The Eleventh Commandment Page 9

  “You’re right about that,” Stacy readily agreed. “Oh, and thanks, Hope, for the offer to purchase our plane tickets. You know Tony, though. Not only did he not go for it, but he had to use some of our dwindling bank account to book us in first class.” She shook her head. “I must say that the timing for the trip is perfect, though. Tony is using the extra time to work with a friend of his who is also a personal trainer, doing some last-minute tweaking before his tryouts coming up. He’s so excited to try out for the Sea Lions; I just hope he isn’t setting himself up for disappointment.”

  “His knee is totally healed, right?” Hope asked.

  Stacy nodded. “Yes, he’s been back to his full workout for a while now.”

  “Tony’s one helluva defensive end,” Frieda offered. “I think any team would be lucky to have him.”

  “I agree,” Hope said, signaling the waiter to bring over another martini. “It would be wonderful having you back in our neck of the woods.”

  The small talk continued until the waiter delivered Hope’s drink, and they placed their orders. Then in typical bump-the-bullshit fashion, Frieda shifted the conversation from possible vacation locations to more dramatic situations. “Stacy, what are y’all going to do if Tony doesn’t get picked up?”

  Stacy’s voice dropped and her eyes became sad. “I don’t know. His agent lined up sportscaster interviews, but Tony isn’t ready to think about life beyond football. It’s making things tough at home.”

  Frieda’s brows creased. “How tough? He isn’t violent, is he?”

  “No, Frieda! Why would you say that?” Even as she responded with indignation, the image of his menacing frame recently standing over her flashed into her mind.

  “I hung out with a player for a hot minute and became friends with his best friend’s girlfriend. She used to get beat on the regular. Finally left him. The paper he threw her way wasn’t worth the punches he also threw.”

  When Stacy continued to remain silent, Hope continued probing. It wasn’t simple nosiness. She was the one who’d encouraged Stacy to date Tony, hoping that by doing so she’d get over Darius. Now Hope prayed that she hadn’t sent her friend from the frying pan into the fire. “So things are still tense on the home front?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to be the understanding wife, but every time I attempt to offer a positive perspective, it backfires.” Stacy shrugged. “I don’t know how to help him.”

  “Maybe he can talk to Pastor while he’s here.”

  “That’s a good idea, Hope. But I’ll have to find a roundabout way to make it happen. Tony isn’t too keen on anybody thinking something is wrong with him right about now. To hear him tell it, his present situation is everyone’s fault but his.”

  “If you’d like, I can talk to Lady Viv, or have Cy mention it to Pastor.”

  “Yes, please do that. Having Pastor Derrick talk to him will probably help some, but the only thing that will bring my old Tony back is him being back on the playing field.”

  After a thoughtful silence while the ladies processed this news, Stacy said, “Speaking of playing the field, Frieda, what’s going on with you that had you dodging a three-way?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me. Hope pulled me into a three-way and when she clicked back over to reach you, there was only dead air.” When Frieda acted as though she didn’t get the meaning, Stacy spoke straight out. “You’d hung up.”

  “Yes, Frieda,” Hope added. “I’d like to know more about that too.”

  The waiter delivered their salads and Frieda waited until he’d left to address Stacy’s and Hope’s comments. “I already told you, Hope,” she said, taking the double helping of balsamic vinaigrette dressing that she’d asked be served on the side and pouring it over her organic micro greens. She looked at Stacy. “I have a new boo.”

  Stacy stopped in midreach of the container filled with honey-mustard dressing on the side of her plate. “You’re having an affair?”

  “Girl, you might call it an affair; I call it an alternative. I’ve been faithful to Gabriel since we got married and believe me, it hasn’t been easy. He works almost around the clock and when he comes home, nonstop effing isn’t what he has in mind. I love my child’s father, but the doctor is boring with a capital B.”

  “Cousin, that’s no excuse to commit adultery.”

  “Hmph. Christians commit adultery. Heathens like me just fuck.”

  “Frieda!”

  “Ha! I’m messing with you, Hope. I knew that would get you going. I didn’t go looking for Clark. It just happened. But the way I look at it, my man on the side may be the very thing that helps me stay married.”

  Hope wanted to shake sense into her cousin’s foolhardy head. But she forced herself not to lecture. She’d done that too many times and knew that, for the most part, any advice she gave her cousin went in one ear and out the other.

  Stacy finished her bite of salad. “Where’d you meet him?”

  “He’s my nanny’s son.”

  “What?” The one-word question was in stereo.

  “Cordella called him one day to bring something over to her. And, baby, I took one look at that six-foot-three-inch collection of muscle and bone and became interested in one bone in particular. Something about his swagger said that brothah was packing.” She pointedly looked at Hope and then Stacy. “Why are you y’all looking at me crazy? He is!”

  “You’ve got a good thing going, Frieda,” Stacy said. “A good man. Do you want to throw it all away for good sex?”

  Frieda finished her salad and pushed away the plate. She didn’t answer.

  Stacy’s voice was filled with concern. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Don’t worry. Gabriel is too busy working to know what I do.” After the waiter had delivered their entrées, Frieda turned to Hope. “What about you, cousin? What’s going on in your picture-perfect, Cinderella world?”

