Heaven Right Here Page 8

  “First of all, Melody, I’d like to commend you on the excellent job you’ve done organizing such a large group of young people to support one of our own. And so quickly! Darius tells me you just started this club, what, about a month ago?”

  “Three weeks,” Melody corrected proudly.

  “The club has almost five hundred members on MySpace,” Natasha offered.

  “Seven hundred and fifty,” Melody corrected once again after shooting Natasha an annoyed look. “We added another couple hundred this week.”

  Vivian continued, telling the group about the dance troupe Hope had coordinated before she relocated to Los Angeles as a member of one of Kansas City’s premier churches, Mount Zion Progressive. Vivian shared the vision of using resources from the fan club—those who were members of KCCC—to be the core group of the dance troupe, while the primary dancers would perform with the church’s main choir, the Kingdom Citizens Chorale.

  “Mrs. Taylor,” Vivian concluded, “is a talented performer with a heart for God. She has the experience and the passion to help lead this group to the level of greatness God intended.”

  Melody sat up in her seat. “Wait a minute! I’m the leader of this group.”

  Vivian nodded. “I understand. But when your group performs under the umbrella of the ministry, Hope will be in charge. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Melody looked at the youth pastor but didn’t respond.

  “What do you think, Natasha?” Hope asked.

  “Hey, I think it’s cool,” Natasha said. She ignored the evil eye Melody gave her and continued. “You got it going on, married to a millionaire and stuff. So you must be doing something right. Maybe there’s a thing or two we can learn from you.” Natasha shot a cautious eye toward her best friend. “I mean, Melody is the leader and stuff, but … you can help us, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “And that’s all we’re saying, Melody,” Vivian said. “It’s clear you’re president of the fan club. Mrs. Taylor will be in charge of incorporating some of you into our worship arts ministry. What do you think about that?”

  “I’ll tell you what I think about it.” Darius had opened the door unnoticed and now strolled over to the conference table to sit down. “I think it’s a fabulous idea. Hello, Pastor, Hope, ladies,” he said, winking at the girls.

  Melody showed all thirty-two pearly whites in appreciation, her sulky mood quickly forgotten with Darius’s entrance. “Yeah, Darius. I think it will be cool for Hope—uh, Mrs. Taylor—to lead our dance troupe; that’s what I was just thinking when you walked in.”

  Darius simply smiled.

  Hope took over. “So now that that’s settled, ladies, here’s the deal. I want to start right away with eight dancers and choreograph a routine to ‘Looks Like Reign.’ ”

  Natasha was obviously excited, and while Melody tried to hide it, her eyes held a certain sparkle as well.

  “Sister Vivian wants us ready to perform at the New Year’s celebration.” Hope turned to Melody. “I’d like you to help me during the auditions for the eight initial dancers. Do you have some girls in mind?”

  Melody slid a sly look at Darius before answering. “Well, Natasha and I,” she began. “And then there’s Tanishia and Shaira, Valencia, Micah …”

  19

  Sixteen Will Get You Twenty

  Within fifteen minutes, the first meeting of the newly minted dance group, the Kingdom Crew, had adjourned. As soon as the youth minister’s prayer ended in an enthusiastic “amen,” Melody was by Darius’s side.

  “Hey, D,” she said, a broad grin adorning her face. “Did you see us last Sunday?”

  “I did, and you all looked great,” he said.

  Melody moved closer to him, her arm lightly brushing his. In her nervousness, she stated the obvious. “We’re gonna be your dancers now.”

  “Don’t you have to audition first?”

  “Not me,” Melody said with confidence. “I’m the leader. Plus, I’m the one who did all this for you. We’ve got almost a thousand members on your Web site already.”

  Darius looked down at a woman-child whose feelings were written all over her face. There was absolutely no attraction, so the words were unnecessary. But still, Cy’s recent admonition floated up in his mind: sixteen will get you twenty.

  He reached around and hugged her as an uncle would a niece. “Bo and I appreciate everything you’re doing,” he said. “Sometime in the next couple weeks, you need to meet with him. He has some ideas for giveaways that will give the fans in the club something to look forward to. Oh, and I almost forgot, this is for you.”

