The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (16 page)

“This morning, church,” Bishop said, “as we get closer to the new year, I want to talk about expectations and the plans that God has for you in 2011.”

Amens rang out.

“You see,” Bishop continued, “it’s time for us to leave all that negativity behind, right here in 2010.”

My eyes were still closed, though there was no way I was going to get a nap in. Not with the way people around me were shouting, “Amen” and “Hallelujah!”

Cash said, “Here’s the thing that many people just don’t know, and this is my message for today. …”

Five chords rang out from the keyboard.

Then, silence.

Then, Bishop said, “God blesses the positive.”

Then the congregation went wild, stomping their feet, raising their hands, shouting out praises.

My head was still bowed, and I moved my lips as if I was praying, as if I was giving my own praises to the Lord.

Cash waited until the parishioners settled down before he went straight into his message. “If you want something from God in your life, you have to be positive about it. And once you’re positive, you can step to God. All you have to do is ask and you shall receive.”

“Thank you, Jesus!”

“Just believe, Saints,” Bishop said. “You need that new job … just believe.”

My eyes sprang open.

Cash wiped his brow before he continued, “If you need money for that mortgage … just believe.”

Was he talking about us? Had Brooklyn told him everything? I was going to kill her if she had, right after Adam killed me.

I inhaled and glanced at Adam. But my husband showed no signs of concern. Instead, he was on the edge of his seat, leaning forward, as if he was trying to get closer to the message. And nodding his head the whole time. I exhaled.

“If you need money for anything, I say all you have to do is
believe. But here’s the thing—God knows if your belief is real. God knows if you’re just saying it or faking it.”

“That’s right!”

“But when He feels that real faith, that mustard-seed faith, that moving-mountain faith, He rewards that. Because that’s the business that God’s in—the faith-blessing business. And His desire for you is that you prosper. His desire is that if you want to get out of Barry Farm, you prosper. His desire is that if you want a better job, you prosper. His desire is that in everything that your heart has ever wanted, you prosper.”

“Amen,” the parishoners cried out.

And I mean they were crying for real. The women around me were sobbing like someone had died. Tears flowed from the men, too, and they dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs.

“Prosperity,” someone shouted.

“That’s right!” Bishop Cash answered. “Prosperity. You can have that,” the Bishop declared as he pounded the podium. “Just name it and claim it.”

He had to wait for five minutes to say another word through the holy celebration that unfolded in front of him. “You can design what you want 2011 to look like—you can prophesize your own future,” he shouted.

“Thank you, Jesus.”

“Understand and remember … God blesses the positive. Ask and you shall receive, church!” He danced his little jig before he closed with, “Amen and Amen.”

I had to be the only one in Holy Deliverance still sitting, so I rose, too. Just minutes before, I’d been exhausted, but now I was nowhere near tired. That’s how it always was for me with Bishop Cash. He gave me hope, he ignited my faith, he had me believing!

Adam was going to get this job—all we needed was mustard-seed, moving-mountain faith. And I had that.

Next to me, Adam’s eyes were closed and his hands were raised in praise. The sight of my husband worshipping like that gave me so much joy. I could see the peace on his face, and I could feel his faith.

His thoughts were the same as mine.

That job was his. Tomorrow. Just one more day.

That was when I closed my eyes and raised my hands in complete and total praise, too.

We heard the phone ringing the moment Adam eased the car into the garage. Once he turned off the Kia, Ethan jumped over Alexa, then out the door.

“Don’t worry,” I called behind my son once the phone stopped. “Whoever it is will call back.”

“Yeah,” Alexa said. “They should’ve known that we were in church anyway.”

But that didn’t deter Ethan, our self-appointed Langston family telephone answerer; he zipped into the house—gloves off, coat off, boots off—and in less than a minute, he was at the telephone, picking up, because like I predicted, the caller had phoned again.

“Yeah, she’s here,” he said. Then, “Mom!”

“Who is it?” I asked, kicking over my boots.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But his voice sounds funny. Like he’s a boy and a girl.”

