The Choir Director 2 (13 page)

I pressed on. “Who was the white guy who brought me there?”

“Mark has been through enough,” he said, sobbing. “There is no way he can ever be a threat to you again. It's not going to be easy, but one day we're all going to have to put what happened on Washington Street behind us.”

“Mark who, goddammit?” I was so close to pulling the trigger and blowing this piece of shit away.

“I can't tell you that.”

“Can't or won't?” I asked angrily.

“Both.”

“Then you just signed your own death warrant. Any last words, Reverend?”

“Yes, if I'm going to die, I need you to forgive me,” he cried out as he dropped to his knees in front of me like the pathetic worm that he was. “Let's pray together. Let's pray to God and ask him to forgive us both.” His hands were clasped together as if he truly wanted to pray with me. “Please, Miss, I need you to forgive me so that I can go to heaven.”

“Sorry,” I snapped, pushing Black Beauty against his temple. “That's never going to happen, because neither one of us is going to heaven.”

I checked the clock on my dashboard when I pulled into my parking space at the church. It was already four thirty. Most of the day was gone, but I was happier than I'd been in years. I could barely contain my excitement as I got out of the car and headed for the church. Not only did the bishop and I have a great conversation with Aaron that morning, during which he was totally supportive in not wanting to deal with Jackson, but I'd just taken my pregnant wife, Selena, to the doctor for a sonogram, and we found out that she was having a boy. It felt great being able to put the whole Jackson thing behind me, but nothing made me feel better than the knowledge that I was going to have a son. I couldn't wait to tell Aaron and Pippie the good news. This was definitely a great day, I thought, as I entered the church ready to keep it going.

I spotted Pippie sitting on the edge of Desiree's desk, trying to graduate himself from the friend zone to a contender. Poor guy was too infatuated to realize that a woman that hot was out of his league. The most he could do would be to add her to his fantasy team of women.

“Hey.” I nodded to him and waved at Desiree as I approached the desk. “Guess what? Selena and I—”

“Where you been?” Pippie questioned, cutting me off.

Before I could respond, Desiree snapped at me, a little too efficient for my taste.

“Mr. Parker, Bishop Wilson would like to see you in his office right away.” She pushed a button on the intercom and said, “Bishop, Ross Parker is here. I'm sending him in.” Now, I didn't really know this girl, but she was giving me no warmth. I sure wished Tia was still around, because she always had love for me.

“Send him in,” the bishop replied, sounding intense.

I turned to Pippie. “You know what this is all about?”

“Yeah, I think you got set up. But hear them out before you go off, bro.” He patted my back as I headed toward the door. I had no idea what he was referring to, but it sure didn't sound good. So much for my great day.

I opened the door to find not just the bishop, but Aaron as well. They were both wearing sour expressions, sitting side by side near the bishop's desk.

“Have a seat, Mr. Parker.” The bishop pointed at a chair in front of them. I knew the shit was about to hit the fan when he called me Mr. Parker instead of Ross. My stomach started doing flips, and it wasn't from the spicy lunch I'd eaten earlier.

“What's this all about? Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked as I nervously took a seat.

The bishop said, “Mr. Parker, yesterday you and I had a talk about Mr. Mackie and the choir?”

“Yes, sir, we did,” I answered, feeling uncomfortable because Aaron, my best friend, hadn't even glanced in my direction or acknowledged my presence.

Bishop leaned forward in his chair. “You had me approach Aaron about Jackson Young because you claimed Jackson was out to steal Aaron from the church.”

“Yeah…” I responded, not liking the bishop's accusatory tone. I didn't know what was going on, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Jackson Young had some role in it.

“Look, I've known you for two years. You've never given me reason to doubt you, which is why I'm confused about why you would put me in this position.”

“I don't understand,” I replied. “What exactly did I do?”

Aaron lost his cool. He jumped up and started shouting, “You screwed me, Ross! You screwed me and the choir. I thought we were boys. I considered you my best friend, and now you've done this to me.”

“Did what?” I asked. “Try to protect you from a guy who really can't be trusted? He doesn't have your best interests at heart. He's not a good guy.”

“Oh, and you are?” Aaron said. I was so stunned, I couldn't even speak for a few seconds. Aaron and I had been tight for as long as I could remember. He had never come at me like this.

“Bishop, what is this?” I asked. “Why are we even discussing Jackson Young? I thought we got all this straight this morning.”

Aaron continued his rant. “Don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about!”

“I
don't
know. I came to you and told you exactly what went down with Jackson. That's what I'm supposed to do as your manager—have your back.”

“Man, you're so full of it,” Aaron said as he started pacing across the bishop's office. “If Jackson hadn't come to us himself and presented the deal, we would have believed your lies.”

“What are you talking about? I told you the deal he was offering. Why would you go behind my back and talk to him when you said you wouldn't?”

