“No, I think she just wants the position. I don’t buy that whole ‘this was a last-minute decision.’ I think she’s lying about that.”
“Ya think?”
“Regardless, I still am not going to stress over it. In Cecelia’s own words, what God has for me is for me.” He turned and walked toward the bedroom.
Rachel made a choking motion in his direction. After they won this thing, she was going to work on that we-are-the-world, can’t-we-all-just-get-along mentality. He was definitely going to need some backbone, some aggression, if he planned on leading one of the most powerful religious organizations in the country.
She reminded herself of the pending merger. “Make that one of the most powerful religious organizations in the world,” she mumbled.
“What did you say?” Lester called out from the bedroom.
“Oh, I just said I’m going to go get the kids from that children’s event so we can have a lovely dinner as a family. Tomorrow, our lives will change drastically and it’s going to be hectic from then on.”
Lester stuck his head out the bedroom door. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darling.”
“Oh, we got this, baby,” she said sweetly. Cecelia was taken care of. As for Jasmine, well, Rachel had one last trick up her sleeve for that one. She wouldn’t use it unless she absolutely had to. Rachel actually hoped that she didn’t have to use it. But Loretta Jackson hadn’t raised no fools, so just in case Jasmine wanted to pull some type of last-minute dirty trick, Rachel was ready. And if Jasmine did double-cross her, she’d definitely leave LA wishing that she’d never met Rachel Jackson Adams.
Chapter
THIRTY-THREE
Jasmine was shaking, even as she closed her eyes and prayed.
It hadn’t taken her long to find out what Pastor Griffith was up to. She had her answer. It had been hidden deep inside the Internet, but the secret couldn’t stay concealed from her. She could thank the training that she’d gotten when she’d worked at her godbrother Malik’s nightclub. There were always investors who were eager to partner with the hottest nightclub in Manhattan, Rio. Of course, their private investigators did most of the work, but Jasmine and Malik always checked out the potential investors first.
That’s when she’d learned to use the Internet to uncover the truth. And that’s what she’d uncovered today.
Jasmine knew she didn’t have the whole story, but she had enough. And honestly, she didn’t want any more. What she had was frightening all by itself.
But the scariest part of all was that the woman she’d called her friend, the one whom her children loved as their grandmother, could be involved in this, too.
That’s why Jasmine couldn’t stop shaking, even as she stood outside her children’s hotel suite. Because what was going to happen if Mae Frances was in the center of this?
Before Jasmine could knock, the door opened.
“I thought I heard someone out here,” Mae Frances mumbled. “It’s about time you got down here, Jasmine Larson. What were you doing up there with Rachel Adams?” She sounded as if her feelings were hurt. As if she couldn’t believe she’d been left out.
Jasmine peeked through the suite. “Where are Zaya and Jacquie?” she asked, ignoring Mae Frances’s question.
“Mrs. Sloss took them down to the children’s center. Jacquie wanted to play with some of the kids she’d met.”
Jasmine’s heart skipped a beat, but only for a moment. After that scare with Rachel, she knew that Mrs. Sloss wouldn’t let either child out of her sight. Her children were fine, they were safe. Now she had to take care of her husband.
She hadn’t been sure where she would handle this with Mae Frances; there was no place to hide in the hotel. Even in the business center, she’d been careful, choosing the computer that was in the farthest corner. But for talking, they needed privacy. And there weren’t many places that would give them that. Certainly, none of the public areas were an option. And Jasmine couldn’t take Mae Frances back to her suite because Hosea could walk in at any moment—with Pastor Griffith.
So, having the children gone with Mrs. Sloss was a blessing.
Jasmine faced Mae Frances and was surprised to see the woman standing with her arms crossed and her face set in a scowl, as if she was the one who had something to be mad about.
Mae Frances said, “So, do you want to tell me what you were doing with Rachel Adams?”
“Are you my friend?”
Mae Frances frowned. “What?”
“You heard me!” Jasmine exclaimed, her voice louder now. “Are you my friend?”
It must have been the question, her tone and the volume, that made Mae Frances drop her arms and peer into Jasmine’s eyes. “What are you talking about, Jasmine Larson?” Her voice was whisper-soft and filled with confusion.
Jasmine took a step closer. “I’m asking you a question—are you really my friend?”
Mae Frances blinked. “I’m more than that. I love you like I’d given birth to you myself.”
Jasmine sucked in a breath. Over the years, Mae Frances had said that often—and every time, Jasmine believed her. Even now her words felt the same as they had before.
That’s why all that she’d seen, all that she’d heard, and what she’d just discovered didn’t make sense.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Jasmine said.
“Where in the hell is this coming from?” Mae Frances’s hands cut through the air with each syllable.
Jasmine was almost ready to tell her … but not yet. “Why do you want Hosea to be the president of the ABC?”
“What? Jasmine Larson, what is this about?”
“Just answer me, Mae Frances! Please!”
“I … I want him to be the president because that’s what you want. You told me that you had to be first lady, and has there ever been a time when I didn’t help you?” She paused. “Whenever you ask me for anything, if I am able, I will give it to you; I will make it happen for you.”
