The Choir Director (13 page)

“I always try to do something nice for people, but nothing
that sticks out in my mind. And not for anyone who would buy me Victoria’s Secret lingerie.”

“Hmm … maybe you have a secret admirer.”

He was trying to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t funny. Not knowing who had purchased me something so intimate made me want to rip it off my body.

Then a thought struck me. There had been only one person who’d shown me any interest as of late, and that was our new choir director, and I knew he wouldn’t … well, I hoped he wouldn’t do anything like … but then again, he did squeeze my ass that one time.

Before I could ponder it further, the phone rang, interrupting our little chat. T. K. reached over to the nightstand. As a minister, he believed in answering the phone no matter what time of day or night it was, or even when we were getting romantic. He always liked to be available for the parishioners. While he answered the phone, I took the opportunity to quickly slip out of the nightgown of mysterious origins.

T. K. greeted the caller.

“Bishop?”

Whoever was on the other end of the call must have been speaking very loudly, because I could hear everything. He sounded agitated.

I climbed back into bed and laid my head on T. K.’s chest to wait for the phone call to be over—and to listen to what was said. I knew I was eavesdropping, but as far as I was concerned, this came with the territory of being the first lady. Often T. K. told me things in confidence, but a lot of things he held inside, so it was my job to get it out of him before it ate him up.

“Bishop, it’s Smitty. You got a minute?”

My husband looked down, noticing my nakedness for the first time. I smiled, licking my lips hungrily to let him know what I had in mind. “Um, Smitty, I’m kind of in the middle of something. Is it possible for us to talk in the morning?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but this will only take a second, I promise. I just wanted to say I was sorry about everything that happened between us. You’re a good friend, and you’ve been a good pastor to me and Maria.”

“Thank you, Smitty. What’s the matter? You sound a little distraught. Are you okay?”

“Yes. No … no, I’m not all right. They told her, T. K. They told Maria everything. My life as I know it is over. I might as well just put a gun to my head and end it all right now.”

“What?” T. K. couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. “Smitty, I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say—”

“Yes, you heard me right. I can’t take this anymore.”

T. K. hesitated, his face softening with sympathy. “Relax, Smitty. It’s gonna be all right—”

He cut the bishop off again. “No, it’s not. Stop fooling yourself. They’re mad that I didn’t show up to the vote. They’re extra mad that you’re still the pastor of the church and that that boy is the new choir director. But they had more on me than what you had. They’re still threatening to tell the rest.”

“Who, Smitty? Who are ‘they’?” T. K.’s voice revealed his rising level of frustration.

“The people who are blackmailing me. The very same people who are out to get you.”

I felt my body stiffen with anger at the thought of someone out to get my husband, but I had to remain calm so T. K. wouldn’t know I was listening. I didn’t want him to get out of bed and finish his conversation elsewhere.

“Who are these people, Smitty? Please tell me who is blackmailing you. And what else do they still have on you? I may be able to help you if you just tell me who they are and what they have.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you without proof. So don’t worry about me. They’ve already beaten me.” He sighed loudly and there was a pause before he spoke again. “Listen, if anything happens to me, take care of my family. And take care of yourself and that beautiful wife of yours. There is still a lot of danger out there.”

“Danger? What kind of danger? Smitty, you’re not making any sense. What’s going to happen to you? Look, maybe we should call the police.”

“Man, are you crazy? The police are already involved. T. K., don’t trust anybody. Do you hear me? Don’t trust anyone.”

“Smitty—”

“Look, I’ve gotta go. Please promise me if anything happens to me you’ll take care of my family. Please, T. K.”

“Okay, Smitty, I promise, but nothing’s gonna happen to you. Listen, why don’t you come over here so we can talk?”

After that, all I heard was “Thanks,” and the line went dead.

T. K. quickly dialed the number back several times, but Jonathan never answered.

“What happened?” I asked. My simple eavesdropping had turned into concern. T. K. was obviously shaken by the call, because he didn’t even bother to hide the details the way he might have if it had been another church member calling to talk.