“You mean why didn't I let you continue to lie to us? That's what you're really asking me, isn't it? You wanted to keep me, the choir, and the church small—so that you had complete control.”

“That couldn't be further from the truth. Look, I don't know what he told you, but you can't trust that guy.”

“See, here's the problem with that,” Aaron said. “You
told
me about the deal, but Jackson gave me proof of the truth in writing.”

“You met with him?” I asked, feeling completely betrayed and confused. I looked to the bishop for an explanation.

“He came here this morning and told a very different story than yours, Ross.”

Aaron grabbed some papers off the bishop's desk and flung them at me. “Choke on this,” he said.

Again I looked at the bishop. He explained, “Jackson told us that his deal was for Aaron
and
the choir, not just Aaron alone. And then he backed it up by having a messenger deliver the contract to us.”

I picked up the papers Aaron had thrown at me and read a few lines. What the fuck was going on? It was a contract with Sony music, and it was nothing like the deal Jackson had told me about. “What the hell is this?” I asked.

Bishop Wilson looked so disappointed. “I would like to know that myself. Of course I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt when Jackson spoke to us, but it's all there in black and white. Jackson's offer is nothing like what you claimed he was looking for.”

“That contract would have set me up for life, man. It would have set up the church—and even you.” Aaron looked like he wanted to cause me serious bodily harm.

I felt my blood start to boil. “I'm being set up, Aaron. This is not what he told me. You have to believe me.”

All I saw looking back at me was pure disbelief.

“You're a liar and you've been caught. Man up and just admit you lied,” Aaron snapped.

“Yes, Ross, please do what's right,” the bishop added.

“But I'm not lying! I swear. Aaron, we've been through too much, especially with what you've just gone through with Tia. Why would I—”

“Don't you dare bring Tia into this.”

“But that's what this is about. After the way she dumped you at the altar, you're having a hard time trusting anyone, and Jackson is taking advantage of that. He wants me out of the picture so he can control your career without your best friend looking out for you.”

“With friends like you, who the hell needs enemies?” he shouted.

He was still on his feet. I felt the need for us to be eye to eye, so he could see I was telling the truth. I stood up.

“I am not your enemy! When Tia walked out on you for no reason, wasn't I by your side?” It hurt me to the core that he was accusing me of disloyalty.

“Tia did not walk out on me for no reason. She—” He stopped himself mid-sentence and a look passed between him and the bishop. He knew something he wasn't telling me, although he clearly had shared it with the bishop. I was feeling more shut out by the minute, and it was pissing me off.

“Yes, she did,” I shot back. “And she made a fool out of you in the process. Just like Jackson is going to do. Don't you get it?”

“You son of a bitch!” he growled at me. “Don't you ever talk about Tia like that again!”

“Look, Aaron, Tia messed up, but—”

Aaron swung at me. His fist connected with my right eye, knocking me to the floor.

“No, Aaron!” Bishop called out, but it was too late.

“You're fired!” Aaron yelled. “I don't want you near me or my choir.” He stormed out of the office.

Bishop Wilson came around his desk and helped me to my feet.

“Jackson? Bishop, you of all people should know you can't trust him.” I pleaded with him to understand.

“Me of all people? What is that supposed to mean?”

My eye was throbbing from Aaron's punch, but the bishop was having trouble seeing things for what they were. After the way Jackson had disrespected him at that first meeting, I wouldn't expect the bishop to believe a word the guy had to say. Yet here he was, buying Jackson's bullshit, apparently blinded by the promise of big money and fame. I had to make him understand the truth.

“He took your wife out to an expensive meal, champagne and all. It was obvious to me that he was trying to get with her.”

“What?” He stepped back, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, I saw them together,” I said, grateful for the chance to reveal what I should have told him the day Monique interrupted us. I needed him to understand that Jackson was nothing but poison—not just to me, but to all of us.

“You saw my wife out with Jackson Young and you didn't respect me enough to tell me man to man? Aaron's right, what kind of damn friend are you?” Bishop reared back and punched me in the other eye, laying me out.

I walked out of my office into the common area of the church flexing the fingers on my sore right hand. I hadn't broken anything punching Ross, but I was already feeling the repercussions of my actions. Poor Desiree was sitting at her desk looking at me like I'd lost my mind. I'm sure with all the fussing and fighting in my office, she must have heard everything that was said. I was sorry for that, but unfortunately, I didn't have time to explain myself or worry about what she thought. My main objective was to find my wife and get to the bottom of Ross's allegations.

“Where'd Aaron go?” I asked Desiree.

“He went toward the front door. I think he left.”

“That's probably for the best.” I'd talk to Aaron about all this later.

“Bishop, are you okay?” Desiree was staring at my hand. In that short period of time, it had already begun swelling. What the hell had I been thinking about, hitting that boy? Desiree had an expression on her face that made me wonder if she'd run screaming back to the South, telling everyone about the crazy bishop who punches his employees. I'd always prided myself on my ability to stay calm under pressure and somehow stay above the church drama, but at this moment Bishop Wilson was off duty and I was an angry husband.

