The Choir Director (8 page)

“I don’t think so,” the woman replied curtly. She reached to close the car door, but I stepped in front of it, holding it open with my hip.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, giving me a withering look.

“Yes, there’s a problem. You’re in my taxi,” I snapped. I wasn’t usually this rude to women, even when they were wrong, but she was the one who started giving me attitude first.

“If this was your cab, you’d be sitting in it, not me. Now, can you close the door?”

If I hadn’t been standing out there for thirty minutes, I might have relented, but I was tired, hungry, and wanted to get where I was going.

I heaved a deep sigh. “Look, it’s late. Why don’t we compromise? We can share the cab.”

“I don’t think so,” she snapped. “I’m headed to Queens.”

“See there, today must be my lucky day. I just happen to be going to Queens too.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you’re traveling there in this cab. Besides, I don’t share cabs with strange men, especially not one dressed like a thug.” Her eyes traveled up and down, appraising my outfit, which clearly didn’t impress her.

I felt like I’d been taken out at the knees.

“A thug! You think I look like a thug?” I dropped both bags, spreading my arms out to show off my outfit. “Lady, this is a three-hundred-dollar Sean John sweat suit. These sneakers cost almost two hundred dollars. Don’t be talking about my clothes, especially if you don’t know a damn thing about fashion.”

She laughed. “What would make a grown-ass man spend that kind of money on a sweat suit and sneakers? I bet you don’t even own a suit. You know, for someone so cute, you should really grow up.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You don’t know me!” I guess my tone kind of scared her, because I saw her flinch. But that didn’t mean she was going to back down. As soon as I moved my hip slightly, she managed to pull the door closed. With that, the cab sped off.

“Dammit!” I made a fist and shook it in the air. I wanted to call the strange woman the word that rhymes with
itch,
but I said I would never call a black woman out of her name. Instead, I stomped my feet to release some of my pent-up frustration.

Man, if that’s how the sisters up here acted, I was going to have to import a few from down South. I’d heard rumors about how cold-blooded New Yorkers were, and I’d just witnessed my first example.

At the rate I was going, I was never going to get a cab out of Manhattan. Who could I call? I thought of the bishop. His number was already in my mobile phone, so I punched it in.

He answered on the second ring. “Bishop T. K. Wilson speaking.”

“Hey, Bishop, this is Aaron Mackie.”

“Mackie, how you doing? My wife and I were just talking about you. You make it into town all right?”

“Yeah, I’m here in town, but I can’t get a cab for the life of me. Can you tell me what subway I should take to reach that apartment you got for me in Queens?”

“You don’t need to take the subway, Mackie. My wife and I just left Columbia Presbyterian Hospital uptown. Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll be there to pick you up.”

I turned to my husband, taking hold of his hand as we pulled out of the hospital parking lot. We were headed home after visiting James. I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. He’d been gone the past few days on his mission to entice Aaron Mackie to come work for us. Now that he was back, I was hoping for a little attention of my own when we got home. I wasn’t sure about him, but this sister was about due.

“You okay?” I asked.

He’d been pretty quiet ever since I left him and James alone to go to the ladies’ room. Whatever they were talking about sure had him preoccupied, because he hadn’t said much since. As a matter of fact, now that I thought about it, he really hadn’t been himself since he picked me up earlier that afternoon to drive us over to the hospital. His little talk with James just seemed to make his mood that much worse.

When he didn’t respond to my question, I probed further. “You been mighty quiet since you came back. Is everything all right? I thought you’d be happy now that you’ve hired a new choir director.”

“I am happy about it, sweetheart. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’ll be fine.” He never even looked at me as he drove down 125th Street toward the RFK Bridge. I decided to back off, hoping he’d work through whatever was on his mind before we made it back to Queens.

After a few more minutes of silence, he announced, “I just don’t understand black folks. They always have to do things the hard way.”

“What are you talking about, T. K.? I want to know what’s going on.”

“Who said anything was going on?”

