The Choir Director (6 page)

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Rev, I know this may get me shot, but I really don’t have any answers for you right now. At least not any that are going to make sense. I messed up. This should have never happened.”

“Well, maybe your fuck buddy has some answers. Why don’t we call her in here so I can ask her? Go on. Call her, Mackie.”

I took a long breath. I really didn’t want her out here. The best thing for me and her was that we remained separated. “Look, that’s not gonna help anything.”

“Did I ask for your opinion? Matter of fact, get up.” I didn’t move fast enough and he cocked the gun, sliding a bullet in the chamber. I closed my eyes briefly. I honestly felt that this was it; I was about to die. “I said get up,” he repeated.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I stood up quickly, and he gestured for me to walk down the hall. I did what I was told, stopping in front of my bedroom door.

“Open it,” he whispered. I glanced at him, and he said, “Don’t play with me, Mackie,” then pressed the gun against the back of my head. I turned the knob and pushed open the door.

A part of me wished she had climbed out the window or something, but when I opened the door, there she lay, as naked as a jaybird. She had her eyes closed, posing like a centerfold girl, her bosoms pushed out and, believe it or not, her beaver propped open for the world to see. By my calculations, I had about ten minutes to live, because there was no way Reverend Jenkins wasn’t going to kill me after this.

Don’t ask me how, but Sandra didn’t even realize her husband was standing at the door. “It’s about time. I was getting so horny
I was about to start without—” She opened her eyes and went into panic mode.

“Oh my God, Alfred!” she shouted as she scrambled to cover her nakedness.

“You better call God, because right now He’s the only one who’s gonna save your ass!” Rev screamed.

Sandra’s beautiful almond skin was now a pale tan at best. Her eyes were stretched wide with fear. “Alfred, baby, it’s not what it seems,” she babbled. “You know how much I love you. I’m just glad you’re here to take me home.”

The rev glared at her as tears fell from his eyes, but he still kept the gun pointed at my head.

“Get in the room,” he barked at me, gesturing with the gun to where he wanted me to sit.

In my mind, there was only one way out now. I was going to have to take the chance of getting shot and go for the gun. The more I thought about it, the better I felt my chances were. Here I was, six foot two, thirty-one years old, in the best shape of my life, while he was short, in his forties, and almost a hundred and fifty pounds overweight. The odds were overwhelmingly in my favor—until you considered the fact that he was an expert marksman and he’d already slid a bullet in the chamber. That, of course, placed the odds in his favor, but if I was going to do anything, I had best do it quick.

“I asked Mackie a question a minute ago, and he couldn’t give me an answer. Maybe you can, Sandra.” He moved the gun back and forth between her and me. He had no idea I was sizing him up. “I just want to know why. I gave you everything you asked for, took you out of that hick town up in the mountains, made you a respectable lady. Hell, I even married you knowing you had had so many abortions you couldn’t have kids. Them niggas up there was passing you around like you was a piece of shit. I saved your fucking life! So, dammit, tell me why you did this to me.”

“It wasn’t me, Alfred. It was him. He made me do it! He forced me to sleep with him! I swear to God.” She pointed at me without an ounce of remorse in her eyes. She was basically signing my death warrant, and she didn’t even flinch. Yeah, I really had to start choosing my women more carefully.

My stomach did a backflip and two somersaults. I raised my right hand like I was in a court of law. “Rev, I swear, you can shoot me right now, but I do not want to die with that lie on my head. You know my background. You know I would never do anything like that! Now, I may have slept with her, but I didn’t make her do shit. She lied and got my key from Sister Tremont, who cleans my house, and she snuck in here. When I got home, she was sitting on that sofa out there naked, just wearing that hat you bought her. I swear. You gotta believe me!”

“Alfred, he’s lyin—” Before she could get all the words out of her mouth, he backhanded her so hard she went flying across the bed. The preacher in him was nowhere to be found. Most people didn’t know this, but Rev had spent a lot of time in the streets before, and even after he was saved and became a minister. When Pastor Simmons was alive, Rev was the church’s outreach minister, going to the local jails and prisons.

“Bitch, did you forget that’s the same shit you did to me when we first met and you begged me to take you outta Winchester?”

