Pastor Needs a Boo (49 page)

Obadiah glanced across the room. Tatiana was standing next to Luther Howard, grinning, hanging on his arm, and practically lapping up every word coming out of his mouth.

“Do you know Tatiana is here acting like she has just won the lottery?”

“That's because she doesn't know Todd is alive,” Denzelle said. “Tatiana wanted Todd dead for that insurance money.”

“That is just messed up,” Obie said. “Should I call your brother?”

“Nope. I just talked to my old boss, Greg Williams, who is way up in the bureau now. He said they have been after Luther Howard for years. And he also said there is something else about to go down that is connected to the denomination and a few bishops.

“Greg asked me to help him with this case. I'll be undercover—not deep undercover—just laying low enough to find out what's going on. I really believe I'll be able to do more if I drop out of the race and stay in my pulpit.

“And Greg said that he wants Tatiana out on the streets for a while. She is the only link to Luther and this hidden cartel. So play dumb with that ho.”

“D, please let me tell her that Todd is alive. Please, Dawg,” Obadiah pleaded.

“Okay. Let me make sure he has some undercover cops watching him while he's at Duke Hospital. Wouldn't want that skank rolling up in here trying to finish the job.”

“What do I tell her?”

“Play with her head, Obie. Then, tell Tatiana that Todd had a heart attack, but is alive, and will be fine.”

“D, I sure hope he is divorcing that skank after all of this.”

“My lawyer is on the way to the hospital with the papers already drawn up. The last thing Todd will do before being completely sedated is sign his divorce papers with me as his witness. He will have the sheriff's office deliver them to Tatiana when she is back on the job.”

“You know, I'm beginning to like this Todd more and more.”

“Me too, Obie. Gotta go.”

Both Theophilus Simmons and Eddie Tate were staring at Obadiah, wondering what in the world was going on with him and his boy, Denzelle. This was one time they were glad it took these black church folk too much time to come together, get in their seats, shut up, and sit down. On any other conference day, they would have sent ushers throughout the room with strict instructions to ask anyone who was standing around talking and laughing to leave. Today they needed this time.

Obadiah looked at Theophilus Simmons, who nodded for him to finish what he was doing. Obadiah texted the bishop,
Thank you,
and walked over to where Tatiana was standing with Luther. She was glaring at Xavier Franklin, who was holding on to Camille like she was a piece of Jolly Rancher candy. This was the first time Obadiah had ever witnessed Xavier acting like he wanted to be with Camille.

Obadiah nodded to the Franklins and walked up to Tatiana. He said, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Tatiana stared at Obadiah Quincey like he was a crackhead asking her for money for a hit.

“This is about your husband. I just got a call from Denzelle, who asked me to tell you what happened. Can we talk where it's more private?”

Tatiana had been waiting for this news all day. She had even practiced displaying her grief with Luther several times, and made sure her story was airtight. She was so excited about hearing the official pronouncement of Todd's death that she could barely contain her glee.

“Todd? What about Todd?”

Obadiah took one of Tatiana's hands in his, like he would do with someone he had to give news of a death. He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself. Obadiah knew he was wrong. This would have been hilarious if it were not so serious and wicked.

He had to give Tatiana her due. The girl had the perfect expression of “what's wrong” on her face. The only thing that dampened her performance was the twinkle she could not keep out of her eyes.

“Tatiana, Todd is at Duke Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit.”

Obie let those words linger in the air, so he could watch Tatiana pull herself together at learning Todd was alive. She looked like she was about to throw up.

“Are you sure about this, Obadiah?” Tatiana asked carefully.

“Yes,” Obadiah said in his best pastor voice. He knew Tatiana was trying to find a way to ask how bad off Todd was, if he were on life support, and how long he had left to live.

“It is a miracle Todd is even alive. But what is so miraculous is that he is awake, aware, lucid, and in his right mind. He could have died, but God is so good. Can you believe how the Lord worked this out? It makes me feel like shouting right here on this conference room floor.”

