“Apparently, though I have no idea what that’s about.”
Shit, neither did I.
Amaris’s mother was the thirteenth disciple and mine was Lucifer’s righthand bitch, but I assured her that there was a good reason. All she needed to do was play along, the way she’d been doing for almost four years already.
Finally, she was giving in. “Are you sure?” she asked. Wariness laced her tone. “You don’t have to do this. I can handle my mama on my own. I just needed someone to off-load on, and Nic was busy.”
“I know I don’t have to Mary, but I want to.” I lowered my voice. “I wanna show you how serious I am about you.”
She chuckled. “You’re assuming I don’t already know that much,” she purred.
My heart warmed and my cock stirred. “Let me go with you,” I requested.
“Fine, then… meet me at my apartment. tonight. We’ll ride together. And don’t be late!”
she added in a burst. “The last thing I want is to walk in when she’s already there.”
“As long as we’re together, everything will be fine, Mary.”
‘As long as we’re together everything will be fine, Mary.’
Those were the last words I’d said, even as we exited my car and stepped into the restaurant, but I’d made myself into a liar.
Amaris’s mother was already there waiting for us, and the minute she laid her eyes on me, the scowl that set deep into her face had me thinking she’d been born with it.
Goddamn!
For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been nervous about anything, but the way Amaris’s mother glared at me had me twisting the band of my watch.
“Amaris. You’ve arrived.” Her tone brightened as she stood and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace.
“It’s good to see you, Mama,” Amaris offered. “It’s a surprise, but it’s a good one.”
They separated and smiled at one another, while I stood to the side feeling like a fifth wheel.
“Are we late?” Amaris asked glancing at her watch. “I was sure you said seven o’clock.”
“Child, you know I’m always early for everything,” her mother replied with a quick swipe of her hand. “I was eager to see you and waiting in that hotel room was torture. I must admit, I didn’t realize we’d be having… company.”
Now her eyes cut in my direction. Her severe onyx stare was enough to separate the bone from the marrow.
Amaris stiffened. “Mama, this is Maverick,” she said quickly.
I nodded respectfully. “Ms. Flowers, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Amaris’s eyes turned into saucers and she shook her head so fast her curls rattled.
“I mean, Pastor,” I corrected myself. My face and neck warmed.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “First Lady will do just fine, young man.”
“First Lady…” I frowned. “You mean like First Lady, Melania Trump?”
“No. I mean like First Lady, Michelle Obama.”
Silence.
Amaris’s hand covering mine was the only thing that released me from the deadlock glower the… First Lady had fastened on me. “Mav, First Lady is a title commonly used in black churches to denote the position of a female in leadership.” Her lips barely moved.
The First Lady leaned in my direction. “And your title is?”
My entire body clenched, and I looked at Amaris, unsure of how to answer the question, but fully aware that it was a trick one.
Amaris saved my ass again. “Maverick doesn’t have a title, Mama,” she said through clenched teeth. “He’s… non-denominational.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I figured that now was not a good time to ask for clarification.
I pulled out the First Lady’s seat and waited until she settled in. Then, I helped Amaris into hers. Our eyes caught and she offered me a sympathetic smile.
The First Lady’s voice rose. “So, Maverick?”
My ass had barely hit the chair.
“How about we cut to the chase, huh? You and my daughter. Are you dating?”
Cutting to the chase was an understatement.
Amaris pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I only ask because Amaris and I talk quite regularly, and not once has she mentioned your name.” Her eyes flitted between me and Amaris. “I’ve been giving her godly advice about men all her life. She’s now in her thirties and grandchildren are overdue, but of course an appropriate man must father them.”
I drummed up a measure of courage and asked a question. “What do you consider an appropriate man, First Lady?”
“A Man of God,” was the swift response.
Mary cleared her throat and joined the conversation. “Maverick and I are friends, Mama.”
“Just friends?” she hummed. “It seems more than that. Why else would he be crashing our dinner date? And I can tell by the way he looks at you.” She huffed. “How many times have I told you, Amaris? A man has two heads and more often than not, he is driven by the one below his belt.”
Truer words had never been spoken, but I cringed nonetheless.
“Now, I expect to be told the truth,” the First Lady continued with a tone that reminded me of a scene from Boyz in the Hood, “and I have a feeling I won’t get it from you, so I’m going to ask this man sitting in front of me. And remember, there’s no room for liars in the Kingdom of God.”
I looked at Amaris, who was seething in her seat, and a rush of emotion crashed into me.
I lifted my chin. “Amaris and I are friends,” I confirmed, making sure to respect Amaris’s position, “but you’re right: it is more than that. For me, anyway. Your daughter is my angel. She’s a good woman with high standards and unyielding morale.”
Amaris looked at me.
“I’m not a Man of God,” I continued, “but I know that I’m the man God created for her. I have no idea if that means the same thing, but the way I see it, that’s what matters.”
