Heaven Forbid (8 page)

Kelvin looked every bit the king of the castle as he lounged by his uncle Geoff’s swimming pool. A large, black-and-white-striped umbrella covered most of his lanky frame, and a large pair of Spy sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glare of the bright sun. The only thing missing from this kingly picture was a bowl of grapes and servants to fan him.

“All right, kids, calm down now. Don’t make me have to come out there.” He laughed as Brandon and Joni sprayed each other with large, powerful water guns. They got closer and closer to each other in the pool, ending up in a tousling match, turned kissing match near the shallow end. The two, though opposite in looks, complemented each other perfectly. Joni’s petite frame, dark hair, and dark skin, evidence of her Latina heritage, somehow balanced blond-haired, blue-eyed Brandon, who stood six foot one.

“Come join us, buddy,” Brandon called out, his arms still around the wife he adored. “That chocolate won’t melt. Get in here.”

Instead of answering, Kelvin repositioned the pillow behind him, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. In the two days since arriving in Los Angeles, he’d been with four different women, including the well-known-around-campus sex-crazed twins, Sandy and Brandy. And while no one could miss the love felt when Brandon and Joni looked at each other, the only thing Kelvin felt was tired.

Brandon put a finger to his lips as he eased his lithe frame out of the water. His blue eyes sparkled as he loaded up his water gun. Joni stifled a giggle as she, too, gathered ammunition, while the handful of other adults, teens, and children continued to talk and play normally, thereby assisting with the ambush.

“Ow! Damn it!” Kelvin cried as two powerful streams of water blasted him from head to toe. He jumped up out of the lounge chair so quickly that it toppled over. Ignoring it, he gave chase to the culprits, Brandon and Joni, who wisely ran in opposite directions. “That’s your ass,” Kelvin shouted, jumping into the water behind Brandon. The two men stroked the length of the pool, with Kelvin getting a hand on Brandon’s foot, just as Brandon sought to make his getaway out the other end of the pool.

“It was Joni’s idea, man!” Brandon was laughing so hard he could barely defend himself against the wave of water Kelvin pushed in his direction. Joni, wrapped in a towel now, laughed uncontrollably from her relatively safe poolside perch. Geoff, his wife, and all other onlookers shared in the glee.

After feeling he’d properly avenged himself for having been thoroughly soaked, Kelvin pulled himself from the pool and bowed to the still-laughing audience. “That’s all, folks,” he said, languidly walking in Joni’s direction. Joni’s eyes widened, and she sought shelter behind Kelvin’s aunt. “Oh, I’ma get you. But not now. When you least expect it, girl, I’ma get you.”

Kelvin smiled as he walked by family and friends, rustling hair here, giving a hand pound there. It was good that he could now handle laughter at his expense. Growing up as one of only a handful of Blacks in Germany, this had not always been the case. Especially when he was younger, he got teased and beat up on the regular. Many a day he’d come home crying or cursing, depending on the circumstances. But his mother had encouraged him to be strong and stand up for himself. His stepfather had assured him that one day things would change. He’d been right. Everything changed when, for his tenth birthday, Kelvin’s uncle Geoff sent him a basketball, signed by none other than Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant, who at that time were the Lakers’ golden boys. From that moment, Kelvin vowed to follow in Shaquille’s footsteps and go pro. And he decided to follow in Kobe Bryant’s footsteps and excel at point guard.

When Kelvin turned thirteen, it was like a magic wand was waved across his body. He grew three inches in one summer and two more the summer after that. Almost overnight, he went from being teased to treasured, as his voice deepened and his body filled out. At fifteen, a cute German girl helped him lose his virginity and in the process, develop the male swagger that continued to this day. He became the most popular kid in the private, international prep school he attended and was the star of the basketball team. That same year, as his uncle Geoff watched his nephew’s skills progress, he offered to take care of him so that Kelvin could attend school in Los Angeles and improve his chances of getting seen by scouts. The year after that, he met his biological father, Derrick Montgomery, and six months later, he met Princess. The year after that, he accepted an offer to play point guard for the UCLA Bruins.

“Baby, do you want a beer with your sandwich?” Joni had taken full advantage of Geoff’s suggestion that she make herself at home. She’d pulled a container of turkey salad from the refrigerator, found a bag of chips in the pantry, and was placing a large dill pickle slice on each plate.

Kelvin stopped swigging his own Corona. “Uh-huh! I knew the truth would come out!”

