Up at the College (10 page)

Even more disconcerting was that Kordell and Castilleo left Sam Redmond’s office in a hurry, and then hopped into Rico Sneed’s
red Cadillac. Curtis had never taken Rico’s affair with Tangie Bonner at face value like most other folk. He’d always suspected
that the affair was a front to give him a reason to be on campus every day. Anyone who understood how affairs worked knew
that a man involved in an affair would try to be with his other woman as much as possible. For Rico, it meant that he could
come and go as he pleased, and no one would ever think to question his real reason for being at Eva T. all the time.

Curtis was astounded when Gilead told him that the meeting had been called to discuss pending cuts in his budget for uniforms,
shoes, towels, and the water, cups, and Gatorade used during a game. That Gilead would want to buy second-rate shoes and uniforms,
only to have to turn around and spend money again when they fell apart mid-season, was stupid.

In the past he would have been furious and ready to do battle in a heartbeat over something like that. And Curtis suspected
that was exactly the kind of reaction Gilead and Sam Redmond were hoping for when they summoned him to the president’s office
to tell him this in front of Jethro Winters. Throughout that entire contrived conversation, Curtis had to remain prayerful
to keep his cool. Gran Gran kept telling him to get stronger in the Word so that he’d have something to anchor him when faced
with a trial like this one. How he wished he’d been obedient. A good Word from the Lord would have blessed him down to the
bone, especially when Gilead handed him a spreadsheet itemizing the proposed areas targeted for the budget cuts. But Curtis
didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He took the spreadsheet, folded it up, and put it away in his briefcase before saying, “Is
there anything else you need for me to know? I’m already late for an appointment.”

Gilead and Sam Redmond, satisfied that their work was done even if they were disappointed that Curtis had kept his cool, nodded,
indicating that the meeting was over. Curtis picked up his briefcase and was on his way out when Jethro Winters, who had never
learned how to read black people, opened his big mouth and said, “I would guess that the mere thought of buying one of your
players another pair of 200-dollar athletic shoes is pretty ominous about now, huh?”

Curtis tightened his grip on the briefcase, hoping that would help him keep his hands from colliding with that white boy’s
face. But God gave him the strength to keep himself in check. He remembered that Jethro loved to race-bait. The room was tense.
Gilead and Sam Redmond had just closed their eyes praying that Jethro wouldn’t say another word. Because if he said anything
else about those athletic shoes, one of the two of them was going to put a 500-dollar shoe right up the crack in his behind.

Curtis opened the door, said, “Gentlemen,” and walked out. At first he was real upset over what had transpired. And then,
miraculously, God placed the words of Psalm 37, one of his favorite psalms, in his heart. Curtis was strengthened and encouraged
when he remembered:
“Those who are evil spy on the godly, waiting for an excuse to kill them. But the Lord will not let the wicked succeed or
let the godly be condemned when they are brought before the judge.”

He didn’t have to worry about any of that, God would be right there working it all out on his behalf. Curtis glanced down
at his watch and hurried out of the building to his car. He eased into the plush leather seat, turned on the ignition, slipped
in a gospel jazz CD by Jonathan Butler, and pulled off. It didn’t take him long to reach Highway 40.

Curtis started to relax and then tensed back up when he happened to look in the rearview mirror and saw blue lights flashing
and headed in his direction. He moved out of the far left lane to let the cop pass him by, hoping for the best. His heart
sank all the way down to the bottom of his feet when the car moved with him, as if on cue. Curtis drove for another couple
of minutes and then pulled all the way over when it was clear that those blue lights were flashing for him and him alone.

Curtis opened the glove compartment to get his registration, and then raised up to get his driver’s license out of his wallet
in his back pocket. This had been some day, and it just kept getting worse. A part of him wanted to call Maurice and ask him
to tell Reverend Denzelle Flowers that he was not going to be able to make the Friday-night service held every month at Denzelle’s
church, New Jerusalem Gospel United Church. He rolled the window down.

“License and … Coach? Dawg, that you driving like a bat out of Hell on my highway?”

Curtis rolled the window all the way down and stuck out his hand. He couldn’t believe that it was Reverend Flowers’s brother,
Officer Yarborough Flowers. He said, “Man, I am trying my best to get over to your brother’s church for the service, and it
just ain’t working for me this evening.”

