Good to Me (20 page)

The ride began uncomfortably silent. “You look very nice,” she said in an attempt to make conversation.

He sighed. “I’m sorry.” He looked over at her and then back to the road. “In my thoughts I have told you over and over how
beautiful you are, and how lovely you look tonight, but I failed to say it out loud. You look extraordinary.”

“Thank you, Minister—”

“It’s okay for you to call me Michael.”

“Thank you, Michael.” She looked out the window. She needed to erase today’s event from her mind. She prayed Psalm 91:2 silently.
I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: My God; in Him will I trust
.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Attempting to regain her composure she replied, “I was just thinking of a good way to tell you about my friend.”

He looked disappointed. “A male friend?”

“Oh no, Sister April Cloud.”

“Oh yes, the light-skinned young lady you’re usually with in church?”

“Yes, her.”

“What about her?” He laughed like he was getting ready to hear a good joke.

“She would die if she knew I was breaking it to you like this. But, she likes you.”

His smile changed into a frown. “Oh. So that’s why you’re always so short with me?”

She laughed heartily and relaxed a little more now that the attention was off of her. Ignoring his question she started talking
about April. “April is beautiful inside and out. She has a wonderful spirit. I couldn’t have asked for a better armor bearer.
I’ve known her for five years, and she has never been anything other than a woman of prayer and faith. You’ll really like
her when you get to know her.”

“What if I told you that I’m not interested in getting to know her?”

Charity sat silently for a moment. “You’re entitled to that,” she laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t keep trying to
get you two together.”

He looked like he was enjoying the conversation. “Do you know what she likes about me?”

“Yes, she thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. She’s always talking about how fine you are and how nice a smile
you have. How articulate and refined you are. When you preach, she hangs on every word you say. And when you sing, the girl
squirms in her seat. She adores you.”

He blushed. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About me?”

“I think you guys would make a good couple.”

“I’m not letting you off that easily. I meant what do you think about
me
?”

She went straight into her detached therapist’s mode. “I think you are a very nice young man whom I would recommend for my
best friend.”

“Oh, that’s cold.”

“What?” She blushed.

“So, there is no way you would consider getting to know me for yourself?”

“Okay, I say this respectfully, so I pray that I don’t offend you. I think you’re a very nice man and Pastor King speaks highly
of you, which is commendable. But my best friend likes you, so I would never consider you for anything except a boyfriend
for her. Now, how about some music?” She moved to turn on his radio. “I like this song.” She bobbed her head to The Cross
Movement’s “Cry No More.”

He turned the music down. “I apologize if I offended you and I understand your position. So, let’s start over… What do
you do for a living?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“And I bet you’re a good one, too.”

For the rest of the ride to the banquet, laughter and conversation came easily for the two of them. They talked about their
childhoods, college experiences, dating, marriage, and ministry. They were both surprised to learn how much they had in common.
Charity was more convinced than ever that he’d be perfect for April.

The evening had not come soon enough. Iesha needed a night out on the town after surviving the week she’d had. A run-in with
DSS on Monday, the home inspection yesterday, and the hurt she’d caused her sister today made her court hearing victory bittersweet.
Her case was closed and a night out would be the best way to celebrate. During the home inspection, Ms. Styre, the social
worker, had worked her last nerve. Iesha refused to believe that checking the refrigerator for food, the stove to see if it
was working properly, and the bathroom for toiletries, was really a part of the procedure. She was just being nosy.
Now I know why all of those social workers were killed a couple of years ago in Rowan County
.
Barging into people’s houses
. Iesha knew the woman was just doing her job, but some things were ridiculous. Like the fact that she noticed the empty beer
bottles in the recycling bin. She didn’t have any business looking in there. Iesha knew she didn’t believe her story about
her relationship with the kids’ fathers and how they just dropped by whenever they felt like it. She even explained to her
that she had just gotten saved and no longer drinks. Ms. Styre listened patiently and appeared to understand but Iesha easily
tired of all of her questioning.

