Church Boyz 1 (Rod of the Wicked)

by H.H. Fowler

“Hey babe, where are you?” Leroy asked.

  “I’m home. Why’d you ask?” Michelle questioned.

  “Well, I’m heading to the Brio Tuscan for lunch with the pastors from the Bahamas. I want you to join us.”

  “Oh Leroy, I don’t feel up to it.”

  “Come on, don’t be a party pooper. I told them that you’d come.”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice now, do I?”

  “Call Abraham and tell him to bring you. I love you, babe.”

  The maître d' ushered Michelle and Abraham to Leroy’s table where he sat with a group of six other persons, all of whom were men, except for one. Michelle would have been fine with the arrangement if the other woman at the table hadn’t been Shaniece, who’d planted her sanctimonious behind in a seat right next to Leroy.

  “I didn’t know she’d be here,” she whispered to Leroy as he stood to greet her.

  “Not now, hon,” he whispered back, holding her by the waist with one hand and using the other to wave to the gentlemen around the table. “Michelle, I want you to meet Pastors Cecil McKnight and Rodwin Thompson. And these are their adjutants…”

  The men stood to greet Michelle one by one. Leroy then introduced Abraham as the Youth Minister in Charge.

  “You have a lovely wife, Reverend Paxton,” Rodwin said. “I’m sorry that my wife couldn’t be here to meet you. She would fall in love with your style.”

  “Oh dear, maybe next time,” Michelle smiled as she gracefully took her seat. She hoped she didn’t sound stupid saying that. Leroy was so much better than she was at making small talk.

  Shaniece seized the opportunity to throw in her suggestion. “Why don’t we plan for both of your wives to come to our annual women’s conference in July? That way we can all bond and share our ideas with each other.”

  “Certainly,” Cecil said. “That’s something we will look into. As a matter of fact, we’ll get a group to come.”

  “Oh, it will be an explosion,” Shaniece beamed reverently. “I can feel it now. Our connection to the Bahamas would be a good move for Mount Moriah. Especially, now that we have quite a few Bahamians attending our services.”

  Michelle cut her eyes away from Shaniece, bothered by her overbearing attitude. Shaniece had never attended any of the women’s conferences, and here she was acting as if the steering wheel was in her hands. It was embarrassing to watch Leroy sit there and allow this woman to have this much control.

  As their server fluffed out their napkins and spread them in their laps, Michelle got an uncanny feeling that Shaniece’s next step was to start a network of churches overseas.

  “So, how’d you hear about our church?” Leroy threw the question out to either pastor.

  “My brethren,” Rodwin said. “We watch you every Sunday morning on the Word Network. Your delivery is powerful, and your style of preaching is spellbinding. I can see that the Lord is blessing your church.”

  “Thank you,” was all Leroy said as thoughts of his secret began to surface. None of these accolades would matter if what he’d done five years ago were somehow exposed.

  “What’s your membership?” Cecil asked.

  “Seven thousand,” Shaniece blurted out. “And it’s growing. The church can seat about five thousand. So we have to divide the services into two sessions to accommodate everyone. But that will soon change…”

  “Oh? What do you mean by that?” Rodwin asked.

  All eyes were on Shaniece. Even Leroy was at a loss as to what Shaniece was alluding to.

  Suddenly, feeling like she was about to be pelted with stones, she chose her next set of words wisely. “Discussion is still in its infancy stage and I dare not raise the issue here in the open.”

  Michelle flashed Abraham one of those I-told-you-so looks. This woman was trying to take over everything, and there wasn’t any shame in her game. More than ever now, Michelle felt driven to discover why Leroy was refusing to kick her butt out of their lives. The mere fact that he tolerated Shaniece’s tyranny was a sure sign that something bigger was happening without her knowledge.

  Their server brought two baskets of warm rolls and placed them on the table between them. Cecil reached over, grabbing one.

  “You know, back home in the Bahamas,” he began, turning to face Leroy. “We have many husband and wife teams, working together in ministry, as we are doing with our wives. We have seen tremendous acceptance of this trend within our congregations. Congregations love to see husbands and wives shouldering the responsibilities together. It boosts trust and confidence, and portrays a godly example of love and mutual respect. And we congratulate you for doing the same with your wife.”

  The air felt as if it’d been sucked out of the room. Leroy’s thoughts stumbled over each other, as he tried to put together a sensible comeback.

  Michelle kept her eyes parked on Shaniece and waited to see how this She-Devil would react.