“I don't know what to say,” Tatiana said.

She couldn't believe Todd survived that heart attack. She was a nurse. She knew what a fatal, massive cardiac arrest looked like. And she knew that that is exactly what happened to her husband. Todd not only survived the heart attack, he was doing well.

“Me neither,” Obadiah told her. “This is a Miracle. And all I can say is, Wow—God is amazing.”

“Yes, He is,” Tatiana answered, thinking that this God was more amazing and frightening than folks realized. Todd should have been dead. He must have gotten to praying and believed enough to turn things around. She hated folks who prayed like that, and never pegged Todd Townsend for being one of those people. This was not good.

“Did he ask for me?” she asked, hoping not to sound too nervous. “Did he want me to come to the hospital?”

“I doubt it,” Obadiah said in his kind voice. “Perhaps you should stay exactly where you are and handle your business. I'm sure Todd would not want his heart troubles to interfere with what it is you are trying to do.”

“I see,” Tatiana said very carefully. She glanced around to make sure there weren't any plainsclothed cops lurking around to arrest her. “Well, I will abide by my husband's wishes. Do you think he will want me to come to the hospital later?”

“I doubt it,” Obadiah answered, again in the soothing voice he used when going in for the kill with someone.

“See this is what I think, Tatiana. Todd probably doesn't want you at the hospital or his home or anywhere near him. But there is one thing I'm sure he will want you to know.”

“What?” Tatiana asked, clearly hoping it was something that would keep her in good standing with Todd and protect her from him coming after her.

“I'm sure Todd would want you to go to YouTube and look up the song, ‘The Rain' by Oran ‘Juice' Jones. I may be wrong. But something tells me it is the perfect song for you to watch.”

Luther Howard, who had eased over to listen in on the conversation, had to turn away from them, he was so tickled. He had to hand it Obadiah Quincey. That was one smooth-player move. Sounded like something he would have said to a woman who tried to play him. “The Rain” was the ultimate “you've been caught, B, and I hate yo' butt” song.

Obadiah patted Tatiana on the shoulder and said, “My work right here is done.”

He walked off, trying not to pat himself on the back. He had to admit, the “Oran ‘Juice' Jones” suggestion was the perfect way to end the conversation, and then set it all off where Tatiana Townsend was concerned.

“Can we please get this meeting started?” Bishop Sonny Washington snapped. He was tired of waiting on Theophilus Simmons and Eddie Tate.

Theophilus didn't blink or raise an eyebrow. He moved away from the podium and said, “It's all yours.”

Sonny hurried to the front of the room and signaled for Marcel Brown, Ray Caruthers, and Bishop Thomas Lyle Jefferson to come up to the podium and join him. They had been planning on presenting this to the Board of Bishops for weeks, and were not about to waste any more time with their enemies. He figured Theophilus and Eddie were stalling hoping to give Denzelle Flowers a chance to get to the meeting. But that wasn't going to work.

Bishop Jefferson's wife, Violetta, hurried to catch up with her husband. She had been deep in conversation with Glodean Benson and wasn't paying attention when they finally moved to the front of the conference room. Violetta didn't like being made the poster girl for this scheme. She and Thomas had the worst argument in their entire marriage over what was about to go down.

She tried to get to the podium before her uncle Raphael saw where she was going and hurried to get up front and be seen. Uncle Raphael wanted to be wherever he thought would make him seem important.

“If she slings that fake braid around her head one more time, I'm snatching it right off,” Lena leaned over and whispered to Marsha. “Where are Miss Essie and Miss Johnnie Tate when you need them? One of them would have snatched that braid and twirled her around with it.”

Marsha had Lena's iPad. She pulled up Violetta's hit song, “Burn de House Down,” on YouTube. She whispered, “Check this out.”

Lena watched Violetta gyrating and dancing all down on the ground to the hot and sultry song in a pair of “coochie-cutter” shorts, high-heeled sandals that laced all the way up her legs, and tassels on her bare boobs.

