Somewhat Saved (23 page)

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Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker

BOOK: Somewhat Saved
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“And,” Sasha added, completely ignoring Sister Betty's remark, “he's got more money than you, so Zipporah won't need either you or Chandler.”
Now, that part of Sasha's revelation caught Sister Betty's attention. Her eyes narrowed. “You mean that she may not record my gospel album?” She couldn't accept that.
Sister Betty knew she had to do something, plus Chandler was depending on Zipporah to launch his entertainment management company. No one was gonna mess with her godson's dreams, especially some man who'd decided to step up to the fatherhood plate on his deathbed.
The mean look that appeared and spread sardonically across Sister Betty's face scared Sasha. It was a sobering picture. Sasha had never seen Sister Betty when she wasn't talking or acting like God didn't have her on a leash or wasn't directing her every thought and deed.
It had to be a joke for Sister Betty's true nature to be revealed on the very day that Sasha felt she'd truly found God. Had Sister Betty strayed from Him, she wondered?
But Sister Betty hadn't strayed from God. She wasn't even close to doing so. The look that Sasha had taken as a mean one was just a look of determination. It was with the same tenacity that a mama bear, a mama shark, or a rabid baboon would defend its young, or in Sister Betty's case, her godson and a gospel album.
Of course, Sasha didn't know that. She got up to leave thinking that Sister Betty had crossed over to the dark side. In fact, she'd made up her mind right then that she was going to her room and pray for Sister Betty. Since she'd just opened up a prayer line of communication to God, she probably needed to use it while she could. With her salvation history, she was sure to be on a probationary sheet of thin ice.
 
 
Inside Bea's hotel room, Jasper tried to explain his side of things. Every time Jasper was able to catch a breath trying to bring Bea up to speed, Areal called. She'd interrupted Jasper three times on his cellular. Each time she'd called, she was indecisive as to whether or not she wanted Zipporah told that Areal was her mother. None of what Areal had said mattered to Jasper. He was taking responsibility as a father and that wasn't about to change.
If Jasper hadn't tired of Areal, Bea certainly had. She finally leaned over and snatched the cellular from Jasper while Areal was deep into her fourth interruption. Bea turned it off and stuffed it under the sofa pillow.
The angry yet concerned look on Bea's face stopped Jasper from retrieving his phone.
“Whatever you say is going to hurt that beautiful child,” Bea said sadly, “and she doesn't deserve to be hurt any more than she's already been.”
Jasper knew Bea was right but then, so was he. “I'm not about to leave this earth and not take care of my child!” Jasper had said the words
my child
with authority. He'd liked the sound of those words from the moment he'd felt for certain that Zipporah was his.
“Can't you just will her some money and let it be at that?”
“Hell no. I'm not letting it be at that!” The sudden, angry response brought about Jasper's wheezing, but he wasn't stopping, “She's . . . my . . . baby.”
Bea recognized Jasper's determination for what it was—unshakeable. Neither of them really knew Zipporah but they both loved her. It hadn't been a full week, let alone a lifetime, but there was something about her that caused them to want to protect her.
“You do know Sasha will do whatever she can to stop you. She's just selfish like that.” Bea was certain he was already well aware of it.
Jasper snatched off the mask he'd just donned seconds before and hissed, “I'll kill her if she does,” before quickly replacing it on his face.
“You'd actually try and kill that li'l Smurf?” Bea asked before slowly adding, “I can live with that.”
 
