Righteous Ways, page 8
“It was nice having you in service today.” Glad for the heat, I removed my scarf and gloves.
Mekhi gave me a side glance. “You know I’d do anything for you, baby.”
And do it for me he had. Although he professed to be a Christian, Mekhi rarely attended church. Negative childhood experiences were his excuse and having no frame of reference for what those negative experiences could be, I didn’t know the impact of church drama. For that reason, I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I was too busy trying to figure this lifestyle out for myself.
I did, however, have the impression that Mekhi was low on the faith in God “doing” aspect of Christianity. He believed Jesus was our Savior, but I got the sense from things he said, that he believed Jesus was hands off. Mekhi felt he was the keeper of his destiny. He only needed God for the really hard stuff or at least that’s what he said. I suppose his wife going to jail was the hard stuff, because here he was at my side looking like he needed to break the glass and pull out the Jesus he kept locked away for emergencies.
“Promise me you’ll go to church at least once a month while I’m gone.”
He frowned. “I’m making that promise because...”
“So, when you visit, you can tell me all about the sermon.”
He smiled and nodded. “I can do that. Are you sure you’re not trying to get me into church through the back door?”
I pressed my lips together to suppress a giggle. He had me figured out. “Maybe,” I replied. “But I don’t want you to go to Bling.”
“Why not?”
“The sermons aren’t that memorable.”
“You go to Grace Tabernacle every week,” he said, avoiding using the church’s flashy nickname.
“I know, but I need to find another church. I’ll do that when I get home.”
“You’ve been saying that for months, Sammie. There’s a church on every corner in this city. Why don’t you just start looking now? You don’t have to wait for that.”
I snatched my head back. “Says he who doesn’t go himself.”
Mekhi smiled. “I don’t go, but I know enough to know that nothing grows if it’s not fed.”
I nodded. “Someone was listening to the message.”
Mekhi took his eyes off the road for a moment and deadpanned me. “I didn’t need the message for that. That’s what you call common sense.”
I suppressed a sigh. I would not fight him on his church attendance. I decided to give the road my attention. We weren’t headed to the house.
Mekhi must have sensed my discovery because he said, “I have a surprise for you.” He turned off of I-20 onto Boulevard.
“Downtown?”
“We’re going to get something to eat and then yes, the surprise is downtown.”
I could tell from his profile that he was excited about whatever it was.
We had brunch at Serpas, my favorite Sunday brunch spot and then got back into the car. Mekhi reached into the glove compartment for a blindfold and handed it to me.
I frowned. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“What are you doing, Khi?”
“I want you to be completely surprised.”
I let out a long breath and put on the blindfold. I figured days like today would get me through the rough ones ahead, so I might as well enjoy every second of whatever it was he had planned.
We didn’t travel far before the car came to a stop and he turned off the engine. He came around, opened my door and helped me out.
“You didn’t peek did you?”
I giggled. “No, I didn’t peek.”
I let him guide me out into the cold and then inside a building. There was something familiar about the space I stood in. The smell of pine was strong in the air and there were sounds I recognized, but couldn’t distinguish. “When can I take this off?”
I heard a door open and Mekhi left my side for a moment. As my eyes were covered, my hearing was sharp. The sound of children’s voices escaped from the behind the door as did the tap, tap, tap on a musical keyboard. “You’re right on time.” A voice responded to Mekhi.
He removed my blindfold. I was standing in the television room of Samaritan House.
“What’s this?” I asked.
He opened the door to the main room and ushered me in.
The sleeping area had been transformed into a concert hall. There were mothers and children piled into about a hundred chairs that wrapped around a makeshift stage. A full band was set up to the left. A huge Christmas tree was on the right of the stage and two women dressed like Christmas elves stood next to four or five large brightly colored sacks that burst with wrapped gifts. Tears rushed to the surface of my eyes and I raised a hand to my mouth. He hadn’t. I looked into his eyes.
“You’ve fallen in love with this place and I...”
I practically leapt on him, covering his lips with mine before he could finish what he was saying. After the kiss, I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tight.
Just as I released him, music began to play. The door opened and in strode Benxi and a few of her background singers to a chorus of: “There’s Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen...”
The audience was on their feet screaming and clapping as the group made it on the stage singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Benxi practically performed a full concert. She sang eight songs. Two children's songs, two songs from the new album, four Christmas carols and then she ended with a song that included a dedication.
“I’ve been told there’s a little girl in here named Mary. Where’s Mary Bolton? I need her to come up on stage for me.”
Mary covered her eyes. Darlene and Krissy looked around for me and caught my eye. Even Krissy couldn’t stop smiling. Mary was being shy, but her big sister walked her up to the stage and Benxi took her hand.
“You know Mary is a very special name. It belonged to a very special woman.” Benxi got low enough to be eye-level with Mary and said, “Do you know who she was?”
Mary leaned close to the microphone and whispered, “Jesus’ mother.”