“What are you talking about?” Brandon nodded at Joni and looked questioningly at Kelvin.

“I knew that whole ‘I’m a Christian now’ nonsense you and Joni been spouting was just an act!”

Joni brought a plate of turkey sandwiches over to the table. “How do you figure that?”

“Yeah, how do you figure that?” Brandon echoed as he reached for the chips.

“’Cause, you’re sitting up here about to get your drink on, that’s how! Ha! I knew y’all hadn’t changed all that much.”

“You don’t think so?” Brandon had the urge to argue with Kelvin, defend himself, but decided to handle the conversation a different way. “You think that Joni and I are the same as when we all lived together at college?”

“Well, you don’t get high anymore, and you’re married now, so I guess the fuc—” Kelvin looked around sheepishly, hoping none of the other adults had followed them inside. “I mean, the screwing is legal. But look at y’all. You’re still drinking. I thought drinking was a sin.”

“If that were the case, Jesus wouldn’t have performed his first miracle,” Joni stated calmly as she poured herself a chardonnay. “The sin isn’t in drinking—it’s in getting drunk and letting the liquor control you, or change who you are.”

Brandon chimed in. “Now, don’t get me wrong, if it makes you uncomfortable, or hurts our testimony in any way, we’ll put the drinks down right now. Joni and I know who we are in Christ, but you don’t. So if it makes us less Christian in your eyes…” Brandon stood, preparing to replace his and Joni’s alcoholic beverages with soda.

“Aw, sit your ass down, junior. Ain’t nobody sending you to hell for having a drink. But to hear your girl Princess tell it, she’s as pure as the driven snow.”

“Princess doesn’t drink,” Joni acknowledged. “But that is her choice and the decision she made based on her relationship with God. But that’s just it—all decisions regarding one’s relationship with God are personal. Nobody can tell you how to live your life for Him. I mean, they can direct and instruct but in the end, nobody knows enough to know the mind of God. If they tell you they do, they’re lying. As much as I respect your father, Kelvin, and as much as we enjoy being members of Kingdom Citizens, I don’t even think
he
knows everything that God is thinking.”

“Joni and I are the same fools you clowned with at school,” Brandon said after taking a long swig of beer. “Crazy is how God made us. We still love a good time, love to laugh…and to love. We’ve just toned it down, that’s all. She might drink a glass of wine or have a margarita if she’s chillin’ with her family. I’ll have a brewsky if I’m hanging out with friends. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m saved. Nor does it make Princess wrong for choosing not to drink. She has her reasons for how she’s living for God. Like Joni said, it’s personal.”

“Yeah, I can see y’all a little on the subdued side, damn near boring, matter of fact.” Brandon delivered a playful punch to Kelvin’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve heard you curse once, Joni,” Kelvin continued. “And I still can’t believe this fool turned down my weed. So, I guess I’m seeing a little sumpin, sumpin…”

Joni smiled and changed the subject. “You talked to Princess, didn’t you?”

Kelvin looked quickly over at Joni. “She talk to you?”

“I called her on Thanksgiving. She told me you’d called.”

“Well, did she also tell you that I called back and got blocked like a bill collector? First her brother told me she wasn’t there, and then her mother told me straight up to stop calling!”

Joni shrugged. “I guess she doesn’t want to talk to you, Kelvin. She’s moved on.”

“If that’s the case, then why can’t she even speak to me? We got history. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

The three munched on their sandwiches in silence. Kelvin got up for another beer. “You want one?” he asked Brandon.

Brandon motioned to the half still left in his bottle. “No, dog, I’m good.”

“You ask me, I think she’s seeing that fool back in Kansas, the chump I took out of the lineup as soon as Princess got to LA.”

“Rafael?”

“Uh-huh. I’m right, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Joni said, wisely choosing a neutral answer. “She’s so busy these days, with her campus outreach program and the book she’s writing—”

“She’s writing a book?”

Oh, shoot.
“Yeah.”

“What kind of book?”

“An inspirational book, like a self-help book, a guide for young women to live godly lives.”

Kelvin snorted. “Ha! I bet I’m all up in that shit, as the example of who not to date! She bet not call me out, though. I’ll sue her fine ass.”

“Kelvin! Would you really sue Princess if she talked about the two of you dating?”

“Hell, no. But I’d let her think I was going to, just so I could get back in those panties.”

