The Perfect Christian (6 page)

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Authors: E. N. Joy

BOOK: The Perfect Christian
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Chapter Eleven
It was only early Wednesday evening and Our Place was jumping. One who didn't typically frequent such spots would have sworn it was a Saturday night. Well, Doreen was one of those people, but on this particular evening, something had led her here. This feeling took over her that literally had her jump right up from her seat and head over to Our Place to look into some things.
“So this is why Wednesday evening Bible Study has such a poor turnout sometimes,” Doreen said to herself as she entered the joint. “Folks too busy up in here doing the devil's work.” She scanned the room. Spotting Willie on the dance floor crooning to the music of the house band with some female, Doreen realized that her husband was one of them folks she was referring to.
The blood raced through her body as she watched Willie's hands start at the nape of the woman's neck, and then take an evening stroll down her back and land on the park bench—aka the woman's butt. He cupped her behind as if he were testing melons in the market.
Next, Doreen watched Willie whisper something in the woman's ear that made the redbone's skin flush with red. When he immediately whispered something in her other ear, whatever it was caused her to playfully slap him. But at the same time, it must have turned the woman on because she cupped Willie's bottom just the same as he was cupping hers and the two began crooning and rocking together. They were nose to nose. It looked as if Willie wanted to take his lips and lay one on her. He probably would have if he hadn't all of a sudden been hit with a Word from God.
Literally, Doreen had crept over to Willie and his dance partner, taken her Bible out of her purse, and whacked Willie a good one upside the head.
“Woman! What the he . . .” Willie couldn't even get his curse word completely out he was so stunned. Now his hands no longer rested on the woman's bottom, but massaged his throbbing head instead. “Doreen, what did you do that for?”
“Do you really have to ask?” Doreen stood there tapping an angry, agitated foot on the ground.
“Heck, son,” Willie's father walked over and said, resting his hand on his son's shoulder, “why, your wife here was just trying to knock some sense into you is all.” Willie's father couldn't help but start laughing. A few others standing around did the same as the house band ceased playing music since they were no longer the center of attention.
“Maybe if you had taught him how to treat a woman when he was coming up, I wouldn't have had to knock sense into him. It would have already been instilled.” Beads of sweat formed on Doreen's forehead within seconds of her making that comment. She'd never been that bold in her life. Always the peacemaker, she was the one who tried to avoid tension and smooth out any that existed. But had she just said what she had to her father-in-law? By the look on his face—yes, she had.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Tucker said to his daughter-in-law. “What did you just say to me, little girl?”
Doreen swallowed hard, but didn't respond. Her own common sense, and to avoid even more tension, told her to take it back, but she couldn't. She meant it; every word of it. The way her Willie was treating her was the exact same way he'd seen his father treat his own mother all these years. Doreen's mother had told her so. She'd warned her it was all her husband knew, and therefore, that's the way he'd treat her unless the good Lord Himself broke the curse.
Obviously, after thirty years of marriage, Mr. Tucker's behavior hadn't done any harm to Willie's parents' marriage. They were still together and appeared to be happy after all these years. Maybe her mother-in-law was cut out for that type of husband-and-wife relationship, but Doreen wasn't.
When it came to her own parents, over the years, Doreen had never seen her father treat her mother with anything but respect; and vice versa. So she didn't know how to deal with this type of behavior from her husband. And boy, oh boy, did she wish she had asked somebody before she'd gone and gotten on her father-in-law's bad side.
Doreen didn't know what kind of reaction she was going to get from Mr. Tucker as she stood there with sweaty palms . . . and a sweaty forehead.
“Son,” Mr. Tucker said to Willie while he glared Doreen down, “I reckon you better get the wifey here in check.” And that's all he said as he popped a cigar in his mouth and walked away while nodding to the band to continue playing. “Drinks on the house,” he said over his shoulder, staring once again at Doreen as if to let her know that her words hadn't cut him deep at all. But they'd at least nicked him; that much she could tell.
Doreen let out a sigh of relief as Mr. Tucker walked away. She'd never heard that he was the kind of man to put his hands on a woman in a rough manner, but there's always a first time for everything. She silently thanked God she wasn't his first casualty. Instantly she felt as if there was no relief in sight as now Mrs. Tucker strolled her way.
When during Bible Study Doreen had gotten this funny feeling that something was going on with Willie, she had no idea it would erupt into all this. Now she wished she'd kept her behind planted right in that pew instead of sneaking out early and coming to the juke joint to investigate. Mr. Tucker may not have been the violent kind and resort to putting his hands on her, but the verdict was still out on Mrs. Tucker.
