Drama Is Her Middle Name (14 page)

18

ON THE AIR

“Okay, I believe that people have lost their damn minds,”
Ritz said. “Two crazy stories I was reading on my way in today. One is about a woman who had broken up with her husband but let him move back in. I didn't need to read the rest
to figure out that it wasn't going to work out. I mean, when
does ‘reconciliation' actually work? There's usually so much
baggage and nasty feelings that all it takes is one thing to
send that relationship right back into hell. Well, that's what
happened here. But this woman took it to another level. Apparently she and her husband got into a fight. So what does
she do? She starts throwing his stuff out of the window. But
she can't stop at his clothes. She has to pick up his eight-month-old, three-pound Yorkie and toss him out of the window, too. That little doggie didn't have a chance. Splat! Oh,
did I mention, they lived on the tenth floor of a high-rise
complex. She told the cops she didn't mean to throw out the
dog, she thought it was a fuzzy shirt.”

“Daaaaaaayum!” yelped Aaron, as he hit the sound effect
of a howling dog. “That's just cold-blooded!”

“Well, if you think that's cold-blooded, listen to this next
story. A West New York woman was arrested for throwing her
newborn son out of a third-story window and into the air-shaft of her apartment building. The baby, thank God, landed
on a pile of garbage and survived. His tiny skull is fractured
though.

“This story makes me so mad that I feel like hunting that
bitch down and hanging her from her feet off of the Empire
State Building and dropping her on her head. How helpless
was this little baby. He didn't ask his skanky mama to spread
her young legs and let some man screw her. He didn't ask to
come here and have her dumb ass not be able to take care of
him and then have the nerve to try to kill him. Do you know
how many people want a child and can't have one? The
dumb ass could have given him to a loving home!”

Ritz began to tear up. It was one of her few soft spots.

“That little baby just needed someone to love him,” Ritz
said, sniffling. “I can't believe how cruel people can be. And
get this! There's more to this story. This isn't the first time
this crack ho has done something like this. And yes, I am
calling her a crack ho because that's the only kind of animal
that could do something like this. They found a mummified
corpse of another full-term baby underneath a pack of cigarettes in the same apartment. They believe this, too, was a
baby of this crazed crack ho.”

The phone lines began to light up.

“You're on with Ritz!”

“This is Paula from Harlem. Ritz, I'll help you hunt down
that animal! Me and my husband have been trying to have a
baby for years. I can't afford fertility treatments and this bitch
wants to just throw babies away?!”

“I know,” Ritz said. “I am so angry, I can barely keep my
composure. Thank you for your call and I'll let you know
when hunting season is in. Next caller.”

“You need to shut your fucking mouth, bitch!” The caller
had a brutal bite to her voice. Aaron bleeped the “fucking”
but kept the bitch—it made good radio.

“Who is this?”

“You will know exactly who this if you keep running your
mouth! You need to get your facts straight. That's the problem I have about you—always talking and running your
mouth without your shit being right.”

“I'm reading directly from the
New York Times.
You can't
get more accurate than that!”

“Well, you need to read the
whole
story, dumb bitch! That
woman you are talking about is my sister. She's not a crack ho
or a dumb ass or anything else you have been saying about
her. She is a victim. Her father—our father—has been raping
her since she was seven. He had been raping me, too. I was
lucky. I never got pregnant. She did. There was no way she
could love that child or take care of that child, knowing who
his father is, knowing what he did to her. How could she?
Could you?!”

Ritz was speechless. She could only manage an “Um.”

“Hell, no! You probably would have killed yourself. But
my sister kept moving. She was an A student. She planned to
go to college and move out on her own, as I was able to do.
But you know everything! You just sit on your perch and condemn people as if you're perfect. You have no clue! You need
to do your homework. Better yet, you need to shut the fuck
up. You want to kick people when they're down? Like my sister doesn't have enough to deal with. I'm going to show you
how that feels, bitch!”

The caller hung up. There was silence in the studio. All
eyes were on Ritz, wondering what her next move would be.

