A Preacher’s Passion Read online

  A Preacher’s Passion

  Also by Lutishia Lovely

  Sex in the Sanctuary

  Love Like Hallelujah

  A Preacher’s Passion

  LUTISHIA LOVELY

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGING MY READERS

  1 Is That You?

  2 In the Way

  3 Don’t Pass Me By

  4 Always and Never

  5 Distractions

  6 Indirect Connections

  7 Love Struck

  8 Kingdom Citizens

  9 Her Name Is Not Stella But…

  10 Former Best Friends

  11 Too Late for Games

  12 Crazy LA Traffic

  13 Project Darius

  14 Marital Obligations

  15 Just a Little More

  16 Save Her from Herself

  17 Dirty Laundry

  18 Bi the Way

  19 Take Care

  20 Everything Except…

  21 Mira

  22 First Instincts

  23 An Expert at Everything

  24 A Different Set of Keys

  25 Innocent Preacher’s Kid

  26 Happy Thanksgiving?

  27 Thicker than Water

  28 Grown Folk

  29 Be All Right

  30 Meetings

  31 Personal Matters

  32 It’s a Thin Line…

  33 I Am Not Okay

  34 O Lord, My Strength

  35 I’m Right Here

  36 Why You Trippin’?

  37 Trauma Drama

  38 Happy Birthday, Jesus

  39 What Child Is This

  40 Christmas Just Ain’t Christmas…

  41 Dreams and Nightmares

  42 What You Pray For

  43 Not My Business

  44 Happy New Year

  45 Accidents Happen

  46 No Spring Chicken

  47 Because It’s Fact

  48 Unrealistic Reality

  49 Bigger Fish

  50 Time Will Tell

  51 LA Gospel

  52 Life as I Know It

  53 A Little Help

  54 It’s a Boy!

  55 Greetings

  56 God’s Love

  57 It’s a Start

  58 Staying Alive

  59 No Place like Home

  60 Someone’s Passion

  Discussion Questions

  ACKNOWLEDGING MY READERS

  It was more than five years ago when the idea for this series came to me. I had recently finished another project and was sitting in front of my computer, looking at a blank screen.

  “What should I work on next?” I asked God.

  “Sex in the Sanctuary—and it’s a book, not a play,” came the answer.

  Spirit had clarified this because everything I’d written up to that point had been in theatrical form. The idea of writing a full-length novel hadn’t crossed my mind. Until now.

  The story line came quickly: Two best friends who happen to be pastors’ wives, one marriage great, the other in trouble. My first thought: I loved it, both the title and the story—the whole of which I knew couldn’t possibly be told in a single novel. My second thought: I couldn’t possibly write it! I grew up in church, a preacher’s kid. I know church folk, and I knew that to write the story in the way it was coming to me—with unchecked emotion and sexuality—would be controversial. A book that contains scriptures and explicit sex? In the same chapter, sometimes on the same page? Uh, no, I don’t think so.

  As I began typing, I immediately began censoring the character voices. The more I did this, however, the more I felt a pull to not do it. I needed to write the story the way I heard it, to let these characters, these voices, these scenes and situations live on the page. Once I got past the fear and embraced this authenticity, the stories flowed, the characters came alive. It wasn’t hard to capture them, as many of the voices, situations, and circumstances on the pages were not uncommon to those I experienced or heard about during a lifetime of intimate, behind-the-scene involvement with many types of churches and church members: from Baptist to charismatic, west coast to east coast, fifty-member congregations to fifteen thousand–member mega-churches. So I wrote what flowed.

  Once these stories were finished and published, that’s where you, the reader, came in. You embraced these characters, recognized people you knew, and sometimes yourselves, on these pages. You wrote me and shared experiences and situations that mirrored some of those described in the story lines.

  “Everybody’s doing it, but nobody’s talking about it,” is a comment I hear and read often. That was my experience growing up in church, silence on all things sexual, and why I’d initially been uncomfortable writing about sex (both its blessing and its curse) and related topics of masturbation, adultery, homosexuality, molestation, etc. But research and various statistics underscored the need for us to be able to talk openly, honestly (and yes, explicitly) about sex within a religious setting; not within the church’s four walls per se, but definitely within the pages of a novel! And many, many of you agree.

  “Thanks for keeping it real,” is another common comment. And now, I take this time to thank you. Thank you for embracing these characters and this series: Sex in the Sanctuary, Love Like Hallelujah, and now, A Preacher’s Passion. Thank you for joining me in this interesting, nontraditional dialogue. Thank you for your opinionated e-mails and passionate responses to the work. Thank you for your encouraging words, especially the pastors’ wives who have written. Your encouragement is especially rewarding, because y’all know the real deal. Thank you so much for reading each book and then eagerly looking forward to the next one. I always say this about the value of readers…we writers are nothing without you! So while these words seem highly inadequate, they are sincere, heartfelt, and uttered with agape love…thank you.

  1

  Is That You?

  People say Passion was fast from the womb. That when she heard men talking, she’d make a motion in her mother’s belly that felt like a tickle. When she heard women, her mother got gas. Even before Passion was born, she decided that men were to be loved; women, tolerated.