Joni laughed and shook her head. “I think that would take more than a lawsuit, homey.” She gathered their empty plates, listening to Kelvin wax poetic about getting Princess back.

“All that money and fame and your butt is still ignorant.” She bent down and gave Kelvin a hug. “Thank goodness that in that respect, you haven’t changed a bit.”

Kelvin turned down Brandon and Joni’s movie invite and spent the evening relaxing with his relatives. He’d planned to fly home the next day, Saturday, but after talking with his father and ignoring Fawn’s incessant calls, he ended up spending the day with Derrick, his little brother, D2, and the rest of the Montgomery clan. That he was still at their home on Sunday was even more surprising. But the fact that he’d joined the Montgomerys and attended Kingdom Citizens Christian Center’s Sunday morning worship services—and found himself enjoying it—was the biggest shock of all.
I can go to church when I get back with Princess,
he thought.
Every now and then.
When Kelvin finally boarded a Phoenix-bound plane late Sunday night, he was more determined than ever to get back the love he’d lost.

Stan was nervous. He paced the plush, carpeted floor of his Detroit hotel suite, wondering for the umpteenth time if he’d done the right thing by agreeing to meet with Bryce. But the truth was, for the past five months, his curiosity about the last twenty-five years of Bryce’s life had gotten the better of him. Plus, he’d calmed down from their initial meeting the previous July. He’d not seen him since that meeting, and while they’d participated in teleconferences concerning the Cathedral ministry, Bryce had kept his distance, only calling Stan’s church office one time, and even that call stayed mainly business, with only perfunctory pleasantries spoken at the beginning and ending of it. But then, last week, a holiday card had arrived in the mail. It was elegant yet simple, wishing Stan and his family a merry Christmas and happy new year. Stan had immediately recognized Bryce’s fluid, calligraphy-like handwriting and had felt the same, uncomfortable fluttering that had happened when he first saw Bryce after so many years. When asked, he’d truthfully told Passion that Bryce was a former college roommate with whom he’d reconnected during a business trip to Detroit. She’d commented on how nice the card was and had praised Bryce’s handwriting. Stan had thought ironically,
If she only knew…

The next day, Stan had called Bryce’s office to thank him for the card. He was put through immediately, and after a moment of small talk, Bryce took control of the conversation.

“I want to see you,” he’d said simply. “It’s fine if you just want to talk, Stan, but I need to see you. So much between us remains unsaid, at least for me. Like I told you before, I’ve never forgotten about you, but only recently felt I was in a place to try and reenter your life. I want to hear about what life’s been like for you, learn about your family, tell you about mine. I want to see if we can reestablish the friendship we once shared, in whatever way you’d feel comfortable. Just tell me the time and the place, and I’m there.”

Life had played its part after that when two days later, Luke Wilkes called and requested Stan’s presence at an emergency board meeting. There’d been a problem with a certain report that threatened about a million dollars of the Cathedral’s outreach budget. Luke needed the wisdom of his counsel and called the meeting, even though Christmas was just days away.

The meeting would happen tomorrow. Stan had purposely flown in the day before, after agreeing to meet with Bryce. Now he wondered if his actions were wise.

“Maybe I should call and cancel,” he whispered aloud. He walked over to his briefcase, pulled out his cell phone, and began looking for Bryce’s number. At about this same time, Bryce was entering the elevator on the way to Stan’s room. A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

“Hello,” Stan said simply. He stepped away from the door, allowing Bryce to enter. He scanned the empty hallway quickly before shutting the door.

Bryce stared out the window a moment before turning around. “It’s good to see you, friend.”

Stan walked over to the minibar to hide his nervousness. “Can I get you something? A soda? Water?”

“I’ll take a shot of brandy, neat, if you have it.”

Stan smiled. This was Bryce’s drink of choice in college. “Some things never change,” he said while fixing the drink. After pouring himself a ginger ale, he brought both glasses over to the small dining table in the corner of the room. Handing one to Bryce, he said simply, “Cheers.”

Bryce looked at Stan a long moment, his drink untouched. “To renewed friendships,” he said finally, and took a sip of the strong drink.

Stan sat down at the table. Bryce quickly joined him. “You look good, Stan,” he said. Both men took another drink.

“How long has it been, twenty-five, thirty years?”

