Sinners & Saints

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “There has been a very public rivalry between the two groups, so it’s big news that the two of you are coming together. Particularly in light of the fact that the NBC recently filed for bankruptcy and is accused of misappropriation of funds.”

  “Again, where did you get that information from?”

  “Is it true or not?”

  Cecelia’s eyes darted over the room. Every person inside was staring at her, waiting for her answer. “Well, yes, but—” She could barely finish her sentence as chatter filled the room.

  “I take it from the reaction here that many in your organization didn’t know about this merger?” Melinda said.

  “We sure didn’t!” someone yelled from the front.

  “We’ll merge with them over my dead body!”

  “What’s going on? Are you really trying to merge us with those crooks?”

  The photographer made wild gestures behind the camera, trying to get everyone to settle down.

  “I—I thought this interview was about my plans for the ABC,” Cecelia stammered. No longer was she the poised, sophisticated woman who could woo anyone. Now she looked like a teenage girl who’d been busted with a boy in her room.

  “It is,” Melinda said. “We’re trying to find out if you plan to acquire the NBC’s debt. What about all of the charges against the organization? Or was this a way for you to defraud the creditors the group owes as some people are alleging?”

  “What?” Cecelia’s face was aghast. “I never!”

  “And you never will!” somebody shouted.

  “Why are the details of the merger not being made public? Is there something you’re trying to hide?”

  “I resent your implications.”

  Melinda continued, “And is it true that you and your husband negotiated as part of the merger that the salary of the president of both organizations would be combined, making the president of the ABC the highest-paid president of any religious organization, at four hundred fifty thousand dollars a year?”

  “What?” several people yelled as noise filled the room again.

  Cecelia took a deep breath, then gritted her teeth. “I resent you waltzing up in here, trying to ambush me.”

  “I’m just asking simple questions—things our viewers want to know,” Melinda said innocently.

  “Really, I don’t understand why anyone outside the ABC should care,” Cecelia replied with arrogance.

  “You don’t?” Melinda said. “You’re a tax-exempt organization. If you become the biggest religious organization, that’s millions of dollars in taxes you’ll be denying the American people.”

  Cecelia huffed. “Young lady, I’m going to ask you and your photographer to leave our meeting.”

  “But you were okay with us being here a few minutes ago.”

  “That’s before …” Cecelia stopped talking as she realized all of the people in the room were staring at her. “This interview is over!” She turned and stormed away.

  Melinda turned back to the camera. “Well, as you see, Cecelia King didn’t want to answer our questions. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop asking. We’ll stay on top of this story and keep you updated. Back to you.”

  Scott flipped his camera off and people began bombarding Melinda with questions. Rachel didn’t want to stand around, just in case people wondered if she had something to do with the ambush. Lester was already eyeing her suspiciously, as if he knew she was involved.

  Rachel didn’t give him time to say anything as she turned to make her way to her seat to wait for the meeting to begin. Cecelia had made a hasty exit. Hopefully, she wouldn’t return. But if she did, Rachel was confident that interview had cast enough doubt to steal Cecelia’s thunder.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Jasmine stood in front of the bathroom mirror and yawned. All she wanted to do was go back to bed and get the sleep that had eluded her all night. But that was not possible—she had to be downstairs with Hosea in just a few minutes. It was time for the Coalition to vote for president.

  “Darlin’.” Hosea banged on the door. “Are you almost ready? We’re late.”

  “I’m coming,” Jasmine said, though she didn’t make a move, at first. After a few moments passed, she slowly walked into the lavatory area, closed the door behind her, lowered the lid on the toilet, and sat down.

  The hem of her knit skirt rose slightly as she crossed her legs and glanced at her watch, wondering how much more time she could waste. Hosea wasn’t going to stand for this much longer. Any second now, he’d be busting into the main part of the bathroom, demanding to know what was taking her so long.

  But she needed the minutes to tick by because the more time she spent up here in their suite, the less time there would be for anyone to reveal to Hosea what she had done.