  Darius reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. Groupings of multicolored crystals formed the letters D and C, held on a silver chain. “These are going to be marketed with the next album,” he explained to an enthralled Melody. “Because of all your hard work with the fan club, you get one of the first.”

  “Oh, thank you, Darius,” Melody said, reaching up to hug him fiercely. She hugged him tighter still, reveling in the moment she’d dreamed of each night—being in his arms.

  Darius became aware of young, tender breasts pressed against his hard chest, and the faint wisp of M by Mariah Carey mixing with his Bvlgari pour Homme Soir.

  “I have necklaces for all of you,” he said as he disengaged from Melody and hugged Natasha. Belatedly he realized how Melody had misinterpreted his innocent gift.

  He looked at his watch and began walking toward the executive offices. “All right, girls, you be good.”

  He knocked and stepped into Derrick’s office. He’d barely sat down before Derrick spoke. “Shabach is performing Sunday—here at Kingdom.”

  Darius looked at Derrick. His frown said it all.

  “Why have him here? In my church?”

  “This is God’s house,” Derrick countered. “And I’m not going to let what’s going on in the streets affect what’s happening in here. His staff called me two weeks ago and specifically asked if Shabach could minister this coming Sunday. He hasn’t been here in two years, and that’s long enough for whatever is going on between you to be over.”

  “It’ll never be over,” Darius grumbled.

  “It can be over as soon as you decide it is,” Derrick countered. “It can be over on Sunday when you step up, be the man I know you are, and show Christ’s love. Will you try to do that?”

  Darius nodded and left the room. He needed Bo … and a drink.

  20

  Chocolate Twinkies

  The next day, the after-church KCCC crowd in the executive suites was the usual controlled chaos, made even more frenzied by Shabach’s presence and everyone vying for a chance to say hello. Shabach was comfortable holding court. Frieda, who’d been standing by him initially, walked over to the other side of the room where Stacy, Hope, Vivian, and other guests conversed in a circle.

  Hope turned and hugged her cousin. “I called you back.”

  “I know. It was late when I got your message.”

  Hope looked from Frieda to Shabach and back again. Clearly, getting her cousin in the church building was only the beginning to getting her saved. “Well, I’m glad to see you in church.”

  “Did you enjoy the message?”

  Frieda leaned in even closer. “More like I enjoyed the messenger,” she whispered. “Sistah Vivian better hold on to that chocolate Twinkie.”

  Before Hope could respond, the door opened, and Darius and Bo walked in. Darius walked directly up to Shabach and held up a fist to give him some dap. Shabach hesitated, looked at Derrick, and held up his fist. They tapped lightly.

  “You were the heat in there,” Darius said sincerely. “Were those LA-Gritty’s beats on ‘Sanctified’?”

  Shabach nodded.

  “Thought so. Those were tight.”

  “Yeah, Grit added a little sumpin’-sumpin’ to the flavor, for sho.”

  Seeing there wasn’t going to be WrestleMania in the place of worship, the room exhaled, and conversation around
the duo resumed.

  Darius remembered what his pastor had said about being the bigger man. “Listen, man, I know we’ve had our squabbles and everything, but your nabbing the Stellar and me getting a VH1 nod … Both our careers on the rise and whatnot, I figured maybe now is the time to squash our decade-long fight. You down with that?”

  “I ain’t down with nothin’ but making sure I get mine. That’s the only thing I’m focusing on … ever!”

  “I hear that, dude, but I’m just saying as for my part in the madness, I’m making our peace part of my New Year’s resolution. I’m going to let bygones be bygones. That’s where my head is at … just so you know.”

  “Okay, man, yeah, we cool.” Shabach signaled Frieda, and she walked over to join them.

  “You know Frieda?” he asked Darius.

  “Yeah, I know her. What’s up, Frieda?”