Bryce set his glass down, leaned back in the chair, and linked his hands behind his head. “Before this past July, it had been twenty-three years since I saw you. In person, that is. Like I said before, I’ve followed your career, seen you several times on the religious networks. You can’t imagine how many times I looked you up, almost called you. When I heard about your divorce from Carla, I actually flew to LA. I even attended a service at Logos Word.”

“You were at my church?” Stan was incredulous, as much by the fact that Bryce had been in LA as by the fact that Stan had been totally oblivious to the danger that had sat unnoticed in his pews.

Bryce nodded. “Came there with the intention of making you feel better after the breakup. I’d divorced recently myself, and while leaving Sheila is what I wanted, it was still a painful time.”

“Why didn’t you approach me, after coming to Logos Word?”

Bryce shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Figured that wasn’t the best way to reconnect—in public, at your church, and by surprise. Was I right?”

“Probably.” The two men eyed each other knowingly before Stan looked away, changing the subject as he did so. “Any kids?”

“A daughter, Jasmine. She’s in college now, at Howard. Once we got her up and out of the house, I knew I had to take my life back, stop living a lie.”

Stan nodded, looked at the ice cubes melting in his ginger ale, and wished he were a drinking man.

“What about you?” Bryce asked.

“What do you mean, what about me?”

“This marriage, to Passion. Are you happy?”

Stan fought the urge to squirm, but instead, he finished off his ginger ale and rose to pour another. “More?” he motioned to Bryce’s glass.

“I’m fine for now.”

“Passion is a good woman,” Stan said after returning to the table. “She’s good with her daughter and with my children when they’re with us. She’s a godly woman,
for the most part,
and loves working in the ministry. And she’s from the south, so you know she can cook!”

“I see.” Bryce slowly sipped his drink, his eyes boring into Stan. “She sounds like the perfect minister’s wife. But…are you happy?”

Stan nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. The problems between him and Passion were escalating, and after a comment she’d made recently, he suspected her of knowing about his fetish.

“You’ve never had another relationship…like ours?” Bryce asked softly. “Not in all these years?”

“Haven’t had one, and haven’t wanted to have one,” was Stan’s quick reply. “What happened between us was a mistake on my part, the simple act of satisfying a young man’s curiosity.”

Bryce’s laugh was immediate and genuine. “Man, I think you actually believe what you just said. But I was there, remember? And while our time together was definitely satisfying, there was nothing about you and me that was simple.”

“I asked God’s forgiveness for my actions back then,” Stan continued, without acknowledging what Bryce had said. “I asked to be delivered from any desires that were…sinful. And God answered my prayers.”

“So, you’ve never once, in all these years, thought about what we shared together or desired to be with me again.”

“No.” It seemed as if time stood still while Stan’s one-word answer—which both knew was untrue—permeated the room.

“I see.” Bryce rose from the table, leisurely took off his sports jacket, grabbed his glass, and walked over to the bar.

Stan tried not to watch as Bryce sauntered to the counter. His friend had stayed in good shape over the years, his body lean and compact. Bryce wore jeans that complemented legs that seemed long for someone under six feet. The black polo shirt he wore was tight, emphasizing the muscles in his back and shoulders. Bryce had let his hair grow out since Stan had seen him at the Cathedral. His curly black locks tickled the shirt’s neckline. Bryce had gone from a pretty boy to a gorgeous man.

Bryce turned unexpectedly and caught Stan staring at him. His smile was slight, yet knowing. “Refresh your drink?”

Stan shook his head and got up to look out the window.

“I was so hurt when you left me,” Bryce said, joining Stan at the window. “I went through a slew of unfulfilling male relationships, looking for what we had. After grad school, I spent a year in London and another in Africa, working for conglomerates. That’s where I met Sheila. Her father was a big shot at one of the companies. He barely approved of our union, didn’t think I had enough money to take care of his daughter in the style to which she was accustomed. But that didn’t matter.” Bryce chuckled softly. “I could take care of her in other ways.

“We dated for years, but Sheila finally issued an ultimatum. She was nearing thirty and heard the proverbial biological clock ticking in her head. It wasn’t like I didn’t love the woman, and to this day I respect her. But I’d experienced a deeper level of love, and that’s what I was holding out for. Anyway, I finally ran out of reasons to say no. And her father offered me a ridiculous salary to become president of one of his companies. So I did it. We were married for twenty-one years.”

“And then what happened?”

