Can Jacqueline come, too?”
Rachel’s heart stopped as an idea for the perfect payback sprouted in her mind. But this was a low blow. Considering the horror Jasmine had gone through the last time Jacqueline came up missing, Rachel couldn’t do that to her again.
“Ummm, well …” Rachel began.
“Please? I wanna come,” Jacqueline said. “The boys are being mean to me, too. Can I come? Pretty please?”
She couldn’t inflict that type of pain on another mother. But then Rachel thought back over the last ten hours. She thought back over the humiliation of being arrested, of sitting in that jail cell, of Cecelia’s disgust. When she processed all of that, she found herself saying, “That sounds like a great idea. You can spend the night with us. We’ll cut off the phone so nobody can disturb us and just have our own private slumber party. You can go back to your room in the morning.” A sick feeling rose in her gut, but Rachel shook it off as she took both girls’ hands and led them to the elevator. “I’ll call the chaperones when we get to the room and tell them that you’re spending the night with me.”
Chapter
TWENTY-ONE
From the moment that Jasmine had married a man of such means, shopping had been her third love—behind Hosea and her children. But she found no love in her favorite habit today.
In fact, she felt like she’d been exiled to some kind of shopping prison and Mae Frances was her prison guard.
She and Mae Frances hadn’t returned to the Beverly Center. Instead, Mae Frances had dragged her to Rodeo Drive, where Jasmine told her that the five hundred dollars that Pastor Griffith had given her would do nothing more than buy a good meal and some wine. But Mae Frances had insisted, and as the April breeze swept through Beverly Hills, they sauntered up and down the famed streets known for the designer stores and haute couture fashion. Mae Frances squealed like a tourist when she walked past Harry Winston and Chanel and Hermès and David Yurman, although Jasmine didn’t know why. Mae Frances lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan—she’d definitely seen these stores before.
Maybe it was just the California air. Or maybe she was still excited that they had pulled off such a scheme, and Rachel Adams now sat in jail not too many blocks away from where they shopped. Whatever it was that had Mae Frances smiling and figuring out how she was going to spend her money, it had Jasmine brooding.
“You need to get it together, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances had said to her once. But after that warning, Mae Frances had ignored her friend, and focused just on the stores.
Even when Jasmine decided that they should go to Crustacean for dinner, and Mae Frances had marveled at that famous walk-on-water entrance, Jasmine’s mood had not changed.
“What has your panties in a bunch?” Mae Frances asked right after they’d both ordered the charbroiled colossal tiger shrimp from the Special Kitchen. “Don’t tell me that you’re still thinking about Rachel? There’s no need to worry about her.”
“No, it’s not her,” Jasmine said, though she wasn’t sure if her words were totally true. She didn’t really know if it was Rachel or what that had her stomach churning—like something bad was brewing.
“How well do you know Pastor Griffith?”
Mae Frances frowned as if she didn’t understand the question. “I can’t even count the years,” she said. Jasmine wondered if she was purposely being evasive.
But she didn’t ask any more questions. When an hour had passed, and Mae Frances texted Pastor Griffith, Jasmine held her breath.
“Great!” Mae Frances said as she looked down at her phone. “He said it’s safe to come back.” Then she laughed. “He added that the Kings have had enough. We need to celebrate, Jasmine Larson. With another glass of wine.”
“We need to get back to the hotel,” Jasmine said, signaling the waiter for the bill. “I want to see my children.”
When they jumped in the cab to head back downtown, Jasmine offered the driver twenty dollars over the meter to get them to the hotel in fifteen minutes. It took him twenty-two minutes and she’d tipped him a twenty (from Pastor Griffith’s money) anyway, just because she was so glad to be back.
And she was even happier when Hosea met her at the hotel’s entrance.
“Babe!” she said, dropping her bags and wrapping her arms around him.
“Whoa!” Hosea chuckled. “I should send you out shopping more often.”
She said, “It’s just been a long day … and I missed you.”
“Well, I don’t know how you had time to miss me when you were in the middle of all the excitement today.”
Jasmine glanced at Mae Frances before she said, “I know. Rachel arrested for shoplifting. Isn’t that something?”
“It was, but thank God it was all cleared up.”
The women spoke together. “What are you talking about?”