The First Lady’s eyes turned into thin slits.
I continued before she could strike me down with a leased-out lightning bolt. “I understand we’re going to church on Sunday.”
Now her eyes brightened a little. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “Amaris and I will be attending service. I’m the guest preacher for the St. Paul’s African Methodist Episcopal church downtown. My daughter will be there to support me.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I’d like to join you, if… that’s okay.”
Amaris gasped. “Maverick, you really don’t have to – ”
“My daughter is right,” the First Lady cut in. “There’s no need for you to attend church, especially if you’re coming for the wrong reasons.”
Amaris frowned. “Wow. I didn't realize there were wrong reasons to attend church.”
“Clearly he’s not coming for God,” her mother snapped, flapping her hand in my direction.
“But God will meet him there, right?”
The First Lady’s lips flattened. “He’s coming for the opposite sex,” she insisted. “Men do it all the time! They put on a suit, tie, and cuff links, and sit in the front pew like predators, peeking at the women in the choir, trying to get their numbers after the service.”
Again, truer words had never been spoken. In fact, at one point, Blaine had set his sights on a church-girl and attended a few services. After he got the panties, he never went back.
Still…
“First Lady, I’m not going to sit here and suggest that church is my thing. In fact, I haven’t been to church in a while.”
“When was the last time you attended?” she demanded arching her brow.
The answer to her question caused an unexpected upsurge of emotion to crash into me and I swallowed the response.
Amaris frowned, but I pasted a smile onto my face and recalibrated.
“I’m not sure that it matters,” was my chosen response. “The point is, I’d like to go.”
“Well…” she
straightened her shoulders and tripped up her nose. “I’m a servant of the most high God, which means it is incumbent upon me to be a witness and usher sinners to the throne of grace.”
I couldn’t help but cringe again.
The remainder of the night went as well as either Amaris or I could have expected it to go. When I told the First Lady what I did for a living, she said something about profiting the world and losing my soul – scary ass shit! – and forty-five minutes into it, Amaris was defending us and herself against her mother’s stoic religious viewpoints.
When we dropped Amaris’s mother off to her hotel, I hopped out, opened her door, and escorted her to the entrance. I felt like a firewalker, but I tried to disguise my angst.
“It was very nice to meet you, First Lady,” I said when we were inside, “and I want you to know that I’m looking forward to going to church on Sunday. Like I said, it’s been a while, but maybe it’s overdue.”
The hard creases in her face deepened and she adjusted her purse on her shoulder.
“Look,” I continued through a sigh, “perhaps I’m not what you had in mind for Amaris.”
“Son, I’m gonna tell you exactly what the Lord loves – the truth,” she interrupted. “You’re nothing like what I had in mind for my daughter. I know what she needs, but more importantly, God knows.”
“What does she need?”
“She needs a strong man to stand beside her,” she answered in an icy breath. “She needs a man who believes in the power of God, a man who can pray her through; not some man who’s going to try and seduce her with the lusts of the flesh.” She glanced at my watch.
Her words pierced me as flashes of my most vulnerable moments slammed into me, but I stood firm.
“Ma’am, I would never dishonor your daughter by encouraging her to do things that fall outside of her belief system,” I promised. “I respect your daughter. In fact, she’s my angel.”
She closed her open mouth.
“We're taking our time to grow together,” I continued carefully, “and if that means waiting until I’ve put a ring on your daughter’s finger before I can treasure her the way God intended for me to, then that’s exactly what I’m prepared to do.”
She arched a brow. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Well, time will tell, won’t it?”
She had no idea.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, Mr. Maverick.”
I'd been to a million parties in my life, and it was a known fact that Blaine hosted the best ones. Or at least I'd felt that way before entering St. Paul’s AME church. Nothing compared to this.
A group of people stood at the front of the church singing and officiating the service.
When I asked, Amaris told me they were collectively called a praise team. I didn't need to question the title or their purpose. The way they incited the congregation had everyone bouncing on their heels with their hands flailing through the air. One lady was playing a tambourine in a manner never before seen, causing me to wonder if she had a side-gig.
In the corner, one woman was on the floor having convulsions, but she was surrounded by a ring of women wearing white gloves, and because they didn't seem concerned, I figured everything was okay.
The atmosphere was boisterous and electric, a far cry from the solemn and somber tone of the catholic synagogue I'd gone to as a boy.
The First Lady was positioned on the stage, next to what I assumed, was another First Lady. Their hats rivaled anything fashioned for a runway, and she was staring at her iPad, like she was deep in thought.
I turned to Amaris. “What is your mother doing?”
“She's preparing to preach,” she answered. “She's probably listening to God’s voice.”
“He's telling her what to say?” I was fascinated by the idea, albeit more than a bit skeptical.
“Something like that.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay?” she questioned, wrinkling her brow. “I mean, even though this entire thing was your idea, you have to admit it's a little crazy.”