  She covered her mouth as she yawned again, the evidence of just how tired she was. It had taken so much longer than she thought for her and Mae Frances to slip all of those flyers under the doors last night, but every moment had been worth it. As far as she was concerned, she was working to save her husband and children’s lives. At least, that’s how she looked at it by the time Mae Frances had finished talking to Reverend Wright last night …

  Mae Frances had hardly been able to speak when she hung up the phone, but finally, she’d conveyed to Jasmine all that the reverend had told her. Reverend Wright did not know about Pastor Griffith’s involvement with Hosea’s election; he’d made that call to Hosea’s boss, suggesting that Hosea run because Mae Frances had called him and he was such a fan of the Bush men.

  “But he said for us to stay away from Earl.” Mae Frances had almost cried when she’d told Jasmine that. “He said that there are definite connections between Earl and that gang and many believe he’s not only laundering money, but dealing drugs.”

  Jasmine had sat down right next to Mae Frances. Together, they stared ahead, envisioning what their lives would be like if Hosea won the election.

  “Jeremiah said that it would make sense for Earl to want this,” Mae Frances continued with the bad news. “To get the gang involved in something bigger than his church—it would be easier to hide money. But he wasn’t aware of the merger being back on. He said there had been a rumor that Earl was working with the Kings on trying to move the merger forward a couple of years ago, but because so many on both sides were against it, it was all so hush-hush. And Jeremiah was very surprised to hear that talks of the merger were back on.”

  “Are the Kings involved with Pastor Griffith and the gang?”

  Mae Frances shook her head. “Jeremiah didn’t know anything about that. He’s not sure where Cecelia and her husband fit in, but he doubts that they would be involved in this. He said the Kings are all about power; they’re money hungry, but he doesn’t believe they would get caught up in anything too far out there—like drugs and money laundering.”

  “So.” Jasmine squinted as if she was trying to think this through. “Maybe these are two separate things. We’re trying to connect the dots, but maybe there’s no puzzle.”

  Mae Frances nodded. “Maybe it’s just about the Kings wanting the merger and Earl wanting a place to hide what he’s doing. Maybe the Kings are not caught up in that at all.”

  “No,” Jasmine sighed. “It looks like it’s just Hosea who’s caught up.”

  Mae Frances had taken Jasmine’s hand. “Jeremiah said that if I have any proof of anything, I need to take it to Hosea and Sam—”

  “No way,” Jasmine said before Mae Frances could even finish. “I know my husband and father-in-law, and they’ll try to fight it. They’ll move forward with this election, they’ll fight to win, and then they’ll dare Pastor Griffith to mess with the Coalition. But I think it’s too late, anyway. I think Griffith has probably already promised people things. And they won’t care for a second how much of a stand-up guy my husband is.”

  Mae Frances nodded.

  “I don’t want Jacquie and Zaya anywhere near that gang. You�
��ve heard the stories,” Jasmine said, leaving out how the gang was known for not even caring about women and children.

  “But what are you going to do? This morning, Earl said that Preacher Man was edging ahead. He’s always had the lead, but the way they’ve been working, even with Cecelia in the race, Hosea will win by a good margin.”

  Jasmine nodded, not surprised.

  Mae Frances sighed. “You know why Hosea is so far ahead, right?” She didn’t give Jasmine a chance to respond. “It’s because of everything we did to make Rachel Adams look like a fool. Those people don’t want her as the first lady—they don’t want her as the face of the Coalition. They think she’s young and dumb.”

  “She’s not dumb,” Jasmine said. “Trust that.” She inhaled. “Rachel will be able to handle herself. She almost handled me.”

  “But she didn’t, and we’re going to win this thing. And then, Preacher Man will be caught up with …”

  Jasmine had saved one flyer—just to show Mae Frances what her plan had been. “This was going to be my last shot before the election tomorrow,” she told her friend. “This would have taken down the Adamses.”

