A Preacher's Passion (3 page)

Carla lay looking at the ceiling. Stanley enjoyed a deep sleep beside her, worn out, he claimed, from the long day. She didn’t doubt he was tired; she was too. Sundays were always long, filled with church service, cooking, family, and friends. But where Stanley was ready to pass out when he got home, Carla was ready for love. Lately, it seemed as if she was always ready, and Stanley never was.

She turned slightly and eyed Stanley’s sleeping profile. He looked peaceful, serene. Carla wished she felt the same. She reached out and touched her husband.
You’re a good man,
she thought as his chest rose and fell beneath her hand.

Carla turned over, restless. Her mind drifted back to when they first met. He was thirty-five and already a hotshot preacher with a reputation for eloquence. She was a twenty-five-year-old single mother, returning to church following the devastating breakup with her child’s father. Their courtship was fast and furious with no premarital sex, at Stanley’s insistence, before their marriage six months after meeting.

Unfortunately there hadn’t been much sex afterward either. The touchy-feely affections shown in church didn’t carry over at home. Stanley fulfilled what he referred to as his “marital duty” with a five- to ten-minute poke once a week, maybe.

In the ten years they’d been married, he’d given her two kids but never an orgasm. Those she’d accomplished with the help of “Denzel,” her nine-inch-long, three-inch-wide monster cock with vac-u-lock attachment vibrator—so described on the back of the box.

Stanley’s soft snores mocked Carla’s restless state. Still wide awake, she eased out of bed and went to her closet. She stood on a small stool, reached toward the back of the top shelf, and pulled out Big D, encased in a wine-red velvet bag. She tiptoed past Stanley and quietly opened the bedroom door. Stanley slept rather soundly, but Carla was always cautious. Having Stanley catch her masturbating was one of her greatest fears. But between that and committing adultery, it seemed the lesser sin.

Carla passed the children’s rooms and went downstairs to the den. She lay on the couch and reached for the remote: CNN, Bravo, the Food Network, Disney. She stopped on the Oxygen channel and turned up the volume; loud enough to cover gasps and moans, but low enough to not wake the family. She began to idly stroke herself and before long, slid Big D inside her. She tried to picture the dildo’s namesake actor, a thought that always stimulated her, even as it made her feel guilty. Thinking of Stanley did not arouse her, and thinking of anyone she knew personally made her uncomfortable. She justified her visualizations by borrowing from Denzel’s profession and calling it acting.

Carla tried repeatedly to imagine the familiar face. But as she stroked herself, another one swam into her mind’s eye instead. It was an instant turn-on and she climaxed quickly. The name of her imagined lover whispered from her lips: the man who’d come to assist the Lees in their ministry…“Lavon.”

Lavon, Stanley, and Derrick Montgomery sat enjoying lunch at the famous LA eatery, Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles. It was a rare weekday when neither Derrick or Stanley was out of town and their day wasn’t filled with meetings. Cell phone and e-mail were their most common modes of communication; this casual, in-person sit-down was a welcomed change. Plus, it gave Derrick time to get to know Lavon better. He’d met him shortly after Lavon began working for his best friend. From what King had told him and Derrick had observed, Lavon Chapman was a top notch producer, director, and a good man.

“It’s a wonder one of those Mount Zion sistahs hasn’t snapped you up,” Derrick said, after finishing off a perfectly cooked chicken wing.

“They’re trying,” Lavon replied jovially. “A brothah has to stay prayed up!”

Stanley slapped Lavon on the back good-naturedly. “That’s the way to do it, man. Can’t have any distractions while we’re kingdom building.”

Derrick cleared his throat. “Speak for yourself but, uh, I wouldn’t exactly call either Vivian or Carla a distraction.”

“You know what I mean.” Stanley dug into his greens and macaroni and cheese with gusto.

“No, I don’t,” Derrick countered. “Wasn’t for Vivian by my side, I don’t think I could handle kingdom business.”

“I tell you what,” Lavon injected. “I think both of you are blessed men. The Word says that a man who finds a wife finds a good thing. One of these days, I’ll try it again. Has to be right though; I don’t want to go through another divorce.”

Lavon continued to share his life before Mount Zion with Derrick and Stanley. How he’d married young, acted a fool, and been rightfully kicked to the curb after several affairs. He spoke of his time in the military, where he’d first become familiar with broadcast production, shared humor and sometimes horror stories from his time with various ministries, and talked about how happy he was to be working with his pastor, King Brook. He almost slipped and mentioned Janeé, the mother of Derrick’s oldest son, Kelvin. Coincidentally, Lavon had met Janeé while working at a church in Minneapolis, before knowing either Derrick or King. When he found out the entwined history those three shared, he was shocked but not surprised. He’d been in church long enough that not too much raised his brow. He was always amazed, however, about how small the world was.

Turns out, the same person was on Derrick’s mind. “You know,” he said to Stanley, “Lavon knows Kelvin’s mother, Janeé.”

“Really, how’s that?” Stanley asked, already aware of Janeé’s relevance to Derrick. Shortly after Derrick found out that he and his high school friend and former, occasional sexual partner shared a son, he informed his minister friends and later, his congregation.