“Turns out the security guard at the store you guys were in retracted. Said he didn’t see what he thought he saw, and the tapes in the store didn’t show anything.” He leaned over and whispered to Jasmine, “I have to admit, darlin’, for a moment I thought you had something to do with it. But the tapes didn’t show anything except for three ladies out doing their thing.”
“So, how did the bracelet get in her bag?” Mae Frances asked.
Hosea shrugged as he took the shopping bags from his wife and Mae Frances. “No idea. I’m just glad that it’s all cleared up now, though for a while this afternoon, Reverend King and his wife were quite upset. People were almost attacking Lady Cecelia with all of their questions.”
Jasmine glanced at Mae Frances and she was sure that her friend’s thoughts were the same as hers—at least that part of the plan had worked.
“Well, all I want to do is go to the children’s suite, hug them, then go up to ours and crawl right into bed.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“You better! Are you finished for the night?”
He nodded. “I think they know they kept the men away from their wives long enough. Plus, they want us well rested for the nominating session tomorrow.”
Hours had passed since the last time Jasmine smiled. At least this whole process, this whole week, was coming to an end. Tomorrow, Hosea would officially be nominated, and then two days after that … it would be over. No more tricks from that trick. And, she wouldn’t have to deal with Pastor Griffith anymore either. Jasmine didn’t like mistrusting him, especially when he’d done nothing except help them. But there were too many things that made her uneasy and she just wanted to get away from all of these people.
Inside the elevator, Hosea said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, darlin’, Jacqueline is at the Coalition slumber party.”
“What?”
“The slumber party, remember? She’s been asking to go to that all week.”
As the doors parted on the fifth floor, Jasmine asked, “So, Mrs. Sloss is with her, right?”
“No, she stayed behind in the suite with Zaya.”
The three had been moving together, but Jasmine stopped in the middle of the hallway. “So … who’s with Jacquie?”
Hosea put his hand on her shoulder, and said, “She’s at the party with five chaperones. I dropped her off and checked out things myself. She’ll be fine.” He paused. “She’s safe.”
Jasmine turned around, marched back to the elevator.
“Where are you going?” Hosea asked.
“To get Jacquie.”
“No, Jasmine.” Hosea gently tugged her hand, pulling her in the direction of the suite. “She wanted to go to the party and we have to start letting her be a little more independent. She’s begging for that and she needs it. And here in this hotel, at this convention, is a wonderful and safe place for us to start.”
She took a deep breath, then followed Hosea back down the hall toward the suite where Mrs. Sloss and Mae Frances were staying
with Zaya. “I just want you to know that I’m going to hug Zaya and then we’re going to get Jacquie.” The look on Hosea’s face made her say, “Okay, we won’t get her, but I want to at least give her a hug.”
Mrs. Sloss greeted them with the news that Zaya was already asleep. Jasmine tiptoed into the bedroom, with Hosea behind her, and together they stood above the bed, watching their three-year-old sleep.
Hosea put his arms around Jasmine and held her close. “Our children are fine,” he whispered. “Our children are safe. You know that no matter what, I will always see to that.”
Jasmine knew that was the truth—there was a castrated man in prison in New York who had dared to mess with their daughter. In her heart, Jasmine knew that her children were safe, especially here. But still, it was hard to let go of Jacquie, when she had such trouble letting go of the memories of that horrible time.
She kissed Zaya’s cheek, and without looking away, she said, “That’s all I want to do with Jacquie. Just kiss her good night.”
“I already did that for the both of us,” Hosea said. “If we go to the room now, we’ll disrupt the fun and she’ll probably want to leave with us. She has our numbers if anything happens. If she wants to call … if she wants to leave.”
Jasmine shook her head, so unsure.
“We have to begin to trust again,” he whispered. “Trust ourselves, trust Jacquie, trust God.”
Jasmine leaned over and kissed their son again, then with everything that was inside of her, she let Hosea lead her to their hotel suite without stopping for Jacqueline.
They stepped inside their room, but never made it to the bedroom. Before the door was closed, Hosea had Jasmine in his arms. His kisses were as gentle as his touch and she remembered why she loved this man, in every way … this gentle man.
He slipped off her jacket; then the camisole that she wore underneath. His lips followed his fingers, his cool tongue setting every inch of her body—even the parts that he hadn’t gotten to yet—on fire. When she reached for him, he held her hands away, letting her know that he was in control tonight.
Sinners & Saints Page 17
