The Choir Director 2 (15 page)

As a man of God, I know that life can be full of hardships, but I certainly had never expected the one I was dealing with now. As I stormed out of Jackson's office, desperate to put some distance between him and me, I could not shake the image of my wife with her tongue down his throat. Everything I thought I knew about Monique and our marriage had just been blown to bits.

“TK, slow down,” she shouted at me from behind, her ridiculously high heels clicking against the pavement as she tried in vain to catch up to me. But I kept stepping. The last thing I wanted to hear were more excuses and lies.

By the time she caught up to me, I was in my car with the key in the ignition. She tapped on the window.

“TK! TK, talk to me,” she pleaded through the glass.

I rolled the window down just enough to shout, “Get in your damn car! We'll talk at home,” then rolled it up again. I wasn't sure how a conversation would happen anyway, since I could barely stand the sight of her face.

I stayed in place long enough to make sure she'd gotten into her car before I raced away from the curb, nearly sideswiping another car. The driver blasted his horn at me, and rather than apologizing, I put up my middle finger, surprising even myself. Thank God I wasn't wearing my collar. The behavior was so unlike me, but my wife had taken me to a dark place I'd never been.

“Lord, how could she do this?” I screamed in anger, but really I was fighting back the urge to cry. I'd never felt so low in my entire life. There was a time when I would have turned to James Black, my good friend and confidant, for advice, but he'd died a few years back. He was the one person, other than my wives, who I'd trusted with my secrets, my sadness, my truths. Now with him gone and Monique's betrayal, I felt utterly alone.

I pulled into my driveway and rested my head on the steering wheel, trying to regain some composure before going inside to deal with my wife. There are certain things that no person should have to put up with, and a lying, cheating spouse is one of them. I doubted I would ever be able to get past this, so there was really only one course of action.

By the time Monique made it to the front door, I was in our bedroom. I'd pulled out her suitcases from the closet and flung them onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” Monique shouted when she entered the bedroom. “You can't leave, TK.”

“I'm not. You are!” My booming voice shook the floorboards. I ignored the shocked expression on her face, refusing to be affected. “You need to pack your shit and leave!”

“I'm not leaving, and neither are you. We need to talk, and I'm not going anywhere until we resolve this.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs all ladylike. Ha! I'd just seen her in action, and she might be a lot of things, but a lady wasn't one of them.

“I don't see the point in talking. I've already made up my mind.”

“Well, unmake it,” she said. “Our marriage is the most important thing in my life. I'm not going to let you throw it away because of a misunderstanding. Now, I'm sorry about how things turned out, but you need to get over it.” She folded her arms defiantly.

“Get over it? You want me to get over catching my wife straddling some man with her tongue down his throat?” I grabbed one of the suitcases and threw it against the wall.

“Jesus, TK, you're scaring me!”

Hell, let her be scared
, I thought. Maybe it would light a fire under her ass and help her get to stepping.

“I want you out of here!” I screamed.

“I love you!” she proclaimed, trying to look wounded, like she was the one who caught me cheating and not the other way around.

“Don't even try using those words to manipulate me. You don't love me. You don't have the slightest idea what those words mean.”

“Of course I do!” she shouted, but I didn't care—or at least I didn't want to. I felt sick to my stomach because part of me still wanted to believe her. Part of me wanted to rewind to the beginning of the day and have it go differently.

I flung open the door to one of her closets and started tossing piles of clothes into the suitcases. This woman broke our wedding vows and made an absolute fool of me. This could not be what God intended for me. I didn't care how much I loved her, she had to go.

Monique jumped in front of me, snatching the clothes out of my hands and trying to stop me from taking more out. As soon as she touched me, an electric current shot up my arms. I snatched away from her as if I'd been burned. That's when the tears came down my face.

“TK, I'm sorry. I told you that we were practicing a scene for my audition,” she said, still holding on to that lame excuse. This was not the woman I had married. Not at all.

“I can't do this anymore. I'm done.” I tried to free my arms and walk around her, but she refused to budge.