The receiver was only inches from Ethan’s mouth when he yelled that out. I wondered which one of our friends he’d insulted before I grabbed the phone from him.

“Hello, Evia.”

“Shay-Shaunté?” All kinds of thoughts went through my mind, since my boss never called me at home.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“We’re just getting home from church,” I felt the need to say.

She coughed. “Well … I needed to know if you’d chosen the intern yet.”

This was the reason she was calling me? Why couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?

“Yes, I was going to give you her résumé in the morning and then arrange an interview with you.”

“Great!” she said, all enthused. “Like I said, you’re in charge of this; so I don’t even need to interview her.”

“Then why are you calling me at home on a Sunday asking about this?” The words came out before I could think.

“I wanted to make sure that this was getting done.”

I wondered if she heard how contradictory her words were. But Shay-Shaunté was a smart woman—she knew what she was doing, even if I couldn’t figure her out.

Then when she said, “I hope things are getting better for you and Adam,” I sensed this was the real reason for her call.

I waited, because if she said one more word to me about Adam and her five million dollars. …

She coughed. Then she coughed again. “I want you to know that I’ve been,” another cough, “praying … for you and Adam.”

A chill that felt like it came straight through the telephone surged through me. If anyone else had said those words, I would’ve thanked them. But inside, my heart twisted and I heard Big Mama’s warning words:
“You don’t want everyone praying for you.”

All I said was, “Well …” and hoped that single word was enough to let Shay-Shaunté know that this conversation was over.

“Well …,” she answered back.

What did this witch want? After a couple more seconds of silence, I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Definitely!”

I hung up without saying good-bye. Even though I was standing in the living room of my heated house, still wearing my full-length coat, I shuddered.

“Just one more day,” I whispered. “All I have to do is believe. Just one more day.” And with another shudder, I rejoined my family.

Chapter 23

I
T WAS FIVE O
’
CLOCK EXACTLY WHEN
the phone on my desk rang.

“I’m close by. Can you meet me downstairs in ten?”

Before I replied, I replayed my husband’s words in my head—his words, his tone, his cadence. There was nothing for me to read. So I just said, “Yes.”

My hand shook as I lowered the phone back into the cradle. In my head, I turned over the ten words that Adam had spoken. But there was nothing to glean except that I should meet him in ten. I sighed; how could I possibly wait that long?

I watched every single second tick by on the clock and counted along with the moving hand: sixty seconds … one hundred seconds … four hundred and twenty seconds … five hundred and ninety-nine seconds!

I jumped up, grabbed my coat and purse, then glanced at my briefcase. I hadn’t taken that home since my life had changed at work. If Adam had the news that I’d been praying for, that briefcase would never go home with me again.

I opened my door slowly, then peeked into the hall. There in front of me was the first sign that blessings were on their way—Rachel wasn’t at her desk. I tiptoed through the vestibule, then dashed to the stairwell. This was quickly becoming my regular means of escape. The stairs were best if I totally wanted to avoid Shay-Shaunté.

On the first floor, I slowed my roll, safe now. Shay-Shaunté wouldn’t be anywhere near the lobby for another couple of hours, since she never left the building before nine.

“Please, God, please, God, please, God,” I whispered my prayer-mantra.

The moment I turned toward the triple-glass entry doors, I saw the Kia, parked illegally, in one of the handicapped spaces right in front. Even though the December chill had thawed a bit, it was still cold—too cold for Adam to be outside the car. But there he was—with a little bit of a gangsta lean—against the hood. Arms folded, lips set in a straight line, eyes shielded by his sunglasses. There was not a clue of what was coming.

“Please, God, please, God, please, God!”

I pushed the front door, and though I was still many feet away, I couldn’t hold it in. “Did you get the job?”

Adam took off his glasses, and there was my first glimpse of a smile. “I think so.”

His words made him grin, but they did nothing for me. “Think?” I needed more than that.

He nodded. “Mr. Yearwood and I met with the CEO, and afterwards when he walked me to the elevator, he welcomed me to the team.”