  Hope shook her head as she finished the bite of grilled tenderloin on toasted foccacia bread. “I’m not perfect, Frieda; and neither is my world.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “Cy got a blast from his college days past.”

  “Let me guess,” Stacy said. “A female.”

  “Not just any female; his first love.”

  Frieda was immediately indignant. “What in the hell does she want?”

  “We don’t know, but we’ll soon find out. She lives in New York and Cy will more than likely meet her when he goes there next week.”

  Frieda crossed her arms. “Are you crazy?”

  “Hope, I’ve got to go with Frieda on this one. Stirring the coals of an old flame is never a good idea.”

  “Believe me, I’m not too thrilled about it, but at the same time I have to trust my husband.”

  “Yes, but do you trust her?” Frieda finally picked up her fork and began eating her baked salmon. “You know how scandalous we can be. Cy had better be on guard at all times.”

  After that cryptic warning, the conversation moved on to less stressful topics including plans for a play date after church the following day so that their children could better get to know each other. Because of dinner plans with her brothers and mom, Stacy declined Frieda’s invite to meet later on at her house. Hope gave a tentative acceptance, as long as Cy hadn’t already committed them to something else.

  With tentative activities outlined, the ladies soon wrapped up lunch and went their separate ways. Before long, they would learn that they were not the only ones making plans.

  17

  Flashback to the Future

  “ I know you love La Jolla, but, man, do I miss you being in the ministry full time.” After a grueling three-hour meeting about the church’s expansion, Derrick and Cy sat in Kingdom Citizens Christian Center’s private dining room, enjoying a lunch that had been prepared by one of the kitchen staff. “Your consulting on this project is invaluable, but I miss you having my back on Sundays.”

  Last year, Cy had resigned as a
n associate minister at KCCC, a position that Derrick had talked him into in the first place. “Honestly, Dee, I’ve been too busy to miss much of anything, but I know Hope wants us to try and start attending service on a more regular basis. If she had her way, we’d be here every Sunday. Jack wants us to move our membership to his church, but while Hope and Millicent have reached a level of civility, she could never be my baby’s first lady.”

  Derrick chuckled. When it came to some of Millicent’s and Hope’s past drama, he’d had a front row seat. “I’ll never forget the first time you brought Hope to church.”

  “Oh, Lord. Don’t remind me.”

  “I haven’t thought of that incident in a long time. When Millicent appeared at the back of the church in that dress? It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.”

  “Imagine how I felt. First time I’d invited Hope to California, still in the early stages of our relationship. I wanted the Lord to come right then, to save me from Hope’s anger and to save Millicent from herself!” Cy shook his head at the memory of Millicent walking down the aisle during a packed Sunday morning service, in full wedding regalia, demanding a stunned Cy Taylor join her at the altar.

  “Husband, come to me!” Derrick mimicked the words that Millicent had somberly intoned on that fateful day.

  “Aw, man. The cool way Hope handled that situation and her total belief in what I’d told her was further confirmation that she was the one.” After a pause, he continued. “You know, it’s funny that you should mention that fiasco. It’s making me think twice about another woman.”

  Derrick leaned back in his chair. “Talk to me.”

  Cy recounted the surprise e-mail he received from Trisha and his plans to meet her next week. “After all of these years, I’m curious to see her,” he finished. “Hope doesn’t object to my meeting her as long as I limit any physical contact to a church hug.”

  “Smart woman. But even with your wife’s approval, for lack of a better word, do you think this is a good idea? She could turn out to be another stalker.”

  “No, not Trisha. She’s got too much pride for that.” The room became silent for a few moments, as the men ate their food and marinated in their thoughts.

  Derrick finally reached for his napkin, leaning against the chair as he wiped remnants of perfectly fried chicken from his mouth. “If you don’t have other plans, you and Hope are welcome to join us for Sunday brunch tomorrow.”

  “I’ll talk to her and let you know. I’m just glad to see that you’re still looking good and doing well. It’s almost like the tumor never happened.”

  “God gets all the glory,” Derrick responded. “And I’ll forever be indebted to Keith Black.”

  “Absolutely. That man is definitely operating in his gift; his skill as a surgeon is something you can’t get from education alone. I went online to find his book and—Oh, wait a minute.” Cy reached for his vibrating cell phone. He looked at the number, then shifted his eyes to Derrick as he answered the call and put it on speakerphone. “Trisha!”

  “Hello, Cy.”

  “I’m having lunch with my pastor. What’s going on?”

  “Your pastor? Wow, you have changed. I never would have pictured you as a churchgoing man.”

  “I know, huh. Considering all of those times you used to try and drag me to church. A lot can change in fifteen years.”

  “Who is your pastor?”

  “Derrick Montgomery, senior pastor of—”

  “Kingdom Citizens Christian Center.”

  “Oh, you’ve heard of him?”

  “I’m a PK, Cy, remember? Derrick Montgomery is a big name in the Christian world. Of course I’ve heard of him.”

  At her mention of being a preacher’s kid, Cy asked, “How is your father?”