“No, dammit! I'm not losing my marriage over some stupid audition!” She was frantic. “If you'd just listen to me, you'd see that you're overreacting. It was just a scene for a freaking movie audition. I wasn't cheating on you, so we're not done.”

“Yeah, we're done. Finished. You got a house; go live in it.”

My phone started to ring, a welcome distraction.

“Don't answer that. We're talking.” She said it like she thought her wishes would still have some influence over me.

Calmly, I answered my phone, not really giving a crap about our so-called conversation. “Bishop Wilson.”

“Hello, Bishop. This is Deacon Samuels from Mount Olive Church in Brooklyn.” Mount Olive was our sister church. “I have some sad news to tell you. Reverend Cliff White was found murdered in the church this morning.”

“Clifford was murdered?” I reached for the bureau to steady myself as I digested the devastating news. Pastor Clifford White was one of my closest friends among the local clergy.

“No, not Pastor White. His son, Clifford Junior.”

“Little Cliff?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God.” I sighed heavily, thinking about how devastating it would be if my son, Dante, was found dead. There is a natural order to things, and when it comes to death, the parents should always die first. “Let the pastor know I'm on my way.”

“I'll do that, Bishop. I'm sure he can use your support.”

I hung up and looked at Monique, unable to muster half of the anger I'd felt before. Despite everything that had happened today, it didn't remotely compare to what the White family was going through.

“What?” Monique said, sensing the bad news.

“Clifford White's son was found dead in the church. I have to go to Brooklyn.”

“Oh, no.” Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. “Let me change my clothes. I'm coming with you.”

“Oh, so all of sudden you're the first lady again?” I snapped.

“TK, what you fail to realize is that I never stopped being the first lady. Now, Cliff was a good boy, and his mother and father must be devastated. It's our job to minister to them. So for now, let's just go play our roles and be done with this discussion.”

“Mmmm. This is so good,” I said to Pippie before taking another bite of a Jamaican beef patty. The spicy beef in a crisp pastry shell made my mouth sing. “I've never had anything like this before.”

“Glad you like it,” Pippie replied after he finished a mouthful of coco bread.

We had been on our way home from the church when Pippie asked if I would mind making a pit stop for something to eat. Now we were sitting on a bench outside a Jamaican restaurant on Guy Brewer Boulevard.

“Sorry to hear about your car,” he said.

“It's okay. Hopefully I'll get it out of the shop in the next couple of days. I just appreciate the ride.”

In truth, there was nothing wrong with my car. I'd told everyone at work that it was in the shop, because I was hoping Aaron would offer me a ride home after choir practice. That was before I found out that choir practice was canceled. Apparently, with World War III raging between Bishop Wilson, Ross, and him, Aaron was in no mood to direct the singers. So I was stranded until Pippie, being the gentleman that he was, offered me a ride home.

“So what did you think about all that drama at work today?” I knew the basic details, but I was hoping he'd have some more to share. “I mean, you can't make this stuff up. I was there and I still can't believe it.”

“What can I say? Things are getting a little out of hand.” That vague answer was not nearly enough to satisfy me, so I tried again to get him talking.

“A little out of hand! That's an understatement, don't you think? The bishop knocked the hell out of Ross and gave him a black eye.”

“What? No!” He shook his head. “Bishop didn't hit Ross. Aaron did that.”

“No, Bishop Wilson hit Ross. You shoulda seen his hand. It was swelled up like a grapefruit.”

Pippie looked confused. “But when Aaron and I went outside, he told me that he punched Ross in the eye.”

“Well, maybe they did a tag team or something, because I'm positive the bishop hit him too.”

“I can't believe it. I mean, I'm not surprised about Aaron hitting him, 'cause that boy has a temper, but the bishop? Day-um!”

“So, Aaron has a temper, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered without elaborating. Pippie might have been a good source of information—if only I could get him to open up. Finally I asked the right question that got him talking.

“How'd you meet him, anyway?”

“We met back in the day. Elementary school. We really didn't like each other. He was one of those pretty boys who was always the teacher's pet. Not like he didn't do no dirt, but he was slick. Never got caught. He wasn't obvious about his stuff like me. Man I hated him,” he said with a laugh.