I sat up, turning my head to look directly at his stone-faced profile. “Don’t patronize me, T. K. I’m not some stupid woman who doesn’t notice the things around her. I’ve got ears and eyes, and I can see and hear things with them. You didn’t have James looking at all that paperwork for his health; I know that. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice you left a copy of the church bylaws with him.”

He glanced over at me. “You saw that, huh?”

“I sure did, and I wanna know what’s going on.”

“Monique Wilson, always the perceptive one, aren’t you?” He sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

I waited expectantly, but all he did was let out an angry sigh. I finally said, “Come on, T. K., just tell me.”

“Smitty is what’s going on. I think the man has lost his mind. He’s totally unstable.”

“Jonathan Smith, Maria Smith’s husband?” He had to be talking about someone else. Jonathan and Maria Smith were our friends. They’d been the first two to support our marriage from the start.

T. K. cut his eyes at me and said, “Yep. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

It sure was, and if it had come from anyone other than my husband, I wouldn’t have believed it. “So, what’s his malfunction?”

“He’s trying to get the board of trustees to vote down Aaron Mackie’s hiring as choir director.”

I whipped my head around. “Huh? Why would he do that? Didn’t you explain to him why this is so important to the church?”

“I explained everything to him before I left for Virginia, and he didn’t have any objections. I was under the impression he was one hundred percent behind me—that is, until I got back today and he and a few of the deacons and trustees came into my office acting like a lynch mob. Thank goodness Maxwell was there.”

“I don’t understand this. Jonathan and Maria are supposed to be our friends.”

“That’s right. They’re supposed to be, but he wasn’t no friend of mine today, Monique. Smitty was out for blood. And if he can’t get Mackie’s blood, he’s made it clear he’ll settle for mine.”

“What do you mean?” I was still having trouble understanding how the attitude he was describing could belong to the Jonathan Smith I knew.

“What I’m saying is that my
good friend
Jonathan Smith doesn’t want Aaron Mackie as the choir director of our church, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to secure his objective. And that includes having me removed as pastor of our church if he doesn’t get his way. He’s already got half the board of trustees and the deacons lined up against me.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why would he want to do that? He knows you’re a good pastor. What is wrong with him? What did you do?”

I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but this didn’t make sense.

“I’m not really sure, honey, but this whole thing feels personal. Smitty wouldn’t turn on me like this without cause. I guess somehow without knowing it I offended him, but for the life of me, I don’t know what I did.” He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly I was sure the circulation was cut off to his fingertips.

“Well, maybe it’s time I spoke with Maria. I’m sure she can talk some sense into him.”

He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t do that. Maria has enough problems of her own.” He turned to me and attempted a reassuring smile. “Listen, don’t worry about this. I’ve got it.”

As usual, my strong husband was ready to take the world on his shoulders. He was always worried about taking care of others before himself. That’s what made him a great pastor, but he was still a man—my man—and I was going to support him no matter what he said.

“Don’t worry? How can I not worry about you? You’re my husband, and Jonathan and his cronies are lining up the heavy hitters against you. It’s bad enough we’ve always got people who don’t even really know us trying to take us down, but now we’ve got our friends doing the same thing.” I wanted to slam my fist
into the dashboard I was so angry. I didn’t care if they went after me. People had been going after me my entire life, and I could take it. But when they went after T. K., it pissed me off.

“Honey, is he even worth all this?”

“Is who worth it?” he asked.

“This man, Aaron Mackie. Is he even worth all of this drama and aggravation? I mean, they’re going after your job over this, T. K. You could lose the church.” Just the thought ticked me off more. “Maybe we should back off. You don’t owe him anything—”

“Yes, I do.” He cut me off, tilting his head so that he could see me and the road. “I gave that man my word and asked him to leave his life behind.”

“I’m not trying to second-guess you, baby, but, again, are you sure he’s worth the trouble?”

“Monique, this past Sunday, I sat in that hot church, with horrible acoustics, and watched something very special. Not only did he put on a show, but he also shocked the hell out of me when he started to sing. The man has a gift when it comes to music, and he can save our church. So, yes, I’m sure he’s worth it. He’s worth the trouble, and he’s worth the money. What Smitty doesn’t understand is that Aaron Mackie is quite possibly the only one who can save First Jamaica Ministries.”