 
Inside Sister Betty's hotel room Sasha's resolve had weakened considerably since she'd arrived. It'd taken a lot but she had said what she came to say. She leaned on her cane for strength and prepared to leave. But before Sasha made it to the door, she heard the familiar bone-grinding sound of bending arthritic knees.
Sasha turned quickly, just in time to see Sister Betty shamelessly, and in obvious pain, fall to her knees. Her arms immediately spread in supplication and out of respect, Sasha stopped moving. It was not like Sister Betty to fight against what God wanted from her, so she understood Sister Betty's repentance, and it caused her to smile. She was amazed. The super saint of the church, God's right-hand woman, on her knobby knees repenting.
Whether Sasha had already gone out the door or not wasn't a concern. The spiritual knife stabbing at Sister Betty's conscience had cut deep. She heard the words repeated, “I'm sorry, Lord,” but she couldn't feel them leaving her mouth. It was as though she were having another out of body experience. So she wasn't aware of Sasha's presence or the fact that Sasha had knelt beside her and was repenting for all the hurt she'd caused Zipporah.
And right there inside a suite at the Luxor Hotel in Sin City, the most unlikely of duos had come together to touch and agree. From deep within their collective spirits, each knew of God's promise.... “Where two or more are gathered together in My name, there will I be also. . . .”
33
Chandler raced from the Luxor parking garage. In his excitement, he wasn't sure if his feet were touching the ground. The lobby was a blur as he sprinted through, almost knocking over a huge Egyptian figure, and on toward the elevator. Fortunately, the elevator door was open and those waiting had already entered. Chandler would've run over them if they hadn't. He pounded on the elevator's “close door” button, much to the chagrin of the other riders.
Inside Zipporah's hotel room the warm, pulsating shower was refreshing enough to change her mood back from apprehension to, at best, cheerfulness. She'd done something that was certain to give her more control over her situation.
Mostly Zipporah had been worried about her living arrangements at the shelter. The encounter with Chandler still had her a little distrustful about her future and where she'd lay her head. And then, just as she was slipping out of her clothes, she'd had an idea. It was one she'd been certain would work if she executed it correctly. She'd placed a call to the homeless shelter and pretended that she was a nurse from one of the Las Vegas hospitals. She'd made certain that she'd slurred the hospital's name so the lie would work.
“This is Nurse Denton from (unintelligible) hospital. I need to confirm the address of a Miss Zipporah Moses. She's been admitted and I'm following up on the paperwork and need to contact her next of kin,” she'd said.
“Is she okay?”
Zipporah recognized the voice as one of the other residents who sometimes worked the phones for an extra privilege or two.
“She'll be with us for a few days. We just need to make sure she's not penalized and her residency at your shelter remains intact.”
“I can't say for certain but I will definitely give Miss Thompson the information. Can I please get your name and the hospital number?”
Zipporah hung up quickly. If she knew Miss Thompson, that woman on the phone was going to get an earful for not taking down all the information correctly. But the notice had to be logged in and if Zipporah was penalized by an eviction, heads would roll.
Zipporah combed out her wet hair. She had just begun to put several rollers in when the phone rang. She wasn't concerned that her scheme to keep the room at the shelter hadn't worked, as there was no caller I.D. on the phone. But she was curious. She waited until the fourth ring before answering. She answered with a yawn to throw the caller off.
“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”
She recognized Chandler's voice. He spoke as though nothing had happened earlier. She decided not to hold his foot to fire at that moment. “I'm awake now. I was resting up for tonight.”
“You'll be fine, I know you will. But listen, I have something to show you. Can I come over now?”
“Where are you?” She wasn't really concerned except that she needed enough time to dress.
“I'm in the room I reserved here at the Luxor.” He tried to tone down the excitement in his voice as he waited for a response. She didn't give one. “Can I come over?”
Zipporah counted to ten and then answered, as nonchalantly as she could, “I don't have a lot of time before the sound check. I can spare a few minutes if you don't take too long.”
Chandler detected the symptoms of a diva. He didn't know whether she was messing with him or was truly serious. He could accept that she was still a bit annoyed. He wasn't putting up with an unearned diva mentality no matter how talented she was. “I'll be there shortly.” He hung up, deciding that if she still acted crazy when he got to her room, he'd keep his surprise just that . . . a surprise.
Zipporah stood with her mouth agape.
No, he didn't just hang up on me!
She smiled. He knew the game as well as she did. In one swift move of hanging up the phone first, Chandler had laid down the rules. If she wanted to succeed, and she truly did, she'd have to stop acting like a child. She ran her hands over her hips and bosom and decided that with what she had going, childlike games were useless. That's what her mind determined, but her heart knew better. There had to be a way she could have her cake and eat it too, even if Chandler weren't hungry.
Zipporah had barely changed into something a bit more appropriate than the clinging robe she'd worn moments before, when Chandler knocked on the room door.
Zipporah opened the door slowly, allowing her eyes to briefly meet his before motioning him to enter. True to her feminine nature, she'd seen and noticed everything about him in about five seconds. It was all the time she needed and that's why she was able to lower her eyes first. She then turned and walked away, not bothering to make sure he'd entered. She already knew he would and that he had.
Chandler had rehearsed the empowerment speech before he arrived at Zipporah's hotel room. He'd told himself that there was nothing she could say that would make him relinquish power. He was going to be her manager and call the shots. She would do what he said, when he said it, and be prepared to go all the way to the top of success.