  She had one real girlfriend growing up, Robin Cook. They got along like two peas in a pod from the moment they met at Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School in Atlanta, Georgia. For one, they were big tomboys, bigger than most girls their age. For another, they both hated their female classmates and constantly baked up evil schemes to right some imagined wrong done to them. Whether it was putting cayenne pepper in a girl’s food, glue on her seat, or beating somebody up at recess, they were always getting into trouble, and usually together. But Passion and her family moved from Georgia to California when she was fifteen years old. She hadn’t seen Robin since.

  Passion sat in her living room, flipping through an Essence magazine and watching the MLM channel, a new, progressive, Black-owned network that was finally giving BET some competition. A minister, Derrick Montgomery, was speaking at a convention hosted by a group called Total Truth. Passion decided he looked as good on TV as he did in person. That man is fine forever, she thought, as she turned up the volume.

  Passion wasn’t a member of Montgomery’s church, Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, but the church she belonged to, Logos Word Interdenominational, fellowshipped with KCCC often. Passion loved Pastor Montgomery’s fiery style, not to mention the way his body blessed a designer suit. She could always expect a good word plus some men worth watching when she visited Kingdom Citizens, and was one of many who’d visualized Pastor Montgomery sans suit or wife. Either him or Darius Crenshaw, KCCC’s hot minister of music whose latest hi
t, “Possible,” had spent months at the top of both gospel and secular charts. Pastor Montgomery was fine, but Darius could sing, play several instruments, and looked like “thank you, Jesus.” Add the fact that he was single, and as far as she knew, available, and he was the obvious choice.

  For all her salacious wonderings, Passion couldn’t see herself actually sleeping with Pastor Derrick or anybody else’s husband. She admired Pastor Montgomery’s wife, Vivian, who was good friends with her first lady, Carla Lee. Even after news broke that Pastor Montgomery had an older son from a previous relationship, a son he supposedly knew nothing about until two years ago, his and Vivian’s marriage remained strong. Word had it that the boy was even living with them now and playing basketball at UCLA. No, Passion would never act out inappropriately with Pastor Derrick. Well, other than the lusting in her heart for which she was already guilty. She’d probably not send love notes or nude pics to Darius Crenshaw either. But he was definitely daydream material.

  An hour after the television program went off, Passion pulled into her favorite strip mall. It housed an inexpensive clothing shop, video store, nail salon, Chinese food restaurant, and the reason for her trip, Gold’s Pawn Shop. Passion loved this store. Pawning had kept her lights, gas, or phone on many times right after her divorce, when she’d been struggling to raise her new-born daughter. She’d pawn gold, diamonds, anything she could to make it to payday. She prided herself on the fact that she always bought back her stuff and in the process would sometimes find a couple bargains, enough to where she continued to make regular visits even after her finances improved.

  She stepped inside the store. As she’d expected for the middle of the day, it was quiet. Lin, the Korean owner, was behind the counter, helping his one, lone customer.

  “Hey, Lin,” Passion said cheerfully.

  “Hey, Passion,” Lin said. “What you buy today? I got tennis bracelet you like—just came yesterday.”

  “How much you want for it?” Passion asked. “I might be interested if you give me a good deal.”

  “I give you very good deal,” Lin said. He unlocked the showcase and pulled out a bracelet set with tiny diamonds, effectively shown off in a black, faux-velvet case.

  “This is nice,” Passion said. She put it on her arm, turned it this way and that.

  The other shopper, a woman, looked at the bracelet as well.

  “It’s pretty, huh?” Passion said to her, being friendly. “You think it’s worth two hundred dollars?” That’s the deal Lin said he’d give to Passion, because “she good customer.”

  The woman didn’t answer, just stared. Passion looked up and stared back. The face was familiar. Then it dawned on her.

  “Robin? Robin Cook? Girl, is that you?”

  Robin was shocked, her response subdued. “Passion Perkins?”

  Both women were incredulous. It had been twenty years.

  “What on earth are you doing in LA?” Passion exclaimed, stepping forward to grab her former best friend in a bear hug. As she did so, she felt something cold, hard, pressing against her stomach. She pulled back, looked down. “And why are you buying a gun?”

  Robin looked at Passion, then down at the gun, almost as if she didn’t know how it had gotten in her hand.

  “I, well, uh, girl, it’s good to see you!” Robin placed the gun on the counter and hugged Passion with fervor. This had been her best friend back in the day. She was genuinely glad to see her again, but still couldn’t have a sistah all up in her business.

  Passion didn’t miss the fact that her question had been diverted. But this was Robin, her homegirl from the ATL!

  “Oh my God, Robin, I swear I thought about you just today. Listen, we’ve got to grab something to eat and catch up; you got time?”

  “Of course.” Time was all Robin had had for the past eighteen months.

  Both the gun and the tennis bracelet stayed at Gold’s Pawn Shop as Passion and Robin headed for the Chinese food restaurant three doors down. They quickly ordered, paid for their food, and sat down.

  “Passion Perkins, or is it something else now?”

  “No, it’s Perkins again. I’ve been divorced almost five years, got a little girl. What about you; are you married, divorced, kids? Are you living here or just visiting? Girl, I still can’t believe I’m looking at you!”