“Just like a coward to hang up the phone. I don't care what
you're going through, that first baby didn't deserve to die and
that second precious baby doesn't deserve to be in a hospital
with a cracked skull. And while I am sympathetic to the horrors of incest, the reality is that we all have things we have to
go through in life. That's life. No one is exempt. But you
don't compound your situation by inflicting harm on others.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time they rang
true to Ritz. Her own words stung her. She shook it off,
though, because she had a show to do.

It's a cliché, but reality: The show must always go on.

19

Edwin Lakes stood in the pulpit of Faith Baptist and marveled at how every single seat was filled, even the balcony.
They had to have a room with monitors for the overflow. They
had just built this church, and it seemed that they already
needed to expand again.

There were few areas where the Edwin disagreed with his
father, who had started Faith Baptist. Their only verbal disagreement happened to be over the direction of the ministry.
Senior Pastor Lakes wanted to keep the church small and intimate. He felt that to truly teach the word, he needed a congregation of only those who truly wanted to learn the word.
He believed in sifting his flock like wheat.

“The Bible says that narrow is the way, son. And only a
few will make it into heaven.”

“Yeah, Dad. But how do you know if it will be
your
few?”
Edwin would argue. “Jesus calls us to cast our net wide. I
think we have a better chance reaching those few by expanding our horizons. If we attract more people, we can save more
souls.”

“Son, you have to be careful about mixing your messages,”
Senior Pastor Lakes would say. “You can't serve two masters.
And what you're talking about is very close to that.”

“Dad, Jesus started with only twelve disciples and now
look how huge His church is,” Edwin said. “Jesus had a vision. I have a vision.”

“Be careful, son,” his father said. “Be careful. I'll pray
about it, and I want you to pray about it, too.”

Both Edwins prayed a lot. Even when younger Edwin questioned whether he would indeed take over the ministry his
father started, he never questioned his love for God or his desire to help people know God. Edwin Jr. had few regrets on
his journey. Very few.

Once he took over Faith Baptist, it didn't take long for Edwin to begin to realize his vision. His style was a departure
from his father's old-time religion. Edwin was young, he was
very handsome, and he was charismatic. His command of the
word was unrivaled. He was well trained. He was his father's
son—he had a great understanding of the Bible and how to
teach it. But he also appealed to the younger generation,
which had long turned their back on the traditional black
church. They were coming out to Faith Baptist, though.

By Edwin's second year, the church had grown as much
in stature as in size. It was not unusual to see Star Jones
Reynolds and her husband, Al, seated in the front row. Even
Pastor Mason Betha aka MA$E, who had returned to rap after starting his own ministry in Atlanta, would spend Sunday
there when he was in town.

Sunday by Sunday, Edwin seemed to get stronger and
better. He learned that running a church the size of Faith
Baptist was more like running a corporation, and his undergraduate degree in business came in handy.

During those two years of building the church, Edwin
met and married Patricia Longly—a Spelman graduate who
was working as a schoolteacher. She got pregnant quickly
and they had a son, Edwin III. About seventeen months later,
they had another on the way. That was nearly two years ago.
The
Ebony
cover piece had been planned way in advance.
By the time the piece came out, little Ashley was almost
walking.

Edwin rarely thought about the times before he took over
the church from his father. He rarely, if ever, thought about
Miami. It was his past. He now had a present and a future
that he loved and that needed his undivided attention. He
had a wife, two small children, and a nearly eight-thousand-member church in a building that only held three thousand.
He was preaching three services on Sunday to accommodate
everyone. They were about three years away from building a
new church. Edwin was pleased with the progress and pleased
with his life.

He never looked back.

His mother, Minnie Lakes, was also happy—as happy as
she could be without her doting husband. She was proud of
what her son had been able to accomplish in such a short
time. Edwin never thought his mother would be happy again.
His father's death had been a horrible blow to her because
they both shared the same dream. They wanted to spread the
word of God and make the church a foundation, a true source
of strength for the surrounding community. Minnie and Edwin Sr. were as close as any couple Edwin had known. They
were the Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee of the church crowd.
They shared everything, and together they built Faith Baptist.

Mother Lakes completely doted and depended on Edwin.
He was her rock.

“Without you, baby, this church would have fallen apart,”
she told him on more than one occasion.

