A Sin and a Shame (10 page)

He nodded. “I’m loaded with confidence.”

“Tell me your name now,” she said. “This way, I’ll know it’s you when you call.”

“So, you
are
going to give me your number.”

“No, you can use those skills you talked about.”

He laughed.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked.

“Hosea.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I’d shake your hand, but we’re supposed to know each other.”

“Nice to meet you, Hosea.”

“So, Ms. Jasmine, are you returning home, or are you going to New York for something else?”

She looked at him for a moment, wondering if he was the reason for her fading exhaustion. “I live in New York, but I’m actually rushing back for a meeting.”

“Sounds like my story.”

“What is it that you do?”

“Well, let’s see,” he said, then paused. “I’m in television.”

Television.
She almost laughed. She could look at him and tell what he did “in television.” Probably sold TVs at Circuit City.

She pulled the blanket over her. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What’s that?”

“If I get to sleep on this flight, I’ll give you my number when we land.”

He smiled. “Done deal.”

Even though she wasn’t as tired anymore, she closed her eyes. She’d give him her number—or at least seven digits that she’d choose arbitrarily.

She snuggled into the leather seat and allowed her mind to take her into slumber.

J
asmine couldn’t believe she
was actually getting up for church. She’d been only an hour late for the Friday meeting, but she and Malik had talked with the Web designers until well past midnight. Then on Saturday she’d spent the day providing the company with all that they needed. By the time they’d left the office last night with promises to have the first drafts within a week, Jasmine had walked out right behind them, exhausted from work and jet lag.

Today should have been a day of mindless television with catnaps in between. But instead, Jasmine swung her legs over the side of the bed, determined to keep that long-ago promise to God never to miss church. How else would she get on God’s good side? An almost perfect attendance record had to be a plus when He looked at her whole balance sheet.

But today, church had little to do with God. Today, was about exacting revenge. Reverend Bush was going to be sorry that he hadn’t seen just how right she’d been for him.

With the reverend still on her mind, she flipped through the hangers in her closet. Her choice had to be on point, something to appeal to his conservatism, yet something to remind him that he was a man—who had just missed out.

She chose a navy suit that ended right above the knee, and then slipped into a pink satin camisole that cut low into a deep
V
onto her chest. She chuckled as she imagined Reverend Bush trying to keep his eyes on her face when she greeted him in the after-service reception line.

Within the hour, her taxi stopped, just as Malik jumped from his cab.

“Hey,” she greeted her godbrother. He took her hand as they entered the church and together, they sauntered down the aisle. Brother Hill welcomed Malik with the same smile he gave to everyone, but when he looked at her, she saw something different. The way he jutted his chin forward and returned her smirk, she knew he felt he’d had his victory. Last week, she wanted to pimp-slap him. But today, it didn’t even matter.

When the choir began to sing, Jasmine stood and swayed with the rest of the worshippers. She could feel Malik’s quick glance when Reverend Bush walked onto the platform, but she stayed focused on the praise singers. She’d have to tell Malik that she no longer cared about that man. She was sure she’d still be married next year; Reverend Bush just wouldn’t be the man standing by her side.

“Now, everyone, I have a special surprise today,” Reverend Bush said as soon as the choir sang their last note. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am, how excited I am.”

It wasn’t until this moment that Jasmine realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d expected. The sound of his voice brought back his harsh words. The sight of him brought back the desires she’d held.

“With the exception of my birthday two years ago, it’s been a long time since I’ve shared the pulpit with anyone in my family. But today is a new day.” He chuckled.

“Amen,” someone shouted.

The reverend continued, “Today, someone is back. Back in New York. Back in the pulpit,” he sang the last words.

“Hallelujah,” another voice rang out.

“What’s he talking about?” Jasmine whispered.

Malik shrugged.

“I could stand here for hours and tell you the virtues of this man.” He laughed. “But that would take too long and like any good meal, I’d rather go straight for the meat.” Most of the congregation joined in his laughter. “Brothers and sisters, join me in welcoming my son, Minister Hosea Samuel Bush.”

The cheers were instant and deafening. While most around her stood, Jasmine sat, and tapped her hands in light applause. So, his son was visiting. She had to keep her yawn inside.

Then she heard him. Heard him before she saw him.

“Hello, City of Lights,” his voice boomed from the podium.

The cheers grew louder. The drummer drummed, the pianist played a few chords.

Slowly Jasmine stood.

When the clapping ceased, the reverend’s son said, “I cannot tell you how happy I am to be back. And I’m here to stay, ready to stand by my father’s side.”

The applause began again, but Jasmine couldn’t do anything more than stare. After minutes of keeping her eyes trained on the speaker, she was sure. It was him. The man who had helped her at the airport. The man who snored. The man to whom she’d given a bogus telephone number.

Reverend Bush was back at the altar. “Now I know my son won’t tell you what’s been going on,” he said, still beaming. “But I can brag on him. Some big things are happening,” he exclaimed as he clapped his hands. “You already know that he’s become a licensed minister while he’s been in Chicago. And he’s going to be heading up the Teen Outreach Program for us with our new community center.”

Choruses of “Amen” and “Hallelujah” rang through the sanctuary.

Reverend Bush continued, “But the Lord has opened up a bigger door. Hosea was selected by NBC to host
Bring It On,
the new hip-hop Christian talk show.”