  “I think you misunderstood,” Shaniece said, letting lose that priggish grin that reminded Michelle of the Grinch who stole Christmas. “My portfolio contains the line of succession, where it states–”

  “In the interim,” Leroy sat up interrupting. “Pastor Shaniece is currently serving as my assistant, which I feel will give her extensive training for her spiritual career. My wife’s hands are full, working in several sectors of the church. I will not put more on her than she can handle. Her roles as the Head of Administration and as the Head of the Women’s Ministry are enough to burn out anyone. I can assure you, the line of succession is firmly instituted, which my wife is very much a part of.”

  Leroy took a sip of water and waited to hear Shaniece’s mouth, but to his surprise, she kept her trap shut. Michelle rubbed her husband’s hand supportively. He had just said a bunch of baloney, but she couldn’t stop smiling on the inside. For once, it felt good to hear her man finally taking charge. This time she gave Abraham a small wink, as if to say she’d won another small victory over Shaniece.

  “Well said, Reverend Paxton,” Rodwin commented. “Well said. I would have never thought of it that way. I love your style of leadership.”

  “Thank you, my dear brother,” Leroy said, raising the menu to his face. “I’m starving. Let’s order.”

  6:11 p.m.

  As Tayah rolled her Nissan Altima into her driveway, Phillip made his way out, dressed in his usual silk black shirt and matching black slacks. When she saw him, her blood pressure skyrocketed to the roof. She was already frustrated with his lack of concern and his tired excuses. It was time she let him know that this was the last night she was putting up with it. She leaped out of her car and dropped everything she was holding to the pavement.

  “Where you think you’re going?” she spat, throwing her body in front of him.

  “Get out the way, Tayah. Let me go ‘bout my business.”

  “No! Either we sort this out right now or you don’t come back.”

  “You’re giving me an ultimatum? How stupid.” He nudged her a little, smirking at her attempt to get even. “Where’d you get this fire from all of a sudden? Did “organ boy” put you up to this?”

  “Don’t be pathetic, Phillip. This is between you and me.” She took one whiff of his breath and almost gagged. “You’ve been drinking?”

  He chuckled at how long it took her to figure it out. He'd been drinking all week, and clearly, his reasons were justified. He doubted her week had been as terrible as his, compared to what he had to deal with it, if so, she would be drinking too.

  “And you're the cause of it,” he told her. “You should be home, but instead you're running around town with organ boy. You two sleeping together now? Don't lie, 'cause he's always wanted you for himself.”

  Tayah tried to keep the drama out of her expression, but Phillip had pushed the wrong button. “You, of all people, should know better than to accuse me of something as ridiculous as that. Dominic and I were friends long before we got married and I'm not going to let your dirty mind paint a negative picture of ou
r friendship.”

  “You see, that's our problem right there. I'm not the only man in this relationship. How do you expect our marriage to work if you're putting all of your trust and confidence in someone else?”

  “Don't you dare turn this around on me! You're the one who's never home, coming and leaving when you please; acting as if this place is some bachelor pad. What do you want me to do?”

  “I don't expect you to run to organ boy–”

  “Stop calling him that! His name is Dominic!”

  “I guess that's how you scream his name out when he hit the right spot…”

  “You no good son of a…” She rocketed toward him and backhanded his face as if slaps were going out of style.

  He restrained her hands against her bosom and then pushed her to the ground of the driveway. “You know you want him. Don't deny it…”

  “Go! Get away from me, Phillip!”

  “Awwh, just a moment ago you wanted me to stay. Make up your mind, honey. Which is it?”

  “I don't even care what happens to this marriage anymore. Do what you wish, Phillip.”

  He wanted her to hurt as badly as he was hurting on the inside. “You would say that. Because you wanna be with him, that's why. And I bet you're going to see him after I leave…” He plunged his thin body behind the wheel of his Impala and then turned his bloodshot eyes on her. “Who needs you anyway? You're nothing but a pig in the blanket.”

  Her tears responded immediately to that statement. Of all the things her husband could have said, he chose to remind her of her inability to have children. She sat there on the driveway, moments after he'd sped away, and pleaded with God to end her miserable life.

  7:12 p.m.

  Dominic popped his trunk and grabbed his Wal-Mart bags with one swoop. Fortunately, his one-bed apartment wasn’t too far from Wal-Mart, lest he wouldn’t have had the motivation to go. Well, maybe. It depended on whether he had money to spend. He hated going somewhere just to browse, or to window shop. What was the sense in doing that when he hadn’t any intention of buying anything to begin with? He’d gone to the store on Bruce B. Downs – that store was so huge that it’d taken him over half an hour just to get some fruit and a couple of personal hygiene products.