  Mae Frances studied the flyer and the tears that were in her eyes a moment ago were replaced by a smile that Jasmine hadn’t seen in a while. “Jasmine Larson,” she said, “I’ve taught you well.” But then her despair returned. “But this will guarantee that Preacher Man will win!”

  Jasmine took the flyer from Mae Frances’s grasp and did to it what she’d done with the others—she tore it in half and then in half again. “No one is going to see this. Instead we’re going to make up a new one.” Jasmine closed her eyes as if that was the only way she’d be able to tell Mae Frances what she had to do. “This time, the flyer will be all about me. And my days as a stripper … and … all the other things I used to do at that club.”

  There was a moment of silence before Mae Frances asked, “Are you sure?”

  Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. “I have to. I have to make sure that Lester Adams wins. I have to protect Hosea.”

  So, that’s what they’d done. After Jasmine had lied to Hosea, telling him that she was staying in the children’s suite because Zaya wasn’t feeling well, she and Mae Frances had made new flyers that exaggerated the story of Jasmine Cox, the stripper and high-priced call girl. And though she’d never been in jail, the flyer cited arrest after arrest, scandal after scandal. Then they’d printed up three hundred copies (because the center had run out of paper) and waited until after midnight to get them to as many rooms as they could. They’d had a good amount of flyers left over, but Mae Frances had destroyed them all.

  There was no trace of their deception, no link between them and the flyers. And as Jasmine had laid her head on the pillow at just after four in the morning, her prayer had been that she’d done enough.

  And in just about an hour, she would find out.

  “Jasmine!”

  Just as she expected, Hosea had barged into the bathroom.

  “Are you okay in there?” he asked.

  She stood, and even though the lid was still down, she flushed the toilet. Then she pressed her hand against her stomach and opened the door.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” she said, keeping her voice at a whisper. “My stomach is a little unsettled.”

  The annoyance that was on his face melted and he pulled her into his arms. “Darlin’, you’re just nervous.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Don’t sweat this. It’s going to work out the way God wants it to.”

  Jasmine nodded and Hosea clasped her hand inside his and led her into the bedroom. She grabbed her purse, took a final glance in the mirror, and prayed that God’s plan and hers were exactly the same.

  Jasmine was still holding Hosea’s hand as they walked toward the ballroom. She tried to prepare herself for the glances and the whispers that she was sure would come her way; she just wasn’t prepared for what she would say to Hosea.

  Before she and Hosea even turned the corner, thoughts of the flyers that she prayed would seal Hosea’s fate flew out of her mind. The hallway in front of the ballroom was packed with people, shouting. And in the narrow space of the hallway, their voices bounced off the walls, making it sound almost like a riot.

  And in the center of the commotion was Rachel’s friend Melinda. She was being bombarded with questions by members of the Coalition.

  “How did you find out about the Kings’ plans?”

  “Who else is involved with this?”

  “Can you do a full exposé to make sure nothing like this happens?”

  From the questions that were being thrown at her, Jasmine knew that Melinda had done her job well. Now she was sorry that she had missed the show, but she’d had no choice. At least her reporting had taken away any attention that anyone had on the flyers.

  Jasmine and Hosea pressed their way through the crowd, but inside the ballroom, the confusion continued. The aisles were filled with members, talking over one another, surprise on everyone’s face. Onstage, Reverend Capers, the sergeant at arms, was trying to call the meeting to order, but no one seemed to be paying attention to the pounding of the gavel.

  “I wonder what’s going on?” Hosea whispered to Jasmine.

  She shrugged, as if she didn’t know, but at the same time, she scanned the space for the Kings, though it was hard to see anyone through the hundreds that filled the room. She did see Rachel, though, sitting in the front row, all prim and proper, with her eyes on Reverend Capers. It was as if Rachel was totally oblivious to all that was going on.

  For the first time in hours, Jasmine smiled. Rachel created chaos, and then sat back and let it all unfold. If she didn’t hate her so much, she just might like her.