She surveyed herself in the full-length mirror, turning this way and that, to get an all-around view of her red halter dress.
She was smoothing it out at her hips with her hands when the phone rang. She figured that it was Wallace, and he’d probably
be calling for better directions. Even though she grew up in Charlotte, she was terrible at giving directions.

“Hello?” she greeted in her sexiest voice.

“Hello, may I speak to Iesha?”

She paused before answering because she did not recognize the voice. She got suckered into paying a debt one time when a smooth-sounding
brother from a creditor she owed called her. She couldn’t bring herself to cuss him out like she had done his predecessors.
“This is Iesha. Who’s this?”

“Hey you. It’s Terrence.”

Pretending she did not remember she asked, “Terrence?”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. That was pretty presumptuous of me to think you’d remember. We met on Tuesday when I delivered flowers
to your sister at the office.”

“Ohhhhh yeah,” she made her voice go up a few octaves. “I remember now. What are you up to?”

“I know this is very last minute, but I’m over here starving and I wanted to know if I could take you to dinner with me.”

Disappointed, she answered, “Oh man. I’m on my way out the door going to dinner.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Not really.”

“What does that mean?”

“This is the first time that I’ll be going out with this person.”

He sounded more upbeat. “Good. I won’t feel so bad when you decide to leave him for me.”

From her window she could see Wallace getting out of a black Lincoln Navigator.

“Well, I gotta go. He just pulled up.”

“May I ask you another question?”

“Ter-rence,” she whined.

“Is he saved?”

“I don’t know but I’ll find out.”

“That should always be your first question.”

“Okay, Daddy. Thanks for the tip.”

“I’m not trying to preach. I just want you to know that you won’t know what you’ve been missing until you get with a saved
man. If you’re not too busy, will you call me tomorrow?”

The doorbell rang. “Yes. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

She hung up before he could respond. “I’m coming,” she called, loud enough to be heard through the door.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Wallace greeted with a kiss on the cheek.

If it weren’t for Terrence’s comment about saved men, she probably would’ve enjoyed the greeting much more than she was able
to now. “Hey. I’m ready. Should we be leaving?”

He looked at his watch. “Yeah. Our reservations are at seven and we might have to fight dinner traffic.”

Wallace grabbed her coat and held it up for her to slide into.

TONIGHT, CHARITY WAS SO PROUD
to be a board member for the Grace House. Guy and Angel, the program directors, had done a lot with a little to give this
fund-raising banquet. Because of their charm, ability to work together, and good reputation in the community, many people
came out to support their cause. Charity spotted the city’s first black mayor, a black television news anchorwoman, and several
other prominent black Charlotteans.

Charity and Minister Adams walked into the ballroom. It was tastefully decorated in black and silver. Everything was perfect.
She was sure that other board members were just as pleased to see how much their hard work paid off. They solicited donations
from several local businesses. The African House loaned the black wrought-iron centerpieces for each table. The Charleston
House Restaurant catered the food for free. The Northwest School of the Arts would be performing between recognitions, awards,
and speeches. Afterward, DJ EZ Ice would provide music for dancing.

“This is absolutely wonderful!” Charity beamed as an usher escorted her and Minister Adams to the table reserved for board
members.

“It is,” he replied. “How long have you served on the board?”

“Two years. I’m the secretary and grant writer.”

“You must be proud.” He pulled out the seat for her.

“I am. This is an excellent turnout for our first fund-raiser. The directors are tithing 10 percent and giving another 10
percent in a scholarship to a high school senior. That person should be here tonight.”

“Praise God.”

They both looked up when they heard a light commotion. Guy and Angel were walking toward them and bantering back and forth.
When Charity and Angel made eye contact, they both squealed in delight.

Charity turned to Minister Adams. “These are the directors, Guy and Angel. They fight all of the time.” They both stood up
to greet them.

“Charity, you look fabulous dah-ling,” Angel said dramatically before hugging Charity.

“Merci, mon ami.”
Charity stepped back to get a better look at Angel’s purple and blue sparkling cocktail dress.
“Très jolie.”