I hadn’t heard that much passion in his voice since he said “I do” at our wedding.

I kissed him on the cheek. “Well, husband, if you feel that strongly about him, then so do I.”

His cell phone started ringing and he laughed. “Speak of the devil.” He hit the Bluetooth button on the car.

“Bishop T. K. Wilson speaking.”

“Hey, Bishop, this is Aaron Mackie.”

His voice had a sexy baritone sound to it that made me fantasize about what he might look like.

“Mackie, how you doing? My wife and I were just talking about you. You make it into town all right?”

“Yeah, I’m here in town, but I can’t get a cab for the life of me. Can you tell me what subway I should take to reach that apartment you got for me in Queens?”

“You don’t need to take the subway, Mackie. My wife and I
just left Columbia Presbyterian Hospital uptown. Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Okay, Bishop. Thanks. I’m down here by the Hotel Pennsylvania.”

T. K. glanced at me and I gave him a nod, letting him know everything he had said was fine with me. Shoot, now I wanted to see the face behind that sexy voice even if I knew that fantasy rarely ever lived up to reality.

Not long after, we were on FDR Drive headed toward mid-town Manhattan, and then we were driving up Thirty-fourth Street to pick up Aaron Mackie. We had just stopped at a traffic light, and I was about to suggest we call and find out exactly where he was when my husband said, “There he is.”

“Where?”

“Over there, standing on the corner next to those suitcases.”

I looked in the direction he was pointing. “That’s Aaron Mackie?” I almost gasped.

“That’s him,” T. K. replied.

I could not believe my eyes. I was hoping he’d be good-looking, but the man I was looking at was straight-up fine. So fine, in fact, that I had to turn my head to keep my husband from seeing my initial reaction.

Wow! Now, he definitely lived up to the fantasy. He was the kind of man who, if I were still single, I’d jump on with a quickness. Too bad for him I loved my husband. I will say this, though: Life around First Jamaica Ministries was about to get much more entertaining, because when word got around about how fine our new choir director was, the sisters were going to lose their minds. I couldn’t wait to get home and get on the phone.

“So, what do you think?”

I glanced over at my husband, who was staring at me with a devilish smirk, like he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

I took a breath, trying to act casual as I turned back to the handsome man across the street. “Well, there’s no question he is definitely easy on the eyes. If he sings and conducts a choir half
as good as he looks, our church is going to be on its way back to prosperity.”

T. K. smiled as he slapped his hand down on his thigh. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“You know what I was just thinking? A guy that good-looking is going to have to fight off the single sisters at the church. Is he married or dating anyone?”

“Nope. Far as I know, he’s a single man.”

I raised an eyebrow as I turned back toward my husband. All of a sudden, Aaron Mackie’s good looks and mannerisms made sense.

“He isn’t gay, is he?” Just the thought of this fine man being with other men made my stomach hurt.

“No, he’s not.”

“You sure? How do you know?” I pushed.

“I asked him, honey. We don’t need any more scandal around here, so I went out on a limb and asked him. He says he’s not gay.”

“And you think he told you the truth?” I asked as the light turned green.

“I have no choice but to believe him.” And on that note, he pulled up to the curb next to Aaron Mackie. T. K. stepped out of the car and shook Aaron’s hand. I got out of the car as they were putting his bags in the trunk. Lord have mercy, he was even more handsome up close.

“Aaron Mackie, this is my wife, First Lady Monique Wilson.” T. K. smiled as he introduced us.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mackie,” I said, politely offering him my hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” He took my hand and kissed it. “And, please, call me Mackie. All my friends do.”

“Okay, Mackie.” I know T. K. must have wanted to kill me, because I turned all kinds of red, but when I glanced over at him, he had a neutral expression on his face. When he looked toward Aaron, his face took on an expression that I can only describe as prideful, like on the day his son graduated from law school. It was clear that he believed he’d found the best choir director—the only choir director—who could rescue our struggling church.