  “Me neither,” Robin said, taking a large bite of her egg roll. “Um, this food is good.”

  “Good and greasy,” Passion countered around a forkful of chicken fried rice. “Just the way I like it.”

  Passion and Robin were silent a moment, devouring their tasty dishes, and then Passion probed again. “So, Robin, tell me wuzzup?”

  Robin smiled as Passion mimicked the voice of their teens. She felt she could maybe share a few things with an old friend.

  “Well, for starters, I’m divorced, no kids.” Robin filled Passion in on her ten years in Tampa, Florida, after leaving Atlanta, her turbulent marriage and its equally turbulent end, the split-second decision to stay in Los Angeles after visiting almost two years ago, and her current employment.

  “You’ve been here two years?”

  “Off and on.” Robin didn’t want to tell Passion or anyone else where she’d actually resided during most of her LA stay—in prison for identity theft and credit card fraud. “I took some time off to, uh, visit family…came back a couple months ago.”

  “Wow, girl, you must be rolling to be able to take off work like that.” Even as Passion said this, her thoughts returned to the gun left lying on the pawn shop counter.

  “Hardly,” Robin replied. “But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  Like shoot somebody? “So, where are you staying?” Passion asked.

  “Downtown,” was Robin’s short reply.

  Passion studied the face of her former running buddy. Twenty years was a long time; maybe she shouldn’t expect the two girls-turned-women to be as close as they once were. Still, Passion didn’t understand the guardedness she sensed in Robin’s demeanor—eking out conversation as if words cost money.

  After an awkward silence, Passion reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I stay over in Leimert Park. Let’s hang out one day soon. What’s your number?”

  They exchanged phone numbers and then Passion rose to leave. “You coming?” she asked Robin.

  “Uh, in a minute, girl,” Robin said, looking up at the menu, prominently displayed along the restaurant’s back wall. “I think I’m going to get me something to go.”

  Passion leaned over and hugged Robin. “Well, it was good seeing you, Robin. Take care, and let’s talk soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Robin waited until Passion walked out the door, and then placed a take-out order. There was just one other purchase she needed to make before leaving the area.

  Passion wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t leave the strip mall when she got in her car. Instead, she sat watching the door to the Chinese restaurant. A couple minutes later, Robin came out of the restaurant, looked around briefly, and headed back to the pawn shop. She looked around again before going inside.

  Passion waited until she saw Lin unlock the gun case and hand something to Robin. “I knew she was going back to buy that gun,” Passion said to herself as she started the car and left the parking lot. “What is going on with you, Robin Cook? What is really going on?”

  2

  In the Way

  Robin sat on the sagging bed of her dingy motel room. It was almost midnight, and her workday began at seven A.M. Still, she sat there wide-eyed, watching reruns of Good Times, eating Cheetos dipped in peanut butter, and washing it down with malt liquor beer. This was her ritual almost every night. After spending eighteen months locked down, where every move was ordered and every moment scheduled, Robin fully appreciated being able to have lights and television on after nine P.M. The one good thing the motel had was cable TV. Watching reruns of J.J. badger Thelma or a preteen Janet Jackson cozy up to her TV mom
, Willona, saved Robin’s sanity, such as it was.

  Robin finished the bag of Cheetos and, licking the cheese off the fingers of one hand, picked up the gun with the other. She palmed the simple, semiautomatic Cobra compact, satisfied with the comfortable fit. Eyeing a crude, hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper taped to the opposite wall, she aimed the unloaded gun and fired off five shots in quick succession. V-I-V-A-N, the misspelled name on the paper identifying the drawing’s inspiration, was safe. Along with being on the anti-psychotic drug Peridol, Robin was near-sighted. She thought she’d hit the target perfectly, but had the gun been loaded, no one would have died. Gonna get bullets as soon as I get my check on Friday, Robin mused, as she shot Vivian a couple more times before tossing the gun carelessly on the floor beside her.

  Robin stared at the drawing, mentally replaying the events from two years ago. How she’d come to LA to reclaim her man, Derrick Montgomery, and after a failed coup d’état of Vivian’s domain, been tossed out of their church like a sack of potatoes by a burly security guard. She thought back farther, to the beginning: Lithonia, Georgia, and Pilgrims’ Rest Baptist Church. That’s where she and Derrick first met. She’d been his assistant with aspirations to be much more. But somebody named Vivian had gotten in the way. Robin’s smile was sinister as she imagined the future according to her plan. If it worked, Miss High-and-Mighty wouldn’t be in the way for long.

  Robin stumbled into the bathroom, shook three Peridols into her hand, and swallowed them with the remaining beer. She turned out the lights, and after peering at the moonlight spilling through the torn, stained curtain, closed the window on the loud sounds of brass-based banda music drifting in along with the cool, autumn air.

  As she waited for the drug to take effect, Robin thought about Passion and smiled as dim recollections of a happier time flitted across her mind. Her smile turned to a frown as one of the faces in her reverie became that of a young Vivian Montgomery. She flopped over on her stomach, letting the dulling effects of drugs and sleepiness overtake her.