  Stacy took her son from Mother Moseley and joined Frieda with Darius and Shabach. Meanwhile, Melody and Natasha finagled their way into the room on the coattails of Melody’s parents, the Andersons. Melody tried to get some one-on-one with Darius but as soon as her mother saw Darius and Bo, she made a face and motioned Melody to follow them back out of the office. It was just as well. Bo was on Darius tighter than a fat woman’s girdle, but Melody would be as patient as she needed to be. It was rare, but she did agree with one thing her mother often said: Good things come to those who wait.

  21

  No Ill Will

  Cy finished knotting his tie as Hope came up behind him. “What did I do to deserve you?” she asked, running her hands down the length of his fine, wool-covered thighs.

  “I don’t know,” Cy answered as he turned around and cupped her butt. “But if you don’t stop all that rubbing, you’re going to get something else you deserve.” He kissed the top of her head and left his dressing room.

  “Do you want breakfast?” Hope asked, following him as he walked through their master suite and into his office.

  “No, baby, I’m running late already. My meeting is at eleven, and you know how unpredictable the 405 is.”

  Hope eyed the clock on the wall. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

  Cy placed a final folder in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “My meeting is in San Diego.”

  Hope’s heart skipped a beat. “With who?”

  Cy hesitated just a fraction of a second before he answered. “Jack Kirtz.”

  Hope tried and failed to keep her voice light and nonchalant. “Why are you meeting with him?”

  “Remember the home we rented last year, the oceanfront property in La Jolla? Jack owns land in that area, the same area I’ve been trying without success to get a piece of. Word has it he’s ready to sell.” He left out the details of how he’d gotten this information.

  Hope wondered if Millicent had had anything to do with this knowledge. She tried to remember that it no longer mattered, that there was no ill will or hard feelings, no jealousy or anger where Millicent was concerned. So why was her heart beating faster? And why, out of all the land in California and all the Realtors in the world, did the property Cy want belong to Millicent’s husband?

  Cy saw her discomfort. He stopped, put down his briefcase, and walked over to her. “If you have a problem with me doing business with him, just say the word, and it’s over,” he said softly.

  “No, it’s okay,” Hope lied. But what else could she say? That he couldn’t potentially make millions of dollars with Jack because of her insecurities? She took a deep breath, reached up, and kissed her husband. “It’s okay, Cy,” she said, with more conviction this time. “I hope the meeting goes well.”

  A few minutes later, Hope stood on the balcony with a cup of tea, watching choppy waves that resembled her emotions. She recalled the conversation when Stacy had told her to “bless that woman and her baby and then focus on Cy, and creating a family of your own.”

  Hope realized that’s exactly what she needed to do. “Bless Millicent, God,” she said to the ocean. “Bless her child and her husband and bless the business deal between Cy and Jack.”

  The phone rang, and Hope answered it. “It’s about time you called,” she said when she saw it was her cousin. “You’ve got some Monday morning ’splainin’ to do.”

  “Look, I haven’t let him hit it yet,” Frieda began.

  “Well, thank God for small miracles,” Hope responded.

  “But I let him, you know, dibble-dabble a bit, take a dive at the Y.”

  “That sounds like some hittin’ going on to me,” Hope said in response to Frieda’s reference to oral sex. “How’d you meet him anyway?”

  “That party I went to with Joe on Wednesday, after Giorgio left.”

  “Frieda, what are you going to do with all these men?”

  “What do you mean ‘all these’? There are only two!”

  “Uh, are we forgetting Jonathan?”

  “I’m sure trying to. We broke up. He got mad because I was with Giorgio.”

  “And you’re surprised?”

  “It’s not like we were exclusive. Men get on my nerves. It’s all right for them to play the field, but when a woman does it, they can’t stand it. He wasn’t that good anyway. Had a little dick.”

  “Girl, shut up.”

  “It’s the truth,” Frieda said, laughing. “You know I can’t do nothing with a number-two pencil! I mean, really, when you have to ask if it’s in yet …”

  Hope’s phone beeped. She looked at the caller ID. “Hold on, it’s Stacy.” She clicked over. “What’s up, Stacy? I’ve got Frieda on the other line.”

