Lady Jasmine (27 page)

S
HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR
this, waiting to see him ever since she’d returned from Hogeye Creek last Sunday.

Jasmine’s eyes tracked Pastor Wyatt as he sauntered through the church door in front of his wife. He strutted through the hall with the surety of a man who had all the winning numbers. And when he paused at Mrs. Whittingham’s desk and shot Jasmine a quick grin, she noticed his dimple first—still deep, still inviting.

Only now, Jasmine knew who he was.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him or his wife.

Stopping in Hosea’s doorway, Pastor Wyatt straightened his jacket lapel before he boomed, “Good morning, Pastor.”

Jasmine had never heard Pastor Wyatt address Hosea that way. But she guessed his generosity came from his certainty that by the time next Sunday rolled around, he’d be the man sitting in the big chair behind the altar.

From inside his office, Hosea came to the door and shook the associate pastor’s hand. “Pastor Wyatt,” he began. “Welcome back.”

The two men stood, hands and eyes locked. And in that moment, Jasmine admired her husband even more—for look
ing into enemy eyes and still maintaining decorum. Because if it had been her, this moment would be going down in a totally different way.

“Well,” Pastor Wyatt said as he broke away from Hosea, “I’ll be in my office. You know, I like to spend a few minutes with the Lord before we begin the service.”

Jasmine didn’t care if he saw the way she rolled her eyes. He was lucky that she didn’t yell out, “Earvin, you need to quit.”

Pastor Wyatt motioned to Enid, who stood behind him with her hair exactly the way it had been last time Jasmine had seen her. But her eyebrows rose as she studied Enid’s suit. She couldn’t hate on the lavender two-piece St. John.

That witch is thinking she’s going to be the new first lady.

Enid scurried behind her husband as if he was the big man in charge. But Jasmine was sure that behind their closed doors, Enid Wyatt was the one in control. She had to be—Enid was the one who’d convinced everyone in Hogeye Creek that Earvin was Eugene; she’d given her brother-in-law a new life, a new hustle.

Jasmine’s head was shaking as she moved toward her husband. “I can’t stand that man,” she said to Hosea.

“Be careful, babe. It’s Sunday,” he joked.

She followed him into his office. “I don’t know how you can be so civil when you know what he’s trying to do to you.”

Hosea settled behind his desk. “What can I do? There’s no need for me to get mad or to say anything I’ll regret. Like you keep saying: it’s going to play out the way God wants it to.”

She nodded, though she knew the truth—this was going to play out the way
she
wanted it to.

She pressed her lips against her husband’s. “I’m going to check on Jacquie before I go into the sanctuary. I’ll see you out there.”

Inside the hallway, she paused in front of Pastor Wyatt’s office. She wanted to walk in there right now and tell the bogus
pastor that the gig was up. Then Hosea wouldn’t even have to share the altar today with that man.

But this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. She already had her plan, and she could certainly wait a couple of hours.

Smiling, she stepped from the church into the sunlight. Inhaling, she took in the smells of spring—the flowers were already blooming, even in Harlem.

What a beautiful Sunday, the perfect day for Pastor Wyatt to meet the woman who was truly his match.

Sometimes Jasmine wondered if she needed a journal. It was getting difficult to keep track of all of the lies. Especially the ones she told about Malik.

Like the one she’d told Hosea when the second service ended an hour ago.

“Babe, can you take Jacquie home?” she had asked. “Malik sent me a text. He’s stuck in a meeting and he asked if I could stop by his office to clarify something.”

“On a Sunday?”

Jasmine had shrugged. “You know Malik is a workaholic. That’s why he goes to first service, so he can work after church.” And then, she did what she always did when she needed to take his attention away from what she was actually saying. She kissed him. Long and hard. “Don’t worry,” she said, when she finally pulled back, both of them breathless. “I’ll be home in an hour.”

That was her plan, she thought, as she handed the cab fare to the taxi driver. She would be home in an hour, maybe less.

And after today, she wouldn’t tell another lie. That was a promise she was making to herself and to God.

She slammed the cab door and then she tried to peek through the restaurant’s tinted window. But she couldn’t see much.