He looked back and forth between us. “I can’t stand your ass, Mackie, and you’re a lot of things, but I know you ain’t a rapist.” He turned to Sandra. “Once a ho, always a ho.”

“Alfred …”

He raised a hand and she shut up, scurrying to the far end of the bed.

“Pick up that phone, Mackie,” he ordered.

I stared over at the phone on my nightstand. Unsure where he was going with his order, I complied, but I was still thinking about going for his gun.

“She may be a ho, but she’s my ho, bought and paid for. Now, we can do this two ways, Mackie. One, I can shoot your ass dead right here along with my wife, or two, you call the bishop, accept his job offer, and then pack your shit and get the hell away from me, my wife, and my church. The choice is yours.” He lifted the gun and pointed it at my head. “You have five seconds to make a decision. One … two …”

I cut him off quick. “Look, I’m outta here. You ain’t got to worry about me no more. I swear to God!” Hands trembling, I found the bishop’s card and dialed the number.

“Bishop T. K. Wilson.”

“Hello, Bishop, this is Aaron Mackie.” I tried to sound like everything was fine, but I had one eye on Rev the entire time.

“Mackie, how can I help you, son?” The bishop sounded surprised but happy to hear my voice.

Reverend Jenkins was so mad he looked like he could burst into flames at any moment. “Well, I just called to tell you I’ve had a change of heart.”

“And—?”

“Well, I want to take the job as your choir director, if it’s still available.” I held my breath.
Please, Lord, don’t let this man say no.

“Yes, of course it’s still available. But I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

“Sure. Ask away.”
Just make it quick before Rev pulls the trigger.

“Do you have a wife, girlfriend, or children who will be moving with you?”

“No, Bishop. I’m single with no kids.”

“Well, then I need to ask you one other question.”

“Sure.”

“This is a little bit difficult and not exactly politically correct, so I hope you don’t take offense. But believe me, with things that have recently gone on at our church, it’s important.”

“Okay, sure, you can ask me anything.”

“All right. Well, I’m glad to hear that, because I just need to know … Are you gay?” At first there was silence on both ends of the phone, then suddenly the bishop rushed to offer an explanation for this unexpected question. “It’s not that we won’t hire you if that’s the case, but I just need to know. We’ve had some incidents in the past that I’d like to avoid.”

“There is no need to explain, Bishop,” I said in an effort to move the conversation along. “I’ve been a choir director for a few years now, so I think I understand.” I looked over at Sandra cowering on the bed. Less than an hour ago, I was screwing her brains out. I shook my head. “You can rest assured—the last thing you’ve got to worry about is me being gay, Bishop.”

I could hear him sigh thankfully through the phone. “I appreciate your understanding, Mackie, I really do. And with that being said, when can you start?”

“I can be packed up and in New York day after tomorrow.”

The bishop laughed. “Now that’s what I call anxious to get started, but the end of next week is fine. I’m sure you want to give Reverend Jenkins some notice and get your personal life in order.”

I glanced at the gun in Rev’s hand. “Like I said, Bishop, I’ll be there day after tomorrow. I’m sure Reverend Jenkins won’t even want two weeks’ notice, and as of right now, I don’t have a personal life.”

I walked into the administrative section of First Jamaica Ministries with a feeling of accomplishment and a sense of optimism for the future. I’d just returned from my trip to Virginia with a quick stop in D.C., and there was no doubt in my mind that Aaron Mackie was the perfect choice to direct our choir and lead our church back to financial stability.

Now all I had to do was convince the board of trustees and deacons’ board that I’d made the right decision and that they should pay the man his money. Usually this was just a formality, but when I called my good friend Maxwell Frye yesterday, I was surprised to find out that quite a few of the deacons were up in arms that I’d made any offer without their approval. The salary I’d offered was quite a bit more than what we’d paid the last director, and when they heard the amount, they’d nearly lost their minds.

“Good morning, Bishop. Glad to have you back.” The church secretary greeted me with a smile at the door. “How was your trip?”

“It was good, Sister Tia. Very successful. I think we’ve finally found a new choir director. He’s the perfect choice.”