“That’s right,” Yarborough said, “Denzelle wanted you and Maurice there as special guests tonight. He called and asked if
I could make it. But as you can see, I have to keep watch on a few negroes with some heavy feet.”

Curtis laughed and handed Yarborough his license and registration card. Yarborough handed it back to him. He said, “Coach,
I wasn’t supposed to tell you this because it was to be a surprise. But God laid it on my brother’s heart to get the church
to raise money for you and the team. He said that God told him you would need it, and they have a check for 18,776 dollars
waiting for you at New Jerusalem. So you go on and please slow down. I’ll call Denzelle and let him know you’ve been delayed
and will be there as soon as you can.”

Curtis clasped Yarborough’s hand and nodded in thanks. He was glad that Yarborough had to hurry off, because if he’d stood
there a minute longer he would have seen the tears streaming down Curtis’s cheeks. Gran Gran kept telling him that God was
an amazing and wondrous God. And right now he was bearing witness to it. His budget was about to be cut by 13,000 dollars,
and God had already taken care of the deficit, with surplus to boot.

“Thank you, God,” Curtis whispered and pulled up a handful of napkins from McDonald’s to wipe his face. He laughed. Maurice
had once seen the stash of Mickey D’s napkins trying to masquerade as tissues and said, “You are such a negro, Curtis man.”

He relaxed and before he knew it was turning into the parking lot of New Jerusalem Gospel United Church. Maurice was pacing
the parking lot, and waved him into the space they’d saved for him. Curtis jumped out of the car and followed Maurice into
the church.

“Man, Denzelle wouldn’t start the service without you. So the Praise and Worship Team has given a concert, and they were revving
up for a finale when you drove into the parking lot. What took you so long?”

“Gilead called just as I was getting ready to head over here and said that he needed to see me in Sam Redmond’s office. I’m
looking at the phone wondering what this was about and if it could wait. Naturally, when I asked if I could come at another
time, you know the answer was no. And get this, Maurice, when I get to Sam Redmond’s office, Sam Redmond, Gilead, and Jethro
Winters—”

“Jethro Winters,” Maurice said. “Why was he there? He has been getting chummier and chummier with Sam Redmond and Gilead,
and that does not sit well with me. He’s on the board of trustees; there is no reason for him to be in a so-called budget-cutting
meeting with you and the head of the Athletic Department. Something is real funky.”

Curtis nodded. All of a sudden he felt tired and hoped he could make it through the service. As much as he loved his job,
he wished he could do it without being bombarded with stuff that didn’t have anything to do with basketball. University politics
at an HBCU could get as messy and ominous as the politics at church. And he hated it when someone’s personal agendas seeped
over into an area of the university that was none of their business. But if it offered the means to the end they were working
so hard to attain, then they would seep over to wherever they needed to be to get what they wanted.

Curtis and Maurice walked into the vestibule of the church. Curtis had never been to Denzelle’s church and was impressed.
It wasn’t as large as his church, Fayetteville Street, but it was a lovely and rather unusual pale pink stone structure. Reverend
Denzelle Flowers hurried to greet Curtis and gave him a warm and welcoming handshake.

“Man, my brother called me and let me know you were running late. Come on, before the Praise and Worship Team starts doing
the remixes of their songs.”

Curtis smiled and took note of the suit Denzelle was wearing. He said, “You’re kind of sharp there tonight, Preacher. If you
don’t mind me asking, where did you get that suit?”

Denzelle grinned and stroked his chin. “It is pretty sharp, isn’t it,” he answered, and pulled back the coat of the sea-foam-colored
suit jacket with charcoal pinstripes to reveal a matching vest with shawl collar, sea-foam-colored shirt, and a charcoal tie
with bits of sea foam and coral specks in it. The outfit spelled “preacher,” down to Reverend Flowers’s matching sea-foam
slip-on gaiters.

“But where’d you get it, man?” Maurice asked, wanting to know where to find some suits like that himself. He also wondered
about the cost but had too much home training to ask. But he’d be able to find out, if Denzelle was willing to tell them where
those suits were sold.