Little did she know that
with
him, the end result might be
the same.

20

“Ritz, girl! Are you ready for this! This might be your best
show yet!” Chas came strutting into the studio like a peacock.

“Do tell!!!!!” Ritz said. She was always thirsty and Chas
always had the water. Ritz and Chas had a symbiotic relationship. She was well aware the she couldn't do the show without him. When she wanted to take it to the next level and
had no idea how, Chas provided a way and they moved forward. Ritz was a radio pro, she had great delivery, but Chas
kept the drama flowing. That was the reason why her ratings
kept climbing: The stakes kept getting raised.

Chas kept strolling around the studio and refused to tell
her the news.

“Okay, Mr. Thing, you got two more minutes on that runway and you better give up the goods!” Ritz said as she
grabbed his arm and playfully pinched it.

“Ouch!” Chas howled. “Girl, you know I bruise easy!
Okay, okay!”

“That's better,” Ritz said.

“So you know that man I left Club Red with last Friday
night?”

“Who could miss him?” Ritz said. “I didn't want to say anything because I know how you are about your business. But
who could miss two of God's gifts to women strolling out the
door with each other! I think I saw at least a dozen sisters
rolling their eyes when you two left, practically arm in arm.”

“Yes, girl, I can't blame them,” Chas said. “We were fine,
weren't we! Anyway, honey. Wait till you hear this!”

“Okay, I've waited long enough. Spill it!”

“Ritz, you remember that preacher that they featured on
the cover of this month's
Ebony
?”

“Yeah?”

“The one with the beautiful wife and the one-point-two
children and the doting mother.”

“Yeah?”

“The one with the really, really big church in Harlem with
all of those people like Puffy and Star Jones Reynolds or
whatever she's calling herself in attendance.”

“Will you spit it out already! What about him!!!!”

“Well!” Chas said. “That Mr. Preacher Man was once in a
relationship.”

“With . . . ?”

“The man I left the club with on Friday,” Chas said. “His
name is Ivan.”

Over the past few years Ritz had heard everything—from
the callers to the real-life celebrity gossip items. But this little diddy left her almost speechless.

“Shut
up
!”

That was all she could muster. Ritz had been to Pastor Edwin Lakes's church with Tracee before she moved south. Ritz
had had a strained relationship with God since He took her
mother, but she still believed in Him. She did, however, hate
the whole organized church thing. She thought it was too
much. But this preacher seemed to be one of the few who she
could relate to. He delivered the message with utmost clarity,
the way her favorite teacher had taught her Shakespeare—
which she loved to this day.

Pastor Lakes was so real without trying to appeal to the
“ghetto,” as so many ministers tried to do. He delivered his
message without appearing to be above his congregation. He
was a true teacher of the word, and Ritz found it refreshing.
Chas had never given her a single item that turned out to be
false. Not one. But she was hoping that this would be the
first.

“But wait, child, there's more,” Chas said.

Ritz was thinking “Please, no more!”

“Ivan is coming to the studio today to put the pastor on
blast,” Chas said. “I got him to agree to give you an exclusive.”

“Damn! You must have really put it on him!” said Ritz.

“Yes I did!” Chas said, giving her a high-five. “I guess he
wants a little revenge. It seems that our good pastor left my
boy high and very dry without as much as a good-bye—not
even a Dear John letter. Nothing.”

“Damn!” Ritz said. “Wow. Today? What time can we expect this atomic bomb to be dropped? We have to alert the
media.”

“I am already ahead of you,” Chas said. “ ‘Page Six,'
Entertainment Tonight
, ‘Rush & Molloy.' Everyone has been put on
high alert to tune in today at five.”

Ritz's mixed emotions got clear real quick. She started getting excited, as she always did when she knew she was about
to make news again. She loved this part of her job and she
loved Chas for always delivering the goods. She had to take
a few minutes to prepare her questions. Ritz never wrote any
questions down, but she had to organize in her mind the most
dramatic way for the story to unfold. Her flair for the dramatic was one of her best gifts. And she had been honing
that one for a while—in radio there was no one better at giving drama.

After all, drama was her middle name!