“It's different,” I admitted, lest the First Lady’s prediction about liars and fire come true, especially since we were in the front row. “But I'm good. In fact, I'm looking forward to hearing what Jesus is saying to your mother.” I shrugged “I haven't spoken to Him in a long time. Maybe He’ll tell her something for me.”
Amaris smiled and narrowed her eyes, then we both tuned in as her mother prepared to address the congregation.
The First Lady mounted the podium and the people fell into a hush as she cast a severe gaze over the onlookers. Even the music faded away.
Her mother spoke: “God is good.”
Everyone said: “All the time!”
“And all the time…”
“God is good!”
I leaned my mouth to Amaris’s ear. “Was I supposed to say that too?”
She smacked my arm.
The First Lady continued. “Church, the Lord has spoken,” she asserted clearly. “Many of us are in turmoil. There's a war going on in our minds. The enemy is trying to defeat us. He's trying to tell us that we’re sick in our bodies. He's trying to convince us that our lives aren't worth living; that there's no point in pressing on, and that the struggle is never going to let up; that it will, in fact, get harder. In fact…” she paused and scanned the room. Her eyes sealed and she drew in a breath. “God is telling me that there's someone in here right now, sitting under the sound of my voice, who’s wrestling with the spirit of depression. Whoever you are, wherever you may be, I want you to know that God has a word for you.”
My chest cavity tightened and a feeling like I'd never experienced splintered my insides.
“God is saying to hold on,” Amaris’s mother whispered into the mic. “He’s saying not to give up. You’ve been through the fire. You’ve been through the rain. The clouds of darkness have hovered over you for far too long. God is a deliverer! He’s a healer! He’s a miracle worker! He’s a way-maker!”
By now, people were jumping to their feet and hollering at the ceiling, but the noise was muted and all I could hear was the sound of my heart thumping against my ribs.
“God is saying to come.” She had returned to whispering. She wiggled her fingers at the organist, and he struck up a mellow tune.
Like puppets, people rose from their seats and headed to the altar. Some of them were crying. Others looked reflective.
“God is saying to come,” Amaris’s mother said again.
My heart jerked.
Amaris’s hand on my arm jolted me in the seat. “Are… you okay, Mav?” she whispered. Her big, brown eyes bore into mine. The same look she wore in her office pinned me in the pew, and I looked into my lap.
“I’m… good,” I stuttered. My mouth pinched. “I…” I paused. “I think I want to go up there with the rest of those people.”
“You want prayer?” Amaris asked.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Amaris’s mouth pressed tight. “Do you want me to go with you?”
My eyes started to burn, and I blinked, trying to ease my discomfort. “Yes.”
Amaris took my hand and together, we joined the gathering.
When the First Lady saw us, she came and spoke to God on my behalf. Then she wet her hands with oil and touched my forehead.
When we dropped her back to her hotel that afternoon, I opened the door and prepared to walk her to the entrance, the way I’d done the day before. When we got to the same spot, we turned to face one another.
Her face still had that stark, stoic quality. In fact, now it seemed permanent and I wondered where God had gone.
“Thank you for coming to church today,” she said. “I hope you were blessed.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
The First Lady rested her hand on my shoulder. “I know that you’re… interested in my daughter, but God is not through with you,” she said. “One day, you’ll be the man that God intended for you to be, and when you are, I know He’ll br
ing the right woman into your life.”
My mouth pinched and I eased away from her touch. “I heard what you said on Friday night at dinner, and I want you to know that my attendance today wasn’t about seeking your approval,” I informed her.
“Oh, I know that,” she snapped with a tight smile. “You have issues, son.”
My jaw clenched.
“God showed me all of them, and you are not fit to love my daughter.” She reduced her voice to a sickening volume. “My recommendation is that you seek professional help. Sort through your trauma before you end up hurting the ones you say you love.”
My hands rolled into fists and I took another step back, but this one faltered. “It was a pleasure to meet you, First Lady,” I said; but it was a lie. This woman was purporting to be a Woman of God, but as far as I could tell, Lucifer had two bitches: one on his right hand and another on his left.
The First Lady scoffed and lifted her nose into the air, then she turned on her heel, disappearing into the depths of the hotel.
24
Maverick
~Four Years~
I never told Amaris about the things her mother had said the night I walked her into the hotel. When she asked me about it, I told her that it had gone well, that her mother and I had come to an understanding.
It hadn't been a total lie. There had definitely been an understanding: the feelings were mutual. The First Lady didn't like me, and to be frank, I didn't like her. Despite that, it didn’t minimize my experience in the church.
The theatrics hadn't really moved me, neither did the First Lady’s claims that she was privy to everything the Lord was saying; but the things she’d said about holding on… I'd kept that nestled against my heart.
The clouds didn't seem to be going anywhere, but I believed it would get better. It had to get better, especially if I was going to be the man Amaris needed.
Five Years Page 18