“It’s Smitty. Someone is blackmailing him and he won’t tell me who. He’s acting like there’s some great conspiracy out there to take over the church and destroy me and anyone close to me.”

I sat up and searched my husband’s face for some clue as to how real he felt this threat was. Some of the things Smitty said made me think that not all of this was news to T. K. Like they had discussed this before. “Do you believe him?”

He placed his arm around me, pulling me in close. “I’m not sure, honey, but from the sound of his voice, Smitty believes it, and that’s enough to make me concerned.”

I laid my head on Aaron’s shoulder as we exited the Grand Central Parkway and made our way up Francis Lewis Boulevard toward my Jamaica Estates home. The ride home was pretty quiet, yet filled with the sexual tension of what was soon to come. I still couldn’t believe I’d broken my own cardinal rule and invited him home on the first date. Then again, I’d never had anyone kiss me the way he did. His kisses did things to me that no man had done since James Black broke my heart years ago. I was like putty in his hands, and he had carte blanche to do whatever his heart desired with me.

I looked over at him grinning and humming to himself happily. I was sure he was under the expectation that once we crossed my threshold we’d wind up in bed. Hell, who was I fooling? He was probably right.

I wanted him so badly my entire body was trembling with anticipation. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him or myself. At the same time, I didn’t want to appear easy or loose, either, because I was nobody’s slut. I kept telling myself that we’d just have to see how things progressed once we arrived at the house and had a few drinks. My money was on us having a passionate night that neither of us would forget.

“Hey, sweetie, we’re at 136th Avenue. You said you live on 138th, right?”

He called me sweetie. How cute was that? I blushed like a little girl.

“Oh, that was quick.” I lifted my head from his shoulder to give him some directions. “Make a left at the next corner. I’m
the fourth house on the right, the brick colonial. Just pull into the driveway.”

Aaron turned the corner and I sat up, searching my purse for my house keys.

“Sweetie, I can’t park in your driveway.”

“Why not?” I stopped searching through my purse and looked up.

“Because.” He pointed to direct my attention to what was blocking him.

My heart leaped in a slight panic when I saw the Range Rover parked in my driveway with the lights on. I knew only one person with a Range Rover, and he was the last person I wanted to see right now. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“What the hell is who doing here?” He eased up on the gas.

“Don’t stop, Aaron. Keep driving!” I demanded.

I tried to scrunch down in the seat so I wouldn’t be seen. Instead of moving forward, though, we stopped. Aaron’s expression was a mixture of confusion and frustration. Obviously he’d been expecting to have fun with me, but this wasn’t the type of game he thought he’d be playing.

“You gotta be kidding me. This is ridiculous.” Aaron paused for a second and then his eyebrows furrowed. “You aren’t married, are you? Please don’t tell me you’re married,” he barked.

“No, no, I’m not married,” I said as if I were the only one who had the right to be agitated. “Now, will you keep driving before he sees us?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but he was moving entirely too slow.

He gave me a doubtful look; then, thankfully, he stepped on the accelerator, moving us down the block and past my house. I eased back up in my seat, looking in my side-view mirror. I didn’t see any sign of the Range Rover backing out of the driveway or anyone following us, so I heaved a sigh of relief. I was still trying to process what was going on and why that man was parked outside my house. Coming by unannounced was the ultimate no-no in my book.

About two blocks later, Aaron turned the corner and pulled into a parking space. He did not look like a happy camper, and I felt a migraine coming on. I tried to speak to him with my eyes,
because I didn’t have the words to explain. Besides, he’d never understand.

“What’s going on, Simone? That your man or something?”

Ordinarily I would have checked any man who tried to question me, but Aaron was different. I really liked him, so I didn’t mind him asking questions, but I wasn’t sure he was going to like my answer.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, but I can’t really explain it right now.” I looked out the window once again for any sign of the Range Rover. “You just have to trust me.” I glanced at him sadly, then reached for the door handle.