“I got it wholesale from Mr. Booth,” Denzelle said, and gave a smooth wink to a sister with a butt that could only be classified
as a
bodunkadunk
. She smiled and then giggled before saying, “Reverend Flowers, you so crazy.”

Curtis shook his head and said, “Man, you are too much. You know you are doing nothing but asking for trouble.”

“Dawg, I’m single just like you. I don’t even have a steady boo
.
”

“But I’m a coach. You are a minister—a pastor, in fact. And man, I just don’t think it’s wise to be running around this church
like that. You’re not dating any of the women in this church, are you?”

Denzelle, who looked like a burnished copper version of the late Bernie Mack, got quiet and took a quick look around to make
sure nobody was in earshot. He said, “Man, I’ve dated a few. Nothing serious. Just dinner, a jazz concert, good movie.”

“Was it the same lady, or did you take one sister to dinner, another to a concert, and one more to a movie?” Curtis asked
him, now concerned. He was a coach, and women liked to chase coaches just as they did preachers. He didn’t know why—it took
a very special, secure, and wise woman to be married to a head coach of any visible sport. And to be the first lady of a church
was an even more difficult job. Because unlike the coach’s wife, the pastor’s wife had to minister to her husband and serve
in some sort of ministering capacity at the church.

Denzelle grinned sheepishly. He knew he didn’t need to date those women in his congregation. His brother had been telling
him that all he was doing was asking for trouble.

“Uh … huh … thought so,” Curtis said. “Man, you need to check that and start praying and asking God to send the right
woman in your life. You a man, with a man’s needs, and being up in here with all of these women willing to do any- and everything
for the pastor is not a good thing for you, dawg.”

“A disaster waiting to happen, is what it is,” Maurice said. He’d been watching all of the women vying for Denzelle’s attention,
and none of them was someone he would have picked out for the good reverend. He wondered why the skoochies were so active
when it came to trying to lock in on a brother. And he wondered why brothers always gave so much attention to those types
of women, ignoring and neglecting the real jewels in their midst, and risking having to wake up next to a skoochie with a
weave she wouldn’t even let you put your hands on in the heat of the moment.

“Don’t be so rough on a brother, Maurice,” Denzelle said as he pulled out his wallet and gave the two of them business cards.

“Oh, I know who this is,” Curtis said. “This is Miss Hattie Lee Booth’s brother-in-law. You know, Miss Hattie Lee, who is
the cook at Rumpshakers. Charles had been telling me about him—said the brother had some sharp suits for a good price.”

It took Maurice a moment to place Miss Hattie Lee because he had been to Rumpshakers on only one occasion. But he did know
who she was because the lady could cook. He turned the card over in his hands. It read DAPPER DRESSING MEN’S WEAR, LOWELL
BOOTH, PROPRIETOR. “What are his prices like?”

“Like none you’ve ever seen. Mr. Booth has the best suits, ties, shoes, shirts, and the kind of hats we brothers like. His
prices are so good because he doesn’t have a store. You can go to his house, where he has a room just for the merchandise,
or he’ll bring it straight to you. Go on his website and check out his suits and the rest of his stuff. I think you’ll like
what you see.”

Maurice raised an eyebrow. If Mr. Booth was Miss Hattie Lee’s brother-in-law, he was in his seventies. And from the little
bit he’d seen of Miss Hattie Lee, he just didn’t get the impression that this family was Internet-friendly.

“He has a good website,” Denzelle said, fully understanding the question on Maurice’s face. He knew Mr. Booth, and he was
definitely not the kind of old school brother who was interested in designing and running a savvy website. “Mr. Booth’s great-nephew,
Miss Hattie Lee’s grandson Lil’ Too Too does the website.”

Denzelle heard the Praise and Worship Team stop singing and start giving what he knew would be lengthy testimonies. He opened
the door to the sanctuary and said, “We need to hurry and get into the pulpit. If Sister Doreene in the purple suede suit
starts talking, we’ll never get out of here.”

Maurice said, “I heard that,” when he spotted Sister Doreene in the purple suede church suit with the matching suede hat with
hot pink suede flowers covering the entire brim. Miss Thing looked like she could concoct a testimony that would make Jesus
give serious thought to making a trial run of cracking the sky, just so He could tell that girl to take a chill pill, and
then go on back to glory to wait to the appointed time to come and gather up His saints.