Lavon gave him the two-minute version of his and Derrick’s former friend with benefits connection.

“How is Kelvin?” Stanley asked Derrick when Lavon had finished.

“Great,” Derrick said. “Just your typical eighteen-year-old—hardheaded, stubborn, has all the answers while Viv and I know nothing….”

“I see the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree,” Stanley teased.

Derrick grinned. “Yeah, payback is a mutha.”

The conversation gravitated back to church matters and the taping of Stanley and Carla’s DVD series. As Stanley and Lavon enjoyed sweet potato pie, Derrick sipped black coffee, his mind half on the conversation at the table and half on his son. He hadn’t been joking when he told his friends how stubborn and hardheaded Kelvin could be. Even now he and Vivian were at odds with him about attending church. Kelvin had spent his high school years with his stepfather’s family, and had grown up in Germany before that. Until moving into his biological father’s household, religion had never been a part of his life. Kelvin was a handsome, talented young man, attending UCLA on a full basketball scholarship. Scouts were already courting him, calling him the next LaBron James. Kelvin felt his life was fine, perfect. He didn’t think he needed God.

Derrick couldn’t deny that everything was flowing nicely for his biological offspring, that all of Kelvin’s dreams were coming true. He couldn’t be happier for his son’s success. But when it came to church, there was no compromise: everybody living in Derrick’s house would serve the Lord.

Kelvin leaned his lithe, six-foot-four frame against the futon. His girlfriend melted into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Eighteen-year-old Kelvin had had his first sexual experience at fourteen. In the naive mind of recently deflowered Princess Brook, also eighteen, Kelvin was her one and only, for life.

She lifted her head and kissed him tenderly. “I love you,” she said with feeling.

“C’mon now,” Kelvin said, rolling Princess off him and standing. “I told you ’bout that love talk. Brothah getting ready to get signed can’t have no steady girlfriend hanging ’round.” His sobering words were tempered by his grabbing Princess and hugging her against his hard, six-pack abs.

“Whatever,” she answered, staring at both of them in the mirror. There was no doubt in her mind; Kelvin was
her
man. They looked perfect together: he a tall, cocoa specimen of perfection, she a caramel cutie with curves in all the right places. Princess had liked Kelvin from the moment they met, at her aunt Vivian’s house just before they began their freshman year at UCLA. She and her parents had joined the Montgomerys for a casual pool party and while Princess had acted unimpressed, spending most of her time on the phone with her friends back home, Kelvin had invited a female friend from high school, the one the Montgomerys still thought was his girlfriend. Princess’s mom thought she was in love with Rafael, a boy she’d dated during her senior year of high school, and of whom her parents approved. Rafael’s parents had been members of her dad’s church for years. The assumption on the part of both the Montgomerys and the Brooks worked to Princess’s favor.

“Why you frowning?” she asked Kelvin, who’d plopped back on the futon.

“The Rev,” he said sarcastically, referring to his dad. “Man keeps sweating me ’bout going to church. I told him that religious stuff was for sissies.”

“What’d he say?” Princess asked, knowing she’d never dare say that to her minister father.

“Well, I didn’t say it quite like that,” Kelvin admitted. “But I told him me and God was cool and all and I didn’t have to go to church to talk to Him. He didn’t want to hear that, just kept jaw-jackin’ ’bout everybody in his house serving God.” Kelvin jumped off the futon and began flexing his rapidly developing muscles in front of the mirror. “Don’t nobody tell me what to do.”

“Me either,” Princess echoed defiantly while watching her man preen.

Princess’s cell phone rang. Kelvin grabbed it, looked at the number. “Oh, it’s Moms. Let me say hello.” He got ready to open her flip phone.

“Boy, give it here!” Princess frantically tried to grab the phone, which Kelvin easily kept out of reach.

The phone stopped ringing. Laughing, Kelvin handed her the phone. “Thought nobody told you what to do? Don’t know why I’m such a big secret anyways, since I’m ‘your man’ and all.”

Princess hadn’t told Kelvin about his indirect connection to her father. She knew he needed to know, but the time had to be right. Now, everything was still too new, uncertain. “I told you, my parents don’t want me to date,” she said as an explanation. “They want me to focus on school.”

Kelvin grabbed his crotch. “Yeah, well you’re learning something all right.”

Princess blushed as she hit redial. “Whatever.” She put her finger to her lips when Tai answered.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hey, Princess. I just called you.”

“I know. I was in the bathroom.” Princess swatted at Kelvin’s hand as he tweaked her nipple.

“Oh, okay. Quick question: have you talked to your aunt Viv the past couple days?”

“Uh-uh.”

Tai paused. “What about you? Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Kelvin nodded his head, making a silly face in the process. Princess laughed.

“What’s funny?” Tai asked.

“Nothing, just this silly movie on TV.”

“Just don’t let that box interfere with the books, Princess.”

“It’s Saturday, Mama. Most of my homework is already done.”