“Really? I couldn't even imagine you two not getting along. Actually, I couldn't imagine you not getting along with anyone,” I said. In the short time I'd known him, Pippie had definitely made an impression on me as a real “people person,” always with a kind word or an offer to help out.

“I was a different person back then,” he said. “My life at home was terrible. My dad skipped out and just went MIA. Moms was bitter, overworked, with five kids she couldn't afford. She had a revolving door of dudes coming through. Home just sucked, and I kind of took it out on other kids at school. It's hard to admit, but I was a straight-up bully. Hated kids from happy homes.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” It slipped out before I could take it back.

Pippie looked over at me, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, but we'll talk about me later,” I said, definitely not ready to go there with him. “I want to know about you.”

He hesitated for a second, like he wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy. I raised my eyebrows and kept my lips tightly pursed to let him know I wasn't saying another word. He took the hint and continued his own story.

“Eventually, the school gave up, Mom gave up, and I started running with the wrong crowd. Break-ins, armed robbery, drugs…Hell, you name it; I did it. I messed up every opportunity I had to choose a different path. Did my share of time for it too.”

“Wow, I just can't even envision you in jail. You're such a sweet guy. I can't imagine you being a hard-ass.”

“Well, imagine it, because I was as hard as they come. I got the prison tattoos to prove it.” He pulled up his sleeve to show me. “I was just one more messed-up kid, angry at the world. My last prison stint I had twenty years over my head, and it taught me that I wasn't nearly as tough as I thought.”

I couldn't help but ask, “They didn't rape you, did they?”

“No, I had too many friends for that. But they did break me.”

I stared at him. He didn't look like a broken man. “Really? How?”

“All that time over my head was more than I could stand. It's one thing when they give you a year or two—hell, even five—but twenty years puts you in a different class. A different mentality. Twenty years is just a different word for life.” There was tension in his voice, like just talking about the sentence was stressful. I could only imagine how much worse it had been to be locked up for that kind of time.

“If you had twenty years, why are you out now?” I asked.

His face softened into a grin. “That's where Aaron comes in.”

“Yeah, I think I heard that Aaron went to jail,” I said vaguely, careful not to mention how I knew this information or how much else I knew. “Did you do time with him?”

“Yeah, he was locked up with me. In fact, that's how we bonded. Wasn't a lot of people from Hopewell in the joint, so when he got there, I kind of looked out for him as my homeboy. I knew he wasn't the kind of person who belonged in there. He kept his head down and did his time. Didn't get mixed up in prison politics. He was basically a good guy who made one stupid mistake. And me, I made so many that I lost count.”

“So you felt sorry for him? What? Did you become like his protector?”

“Oh, I whispered in a couple of people's ears, but actually it was the other way around. He helped me survive a hell of a lot more than I helped him.”

“I'm confused.”

“Aaron taught me through example. Unlike me, who was angry and blamed everybody for my situation, Aaron took full responsibility for his actions. He owned his mess and taught me how to do the same.”

“Interesting,” was my only comment. Given what I knew of Aaron and of Pippie, this story was not what I would have expected.

“His faith was always so strong,” Pippie continued. “One day we got to talking, and eventually we got to praying. If you told me that I would ever be one of those people who believed in God, I would have laughed in your face, but he introduced me to God in a way that I could understand. In a way that made me feel like I was no longer fighting an uphill battle alone.”

“So wait, what are you trying to say? Aaron is the reason you believe in God?” I would have assumed it was the other way around.

“Not the reason, per se, but God used him as a vessel. He's the one who showed me the way. Without him, I wouldn't be here.”

I gave him a skeptical look. I mean, I knew Aaron was popular at the church, but Pippie seemed to be lifting him up to some kind of mythical status. He was a singer, not a miracle worker. “So you're saying that Aaron got you out of jail?”

“I never thought of it that way, but yeah, kinda. I do know I would have never gotten paroled if I hadn't gone down the path he led me on. And then when I got outta jail, Aaron convinced me that I needed to get a fresh start. He got the bishop to talk to the church to give me a job. Plus he gave me a place to stay, and here I am. And I'll tell you this: I am never looking back. Onward and upward.”