There it was—the truth. And Jasmine knew that … from that place deep in her heart. Hadn’t Mae Frances proven her love over and over again?
Or maybe that’s just what Jasmine wanted to believe, what she needed to believe.
Either way, she was exhausted, and she settled onto the couch.
“What is this about, Jasmine Larson?” Mae Frances asked as she sat next to Jasmine.
It was time to see which side Mae Frances was on. “What do you know about Pastor Griffith?”
“Earl?”
“Yes. What do you know about him?”
Mae Frances paused as if she had to give that some thought. “Well … I met him years ago; he was a new pastor visiting New York for a convention. We stayed in touch over the years.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Jeremiah Wright introduced us.”
Jasmine nodded; the mention of that pastor’s name helped her to feel better about the decision to trust her friend. “Did you know Reverend Wright threw Pastor Griffith out of his church years ago?”
“What? No! Earl said that he left to start his own church.”
“He did. And he took quite a few of Reverend Wright’s members with him. But according to what I’ve read, that didn’t matter to Reverend Wright. He just wanted to get rid of Griffith—for improprieties. It looks like Reverend Wright tried his best to keep it out of the news for the sake of his church, but Pastor Griffith was taking money from athletes and other celebrities and helping them to launder money through the church.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mae Frances pressed her hand against her mouth as if she were trying to hold her shock inside.
“It’s true,” Jasmine said. For the last few hours, exhaustion had held her hostage, not letting go. But now the aches of her weariness dissipated. Adrenaline surged through her, and she stood and she paced and she told the story.
“Pastor Griffith would take a ten-million-dollar check from someone, have them call it a tithe so that they coul
d write the entire amount off, and then flush five million back to them in cash. And there were other schemes, too—money laundering for drug dealers.”
“Oh, my God!” Mae Frances sat, stilled by the shock. “So … what does this mean?”
“It seems that his church is now under federal investigation for these same practices. He’s been able to keep the story quiet because he keeps telling officials that he’ll cooperate.” Jasmine took a breath. “What I think is that he’s looking for another place to put all of this money. He’s betting that no one would look at the Coalition, especially if the ABC merged with the National Baptist Coalition.”
Mae Frances shook her head. “You’re losing me. What merger?”
Jasmine filled Mae Frances in on everything that Rachel had told her—about overhearing Cecelia with Coco, about what Lester Adams said about no one wanting the merger, and lastly about the article she’d read. “It was that article that I couldn’t get out of my mind. About the merger and Pastor Griffith’s connection to Cecelia,” she said. “It was that article that made me search for more.”
“And that’s when you found out about the investigation?”
Jasmine nodded.
“But the merger, you said he was in it with Cecelia?”
“Yeah,” Jasmine sighed. “That’s the part I can’t quite figure out. If he was in on the merger with Cecelia, why didn’t he just back her?”
Mae Frances shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he thought it would just be better with Hosea at the helm.”
“Maybe.” Jasmine nodded. “Maybe he felt that with someone like Hosea, the authorities would never look at the Coalition, especially if it had merged and was twice the size.”
Mae Frances said, “They might have even chosen Hosea specifically.”
“Exactly.”
“A high-profile preacher who always does the right thing. No one would look at him. But if the law did come …”
Jasmine stopped walking, stood in front of Mae Frances, and nodded. “Hosea would be the one in charge of the Coalition. He’d be the one responsible. He’d be all up in this. And if he didn’t do what Pastor Griffith and the Killer B’s told him to do—”
“Wait!” Mae Frances held up her hands. “The Killer B’s?” Her eyes were wide at the mention of one of the most notorious gangs in the country.
Jasmine nodded. “This whole investigation began because of the Killer B’s and Pastor Griffith’s connection to them.”
“Oh, my God.” Mae Frances shook her head. “I just can’t believe this, Jasmine Larson.”
Jasmine said, “I think that’s where Pastor Griffith got all of the money. For the North and even the million that he used to cover me. I think much of the money is drug money.”
Mae Frances pushed herself from the couch. “I’ve got to check this out.”
“No.” Jasmine grabbed her arm. She was shaking with fear. “You can’t say anything to Pastor Griffith,” she pleaded. “If only half of this is true, it’s enough to—”
“I’m not going to call him, Jasmine Larson.” Mae Frances snatched her arm away. “Give me some credit.” She walked toward the phone. “I need to make a call, though.”
“To whom?”
“Jeremiah Wright.”
Jasmine nodded. She could handle that; she felt safe with the call going to him.
It took Mae Frances a couple of calls to get through, but as Jasmine watched her talk to the reverend and then his son, she knew she’d been right. What she’d discovered was just the tip of what could be a disaster.
Though the phone was still pressed to her ear, Mae Frances fell onto the bed as if the burden of the shocking revelations was just too heavy to handle. When she yelped another “Oh, my God,” Jasmine slowly took out the flyers that she’d made about Lester and Rachel from the envelope.
She began to rip them in half.
There was no way she was going to let Hosea win this election. The problem was, she couldn’t go to him with this information, though. Hosea wouldn’t be afraid; he would just tell Pastor Griffith that there wouldn’t be any illegal activities going on while he was president of the Coalition.