Tai and Princess talked a bit more, about school, Princess finding a part-time job, and her attending Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center. Claiming a heavy school load, Princess had gotten away with attending only a couple services so far. Truth was, she was enjoying the freedom of actually being able to sleep in on Sunday mornings, and not attending church at all.

Princess changed the subject. “You want me to try and reach Aunt Viv?”

“No,” Tai said quickly. “I’ll try her again later.”

The conversation ended shortly after that. Princess and Kelvin left to hook up with friends and attend a party. Tai sat at home and tried to figure out why the news she’d heard recently bothered her so, and which part was the more worrisome: that Robin Cook had spent the past eighteen months in prison, or that she had just got out?

Hope Taylor and Stacy Gray stood outside their church, Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, watching the masses enter. The September weather was gorgeous—sun shining, birds singing—and the people milling around were as beautiful as the day.

“That boy looks just like his father,” Stacy said, as she watched Kelvin mosey slowly toward the church’s entrance along with a couple of his college buddies, wearing baggy jeans and a big UCLA pullover. A gaggle of girls followed closely behind.

“Sure does,” Hope agreed. “Doesn’t seem like he shares his father’s enthusiasm for church though. With that scowl on his face, you’d think he was attending a funeral instead of a Sunday service.”

Stacy laughed. “What kid likes to go to church these days?”

Both Hope and Stacy watched Kelvin’s frown turn into a smile as he noticed another group of girls crossing the street. One of them, pretty and petite, signaled for him to call her. Kelvin bobbed his head discreetly before heading into the church.

“Well, looks like church just got a little better for Pastor’s son,” Stacy said with a smile.

Hope nodded, but was distracted by the sight of her handsome husband, Cy Taylor, entering the church with one of the ministers. Love-filled eyes watched as he laughed at something the other man said. Hope turned and saw Stacy wearing a similar love-struck look as she eyed her boyfriend of almost two years, Darius Crenshaw. The smile disappeared when Bo Jenkins, Darius’s business manager, walked over and spoke to him.

“Guess it’s time to head inside,” Hope said, waving at a few members as she talked.

Stacy didn’t hear Hope. She was too busy shooting daggers into Bo’s back.

“It doesn’t look like you’re feeling too much love for Bo,” Hope said.

“None at all,” Stacy admitted, crossing her arms in the process.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Hope asked.

“He’s just in the way, that’s all. Barely gives Darius room to breathe.”

“He handles Darius’s business, Stacy. Of course they’re close.” Hope didn’t know whether to share just how close. She’d never forgotten what her cousin Frieda told her—about seeing Bo and Darius bumping booties in the guest room at a house party. But when it came to significant others, sharing information and/or advice could get tricky. Sometimes, women preferred not to know, or at least to act as if they didn’t know. “Something’s working,” she said, choosing the good cop tactic. “Darius beat out Shabach at last year’s Stellar Awards. And look at him now, at the top of the charts.”

“He’d be there anyway,” Stacy snapped back. “Probably farther if it weren’t for Bo. I know we’d be farther along in
our
relationship…maybe even married.” Her eyes narrowed as she continued. “Yeah, Bo sometimes acts like Darius’s woman instead of his manager. But I’m the one holding that title. And if he don’t know…he’s getting ready to recognize.”

“Don’t do anything crazy, girl. God don’t like ugly.”

“Neither do I. That’s why I can’t stand Bo’s tore up behind.”

Hope laughed.

“You know,” Stacy continued, “there are some skank haters in the church who’ve been spreading the rumor that Darius is gay. But that’s just jealousy talking.” She looked at Hope with a sly smile and lowered her voice. “I can assure you that Darius is one hundred percent masculine prime beef.”

Bo knows all about Darius’s “beef,”
Hope thought. “Hmm,” is all she said.

“I know, Ms. Christian. I’m not supposed to be doing the thing before I get the ring. But the end justifies the means, right? I
will
be Mrs. Darius Crenshaw, Hope. I’m going to snag KCCC’s most eligible bachelor, just like you snagged Cy.”

“Cy snagged me,” Hope corrected. “I wasn’t on the chase. But I’ve been where you are now, ready to be married, have kids, the whole nine. I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, Stacy, but don’t rush God, okay? If Darius is meant to be your husband, can’t nobody take him away from you. But if he isn’t, nothing you do will make him stay.”

“I’d better get inside,” Stacy said, quickly ending a conversation she no longer wanted to hear. “The choir’s probably already in the stand.”

“I’ll be praying for you guys,” Hope said. “Give me a call next week, okay? Cy will be out of town. Maybe we can meet for lunch.”

Darius would be out of town as well, on a regional tour with Bo. Stacy forced away the thought and pasted a smile on her lips. “That sounds good, Hope. I’ll call you.”

Hurrying toward the church entrance, Stacy replayed Hope’s words about God and what was meant to be. Stacy hadn’t meant it when she said she would meet with Hope, but maybe she would. She could use a friend, a confidante. For all her bravado, there were nagging doubts about the close friendship between her man and his manager. And Stacy desperately wanted to share the news that no one else yet knew….

She was pregnant.