“Whoa, where you going?” He gripped my arm tightly. “Look, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

“Aaron, I’m sorry things turned out this way, but something’s come up. I’m gonna have to give you a rain check on that drink, okay? I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s your explanation?” All the sexual tension that had been building between us was now fuel for his frustration, and he was pretty close to shouting.

“That’s about as good an explanation as you’re gonna get from me right now.” I glanced at my arm, which he was still holding on to. “Can I have my arm back?”

At first his eyes flashed with anger like he was about to explode, but then he loosened his grip on my arm and exhaled, placing both hands on the steering wheel. “Sure, no problem. Thanks for a wonderful evening,” he said without an ounce of sincerity in his tone.

I leaned over to kiss him, but he just sat there stoned-faced, looking forward. I kissed him on the cheek. “Aaron, I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” When he didn’t answer, I opened the door with a sigh and stepped out of the truck.

I looked back at him, and we shared a fleeting glance as I stood on the curb. I wanted to get back into his truck. I wanted to apologize and say, “Take me back to your place,” but instead I stood still and watched him drive down the block.

I shook my head in anger as I looked in the direction of my house.
This had better be fucking worth it.

As I stood there contemplating my next move, my phone
chirped a text. I know it was wishful thinking, but I was hoping it was from Aaron. It wasn’t. It was from that fool in the Range Rover. I flipped open my phone and read the text:

I KNOW IT WAS YOU THAT JUST PASSED ME IN THAT TRUCK WITH ONE OF YOUR MAN WHORES. I’M STILL AT YOUR HOUSE AND WE NEED TO TALK. I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH SECRETS. REMEMBER THAT.

Yeah, but yours are a lot more damaging than mine,
I thought as I began to walk the two blocks toward my house. Suddenly my mind was focused again, and I had my eye on the prize. This idiot really didn’t know who he was fucking with, did he?

I’d been lying in bed for about fifteen minutes, wondering what time it was and listening to the blaring sirens of fire engines in the distance. I didn’t know if I would ever get used to that sound, but I was starting to like New York. It had its good and its bad points, but so far mostly good. Even though Simone had kicked me to the curb for that guy in the Range Rover, I was enjoying my new home, my new life, and my status as choir director of First Jamaica Ministries. Now that all the drama surrounding the vote was over, I knew it was only a matter of time before I built up the choir membership and took them to a championship win.

My cell phone started vibrating on my nightstand. It was probably Simone again. She had been texting and calling me since about an hour after I dropped her off a few blocks from her home. Don’t get me wrong; I liked Simone. I originally thought she was the type of woman a man could take home to his mother, but now I wasn’t so sure. You let a woman like her punk you once and she’ll end up punking you for the rest of your life, so I hadn’t returned any of her calls or texts. Not yet, at least.

Besides, there were way too many women at First Jamaica Ministries to be worried about just one. Sure, maybe they weren’t all as pretty as Simone, but I was sure I could find quite a few who didn’t play her type of games. That was one thing I didn’t do: put up with a shady woman. I always let a chick know from the get-go what was up. Had she given me the same respect, then maybe I’d be answering her call right about now. Instead
, I let it go to voice mail as I glanced down at Porsche Moore, who was positioned between my legs, going down on me like she was expecting to get paid. Sure, my ego was bruised after the way Simone treated me, but I wasn’t gonna let her steal my joy. Not with women like Porsche waiting around to fill the void.

How did Porsche end up over at my place? Well, after the incident with Simone, I loathed the idea of going home alone to my empty apartment. You see, I firmly believe that the best way to get over one woman is to get on top of another. I was actually thinking about hitting T.G.I. Friday’s or a local bar and seeing what type of action I could find there, but then I remembered that Porsche had slipped me her number the day I was introduced to the choir. It stuck out in my mind that she’d distinctly written underneath her number that I could call anytime. So, I figured I’d give it a try and see what was up. True enough, anytime meant anytime. Not only could I call her any time, but I could hit that anytime as well. I had no idea it would be so easy to get her into bed. All it took was a phone call, some BS about how I’d been thinking about her lately, and forty-five minutes later, we were rolling around in the sheets.