“I'm fine,” I said. “But I need to find my wife. Have you seen her?”

“Uh, she hasn't been in the office today,” Desiree said, quickly looking down at the stack of mail on her desk as if she were eager to get back to work—a little too eager, as far as I was concerned. Was she in cahoots with my wife, keeping her secrets?

I retrieved my phone from my pocket and dialed my wife's number. It went straight to voice mail, which made me even more concerned. That meant she had turned her phone off completely or was in a dead zone, which was pretty unlikely in a borough as populated as Queens.

“Use your phone to dial my wife,” I ordered Desiree, my tone clipped with impatience and frustration.

She didn't hesitate to comply. She picked up the phone and called Monique, staring up at me with a panicked expression on her face as she handed over the phone. Again it went straight to voice mail. When I gave the phone back to Desiree, her eyes told me there was something else she wasn't telling me. My years as the head of a congregation had taught me to read subtle signals.

“What is it, Desiree?” I asked.

“Nothing, sir. Just…” She stopped herself.

“Just what?” I barked. Her silence was making me even more suspicious that she might be involved in some sort of cover-up for my wife, and I was beginning to direct my anger toward her.

“Bishop, I don't want to get into the middle of this. This is between you and your wife.”

“No, this is between me and whoever is standing in the way of me getting to my wife. In case you forgot, I'm the one who gave you this job and a place to live. You owe me some loyalty, Desiree,” I reminded her, knowing full well how far outside of my bishop's role I was stepping. I was setting a very poor example for a man of the cloth, but I couldn't help myself. Ross's statements about my wife were making me crazy.

“I understand that, but I don't feel comfortable sticking my nose in your personal business,” she protested.

“I'm going to give you a piece of advice: Don't ever get in between a man and his wife.” I guess my tone was serious enough to change her mind about not talking.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “That's not what I thought I was doing. I did see your wife earlier. She was talking to a man in the parking lot, but then she never came inside. That's all I know.”

“Was it Jackson Young?” I asked and then started praying to God it was just one of the other deacons or a member of our church community.

“I've heard the name, but I'm not sure who Jackson Young is.”

“But you saw him?”

She nodded.

“About forty, brown skin, a little over six feet, clean cut, with pretty-boy looks. Probably wearing an expensive tailored suit?”

“Yes, that was him,” she confirmed.

“Son of a bitch!” The words flew out of my mouth.

“Bishop!” she gasped.

“Now, usually I hold my tongue, but—”

“No, it's not that.” Desiree flew from her desk and hurried past me.

I turned to see a battered Ross stumbling out of my office looking like he'd just lost a prizefight. I felt bad about letting my anger get the best of me, but there was nothing I could do to take it back now, so I stayed focused on my main objective—finding my wife.

“Thank you,” Ross mumbled as Desiree reached him, placing his arm around her shoulder to help him maintain balance. I had to admit he looked a lot worse than I'd expected. I guess I didn't know my own strength, especially since I wasn't in the habit of behaving like a caveman and resorting to physical violence. I certainly hoped that I wouldn't have to harm another man before the day was done.

I hurried out of the church and got into my car, my mind racing all over the place with X-rated images of Monique and Jackson playing on a loop in my head. Within seconds I had clicked on the button that would help me answer all of my questions and hopefully restore my peace of mind.

“OnStar, may I help you?” a friendly professional voice spoke through my car's sound system. I was so busy having an internal argument with Monique in my head that I didn't answer him the first time. He repeated himself. “OnStar, may I help you?”

“Oh, yes, this is Bishop TK Wilson. I need to locate my other car. My wife can't remember where she parked it.”

“No problem, sir. Can you give me the account number and password for the vehicle?” he requested.

“Sure. Just a moment.” I reached into my wallet and pulled out the card that held all the important numbers I needed. I gave the man the information
he
needed, and he put me on hold while he checked the account. Yeah, it was great being alive in the post-technology age—at least for me. If my wife was doing something she wasn't supposed to, then this was not a good day for her.

As I waited for the OnStar representative to come back on the line, I tried to come up with another explanation for my wife's disappearance. Monique did a fair amount of outreach with women of the church, including wives, widows, and the elderly. Maybe she was just off somewhere, helping a parishioner through a crisis. That would be the best possible outcome: I would find her visiting someone at a hospital, and then I could laugh at myself for letting my jealousy get out of hand over nothing.

The representative came back on the line. “Mr. Wilson, your vehicle has been located in Forest Hills, Queens.” He gave me the address. There was no hospital or nursing home anywhere close to that location. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“No, you've been very helpful,” I said as I disconnected the call and then swung my car out of the parking lot, headed to Forest Hills and God knows what else.