  “Darius is what’s up,” Stacy said. “I think he wants to get back with me.”

  “Hang up,” Hope said, not trying to hide the chagrin in her voice. “So I can do a three-way.”

  “Look, hussies, unlike y’all ladies of leisure, I’m at work,” Frieda said when they were all on the phone. “So make it snappy.”

  “Say it, Stacy,” Hope prompted. “What you just told me on the phone.”

  Stacy did, recounting the evening a week ago when Darius had dropped off his son and the vibes had been floating in the air before he’d gotten a phone call. She then told of a conversation with sexual undertones they’d had the previous night.

  “I think he was getting ready to ask me to, you know—for us to get together.”

  “And?”

  “And I want to be with him. I haven’t had any in forever, and he was there last week looking fine and smelling good. It’s not like he hasn’t had it already. Hell, we have a child together!”

  “But you know you can’t be with him without feelings getting involved,” Hope said.

  “That’s real talk,” Frieda concurred. “And after all the fighting y’all have been doing over little Darius, I can’t even believe I’m hearing this come out of your mouth!”

  “I know,” Stacy said. “But it felt different this time.”

  “Uh, yes, Mr. Langley, I’ll make sure he gets the message. You’re welcome. It’s no problem. Thanks for calling.”

  Hope and Stacy heard a click in their ear and knew the deal; Frieda’s boss had entered her vicinity, and she had hung up.

  “Stacy, why do you keep chasing that married man? Darius is not going to leave Bo!”

  “How do you know what Darius is going to do? You weren’t at my house the other night.”

  “Look, I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt again. But if you like it, I love it. Far be it from me to try and help a friend.”

  Both women were silent a moment. Stacy knew Hope was right, and Hope knew Stacy had a right to her feelings.

  Hope sighed heavily. “Life is so crazy.”

  “I know, but I’ll survive.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t know if I will.”

  “Why?”

  “Cy is on his way to meet a potential business partner—Millicent’s husband.” She told Stacy about Cy’s interest in investing in La Jolla real estate—land that just happened to be ow
ned by one Jack Kirtz.

  “Okay, that is crazy. I can’t believe he’d do that, Hope, knowing how you feel about her.” Stacy paused. “He does know how you feel, right?”

  “Yes and no. I told him about my jealousy issues.”

  “And?”

  “And he said he wouldn’t do business with him if it bothered me.”

  “Then I don’t get it? Why is he still meeting with him?”

  “I told him to, Stacy. How can I let this jealousy nonsense get in the way of his business? I’m being ridiculous, and I’m determined to get over it.”

  “I’m sorry, Hope. Life is messed up sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “You know what they say: it’s a small world.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Oh, nothing too serious. Just invite them over for a nice, cozy dinner and then put some strychnine in her food.”

  “You know I’ve got thugs in my family—they could get you some!”

  Hope laughed. “Thank you, sistah. It’s good to know you’ve got my back.”

  22

  Forgiving Ain’t Forgetting

  “Thanks, Millicent. Lunch was delicious.” Cy wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table.

  “Anytime, Cy,” Millicent answered, shifting Jackson from one hip to the other.

  Jack stood, walked over, and placed a kiss on his child’s forehead and his wife’s lips. “I agree, honey. You are amazing, as always.”

  Millicent’s eyes twinkled as she absorbed Jack’s praise. She leaned in for another kiss, and Jack obliged. Cy watched, both amused and amazed at the transformed woman who stood before him.

  “I’m headed over to the church after this,” Jack informed Millicent. “Will you be able to live without me for a few hours?”

  “I’ll try. Oh, and remember: Sarah’s plane gets in at two. She’s getting a ride with a friend from LA and should be here by seven.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll be back by then.”

  Moments later, Jack and Cy were buckled into Jack’s black Cadillac, headed toward the other end of his property on La Jolla’s shoreline. During lunch, the conversation had centered around business. Jack now steered it toward more personal matters.

  “You know, Cy Taylor, in a somewhat indirect manner, I have you to thank for my present happiness.”