Applause exploded through the sanctuary again.

I’m in television,
the explanation he’d given to her on the plane, rushed back to her.

The words that were spoken now from the pulpit floated over her, past her. Nothing connected. Only her eyes worked. She stared at Hosea and today saw his tailored suit that looked as expensive as the one his father wore. And in the pulpit, he didn’t seem to be as overweight as she remembered. She recalled the glint of the gem in his ear and the glimmer of the stones on his watch. Probably not rhinestones, like she’d thought the other day.

Jasmine slowly took her seat, but her mind continued to move, calculate, evaluate. Hosea Samuel Bush. He
was
in television. And he was a minister. And he was Reverend Samuel Bush’s son.

Her glance moved between the two men. She would never have thought he’d have a son that old, although she didn’t know his age. But age—what did it matter? She could be any age she needed to be.

Jasmine crossed her legs and smiled. How poetic was this justice? This had to be God’s way of letting her know she was on the right mission: she was supposed to be married—to a pastor—with the last name of Bush.

As the service continued through the offering and the sermon, Jasmine kept her eyes on Hosea Samuel Bush. As he spoke, she listened, needing to glean all that was important to him. As he sat, she watched his movements, his gestures, his eyes.

And when he looked into the congregation and blessed them all with his smile, her affection grew. By the time Jasmine stood with the rest of the congregation for the benediction, she was sure. This was the day she’d fallen in love—for real, this time.

J
asmine’s eyes were on
the prize.

She stood alone in the reception line, glad that Malik had rushed to a meeting right after the benediction. Gave her time to focus on the reverend’s son, without any questions from her godbrother.

She still couldn’t fathom this. Even though she’d watched him for two hours, it was hard to believe: Hosea Bush was Reverend Bush’s son. And the new host of
Bring It On.
This program was the talk on all the entertainment shows. It may have been pegged as a Christian show, but it was the hip-hop factor that had everyone interested. Hosea would be hosting the show with Triage Blue, a P. Diddy protégé, and Magdalene, known as a hip-hop princess with an inspirational twist.

She wasn’t yet in front of him when his eyes met hers. At first, recognition, then confusion, next surprise. By the time his smile was back, she was holding his hand.

“Remember me?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“How could I forget?” He paused, widening his smile. “What are you doing here?” She noticed that he was still holding her hand. “Did you come to welcome me back to City of Lights?”

She shook her head. “I just started coming here and was surprised by Reverend Bush’s announcement this morning.”

“So that’s why you’re here. I would’ve thought you’d come to apologize for giving me that bogus telephone number.”

Silently, she cursed, but aloud, she said, “What are you talking about?” She frowned as if she were confused.

“Uh, son,” Reverend Bush interrupted. “You have a line of people waiting.” Although Reverend Bush kept his welcoming expression, his eyes told Jasmine that he was not pleased with whatever she was doing.

“Jasmine, can you wait for me?” Hosea asked.

“Sure.” She was glad to have the time—to come up with some story about that fake telephone number.

Jasmine sank into the front pew and watched Hosea greeting, smiling, chatting as if he were used to that position. Almost a half an hour passed before Hosea whispered to his father and then motioned to her. Even from feet away, Jasmine could see Reverend Bush’s concern. She hoped that Hosea wouldn’t see it too, but then again, it didn’t matter. There was nothing the father could do. The son was a grown man.

Her smile was waiting when he walked over.

“So, we meet again,” he said.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?”

“Of course. I enjoyed talking to you on the plane.”

His laugh was so infectious she laughed with him. Finally he said, “I tried to call you yesterday.”

She was too proficient in the game to even blink. “Really?” She tilted her head. “I didn’t get any messages.”

His smirk told her that he was willing to play along. “I didn’t leave one.”

“I wish you had. But this must be fate. We were supposed to meet.”

He nodded and his eyes seared through her. The intensity of his glance swept away her smile. Finally, he spoke, “I don’t believe in fate. But God’s divine intervention…that’s something different.”

His words were as strong as his glance; after only seconds, she had to turn away.

“So, are we going to get together?” he asked, breaking the silence, easing the tension.

“I’d like that,” she said, facing him again.

“What about now?”

She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his offer. Over his shoulder, she watched Brother Hill whisper to Reverend Bush and then both of their glances turned toward her and Hosea. “Are you sure it’s okay with your father?”

He turned toward the men. “Oh, I forgot.” He grinned. “You make me forget things.” He laughed again. “So, let’s do it this way.” From his wallet, he handed her a card. “Call me later and we’ll set something up.”

“Okay, and let me give you my number too.”

He held up his hands. “No, we tried that. This time it’s on you.”

That was fine with her. He was just making her plan easier. “I’ll call you tonight.”

He took her hand into his. “I’m looking forward to it.” He lifted her hand to his lips, then suddenly turned it over, kissing her palm. Sparks charged right through her and she hoped he couldn’t see the way she shook.

She stood in place until Hosea strolled to his father and Brother Hill, and the three men walked from the sanctuary.

It still took a moment for Jasmine’s legs to steady. Finally, with slow steps, she walked from the church.
What just happened?
she asked herself. She still trembled at the way his lips felt against her hand.

But by the time she stood on the corner and flagged a cab, Jasmine had gained her composure. She reminded herself that this was her pursuit, her game. And very soon, Hosea Bush would know that too.