“So, it’s official?”

“Yeah, well, no. I mean, not completely official. Mr. Yearwood has to go back to see if the big boss agrees, but”—he slid his hands down the lapel collar of his overcoat—“you know how I do.”

Adam had never been overconfident. Self-assured, yes, but always grounded in the truth. So, if he thought he had the job, he probably did. Right?

“I got the job, Shine,” he said as if he heard me reasoning with myself. Lifting me off my feet, Adam swung me around.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” I said, grabbing hold of him.

Gently, he let my feet touch the ground, then he led me around to the passenger side of the car. “First thing tomorrow,” he began, already planning, “I’m gonna start setting things straight. I’m gonna call the mortgage company and Pearly Gates and the kids’ school and …” I was waiting for more words, but suddenly, Adam pushed me against the car and kissed me deeply. For a moment, I wondered if I really wanted to be making out in the parking lot of my place of employment.

But then, I thought, what place of employment? By next week, I was going to be nothing more than a memory to these people.

I wrapped my arms around my husband and returned his kiss. But the moment I opened my eyes, I stepped back, startled.

“What?” Adam asked, then followed my gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Shay-Shaunté said as she batted her eyes. “I came out of the building … for something and the two of you … were just there.” She smiled. “It was so sweet, so lovely.”

Her words were innocent enough, but inside the tenor of her tone there was so much more. Like her comment was not the casual observation of a friend. Like Shay-Shaunté was suddenly everywhere—as if she was always watching, always waiting.

Like she was a stalker.

But like I thought before, that was ridiculous, right? And a boss couldn’t be a stalker—not really, not truly.

Still, I grabbed the door handle and jumped into our car like I was being chased. Adam followed my lead and trotted to his side, never glancing up or back at Shay-Shaunté. He cranked up the engine, then sped away.

Through the side-view mirror, I could see Shay-Shaunté on the edge of the curb, still watching, still waiting.

Scary!

I didn’t take my eyes off her until we were out of the lot. Then I turned to Adam and saw that his frown was as deep as mine.

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” I asked.

He shook his head slowly and said nothing for many moments. Finally, “Let’s just say I’m glad this job came through.”

My heart beat like a war drum as I thought about what Adam meant by that.

But since Adam got the job, there was no need to go there. All I needed to do was be happy that the job had come through.

Chapter 24

T
HIS WAS WHAT PEACE FELT LIKE.
I’d almost forgotten, and Adam and I chatted easily on our way home.

But the moment we turned into the driveway, the front door of our home swung open and the twins busted out.

“Mom!”

If it had been Alexa alone, I would’ve taken my time stepping out of the car, knowing that her emergency was nothing more than a hangnail or a button missing from a top. But with Alana right by her side, wearing the same expression of distress, I knew that something was wrong.

Adam stopped the car halfway up the driveway, not even pulling into the garage, and we both jumped out of the Kia.

Now the twins were yelling, “Dad,” but that was all I could understand. They shouted at the same time, over each other, not even sounding like they were speaking English. Adam snatched the paper that Alexa was waving, and as he read, I tried to calm the twins down.

“Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it,” I assured them. “Let’s go inside.” Whatever this was, I wanted it handled behind closed doors.

“But, Mom!” Alexa planted herself in front of me. “You said everything was going to be all right.” With arms flailing, she turned to Adam. “You said you had a job. And now they’re taking away our house.”

With a quick glance, Adam handed me the paper.

“I do have a job,” he said, leading the twins back inside.

My steps were slow as I followed, scanning the fore-closure notice. Masking tape was still affixed to the top of the paper, which helped me piece together the puzzle—the girls had come home and found this notice taped to the door.

“It was embarrassing, Mom,” Alana cried. “Chloe was with us because we were going to study. But then when she saw this, she got scared and went home.”

“And she’s going to tell
everyone
in school,” Alexa sobbed, “that we don’t have any more money.”

“And she knows that we don’t have our cell phones anymore either,” Alana added to the story.