Benxi stood. “That’s right and we have a song about Mary. It goes like this.” The music keyed up and Benxi sang a beautifully arranged version of Mary Did You Know. Every eye in the building was shining as bright as the balls on the tree.
I turned to look for Mekhi. He'd disappeared halfway through the performance. I realized where he had gone when Santa entered the room. He was padded well enough, but I recognized the husky roar in my man’s “Ho, Ho, Ho” anywhere. The kids were on their feet screeching again.
Mekhi continued his, “Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho” as the band played Here Comes Santa Claus and when he finally took his seat, kids fell in at his feet. Colleen and a few of the other volunteers had the older children line up while the elves and a few other folks began to take gifts out of the bags and pile them on either side of him.
The little ones in front of him climbed onto his lap one by one as a photographer took old school Polaroid shots with them and Santa and Benxi and handed the photos to the mothers. The kids were thrilled. I'd never seen the kids in this place smile. Not really. This was a memory they would have for the rest of their lives. A Grammy award winning singer sang Christmas carols with them and took pictures.
Mekhi and I fell onto our bed. It was hours later and I was still beaming from the event at Good Samaritan. Spectacular was not the word.
“I can’t believe you did that. I wanted to ask you to have Benxi sing, but I didn’t have the nerve.”
He pulled me to him. “You have said over and over again how sad it is for those kids. I called the shelter and asked what they had planned for the holidays. Colleen told me the neighboring churches invited the families for Christmas dinner and that they had a toy drive to help with a gift for each child, but I thought, that’s not enough. Not for do-it-big-or-don’t-do-it-at-all Samaria Jacobs-Johnson.”
I smiled. “I was going to call Bling in the morning and ask if there was something they could do.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.” A broad smile played across his lips. “You can lie in the bed with me in the morning.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Not like you to sleep late.”
“I could when I play hooky from work, but I don’t plan to do a whole lot of sleeping.”
I rolled over on top of him. “Why put off until tomorrow what you can do today?”
Mekhi smiled and pulled me to him.
I rested in his arms that night fully aware of the potential of human kindness. I’d gotten a glimpse of it last year when I got to know Angelina Preston, a friend that I eventually betrayed. Or maybe it wasn’t an eventual betrayal. Our relationship began on a lie. I was sleeping with her husband when I met her. After all that, she managed to be by my side when I lost my baby and even now, if I dared, I could probably call her and receive love. Because that’s what love is in its purest form. It’s self-sacrificing and giving. Love is kind.
I turned my head toward my husband. What he’d done today was good. Sure the expense would be written off as a charitable donation, but time...you couldn’t get that back. Time was something that couldn’t be written off on a tax document. Neither his, or Benxi’s.
And there wasn’t a reporter in the place. I expected it would be shared with the media. That’s what Benxi’s people were for, but no matter what her gain in P.R., nothing rivaled the smiles on those children’s faces or the joy in their mother’s hearts. Nothing could take away the good God had done through me which meant...there was hope for me. Even I who had done so much wrong for so much of my adult life could be used for His divine purpose.
Chapter Thirteen
I had to do the right thing and thank Benxi for the performance. She was headed to South Georgia to visit her grandmother for the holidays. By the time she returned to the city, I’d be gone. What she’d done at the shelter merited a personal thank you, plus we had to talk. Woman to woman...words needed to be said.
I knew Benxi would be at the studio because she had a photoshoot that included shots in the recording booth. It was 7:30 a.m. and her Hummer was here. Once I walked inside, I noted so were her people. Make-up, hair, her assistants and bodyguards were in the lobby eating breakfast. Ghetto. I hated when they did that, so I requested they take their breakfast meeting into the breakroom. They didn’t appreciate it, but they moved.
I found Benxi in her office (yes, she had one) going through outfits and shoes with a stylist.
The door wasn’t closed so I entered. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
Benxi plastered on a phony smile. She gave the stylist her attention for a few more minutes and ended the meeting with the words: “We’re done right?”
He cast me an annoyed look like I was messing up his session and then said to Benxi, “I’ll get that jumper to you by next week and we’ll see if the designer has those shoes in a seven.”
Benxi nodded. He pulled a few items off the rolling cart he’d been working from, gave me a two-finger wave which I returned, and left the room. I pushed the door closed.
“This is a surprise.” Benxi spun on her chair until her back was to me. She played with her hair in the lighted vanity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I got closer. Close enough for the two of us to be visible in the mirror. I fixed my eyes on our reflection. We were so different. I, with my rich sepia skin, dark hair, and ebony eyes and she the opposite. Her skin was fawn and freckled, tan even, like she just returned from a vacation in Tahiti. Her hair, naturally dark, was covered by a blonde weave. And then there was our height. Mine, nearly formidable at 5’9 and hers dismissible, at least by me, at 5 foot.
Our eyes locked, I stepped away from her and spoke. “I wanted to thank you for the show yesterday. That was sweet of you.”
Benxi cocked her head to the side. “Well, you do know I didn’t do it for you, right?”
The smile I’d been faking became a smirk. “I’m still grateful, no matter the motivation.”