  “He’s had some health issues but overall, he’s fine. Look, right now I only have a few minutes to talk. I just called to see if you were still coming to New York next week.”

  “Yes. I’ll be there on Wednesday.”

  “Will we get a chance to meet?”

  “Yes. I talked it over with my wife and told her that I’d like to see you, get caught up on each other’s lives. I’ll give you a call once I land and know for sure what evening I’ll be free.”

  “I look forward to it, Cy. It’s been a long time.”

  “That it has. I’ll call you next week.”

  “Okay. See you soon, Cyclone.”

  “Goodbye . . . Trisha.”

  Cy ended the call, not missing the skeptical look that Derrick was casting in his direction. “Cyclone?”

  “That’s what they called me back in college.”

  “I don’t know, man. I’m not too comfortable with the vibe I’m getting.”

  “Look, we’ll meet for dinner in a very public place, say our good-byes, and go on our merry ways. What can happen?”

  “When it comes to the dynamics between a man and a woman. . . anything is possible.”

  “Duly noted, Pastor.”

  “I hope so. You and Hope make a great team; in a way y’all remind me of myself and Viv. Don’t head to that meeting without donning the full armor.”

  Cy nodded, understanding the meaning of Derrick’s comment. “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.”

  “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood,” Derrick continued. “But against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against wickedness in high places.”

  “But isn’t this the same passage where it talks about standing?”

  “That’s right. Having done all to stand, then stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness.” Derrick gave Cy a long look. “I’d pay particular attention to the girding of your loins.”

  Cy laughed. “No need to worry about that, Dee. The wife is taking care of home.”

  Derrick nodded, seemingly satisfied. But he still made a mental note to put Cy and Hope on his private prayer list. He wanted to do whatever he could to protect Cy from the adversary’s marriage-destroying shenanigans. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cy Taylor; Derrick just knew that the devil was always busy and that next week . . . her name might be Trisha.

  18

  Watch and Pray

  It was another Fourth of July at the Montgomery residence. Poolside was crowded and the atmosphere festive. Along with Frieda, Stacy, Hope, their spouses and children, several members from KCCC were also on hand as well as members of both Derrick’s and Vivian’s extended family. The catering company had provided all of the holiday favorites: baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad, and everything barbecued that one could imagine. The children played in a makeshift wonderland complete with a bounce house, sandlot, and swings. People clumped in various groups: around the food, the pool, and under two tents that had been erected in the backyard. Before the day was over, more than seventy-five people would have crossed the megaminister’s threshold at one point or another. In the words of Ice Cube, it was shaping up to be a good day.

  Under one of those tents, Derrick stood to the side talking with Tony. “It’s good to see you, man. I miss you and Stacy in the congregation.”

  “We miss you too.”

  “How are things going at the Church of New Hope?” CNH was the fast-growing church in Arizona, led by the young and charismatic pastor, Jeremiah Dunn.

  “Okay, I guess. I haven’t been there much lately.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you. I know you love the Lord and attended Noel’s church faithfully before joining your wife at KCCC.”

  It was true. When he wasn’t playing on any given Sunday, Tony Johnson could be found within the pews of Noel Jones’s church and later, after meeting Stacy, at KCCC. His countenance hardened as he responded. “Right now, my thoughts are on one thing and one thing only. And that’s getting picked up. As a husband, father, and the provider for my family, nothing else is more impor
tant than that.”

  This information did not surprise Derrick. During Sunday’s brunch two days ago, Cy had told Derrick that his wife was worried about Tony, and wanted Derrick to speak with him. But Derrick’s face was as unreadable as a star poker player. His body language remained casual as well as he asked, “What are you doing about that?”

  Tony told him about the planned walk-on with the Sea Lions. “I know I’ve still got a few years left in me,” he finished. “All I need is a chance.”

  “I hope you get it, man. But just remember . . . football is what you do, not who you are.”

  Tony frowned. “Have you been talking to Stacy?”

  Derrick could almost feel anger and tension palpitating from Tony’s body. But he stayed as cool as the watermelon salad that chilled in the patio fridge. “No, I have not had a conversation with your wife. Should I?”

  Tony was immediately defensive. “Just what are you asking me, Pastor?”

  “I’ve been reading people a long time, Tony. It’s a gift, really, one that has been honed through more than twenty years in ministry: counseling, ministering, supporting the flock. You’re hurting, and you’re worried. Now, the average person wouldn’t recognize it. But I do. And while I’ve never played professional sports, I’ve counseled my share of athletes who were coming to the end of their careers. I am aware of the myriad of emotions that come up when faced with retiring from something that they love. It’s not easy, man. Heck, I watched my own son go through depression when his injury temporarily kept him off the court. Even though the doctors assured him that he’d play basketball again, the mere thought that that might not happen was not an easy one for him to deal with. So I’m not trying to get in your business, brothah. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, that’s all.”

  Tony held up a hand for a fist pound. Derrick obliged him. “Thanks, Pastor. Everything you said was right. Sorry for snapping.”

  Derrick noted the set of Tony’s jaw; the coldness in his eyes that didn’t match the warmth of his voice and knew that before him stood a very troubled man. Another name to be added to his prayer list. “Apology accepted.”