“You heard what my husband said,” Mrs. Tucker said with a smile as she put her arm around Doreen. “Drinks are on the house, gal. Come on and throw one back with your mother-in-law.”
Doreen tried not to show her nervousness. Mrs. Tucker was being too nice to Doreen after the way she'd just talked to her husband. “Well, uh, thank you, uh, ma'am, but I don't drink.”
Mrs. Tucker leaned in and began talking to Doreen like she was telling her a top secret. “Do you see any of those good church folks of yours hanging around in this here juke joint?”
Doreen looked around. “Well, uh, no, ma'am. I don't think so.”
“Then nobody will know. There's nobody in here to go run back and tell your pappy that his good little Christian daughter had a drink or two.”
“But God will know,” Doreen was almost afraid to say. Her mother-in-law was being way too nice. She had no idea what she had up her sleeve.
“Okay; then, I'll have a hard drink and you can just sip on some of that wine God's son, Jesus, whipped up.” She chuckled, and to be courteous, Doreen chuckled. That's when Mrs. Tucker shuffled Doreen on over to a table in the back corner while Doreen looked at Willie and pleaded for him to save her. But she had no such luck. She'd come to the juke joint looking for answers. Well, Mrs. Tucker was not only about to school her, but hand the answer key to her on a silver platter.
Chapter Twelve
“Doreen Nelly Mae Tucker! You left being fed at God's house to come have drinks with Satan?” Mrs. Hamilton was furious as she cupped her Bible in her hands against her chest. An armor bearer stood on each side of her, warding off the invisible evil spirits that they just knew were lurking in a place like that.
“Mama, what are you doing here?” Doreen had been laughing it up and joking with her mother-in-law just seconds ago. Now she pushed her drink from in front of her and stood like a serious soldier on the front line. She did everything but salute her mother.
“Shouldn't I be asking
you
that question?” Mrs. Hamilton replied, turning her nose up as she looked around. “Well, when you shot up out of the sanctuary like that right in the middle of Bible Study, I got this god-awful feeling in my spirit, so I came looking for you.”
“Well, now that you've found her,” Willie's mother stood, “can I offer you and your girls a drink?” she asked Mrs. Hamilton.
“I rebuke that offer in the name of Jesus!” Mrs. Hamilton stated, appalled. “I am the wife of a pastor; the first lady of the most successful and thriving church here in town. And as for these women standing next to me,” she nodded to each of her armor bearers, “neither they nor myself are anybody's ‘girls.' Grown women of God is who we are.”
“Well, do you grown women want a drink or not?” Mrs. Tucker offered once again.
Doreen's mother cut her eyes at the complete disrespect Willie's mother was showing her. She turned her attention to her eldest daughter. “Doreen, get your stuff and let's go—right this instant.”
Doreen went to move, but her mother-in-law put her arm out to stop her. “The same way yous all are grown women, so is this one here.” Mrs. Tucker nodded toward Doreen. “And we were having us a nice little conversation before you all stormed up in her like yous the law or something.” She put her arm around Doreen. “We were bonding. I was teaching her a thing about how to deal with real life, in the real world. Not some make-believe world Holy Rollers have created and think that's how life is supposed to be. Church is good for some folks. But the same way college ain't for everybody, neither is church. You church people try to give other folks a false sense of hope and outlook on life. And don't get me wrong—I ain't got nothing against church, church folk, or even God Himself. Heck, I love God. The same way He's blessed you to have a successful thriving church, He's blessed me to have a successful thriving business.”
Mrs. Hamilton gave off a harrumph. “Then God's Word is true. I guess He isn't a respecter of persons.”
“You can quote as much Bible as you want, but when church is over, honey, real life begins. And if I were you, I'd get to teaching those girls of yours about real life. That way, a wretch like me wouldn't have to.” She looked over at her daughter-in-law. “Excuse me, baby. It's been real good talking to you, but there are customers I need to attend to.”
Doreen smiled at her mother-in-law, who, she had to admit, she'd had a wonderful time chatting it up with the past half hour—give or take. In just that small amount of time, Mrs. Tucker had taught her a couple of tricks on how to deal with a Tucker man.
“And remember what I told you, now, you hear?” Mrs. Tucker winked, then walked away, but not before saying to Doreen's mother and her armor bearers, “Good evening, women of God. God bless you.”
One of the armor bearers whipped out some praying oil and began splashing it where Mrs. Tucker had sat and where she'd stood.
“Come on, Doreen, let's go so we can talk in a better atmosphere,” Mrs. Hamilton requested.
Doreen was scared out of her wits. Sure she was a grown woman, but Mama was still Mama. No matter how old Doreen and her sisters got, her parents would always have some type of control and authority over their children's lives. Maybe that right there was what the problem was Doreen surmised. Maybe what Mrs. Tucker had just said to her only moments ago was on point. Maybe she needed to cut the strings from her parents and what they expected of a preacher's daughter and be what Willie expects of a wife.
