Lady Jasmine (15 page)

J
ASMINE’S EYES WERE CLOSED AS
she leaned back in her office chair. Now she knew why those memories had been haunting her for weeks; those recollections had been a premonition, a warning to beware of the dire days ahead.

Her hand began to tingle and she looked down at the letter gripped tightly between her fingers. Lifting it, she read it again, as if she hoped the twelve-hour time span that had passed since she’d first read it had somehow changed the words. But the note was the same—and her world remained in turmoil.

This was worse than drama; this was straight trauma. Enough to send her to the hospital and put her in a bed right next to her father-in-law.

But it didn’t serve any purpose to sit here now and lament. She had to figure out a way to deal. With this letter. With this blackmailer.

And with her husband. Hosea. The senior pastor.

Jasmine shook her head. She couldn’t even imagine the scene. Where she would go to Hosea and say, “Babe, I simply forgot to tell you that I was a stripper.” She couldn’t get the tape in her mind to play beyond that. She couldn’t get to the part where he’d wrap his arms around her and tell her that
he believed her. That he understood. The part where he would say, “I forgive you” and “I love you anyway.”

No, to Hosea, this would be another secret, another lie, another betrayal.

And with everything that he was going through, Jasmine was sure that this time, he’d leave her—for good. Because this time, the secret wasn’t just about her. This time, her secrets and her lies put his father’s church in jeopardy.

She wasn’t going to confess to Hosea, but she wasn’t about to cede victory to the blackmailer either. She was Jasmine Cox Larson Bush, and whoever had sent this letter had forgotten that.

She pushed aside the note and centered a yellow pad on her desk. She had to begin at the beginning—she’d start with a list.

Who wanted to bring Hosea down? That was easy; that was obvious. She wrote: Eugene Wyatt, Jerome Viceroy.

But there were others—many who couldn’t wait to see her fall. She added Enid, who seemed to be the brains behind her husband. And Ivy, who would be the first in line to console Hosea if he ever tossed Jasmine out.

And then there were the saints—the board members who’d all challenged Hosea. Sister Clinton, who insisted it was time to move. Brother Stevens, who had his own arguments. Even Sister Pearline came to mind—the letter had been typed, after all. Who else but an old-timer like her would have a back-in-the-day typewriter?

Jasmine wondered about others in their circle: Brother Hill and Sister Whittingham. But although they hated her, they would never hurt Hosea.

She thought about Malik, but he was as out of the question as Mae Frances was.

The knock on her door startled her. Made her grab the pad and the letter. Stuff both into the drawer before she said, “Come in.”

“Do you have a moment?”

Seeing Roxie made her frown. She thought about the letter hidden in her drawer. The one that Roxie had given to her. She motioned with her hand, invited Roxie in.

After she sat down, Roxie began, “I couldn’t sleep last night knowing how much you really could use my support, even if you don’t think you do.”

Why is this woman so hell-bent on helping me?

Roxie continued, “Look, I was in the middle of one of these church fights when our board turned on my husband. I know what to expect; I know how to handle this. I can help you get the members of City of Lights behind you and Hosea.”

Jasmine didn’t let a beat pass. “Does that include getting the members to see why we won’t sell this church?”

Roxie looked dead at her. “Yes, if that’s what you and Hosea want, as your armor bearer, as your support, I would agree.” It must’ve been the way Jasmine looked at her that made Roxie lean forward. “Jasmine, I don’t get anything out of this…”

Then why?

“Except for helping you,” Roxie continued. “God has placed it in my heart…”

Why are people always blaming their dirt on God?

“And I’ve known Hosea and Reverend Bush for a long time. They’ve both been good to me; this is my chance to give back.” She paused. “Whether you admit it or not, Jasmine, you need me.”

Jasmine sat still, kept her eyes on Roxie.

Roxie stared back at her. Frozen. As if she knew she was under a microscope.

Finally Jasmine said, “Maybe you’re right.”

Roxie’s lips spread into a slow, sly smile. Made Jasmine want to take back what she’d said. But she didn’t. She had to play this through.

Roxie said, “I just want you to know I understand why you were so hesitant, but this will work out. Okay, when should we
get started?”

“What about now?”

Roxie laughed. “I’d love to, but I found out this morning that I have to be in court for the rest of the week. Can we start on Monday?”

Jasmine nodded. “That’ll be fine.” She waited until Roxie was gone before she slipped the pad from the desk and added another name to the list: Roxie.