She spun her chair in my direction. “It’s my job to sing, Samaria. That’s what I do.”
“There are more than fifty shelters in the metro area, so I’m glad you chose Samaritan.”
Her eyes swept my body from head to toe and her lips tightened. “You can thank your husband.”
“Of course.” I chuckled. “I did that all night.”
Benxi’s playful veneer cracked. She hopped off her chair and stood chin to chest with me. “Glad you’re stocking up because where you’re going, I think wood is in short supply.”
I stiffened, but held my poker face.
“I heard you call me a slut last week.” She smirked. “You know, I’m not actually slutty. I’ve only been with a few men. I’m thinking that’s a whole lot less than you had when you were my age.” She raised her hand and wagged her finger. “But there is one man I would do the slut-walk for and I’m guessing you know who that is.”
I released my frustration on winded sigh. “Benxi, you are a beautiful, talented woman. You can have any man you want.”
“You know... this plea you’re making sounds a little like begging to me.” Benxi laughed and then continued. “You try to come across as so secure, but if you were really secure, you wouldn’t roll your eyes at me every time you see me, call me names behind my back and you sure wouldn’t be here at 7:30 in the morning talking about you trying to say thank you.” She stepped back, perched a hand on her hip and tossed her head back. “You came here to have your say, but I have something I’m going to say first.”
I was falling apart inside. I wanted to snatch that weave out of her head, but I kept it as cool as Michelle Obama at a White House State Dinner. I took a seat, crossed my legs, and nodded for her to go on.
“I don’t mess with married men. I’ve heard some interesting things about you in that respect.”
I interrupted. “You know being a person in the spotlight that you can’t believe everything you hear.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t do married men. But I want Mekhi back.” Her tone was emphatic.
I picked an invisible piece of lint from my slacks and said, coolly, “You want him back. You sound like a spoiled little child who just wants her way, no matter the cost. He’s my husband. Do you think I’m going to hand him over?”
“He married you because you were pregnant and I’m sorry you lost your baby, but there’s no reason for him to become a prison-husband. He’s better than that.”
I swallowed hard against the mention of my loss, but managed to maintain my composure. “Don’t mention my baby again.” I cocked my head and I knew the look in my eyes was more than a warning. “This relationship Mekhi and I have started when you were in diapers. You had sex with him. Sex isn’t a relationship.”
“Is that what he told you?” She laughed. “Mekhi and I had a relationship that was special. We had and still have real chemistry. You think we broke up because of you?” She laughed again. “They have a policy at UMC. Producers don’t mess with the talent. He had a directive to end us.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I stood and that was a mistake, because she’d just knocked my legs out from under me.
She continued. “And then you came along with your desperate situation and all your drama and trouble. You were a good distraction for him. But trust and believe me, UMC is not going to be pulling those strings now that Mekhi has proved his worth as a top producer. They could care less if he and I are down.” She picked up the Billboard magazine and shoved it at me. “As a matter of fact, they might like it. We look great together.”
I was weak, but I wasn’t going out like a punk. Nor was I going to sit back and handle things with class I didn’t have. I had to be myself, and myself was going to make sure this heifer knew I was here...knew I was in the fight. I smiled. I made sure it was good and slow and condescending. “I’m well aware of all of my man’s talents and the reason you get the shakes when you see him.”
Benxi scowled as her chest heaved up and down.
“Really, I get why you’re bumpin’ around like a scratched record on repeat. If you want to spin this little fantasy and make a fool out of yourself trying to give him some tired tail that didn’t keep his attention the first time then do that, but do know this.” I stepped closer, got right up in her face. “When I come home...he’s my husband.” I raised my hand and stuck my ring in her face. “I am his wife. Not some way he empties his sac.”
Her nostrils flared. I lowered my arm.
There was a light tap on the door and it opened. Her makeup artist’s face appeared. “Sorry to disturb, but I have to get started.”
I put extra motion in my hips as I strutted to the door. Before I left, I did a half turn and said, “All the best on the tour, girl. Rock it.” Then I walked out of the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Why did I believe her? Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to maneuver through traffic. I had no idea where I was rushing to. I didn’t want to go home and I had no place else to go.
Mekhi was blowing up my phone. He’d been sleeping when I left. By the time he got up and went for a run, I expected to be back home. Now I almost wished I had never gotten out of bed. I pushed the button on my phone and sent him to voice mail.
I slammed a fist on the steering wheel. When had I been a woman who didn’t want to know what I was dealing with? Since when didn’t I want to know the truth? I was a turning into some dumb housewife who had delusions that she’d been married to her man for years and years and he’d been faithful. No side-chicks, hookers, or even quickies in the restroom at the office. Delusional. All men cheated. All men lied. All men were dogs.
Right?
I raised my hand to wipe tears again and had to hit the brakes. I barely stopped before sliding into the back of an SUV in front of me. Traffic was at a standstill and I hadn’t noticed. I was going to kill my fool self trippin’ on Mekhi and Benxi.