“So your wife has told me. I can’t wait to meet him.” Tia handed me a cup of coffee and my messages. I was about to walk into my office and call my wife when Tia said, “Bishop, Deacon Smith is in the conference room waiting for you, along with a couple members of the deacon and trustee boards.”

“Oh, okay. What’s Smitty want anyway?”

Jonathan Smith was a good friend and the chairman of the
deacons’ board. He and Simone Wilcox, the trustee board’s chairwoman, were the first people I planned on contacting about my recent offer to Aaron Mackie. With their support, Mackie’s hiring would be in the bag. I’d already had preliminary conversations with both of them about it before I left town, and they were both on board. So, I took a confident step toward the conference room, but Tia stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Um, Bishop …” She stepped closer to me, looking around before speaking in a hushed voice. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Deacon Smith isn’t here as a friend. He’s trying to stop you from hiring that young man. And, Bishop, trust me, he means business. He’s already organized a campaign against you on this.”

“Smitty?” I gave her a perplexed look. “I can’t believe Smitty would go behind my back like this. We’ve always been able to sit down and work things out. He’s a reasonable man.”

“Believe it, Bishop,” Tia said sadly. “He’s not trying to be reasonable about this at all. From what I’ve been hearing, he’s out for blood, and for some reason he wants your head on a platter.”

“Well, Sister, I like my head just fine right where it is,” I replied rather dryly. I just wished I knew where this was all coming from. Jonathan Smith was supposed to be my ally. “So, who has Smitty got lined up against me?”

“Trustee Duncan, Trustee Whitmore, and Deacon Brown are the only ones he has in the conference room, but he’s been burning up the phones the past two days while you were gone. He called and spoke to my father three times yesterday. Shoot, I saw him whispering all secretively with Trustee Wilcox just before you got here.”

“Simone? Nah, I’m not worried about her. She wouldn’t betray me. She’s one of my wife’s closet friends.”

“Humph. Maybe the first lady needs to keep better company. Simone would sell her soul for a ladies’ Rolex and a Coach bag. She’s so selfish. I still can’t believe y’all elected her to the board of trustees, let alone made her chairwoman.”

I sighed unhappily. “Anybody in that conference room I can call a friend?”

“Just Deacon Frye for right now.” Good old Maxwell, always there when I needed him. “I called a few of the other trustees who usually support you, but most of them are working. I spoke to my father, and he’s on the way.”

“Okay.” I nodded, feeling a headache coming on.

“Bishop, doesn’t Deacon Smith know we need a choir director? Why is he doing this?”

I shrugged. “To be honest with you, I don’t know why he’s acting like this, but I sure plan on asking him that very question.”

These were the times I wished James was around. If he were here, I would have never had to go through this with Smitty. He would have put him in his place right away. Well, at least Maxwell was in there pulling for me.

“Sister Tia, I’m going into my office to drink this fine cup of coffee you brought me. In about five minutes, I want you to tell those folks in the conference room that I’m pretty busy and that if they want to see me, they need to come to my office. Those men planned on lulling me into the conference room and ambushing me. Well, let’s see how they like walking into the lion’s den.”

Sister Tia smiled. “You know, Bishop, for a preacher you’ve got a pretty devious mind.”

“Well, then, let’s pray God judges us from what’s in our hearts and not in our minds.” I took a sip of my coffee and then headed into my office, closing the door behind me. I walked around to my plush leather chair and settled into it, sipping my coffee while I thought about how I was going to deal with the situation. It didn’t take long before the intercom on my desk snapped me out of my thoughts.

I pushed the TALK button. “Yes?”

“Bishop, Deacon Smith and a few other trustees and deacons would like to see you.”

“Sure. Show them in.” I picked up a folder that was on my desk and opened it, pretending to be hard at work. My office door opened a few seconds later, and Deacon Jonathan Smith stormed in, followed by his three flunkies and my boy Maxwell.

Smitty made quite an entrance if I do say so myself, stomping
into my office and plopping down in front of my desk, folding his arms and staring at me coldly. You would have never thought that my wife and I had dinner at his place last weekend with him and his wife. I was anxious to see what the problem between us was.