  He ditched his brown Oxford shoes at the door and then walked across the carpet to his kitchen. He emptied all of the fruit into the sink, turning on the faucet to wash them. He normally did this to save time and effort. All he’d have to do now was select and eat right out of the refrigerator. He secured everything else, and then made a beeline to the shower. He smelled like his parents’ soup kitchen. Everything they’d cooked was present in his clothes, which was okay for the time he spent there. But he couldn’t imagine himself doing that every day. It didn’t matter how loving, or how caring people appeared to be, everyone simply didn’t have staying power. To feed and clothe scores of poor, homeless people every day took a lot of patience. Kudos to his peeps who’d been doing it since he was fifteen. He would always tell them God had given them the beneficence for that type of ministry. He was a different breed altogether.

  The warm shower that spanked his back had a relaxing effect, helping to soothe the weariness of both his body and spirit. So many things had been bombarding his mind lately that it’d caused him to fall back on his morning talks with his Creator. He was in a place of restlessness, fighting against a conviction that pierced the pith of his soul.

  He couldn’t get away from what Abraham had taught him about having the attitude of forgiveness, the power to let go of grudges and bitterness of the heart, which was a form of disease that if left stewing, contaminated the very essence of a person’s spirit. He’d always told them that forgiveness was a choice, and a decision of the will. And even though it didn’t come easy, one must find the strength to forgive.

  He leaned his palms against the wall in front of him, and allowed the water to beat upon his head. If the truth be known, it would be revealed that he’d always struggled with forgiveness. He’d always found it difficult to let things go. For years, he’d held in what his biological father had done to him and his mother. His constant beatings and the verbal abuse left them scarred for a very long time and it was only through the grace of God they made it out alive.

  Growing up in a home of affluence, and as the only child, would be considered by some a privileged upbringing, but most of his childhood was filled with terrible memories. He remembered, as a boy of six, how every evening, how his father had staggered through the doors, drunk; cursing; and carrying on about the world of the white man – how they had cheated him out of a promotion.

  He would stumble all through the house in a spit of rage. His mother would come out the room all upset. He felt sorry for her, because she’d stood on her feet all day, dealing with those too-hard-to-please clients. Her high-end hair salon on Fletcher Avenue and Thirtieth Street granted her temporary asylum from the nightly doldrums of her husband’s annoying voice. Even now, he could hear his mother’s voice, bellowing from the crevices of his memories.

  “Jerry, you shut your dirty mouth in here! I’m fed up with you comin’ home drunk, smellin’ like you took a bath in the septic tank.”

  His father would fume at the words of his mother, “Keep messing with me and I will kill you! This is my cotton-picking house. I come in any time I feel like it. You gotta problem with it, get the hell out!”

  “Maybe one day I will; Jerry, and I will take Dominic with me! You’re a sorry excuse for a husband!”

  Jerry became livid. “I outta knock your teeth behind your throat.”

  “You could barely put one foot in front of the other, you drunken bastard!”

  Over time, Dominic learned that alcoholism was a progressive disease – it got worse and worse. His father eventually had lost his job. That took him over the edge; he drank even more than before, sometimes, as much as five liters of vodka a day. He drank from sunrise to sunset. Almost every day, Dominic would find six or seven bottles, hidden all over the house. One night, his mother got into a life-threatening confrontation with his father. Jerry punched Dominic silly, which resulted in a busted lip and two swollen eyes. The neighbors had to call both the ambulance and the police.

  “You crazy bastard!” His mother screamed, tears flowing profusely. “Dominic is only six years old! What has gotten into you, Jerry? You could have killed him!”

  “You want some of what I gave, ‘lil man?” Jerry took his big hands and shoved his mother against the concrete wall. “I’ll teach you a lesson on your dirty mouth! You don’t know when to shut it up!”

  Dominic watched in horror as his father latched his huge hands around his mother’s throat…

  Now, Dominic realized that his mentor of five years had caused some of those same old negative feelings to resurface, wrenching him back to square one. He’d trusted the man to hold up his end of the bargain. He’d trusted him to be real, and not to become a faker. How was Dominic supposed to move on from this point? How was he supposed to bounce back from something like that? Abraham hadn’t any idea of the depth of his disappointment.

  His body feeling refreshed, he slipped into a pair of Nike shorts. The envelope Rufus had given him rested on his nightstand, inviting him to give in to his curiosity. He knew it was Rufus’ will, but he was not sure if he was ready to accept what was appearing to be the inevitable. For now, he would let it sit until his heart gave him the signal to read it. Resting his back against his mattress, he wondered what Tayah was doing at the moment. Maybe he should call her and let her know how well he’d done on his mock exam. Maybe they could meet for breakfast in the morning. But his body played a trick on him and soon, he drifted off into a quiet sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four