Now that she had the suspects in place, she picked up the phone. She needed help, and there was only one master who knew how to handle this kind of disaster—she called Mae Frances.

I
T FELT LIKE THE KISS
of a prince.

Waking her from a fairy tale, although her dreams were more like nightmares.

Jasmine opened her eyes and stared into Hosea’s concerned ones.

“Hey, babe,” she whispered. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“How could you?” He took their sleeping daughter from her arms. “Mrs. Sloss said you fell asleep in here holding Jacquie, and she didn’t want to wake you. She said you looked so peaceful.”

As Hosea laid their daughter to rest in her bed, Jasmine massaged her temple with her fingertips. Her sleep had been anything but peaceful. Instead, her unconsciousness had been crammed with images of her past, images from the summer of ’83.

After he covered Jacqueline, Hosea pulled Jasmine up from the rocking chair and held her hand until they were in their bedroom.

“I missed you today,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to come home.”
And stay away from you,
she added inside.

Today was the first day in almost six weeks since Reverend Bush had been shot that she hadn’t gone to the hospital. How could she? How was she supposed to face Hosea with the blackmail letter so fresh in her mind? One look in her eyes, and he would have known.

Now she hoped that enough hours had passed so that he couldn’t see, wouldn’t feel the stress she’d been carrying for twenty-four hours.

But then he asked, “What’s wrong, Jasmine?”

Inside, she sighed. She would have stayed away from him longer if she could, but she had to come home.

He repeated his question.

Keeping her eyes away from his, she said, “Nothing. Why’re you asking me that?” She could feel him staring at her.

“I don’t know.” His voice full of suspicion. “It looks like…feels like—”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said as lightly as she possibly could. “I wanted to come home early to spend some time with Jacquie.” And then, she added, “I miss her,” knowing he’d believe that.

He nodded. “I do, too.” But his eyes didn’t move away. “Jasmine, with everything that’s going on with my father, with everything at the church, I need to know…”

Why is he so suspicious?

She had to face him now. Look into his eyes and make this lie look and feel like the truth. With a breath, she turned, made her fake smile real. “Babe, there’s nothing wrong. If I’d known you’d be this concerned, I would’ve met you at the hospital. But like I said—”

He held up his hand, stopping her. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s all the pressure. I’m seeing things, looking for stuff that’s not even there.” He sighed, slumped onto the bed. “It’s all…getting to be too much.”

Even though her heart was still pounding, she said, “That’s okay. I understand. How’s Dad?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No change. Doctor Lewis wants to meet with me tomorrow morning, and I don’t think it’s good news.” He stopped and took her hand. “Will you go with me?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

With a sigh, he said, “I don’t know, Jasmine. With Pops, I don’t know if I’m doing enough.”

“What more can you do? You’ve been praying, and the rest is up to God.”

“I know, but all these weeks have passed, and there’s nothing new. Maybe that’s because Pops needs more from me. Maybe he needs to hear my voice more. Or feel my presence more. Maybe I need to be there more.” He paused. “I’m thinking…about stepping down.” He took another moment, as if he needed that time to digest what he’d just said. “Maybe Pastor Wyatt should be leading City of Lights.”

It was hard for her to keep standing, so she sank down onto the bed next to him. “Really?” was all she could say.

“Yeah. I’ve got to do all I can, and with everything…it’s getting to be too much.” Then, without another word, he kissed her forehead and ambled toward the bathroom—all that was on his mind weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Jasmine didn’t move. Just stayed there and thought about how God truly did answer prayers.

This was her way out! If Hosea stepped down, the blackmailer, the letter, the threat would go away.

Hosea would never know. She’d never have to convince him that stripping had been her only choice. At least, that’s what she’d thought back then; that’s what Viva had told her…

For days, Viva had been trying to persuade Jasmine to go to the club with her. But over and over, Jasmine had told her no. Never in a million years would she get on some stage in front of a bunch of old men. No way. She was too good for that. And that’s what she kept telling Viva.

“Okay, so you’re too good to make money, mama?” her friend asked. “Then what’re you gonna do?”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure; I’m still checking out getting a second job for the summer.”

“Okay, that’ll bring you an extra, what, one hundred dollars a week? And by the end of the summer, you’ll have an extra, what? It won’t even be a thousand dollars.”

Jasmine ignored her skepticism. “I have other options. I made some calls to the blood bank—”

She had to stop talking since Viva was buckled over, laughing.