It was because of Mrs. Whittingham that she was here. When she’d asked if she knew where the Wyatts would be this
afternoon, Mrs. Whittingham hadn’t even looked at her with any curiosity. She just told Jasmine what she needed to know.

“They usually go to B. Smith’s after church. I heard Enid making the reservations right before the second service,” Mrs. Whittingham had told her, as if she was an employee, reporting information to her boss.

The sounds of the Sunday brunch accosted her the moment Jasmine pulled open the restaurant’s heavy glass door. She pressed inside, squeezing behind the cluster of awaiting couples in the small space near the hostess’s desk.

Jasmine’s eyes slowly scanned the long, narrow restaurant until she spotted the Wyatts—in the back, in the corner. How appropriate.

“Excuse me,” she whispered as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her heart hammered heavier with each step she took.

At first, Jasmine hadn’t been sure if she’d wanted to talk to the Wyatts together. There were plenty of reasons why she’d thought about talking to Enid alone. First, Jasmine was convinced that Enid was the brains behind this hoax. And second, there was the fact that Earvin was not a good guy. There had to be some residue left over from his drug-dealing days. She didn’t know what the man was capable of.

That’s why she’d come up with this plan—confront them in public. There would be little Earvin or Enid could do.

“Hey,” Jasmine said. Moving quickly and smoothly, she slid into the booth side of their table next to Enid. “Imagine bumping into you two.”

She was already sitting down by the time Pastor Wyatt and Enid looked up.

“What…” That was all Enid could say as her fork, filled with a mouthful of rice pilaf, still hung in the air.

But while Enid was shocked, her husband kept on as if someone hadn’t just invaded their space.

He’s a cool one,
Jasmine thought. She wasn’t surprised when
he sliced his steak and a bit of red juice oozed from the blood-colored center.

“Hello,
Lady
Jasmine,” he said with a smirk, right before he slipped a small cube of medium-rare meat between his lips. Looking at Enid, he took a few chews before, “You know why she’s here, right?” As if Jasmine wasn’t sitting beside his wife, he continued, “She wants to beg for her husband’s position.”

He chuckled and Jasmine did, too. Enid was the only one who didn’t find any humor in this situation. But still, Enid nodded. Took the example set by her husband and kept on eating.

Jasmine sat back and smiled. For a moment, she wondered what kind of man Earvin Wyatt could have been if he’d had the right woman beside him.

“Now, I know we haven’t known each other very long,” Jasmine began, “but Pastor Wyatt, do you think I’d beg you for anything?”

He looked at her, his mouth stuffed with food, and chuckled again. “Oh, I can think of a few ways I could get you to beg.”

She couldn’t believe he’d said that. And in front of his wife. But the way Enid sat there, saying nothing, Jasmine had a new thought—these two probably weren’t even married.

“So you want to test it out, Jasmine?” He leaned closer to her. “You wanna test out this begging thing?”

“I’d rather have a root canal.”

His chuckle was louder this time.

“Plus,” she continued. “I don’t have to beg for a thing. Hosea’s position is pretty secure.”

“Well then,” Pastor Wyatt said, “obviously you haven’t heard about the vote we’re taking at the board meeting tomorrow.” He pointed his fork at her. “It was interesting the way you had the meeting postponed…”

Jasmine kept her face still, didn’t reveal a thing. She wasn’t surprised, though, that he’d figured out she was behind the change. Game always recognized game.

He continued, “Yeah, I know it was you. Can’t figure out how you did it, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t stop what’s inevitable. Tomorrow, Hosea will be out.” He paused and leaned closer. “And guess what that means?”

“It doesn’t mean anything because you’re going to withdraw your request for a vote,” she said calmly. “You’re going to tell everyone that you want Hosea to remain the senior pastor.”

Pastor Wyatt leaned back and laughed, his guffaw blending with the chatter and clatter and laughter around them. He said, “Now, why would I do that?”

Jasmine leaned forward and rested her arms on the pristine tablecloth. “Because you wouldn’t want to be arrested.”

Even though she was inches away from Enid, Jasmine felt her stiffen. But not Pastor Wyatt. Not breaking his stride, he raised his fork again, this time the utensil was smothered with mashed potatoes. Slipping the fork into his mouth, he used his tongue to clean the gravy residue that lingered on his lips.