  Hosea led Jasmine down the center aisle, and few looked their way. The members were caught up with the merger; right now, they had little thought of the flyer that had appeared in their rooms this morning.

  At the front, Hosea turned one way to greet Lester. She turned the other way and looked right into the face of Pastor Griffith.

  “Good morning,” he said, all smiles, all confidence.

  It was hard for her to greet him back. Now that she knew what this man was all about and who he really was, she not only didn’t want to have anything to do with him, she didn’t want to talk to him.

  But she had to act as if everything was the same. He was, after all, affiliated with the Killer B’s. So she smiled, she nodded, and then she sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

  With just a slight motion of her head, she turned the other way and glanced at Rachel, who was already looking at her. Rachel nodded, sending her a message. Jasmine nodded back, message received. They’d worked together for just twenty-four hours and it looked like they had brought Cecelia King and her husband down.

  Hosea slipped into the seat next to her and unbuttoned his jacket. “You are not going to believe what happened,” he said.

  Her heart began to pound. Had Lester told Hosea about the flyers? Had she or Mae Frances made the mistake of putting one under the Adamses’ door? Or had someone from their side showed it to Lester?

  It had been so confusing last night. Mae Frances had been able to get a roster of who was staying in what room. But it was so much to digest and they had been tired … had they made a mistake?

  “Cecelia King was just ambushed by a television reporter,” Hosea said. “That’s who’s in the hallway. Turns out the Kings were trying to merge the ABC with the NBC and that’s why Cecelia entered the race.”

  “Really?” Jasmine feigned surprise as her heartbeat slowed down to normal.

  But she didn’t get to say anything else. Reverend Capers was finally able to bring order to the room, and the Coalition members settled into their seats.

  “We will now bring this meeting to order,” the reverend said as he slammed the gavel against the podium.

  Jasmine could barely breathe as another pastor went to the stage and led them in praye
r. She didn’t listen to the pastor’s words, though; she had her own petition that she wanted God to hear.

  After that, the conference parliamentarian took the stage and explained the voting process.

  Finally, the parliamentarian said, “And now, as we prepare to vote, we would like to have the candidates go to the holding room. First, we have Lester Adams and his lovely wife, Rachel.”

  The Adamses stood, waved to the crowd, and the Coalition members responded with applause.

  “Next,” Reverend Capers continued, “Hosea Bush, and the beautiful Lady Jasmine.”

  As Hosea stood, he took Jasmine’s hand and they both waved to the crowd. But this time, the applause was mixed with hisses and whispers.

  Hosea frowned a bit, but led Jasmine through the side door. “I wonder what that was about?” he asked once they were outside.

  Once again, Jasmine shrugged, as if she didn’t know. But now that she was away from all of those people, she didn’t want to think about what she’d done, she didn’t want to think about what the members now thought of her and Hosea. All she wanted to do was get to that holding room, take her husband’s hands, and pray until all the votes were in and tallied.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-SIX

  The Kings weren’t in the room, but Hosea and Jasmine were. They sat at a corner table, their heads bowed in prayer. Hosea’s father stood in the other corner, his own head down as if he was praying, too. For a moment, Rachel wondered why the senior Reverend Bush was not in the other room voting—but then she remembered, the Bushes had not been members of the ABC. Reverend Bush couldn’t vote.

  When the Bushes finished praying, Rachel stood to go over and talk to Jasmine. She wasn’t in the room during the interview and Rachel was anxious to tell her how well it had gone. But Jasmine’s odd expression stopped her in her tracks.

  She didn’t seem as excited as Rachel. She looked scared. Nervous. Worried. Maybe she was about to pull a trick out of the bag. Rachel hoped that wasn’t the case because this last little bit of info she had on Jasmine, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to use. Despite all her bourgieness, Jasmine seemed like she could be cool. In fact, she kinda reminded Rachel of herself—in about thirty years.