“And then there are other things,” Jasmine added, softly this time, her confidence waning. But when Viva kept laughing, Jasmine added, “I don’t care what I do. All I know is that you’re not going to find me on some stage dancing half naked!”

“Not half naked,
chica,
nine-tenths naked.” Viva laughed. “I take it all off—everything but the drawers.”

Jasmine shook her head. “That’s not for me. And how would being an exotic dancer help anyway? What am I gonna do—pay my tuition with one-dollar bills?”

“That’s bogus,
chica.
Money is money. Those people in the admin building won’t be turning down anything that’s green. I’m telling you, you can make a truckload of cash—more than you can make anywhere else.”

Jasmine turned up her nose, as if the thought of dancing with Viva smelled nasty.

Viva said, “Don’t be looking down at me. You need to be asking me to hook you up, ’cause you don’t have very many choices…”

Jasmine sighed deeply, bringing herself from the summer of 1983 to the winter of 2007. If only what she’d told Viva had been true. If only she’d kept her word that she wouldn’t take off her clothes for any reason. If only being a stripper hadn’t come so easily.

But as she listened to the sound of the shower spray coming from the bathroom, she thanked God for Hosea’s words.

Maybe Pastor Wyatt should be leading City of Lights.

Without knowing a thing, her husband had saved her. All she had to do now was encourage him, tell him that he should step aside, convince him that focusing on his father was the right thing. The right thing for both of them.

Jasmine stripped as fast as she could and headed to the shower. There was no better time to begin to persuade her husband than now.

J
ASMINE DIDN’T KNOW WHY ALL
those people talked about food being the way to a man’s heart. The real key to any man’s soul was in the bed.

She’d known that before, and she was sure of it now as she rolled away from Hosea, leaving her husband gasping.

After a couple of deep breaths, Hosea smiled.
“Good
morning.”

She kissed his cheek. “It was good for me.”

“As good as it was last night?”

Jasmine chuckled as she rested her head against his chest. “Definitely.” Although she was smiling on the outside, her thoughts were on all those images that had kept sleep away again.

But by tonight, sleep should come easy because of the free pass Hosea was giving her. As quickly as this drama began, it was about to end.

She counted to ten and then said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

Hosea frowned, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. As if his thoughts were still on this morning.

“Stepping down,” Jasmine reminded him. “I think you’re
right, babe. You have too much to offer to be staying where people are constantly trying to bring you down. And once you walk away from that drama, you’ll be able to spend more time with your dad, like you want to. And, I will, too. And then we’ll both be able to spend more time with Jacquie.” Without a breath, she kept going. “And then when
Bring It On
returns in the summer, you won’t be so stressed. You’ll be able to focus on the show. On what’s most important to you. It’ll be a better quality of life—for you, me, and Jacquie.” She nodded with every word she spoke. “Definitely, give Pastor Wyatt the keys, because it’s not worth it.”

Hoisting himself up on one elbow, Hosea looked at Jasmine through squinted eyes. “Wow. You gave me a couple of reasons that I hadn’t even thought about.”

“Well, isn’t that what a helpmate’s supposed to do?”

He nodded, his eyes still on her. “But why the change? I thought you loved being Lady Jasmine.”

“Yeah, but I hate what you’re going through; you’re my priority.” She paused, cupped his face with the palm of her hand. “Babe, I thought about this all last night. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Well, we’re on one accord.”

Jasmine smiled, thoughts of the blackmail letter almost gone from her mind. It was over.

He said, “I was thinking about this all night, too. Kinda talked to God as I slept. And I think I was just worn down yesterday.” He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’re still the first lady.”

Jasmine blinked, taking seconds to understand. “You’re…”

“Going to stay,” he finished. “The best thing I can do for my father is carry on.”

“But…”

He kissed her again. “I’ve made up my mind, so pray for me,” he said, before he jumped out of the bed.

He left Jasmine sitting, wondering what had happened. Her plan had been that, by the time her feet hit the floor this morning, City of Lights and her blackmailer would be in the past.

But with what Hosea had said, nothing had changed. The threat was still there. Today was just like yesterday—she was still in trouble.

It was more than the chilled air that made her shiver when she traipsed across the floor, her steps leaving soft prints in the plush carpet. But by the time she got to her closet and grabbed her bathrobe, her confidence was back.

She was ready with another plan.