“I turned fifty.” When Stan turned to Bryce with a questioning look, he continued. “I don’t know, man, but something happened. I went away, by myself, shortly after that birthday. Went to Mexico for a week, just me and my thoughts. I looked at my life, what worked and what didn’t. And I thought about you…a lot. By the time I came back home, I’d decided to take down the façade I’d created and live life on my terms, the way I want it”—Bryce looked at Stan—“the way I know it can be. I filed for divorce and resigned my position the same week. On the one hand, it was one of the most painful times in my life, but now I’m truly happy. And as soon as I get the love I want, my life will be complete.” Bryce stepped toward Stan. Stan took a step back.

“Will you hug me?”

“That’s not me anymore, Bryce. I’ve already told you that—”

“Just a hug, nothing more. I’ve missed your arms around me.”

Stan’s mind said no, but his arms said yes. They seemed to open of their own volition, and Bryce immediately stepped inside his embrace.

Bryce’s scent was intoxicating, his touch electric, and after a long moment, Stan stepped away from him. He walked to a chair in the living room and sat down, physically signaling that the moment was over. Bryce said nothing, but rather followed him to the sitting area and sat down on the love seat opposite the chairs. They discussed many things: Stan’s marriage to Carla and the subsequent, very public divorce; Stan’s rise in the ministry; Bryce’s rise in politics; mutual friends; former teachers and their passion; the New York Knicks. As the hours went by, the two men conversed like the old friends they were, comfortable and easy, often finishing each other’s sentences as each man knew the other’s story.

After laughing at memories of the down-the-back Jheri curl and Shaft-style leather coat that Bryce used to wear, Bryce asked Stan a question. “What about you? Do you still wear the panties? Remember how I used to rub them when you put them on?”

Stan sobered for a minute.

“Aw, c’mon, now. You can’t be embarrassed about that. There was something ultrasexy about a strong man like you wrapped in silk. That used to turn me on like nobody’s business!” Sensing Stan’s discomfort, Bryce stopped. “I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Really, man, sorry about that.”

Stan rubbed his thin mustache a moment, before a smile scampered across his face. “Funny that you should mention those,” he said finally. “After I saw you in July, I went and bought some, started to wear them. I’d only done that occasionally over the years, and hadn’t at all since being married to Passion. But, yeah, after I saw you…”

“You’re fighting it, aren’t you? What you’re feeling, between you and me?”

Stan swallowed, hard. “There is no feeling between you and me, Bryce. Other than brotherly friendship and Christian love.”

“Okay, man, if you say so. But for the record, I’m here, ready and waiting for you. If you ever decide differently, I think you and I could have something very, very special. We did once.”

“That was a long time ago, during a time of experimentation—”

“That lasted off and on for five years! It only ended because that’s what you wanted. You might call that an experiment, but I call it something else.”

“I call it over,” Stan said finally. “I’ve changed. I am a heterosexual, period, with no desire to be with a man. And I am a husband who has always been faithful to his wife and who will continue to cleave only unto her.

“You’d like Passion,” Stan continued. “The next time you’re in LA, please let me know. I’d love to invite you to the church and then over to our house for dinner. And in case you decide to marry again, a woman, there are several upstanding women at Logos Word who would make fine wives. God can change you, Bryce,” Stan finished. “The same way he changed me. If you let him.”

“That’s just it,” Bryce countered quickly. “You felt that our love was something that needed to be changed, that it was wrong. I know differently. I know the truth. Our love was pure and magical. And it is the memories of that love that has given me the courage to make huge changes. Only my change wasn’t to run away from who I am, but rather to embrace it.”

Conversation became sporadic after that, and before long, Bryce left the room. The next day, when they saw each other at Spread the Word Cathedral, the men were cordial and professional. Stan’s handshake was genuine as he bid Bryce good-bye and once again invited him to LA and Logos Word. “He’s a strong deliverer,” he whispered in Bryce’s ear as they shared a brief, brotherly embrace.

“Good,” Bryce whispered back. “Then I’ll ask God to deliver you…into my arms.”

Stan thought about Bryce all the way back to Los Angeles. He’d forgotten how much fun Bryce could be and admitted he’d missed their intelligent, spirited conversations. Even so, Stan knew that without a doubt, all future interactions with Bryce would be limited to the boardroom or a dining room boasting a meal that Passion either prepared or attended. Stan wanted to believe what he’d so confidently told Bryce, that he was a different man now, with no desire for what had once been between them. But had he really, truly changed? Stan didn’t want to put himself in the position, no pun intended, to be tested.