When Doreen tried to complain about Willie's gallivanting with other women, her mother-in-law acted like it wasn't nothing but a thing. That's when Doreen whipped those high heels out of her nice-size purse to show her mother-in-law proof. Her intentions had even been to go around that entire juke joint making every broad in sight try on those shoes until she found the gal they belong to.
“Then what? Then what you gon' do, church girl?” Mrs. Tucker had asked her sarcastically. “You gon' beat the girl up with 'em?”
Doreen sat looking dumbfounded because, actually, she had no idea what she'd planned on doing after she found the woman. “Uh-huh, I thought so. You being the perfect little Christian girl that you are wouldn't have done a dang on thing but been able to put a face with a pair of shoes—a face that was going to haunt you forever.”
Doreen's eyes began to water.
“Don't you dare sit here and start crying.” She pushed Doreen's drink closer to her. “Here, take a sip and get yourself together.” After Doreen did just that, she continued. “First of all, that broad ain't married to you, ain't said ‘I do' to you, and don't owe you no type of trust and loyalty. It's your husband you need to take those issues up with.”
“I tried, but when I asked him about it, he played me like a fool.”
“Of course, he did. That's what men do.”
“They play women like fools?” Doreen questioned.
“They don't play all women like fools; only the fools who let 'em.” Mrs. Tucker repositioned herself in her seat. “So if you got a man who likes to play, don't play the fool. Just play the game right back.”
“I ain't going to hell for nobody.” Doreen looked horrified. “So if you saying I should turn around and cheat on my Willie—”
“Oh, relax yourself—looking like you about to catch the Holy Ghost up in here or something,” Mrs. Tucker said. “I'm just saying, if my son wants to try to play games, then you play right back until he loses.”
“I don't understand.” Doreen looked confused as she took a sip of her drink, keeping her eyes on her mother-in-law the entire time so as not to miss a beat.
“Them high-heel shoes you got there,” she directed her eyes to the shoes, then back at Doreen, “put 'em on.”
“Huh? What?”
“You heard me. Put those dern shoes on and strut around in 'em like you the finest thang walkin'.”
“But I don't wear—”
“This ain't about you, gal; don't you get it?” Mrs. Tucker proceeded to help Doreen take off the flat loafers she'd worn into the joint and put the heels on her feet.
“Ouch! They're too tight,” Doreen complained once the shoes were on.
“Good. See how easy it was for you to fill that woman's shoes? Obviously, you a size or two up on her, so it would be a lot more difficult for her to fill your shoes. Why, she'd fall right out of them.” Mrs. Tucker leaned in and said to Doreen, as if her life depended on it, “Don't you ever, never, let no other woman fill your shoes. Now you keep those shoes on. Wear 'em home tonight. Even make sweet love to your husband in them shoes tonight. Let him know that no woman can, or will, ever fill the shoes of his wife. You got it, sweetheart?”
Strangely enough, Doreen felt encouraged as she replied, “Yes, ma'am,” crossing her legs so that one of her feet dangled about, showing off the heels. She'd almost forgotten all about the shoes until her own mother, who she was now having a conversation with, said something.
“And what on God's green earth do you have on your feet?” Mrs. Hamilton said as she feigned faintness. Her armor bearers began to fan her. “Oh, in the name of Jesus, bless my child, Lord. Deliver her from the enemy that is trying to take over her life—the enemy that is trying to corrupt everything we've instilled in her, O God.”
The house band was still playing, but they were playing slow tunes that enabled the patrons to be able to somewhat hear what was going on between Doreen and her mother. Embarrassed, Doreen said softly to her mother, “They're shoes.”
“Huh? What did you say?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.
“They're shoes,” Doreen repeated.
“I can't hear you.”
“Ma, they're shoes!” Doreen yelled, and it just so happened to be when the band had finished up the song. So there was dead silence—all except Doreen yelling at the top of her lungs about her shoes. This caused all those who could to draw their attention to Doreen's shoes. Doreen then tried to say with confidence and a little more softly, “They're just shoes, Ma.”
“You dang right they're shoes, but not any old shoes. Those are seventy-five dollar shoes, and they belong to my wife. Cost me a day's pay almost, so I was fit to be tied when she told me someone lifted them from her.” Out of nowhere this gentleman appeared behind Mrs. Hamilton and her armor bearers. He squeezed through the women and walked up close to Doreen and got a real good look at the shoes before pointing at Doreen and yelling, “Thief! Somebody call the police now. I want this woman arrested.”

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