“Well, however it happened, I'm glad you're out, and I'm glad you're here,” I said with a genuine smile. I really liked Pippie. He was truly a nice guy—even if I believed he was giving Aaron too much credit.

We sat quietly for a while, Pippie finishing his coco bread while I sat and digested everything he'd just told me. I really couldn't get over his dedication to Aaron.

“You know, I really have to say I've been surprised by many things since coming up here from Virginia,” I said.

“How so?”

“I swear this is not like any church I've ever been to.”

This comment got a swift reaction from Pippie. “Well, I sure hope it doesn't run you outta here,” he said, looking a little worried. It was sweet that he cared. Pippie really was a good guy. I liked the way he made me feel. If things had been different…

“Please!” I said, waving away his concern. “I just want to be able to do my job.”
At least until I accomplish what I came here for
, I thought.

“That's good to hear,” he said. “I like having you around.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna go inside and get another one of those patties?” Pippie asked as he stood up.

“You tryin' to get me fat?” I joked, getting up too. “You can't keep taking me to these places with all this good food. You're going to make me big as a house.”

“I'm just trying to show you a good time, Desiree, especially after everybody else almost ran you back to the South with their drama.” His voice suddenly had a sweetness to it that touched me in a way I didn't want to acknowledge. “You have no idea the places I wanna take you…if you let me.”

He took a step closer to me, invading my personal space for the first time. Up until this moment he'd been a perfect gentleman anytime we were together. Now he was so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. I wasn't quite sure what he was about to do, and even more, I wasn't quite sure how I would react if he did make a move. I couldn't risk doing the wrong thing, so I took a step back.

I glanced at my watch and announced, “Oops. I gotta get home.”

He looked disappointed, but he didn't press the issue. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“So, what's your favorite kind of food?” I asked, making small talk to ease the tension as we got back in his car. I knew he felt let down, but I wanted to make sure he was willing to continue with the status quo. Plenty of guys will never talk to you again once you put them in the friend zone. Fortunately, Pippie wasn't one of them.

“It changes week to week. Today it might be this”—he held up the last bite of his second patty and popped it into his mouth—“but you never know in New York, because there's so much to choose from. You can get a lot of good eats in Virginia, but nothing like here in the city. I wanna introduce you to all of them—Cuban, Dominican, Russian, Korean, Caribbean, Ethiopian—”

“You still haven't told me your favorite,” I interrupted, because he sounded like he was still trying to steer the conversation toward a date.

He took the hint and slowed his roll a little. “When I was locked up, the one thing I craved was some barbecue. Man, I dreamed about ribs. Even woke up drooling a few times,” he said with a laugh.

“If you love BBQ so much, why'd you leave the South? Everyone knows the best ribs are down South.”

He laughed. “There's some truth to that, but you've never been to Poor Freddie's rib shack. Our next little field trip is going to be there.”

“You don't have to ask me twice!” I said, not worrying about his intentions for the moment. If there was one thing I loved, it was some good barbecue.

“Bring your appetite and some napkins,” he said as we turned the corner onto my block.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” I said. “It's good to know I can rely on someone.” As much as I was worried about how it would complicate things, I really was glad to have gotten to know Pippie. I'd never really had a male friend. Without thinking about it, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

As I turned to open the door, I spotted Lynn sitting on the front steps. She'd obviously seen me kiss him, because her face was contorted into a nasty scowl.

“Oh shit,” I mumbled under my breath.

“You all right?” Pippie asked. He followed my gaze and noticed Lynn. “Not sure who that is, but she sure looks pissed.”

“I forgot that I was supposed to meet a friend after work.” He had no idea the nightmare I was walking into.

“It's my fault. You want me to go over to her and apologize? She doesn't look too happy.”

“No, it's not a big deal.” Pippie talking to Lynn would make it worse. He couldn't hide his crush on me, and that would only piss her off more. “I owe her some money and was supposed to meet her for dinner to pay it back. I'll handle her.”

“Okay, then. I'm gonna go on and get back to the church. See you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. I'll see you tomorrow, Pippie.” I got out of the car and prepared myself to face Lynn's wrath.