But Zipporah had said nothing. Without uttering a single word, she'd turned away. She'd gathered all her feminine wiles about her, and like a she-leopard confident her kill would stay put until she was ready to eat, she'd given him a glimpse of her arsenal.
He couldn't take his eyes off Zipporah as she sauntered across the room. One glimpse trumped everything he'd planned. What he suddenly felt was not foreign. The blood raced through his body, almost making him spastic. It was a painful reminder of just how long he'd gone without being with a woman the way he'd wanted to. It'd been a while partly because he wasn't the type to be with just any woman, and partly because he'd been abstinent for the past several years.
At the height of a promising career, he'd walked away from the record industry with a lot of guerrilla marketing and promotion knowledge about the inner workings of the entertainment beast. He'd also seen too many of his peers give up promising careers and families torn apart by sex and drugs, which had often led to AIDS and ruination.
Twice, Chandler had dodged the sexual disease bullet. After getting the word that his HIV test was negative and the test for one of his best friends wasn't, he took what was happening around him as a sign that he needed to return to what he was taught in church. He figured if God was dispensing grace and mercy to him, which he certainly hadn't deserved, then he would accept it. He'd vowed to be celibate and so far he'd kept that vow. It certainly hadn't been easy and since then he'd met other women. Some of them were prettier and probably smarter than Zipporah. None of them, until that night, had moved him into reconsidering his vow of abstinence.
Chandler made up his mind to say what he had to say and get away from Zipporah—quickly.
She still had her back to him and yet she'd known how he'd reacted. Without bothering to turn around, she pretended to move around one of the sofa cushions, which meant she had to bend over slightly to do so.
Punishing him enough, Zipporah finally turned around to ask Chandler to have a seat. To her surprise, he was already seated and scanning a piece of paper held in his hands.
“What's on your mind?” Zipporah was slightly unnerved by what she took as his snub toward her not-too-subtle efforts. She buttoned the top button of her dress in defeat. “What's that you're reading?”
Chandler took every ounce of strength he had and uncrossed his legs, which released both his hands and the piece of paper. “It's a guest list for tonight's show.”
“Why do I need to see a guest list?” Now she was really puzzled. Was Chandler toying with her to see if she was ignorant to the business? Was he just crazy? She was growing tired of the “is he or isn't he” game.
He smiled and laid the paper on the coffee table. He couldn't get up at that moment. After all, she couldn't tease him like that and not expect his body to react. He made it so she'd have to walk over to get it.
Curiosity got the better of Zipporah, so she surrendered. She watched him intently, while she reached for the paper on the table. She clutched the paper and with her eyes still locked on him, she backed away to sit down again.
Chandler watched her transformation. He was still fascinated by the way she confronted every situation. She was indeed an expert-in-training, when it came to mystery. He liked that.
Her body seemed to relax and tense almost simultaneously as her eyes scanned the sheet. “Are you serious?” She started giggling and couldn't stop.
“As a heart attack,” he countered. Her smile was contagious. He found he'd started smiling, too. “They'll be here tonight, as a favor to me, just to see you.”
Chandler fought the urge to run to where she sat and just hold her. He wanted to reassure this already self-assured woman that he was making everything all right. Perhaps at another time, he would. At that moment, he chose to sit, observe, and hope the blood stopped overflowing in his pants.
Words hovered over Zipporah like an oral balloon. She wanted to snatch the words of thanks and toss them at Chandler, but they floated beyond her reach.
Zipporah reread the sheet of paper. There were six names on the sheet. Four of the names were renowned record producers or show producers for HBO. And two of them were A & R representatives from two of New York's largest record companies. “How did you pull this off?”
“They're in town at one of the industry conferences. The big awards banquet is at the conference center this evening. They've promised to stop by and catch your second performance.”
“My goodness.” Zipporah blushed. “Shouldn't I be nervous?”
“I wouldn't think less of you if you were.”
“But I'm not nervous,” Zipporah continued. “Am I crazy? Am I overconfident?”
“Only you would know that.” Chandler pointed at her. “But get back to me later about that crazy part.”
They laughed at the same time and the timing of it seemed to bring them closer.
“I probably should go,” Chandler said as he looked at his watch. Its plainness reminded him that when he changed for the show he needed to wear a more expensive watch. If he looked like he didn't need money he'd be shown more respect. That was something he'd learned early on in life.
It took Chandler a moment to realize that Zipporah had stopped laughing. She had a strange look. It wasn't one of fear and yet it didn't quite look like confidence, either. Just when he thought he'd broken through her mystery shield, she'd raised it again.
“I need for you to leave now,” Zipporah said softly as she walked toward the door. But no matter how soft she spoke, her voice still wavered. Tears came slowly at first but by the time she'd raised her hand to wipe them away, they'd soaked the sheet of paper.
Chandler rose, not wanting to cause her embarrassment. He went to the door and opened it. He had to admit that he did expect her to be grateful and perhaps to concede that he had her best interest at heart. He never expected her to cry. But he was learning that he didn't really know what to expect from her. Tonight, he'd accept the tears.
With a quick hug and a kiss on her wet cheeks, Chandler left without saying a word, and yet his actions had said plenty.

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