Guy smiled and started singing, interrupting them with a popular tune.

“Hello, Guy.” Charity hugged him to stop him from getting louder. He was getting into his song and starting to dance. “Angel
and Guy, this is a dear friend of mine, Minister Michael Adams.”

Angel hugged him and Guy shook his hand. “Charity’s told me a lot about the Grace House. I’m honored to be here with her tonight
to support you and your cause.”

“Thank you,” they replied in unison. Angel winked at Charity and slightly pulled her aside. “Girl, he’s a keeper. You better
hold on to him.” Angel dismissed Charity’s motherly look, turned to Guy, and said, “Come on, it’s about time to do the welcome.”

Charity and Michael returned to their seats. “She’s a good woman,” Michael smiled. “And she gives godly counsel.”

“So, you heard what she said?”

“Yes, you better hold on to me.” Then he leaned over closer to whisper in her ear. “It’s okay with me if you introduce me
as Michael, rather than Minister.”

She fanned herself with the program she held in her hand. His being so close to her neck and ear sent a wave of heat through
her body. Afraid of what she might say, she nodded and took a sip of ice water.
Jesus keep me near the cross.
She relaxed when other board members joined their table.

Charity and Minister Adams talked during the banquet as easily as they did during the ride. She didn’t know he was so silly.
He joked about everything from people’s outfits to the tough pork loin and rubbery green beans. Charity laughed politely at
his comments. But when a woman tripped on the stairs leading up to the stage and Minister Adams said, “And God is able to
keep you from falling,” her hand across her mouth could not contain the spray of iced tea she spat.

She wiped her mouth and dress with the linen napkin and tried to stifle her laughter long enough to apologize. “Stop it! And
pay attention!” she demanded, and playfully hit Minister Adams on his knee. She could see that it was a struggle for him to
be quiet. Every now and then he leaned over to her, caught himself, and leaned back in his chair. She commended him with a
thumbs-up.

“La—dies and gentle—men,” the DJ announced like a circus ringmaster. “It’s time to get your dance on and I’m your DJ for tonight,
DJ EZ Ice. We’re going to be jamming to some old school beats. I’ll be taking requests in a little bit. By the way, if you
have not yet given your donation, it’s not too late. There are several ushers with baskets circulating through the crowd.
Give your contributions to them. Make sure they are real
ur-shers
please. The
ur-shers
are dressed in white shirts and black pants. Do not, I repeat, do not give your money to someone who is in a suit or formal
gown. Those are not
ur-shers,
those are thieves.” The audience laughed. “Here’s a tune that’ll get you to giving.”

The O’Jay’s’ “For the Love of Money” echoed through the ballroom and transformed the quiet, composed audience into a hands-raised-in-the-air,
body-swaying crowd that rushed the dance floor like church folks in an all-you-can-eat buffet line. The incandescent lighting
was replaced by floating circles of red, green, and blue lights.

Charity was writing a check when Minister Adams turned to her. “I hope you dance.”

“Here?”

He looked at her like she was speaking French again. “Yes. I’m a minister, but I think God knew that even before He gave me
the gift of dancing.”

“I know we can dance, but should we be dancing to that?”

“How old were you when that song came out?”

Charity thought about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know, a toddler maybe.”

“Okay, so when you hear it, does it bring up any negative thoughts or feelings?”

“No.”

“Well, I hope you’ll join me on the dance floor.”

She remained glued to the chair.

He leaned in closer to her so she could hear him over the music. “Charity, we are in the world, but not of it. As people of
God we must find a balance in all things. Scripture says that an unbalanced scale is an abomination. Yes, most secular music
has sensual messages, beat, and tempos, but some do not. The most important thing you can do to determine whether or not you
should listen or dance to a secular song is to see what effect it has on your spirit. Now if they play Jodeci, 2 Live Crew,
or Snoop Dogg and the Dogg Pound, we need to leave. Because you don’t want to see the old Michael.” He laughed. “He was a
play-ah from the Him-a-lay-ahs.”