With naked desire, Jasmine watched the tip of his tongue outline the curve of his mouth. And like she always did when he was that bold, she sighed. But this time, she didn’t get mad at herself. She allowed the few moments to pass so that she could wallow and wonder in the pleasure of what might have been. Because in minutes, the Wyatts would have some decisions to make. And Jasmine didn’t know if she’d see this man, or his smoldering eyes, or his kissable lips, or his dimple, especially his deep dimple, ever again.

“Jasmine, from the things I’ve heard about you, I know that you don’t have much class,” he said.

She inhaled and swallowed her anger. There was no need to lose control.

“But, please, sweetheart,” Pastor Wyatt continued, “I’m sure you’ve had enough home training to know not to interrupt anyone’s dinner.”

She had planned to drag it out a bit more because she was
enjoying this verbal sparring. But he’d made her mad. It was time to take him down.

“And what kind of home training have you had, Pastor Wyatt? Oops.” She raised her hand and covered her mouth. “Why did I call you ‘Pastor’? Have you even taken a seminary class…
Earvin
?”

Enid gasped, and now even Pastor Wyatt paused.

Jasmine said, “Yes, you heard me right.” She repeated the name,
“Earvin.”
Then she leaned back in the booth.

Four eyes drilled through her. Both of the Wyatts wanted to know what she knew. But both of them were smart enough not to ask.

So she told them. “I know that you’re not Eugene,” she said in a reporter’s tone. “I know that you’re his twin brother. I know that Eugene actually died in that car accident, but that you,” she said, turning to Enid, “told everyone that it was Earvin who was killed.”

The sounds of Sunday continued around them. But the three were frozen, as if they were in their own time capsule. Each waited for the one who would make the next move.

Enid broke first. “What are you—”

The way Earvin held up his hand and the way Enid stopped speaking, Jasmine wondered now who really was in charge in this bogus relationship.

“I don’t know who told you those lies,” Pastor Wyatt spat. His voice was strong, as if he had the truth behind him.

But no one knew this game better than Jasmine, and she could see, smell, and call a bluff.

“You know what?” Jasmine glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time to go back and forth with you, so let’s get to the point.

“No one lied to me. I know everything about Hogeye Creek. Down to”—she glanced at Enid—“everyone wearing their hair two feet high on their head.”

Enid sucked in more air.

Then Jasmine’s eyes moved to the man who’d been calling himself Pastor Eugene Wyatt. “And the fact that Earvin and not Eugene had a dimple in his left cheek.”

He moved without thinking, his hand automatically raised to his face.

“Look,” Enid said before Earvin could speak. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Jasmine shrugged. “It’s too late for that. The two of you have caused my husband plenty of trouble.”

“We can be out of New York in twenty-four hours,” Enid negotiated.

Jasmine’s eyes moved to Earvin. He sat quietly, transmitting his hate through his eyes.

Enid was back in charge. “There’s no need for any of this to come out. We”—and then Enid glanced at Earvin—“he can resign, and we can leave…quietly.”

Jasmine shook her head. “That’s not what I want.” She paused, said slowly, “I want you and Earvin to stay.”

“What?” the two said together.

She spoke to Enid. “Look, I don’t like what you did, and I certainly don’t like what you and your husband, or your brother-in-law, or whatever”—she waved her hand in the air—“I don’t like what you tried to do to my husband. But you,” she looked at Earvin, “have been a decent
associate
pastor. So you should stay.”

Earvin’s eyes got even smaller than they already were. “We should stay…so you can hold this over us. So you can blackmail us?”

Jasmine cocked her head. “Blackmail is such an ugly word. And this certainly isn’t blackmail. I’m telling you to stay, keep your job.”

“Why?” he asked. His lips hardly moved. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Because,” Jasmine leaned closer to Earvin, “even though I
don’t like you, my husband needs you. He’s going through a lot and he needs someone at the church to have his back.”

“He could always hire a new pastor,” Earvin grumbled.

Jasmine nodded. “He could.” Her eyes stayed on the pastor. “Let’s just say I understand wanting to change your life.”

And in that moment, Jasmine recognized the reason for their chemistry. They were bookends, each with chapters of their lives that they wished could be rewritten. They each understood the other one.

Jasmine said, “So if you want a new beginning, you should have it.”