No, Hosea wouldn’t have any fear at all, and he’d tell Pastor Griffith that he wasn’t scared.
That was okay. Hosea didn’t have to be afraid; Jasmine had enough fear … and enough good sense not to mess with this, enough for the both of them.
As Mae Frances kept talking, Jasmine kept tearing the flyers … one by one, two by two, three by there. And she thought of new flyers that she had to make.
She only had a few hours to make it happen, but she was sure by the time morning broke, and the new flyers were read in the light of day, there would be very few who would vote for Hosea Bush as the president of the American Baptist Coalition. Merger or no merger.
And that was exactly the way Jasmine wanted it.
Chapter
THIRTY-FOUR
Now she knew how Michelle Obama felt on that brisk November day back in 2008. Rachel felt a mix of queasiness, anxiety, and eager anticipation. In just a few hours, the votes would be cast and she would officially become the first lady of the American Baptist Coalition.
But first, there was one other order of business.
I’m in front of the ballroom. CK on her way down. The text from Melinda had put the game plan into motion. Rachel kissed her kids, who sat in the living room of the suite watching SpongeBob SquarePants. They were oblivious to the fact that their lives were about to change forever. And Rachel liked it that way. She wanted her kids to have the best in life. Granted, she grew up in a pretty middle-class household, but she wanted her own family to know a life she only dreamed about.
And she was about to give it to them.
“Be good for the sitter, kids,” Rachel said, heading toward the door, where Lester was impatiently waiting. “When we get back, we’re gonna have a big celebration.”
“What we celebratin’?” Nia asked.
“Daddy’s getting a new job,” Rachel said.
“Rachel …” Lester began.
Rachel stroked her daughter’s hair. “Daddy is modest about his new position, but Mommy has enough excitement for us all.”
“What’s ‘modest’?” Nia asked.
“You so dumb,” Jordan said, not looking up from his PS2.
“No, I’m not, and I bet you don’t know either.”
“Okay, stop that fighting.” Rachel shot them both warning glances. “If the sitter tells me there’s been any fighting when I get back, you’re in big trouble. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nia nodded.
Jordan just grunted. Brooklyn and Lewis were engrossed in a Fisher-Price piano.
“Sweetie, are you ready? It was your idea to get down there early,” Lester said.
Rachel nodded as she scooted toward the door. Lester thought they were getting downstairs a little ahead of schedule just to get situated. But Rachel wanted to make sure they were front and center for the show.
By the time they made it downstairs, the show had already begun. Melinda was at the back of the ballroom, looking over some notes. Scott, the photographer, was behind the camera. Another lean, lanky man was pulling cords and cables across the floor. Cecelia was coming down from the stage and heading toward Melinda.
“Hey, why didn’t you tell me we were getting some more media coverage?” Lester asked as they walked in.
Rachel feigned surprise. She didn’t respond because she didn’t want to outright lie to Lester any more than she had. “Wow, that’s Melinda. Let me go say hello.”
Rachel left her husband’s side, but took her time getting over to Melinda. She wanted to give Cecelia enough time to get within earshot.
“Hey, Rachel,” Melinda said as both Rachel and Cecelia approached. “Mrs. King.”
“Hello, Melinda,” Cecelia said, not bothering to acknowledge Rachel. The blatant diss was a slap in the face, and had she not known what was about to go down, she pr
obably would’ve been angry.
“What are you doing here?” Rachel asked, leaning in to hug her.
“Oh, the tape with Cecelia’s interview messed up. I would’ve called you, but I’ve been swamped. I just figured I’d see you here and—”
“Hey, sorry to cut you off, but we’re thirty seconds out,” Scott said.
“Sorry, Rachel,” Melinda said, moving into place. “We’re actually going live, so I’ll just chat with you later.”
“Yes, she’ll chat with you later,” Cecelia said with a haughty tone.
“Well, is it okay if we stand back and watch?” Rachel asked. She wasn’t going to let Cecelia get under her skin. Payback was just seconds away.
“Yeah, but I need you to stand back and stay quiet,” Scott said as he waved back Rachel and several other people who’d gathered around to watch.
Cecelia stepped into place with an air like she was about to be interviewed by Oprah.
“Standby, and three, two.” Scott pointed a finger at Melinda.
“Good evening, Colleen. We are live at the American Baptist Coalition Conference,” Melinda began. Cecelia stood confidently, just out of frame. Rachel wanted to rejoice at how the entire ballroom had literally gone quiet so that they could hear.
“The ABC is one of the largest religious organizations in the country. And it appears that they’re about to get even bigger. NewsChannel Four has learned about a secret deal that the ABC is working that will merge this group with the National Baptist Coalition.” Gasps filled the ballroom. Melinda turned to Cecelia, who stood in stunned disbelief. “With me now is Cecelia King, the current first lady of the ABC, who with her husband, Rev. Andre King, is responsible for this merger. Mrs. King, how does it feel to know that your group is about to become one of the most powerful in the country?” Melinda pointed the microphone at Cecelia.
“I … ah … I … where in the world did you get your information from?” Cecelia said, trying to pull it together.
Sinners & Saints Page 24