“She is working it, Lena,” Marsha whispered, and then sneaked and shared the video with another minister's wife, who had just said, “Girl, let me see that.”

Soon several other folk were watching the video on their phones and iPads, snickering. So many people began playing the video on YouTube, you could hear the muffled chords of the music around the room. A few people closer to the platform made the mistake of playing the song too loudly.

Violetta recognized the song immediately and could not hide the horrified expression on her face. She thought only the younger members would know about that song. She'd even dressed down for this occasion, hoping to make people stop thinking about her and “Burn de House Down.” But her outfit only egged them on. It was kind of hard for folk to forget you were second only to Patra in the outfit she was wearing.

Episcopal Supervisor Jefferson's outfit was anything but cheap in price. It was also anything but modest in style. She had on a tight long-sleeved black sheath dress that hugged her butt like it had been sprayed on. She was wearing large, gold-hoop earrings and a thick gold chain around her neck.

But it was the shoes that sealed the deal with this outfit. Violetta Jefferson was wearing a pair of shiny gold booties that had a black heel that was trimmed in gold. Those shoes looked so good on her feet, several ministers' wives started looking for them online to order a pair for themselves.

Violetta's uncle was also dressed in black and gold. He was wearing a gold, three-piece suit, a black satin shirt and matching tie, a gold lamé fedora, gold jewelry, and a pair of gold gators with the toes cut out. Only today, he also had on a pair of black-and-gold silk socks.

“Her uncle is not all there, is he?” Marsha asked Lena, who was about to say, “I don't think he is,” when that suspicion was confirmed by the uncle's response to the song.

As soon as the uncle heard the song well enough to know it was his niece's, he started dancing on the stage like he was the reason for this show. The good news was that the uncle could really dance. The not so good news was that he didn't know the proper dance for this gathering. What he was doing was a far cry from the more acceptable holy dance.

And it didn't take long to figure out that a skinny brother on the “Burn de House Down” video was Episcopal Supervisor Violetta's uncle. He didn't really resemble the video man all that much now. But the moves were such a perfect duplicate of what had been performed on the video, there was no mistaking who it was.

At this point the uncle grabbed the microphone out of Bishop Washington's hand and started singing “Burn de House Down.” If he had been singing a church song, folk would have been up dancing and getting into the song with him. But that song was as far from church as moonshine was from bottled water.

Violetta looked like she was torn between dancing with Uncle Raphael and being mortified to the point of having an old-fashioned case of “the vapors.” She knew her uncle wasn't all there. But she had underestimated his need to be seen in a large gathering. Her husband pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat off of his head. He had been telling Violetta and telling Violetta her uncle needed treatment and medication. He hoped this performance was evidence he was right.

Denzelle walked in the room just in time to see the uncle do a split that would have put the late, great King of Soul, James Brown, to shame. He popped back up, grabbed a tambourine he'd found on a chair, and started beating it on his behind to the beat of the song—which had been turned all the way up by now.

“You know, that fool can really dance,” Marsha said to Lena, who was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her cheeks. They had seen some wild and crazy mess at gatherings of Gospel United Church preachers and bishops. But they had never witnessed anything like this.

Theophilus and Eddie wanted to laugh, and they also wanted to pimp slap that fool up there dancing like he was on a Beyoncé video. Only Sonny and Marcel could be caught up in something that turned out like this. They didn't even know if the phrase “hot boiling ghetto mess” could truly describe what was going on right now.

Sonny Washington knew Uncle Raphael was going to be trouble when he insisted on coming with them in that outfit. He had tried everything to stop him from being at this meeting. In fact, Sonny had tried to get Marcel to sweet-talk Violetta into telling her uncle to stay in the hotel.

Luther Howard had never liked going to church. But if church was this entertaining, he was up for joining. Never in his life had he seen anything like this at a church gathering, or at any gathering for that matter. He looked over at Tatiana, who was still very nervous about her conversation with that Reverend Quincey. He leaned over and whispered, “Get it together.”

“But what about my money?” Tatiana whined.