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Authors: Nikita Lynnette Nichols

BOOK: Lady Elect
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“Pouring the red ink in your chair was wrong but trying to destroy your marriage is a whole new ball game,” Monique said.
“I was so mad that I really wanted to do bodily harm to Mother Gussie,” Arykah added to the conversation. She, Monique, and Myrtle were on a three-way call. When Arykah returned home from the church, she had called Monique at the radio station and Myrtle's home number.
“Arykah, I really don't understand what their problem is. The mothers dislike for you is so strong,” Monique said.
“The attack started on the Sunday Lance announced that he had gotten married. He asked me to stand, introduced me as his wife, and the crap hit the fan. The Wednesday after you left Boris standing at the altar, you called to tell me that Adonis had proposed to you in the limousine when the two of you exited the church. You told me that you wanted me to fly to Jamaica because you and Adonis was gonna get married on the beach at the crack of dawn. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I do,” Monique answered.
“Well,” Arykah continued, “I called Lance and asked him to join me. I had no idea that he was gonna ask me to marry him when we got to Jamaica. All the folks at Freedom Temple were shocked at Lance's announcement. One Sunday their pastor was a single man, and then the next Sunday, he announced that he was a married man. I can understand how that bit of information would be unsettling for some folks.”
“I can understand that too, Sugar Plum,” Myrtle interjected. “But it still doesn't give those old hags the right to turn every lady in the church against the bishop's new wife, and it certainly doesn't give them the right to harass you. Lance had a right to marry whomever he wanted.”
“I'm not saying that it gives them the right, Momma Cortland. I'm just saying that I understand their hostility and resentment.”
“But Mother Gussie and Mother Pansie have never taken the time to get to know you, Arykah. You were hated from the very beginning of your marriage to Lance,” Monique stated.
“And what really surprises me,” Arykah started, “is how all of the women in the church were so easily influenced. It's like the mothers have them under a spell.”
“But you know how it is when a pastor is single, Sugar Plum. Especially a good-looking pastor,” Myrtle said.
“Yep,” Monique offered. “Not only is Lance good looking, he owns a construction company, and he's living in a massive estate. Everyone knows he's a wealthy man. I ain't sayin' you're a gold digger, Arykah. But you ain't messin' with no broke—”
“Don't you call my husband that name,” Arykah interrupted Monique before she could add the last word to the famous phrase from the rapper Kanye West's song “Gold Digger.” “And my honey knows his way around the kitchen.”
“So, those qualities alone made Lance a target for every single woman in the church to try to get him. Heck, that may have been the only reason most of the single women attended Freedom Temple.”
“You're right, Gravy,” Monique said. “So when Lance announced that Arykah was his wife, it pissed a lot of people off. And Arykah wasn't even a member of the church. I don't think the mothers had to work too hard at convincing the women that Arykah was the enemy. When Arykah showed up as lady elect, the single women were already drinking hatorade.”
 
 
It was late evening when Mother Gussie was walking home from the convenient store carrying a bag of groceries. She saw two little girls across the street enjoying a game of hopscotch.
“Mother Gussie.”
Mother Gussie looked over her shoulder to see who had whispered her name. She didn't see anyone nearby.
“Mother Gussie.” The second whisper came from in front of her. Mother Gussie looked ahead but still didn't see anyone. She kept walking.
“Mother Gussie.”
She glanced in the parked cars lined up along the street. They were all empty. Mother Gussie increased her pace. She gripped the bag of groceries tighter as she walked.
“Mother Gussie.” The whisper was above her.
Mother Gussie cried out. She looked up at the trees that towered over her. No one was in the trees. Straight-ahead at the end of the block were tall bushes. Mother Gussie told herself that if she could just make it to the bushes and turn the corner, she'd be home.
“Mother Gussie.” The whisper was on her left shoulder. Too close for comfort.
She hollered out, then dropped the groceries and ran to the corner. When she rounded the corner, she looked behind her one last time. When Mother Gussie turned back around she collided.
“Boo,” Arykah said, smiling.
“Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaaallllllll,” Mother Gussie woke up screaming.
Her husband jolted awake. He sat up and turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand.
“What is it, Gussie?”
All of the color had drained from Mother Gussie's face. It was as if she had seen a ghost. “She gon' get me, she gon' get me,” she cried while clutching the covers to her chest. “She gon' get me.”
“Who's gonna get you?” Her husband was in a daze. He wasn't fully awake. He had no idea why she was screaming. “Who are you talking about?”
Mother Gussie's eyes danced from the ceiling to the window to the closet door. She rocked back and forth. Chills were running throughout her body. “She gon' get me,” she moaned.
“Who's gonna get you? Me?”
Mother Gussie looked to her left. It wasn't her husband in bed with her; it was Arykah's face she saw. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Mother Gussie threw the covers from her body, hopped out of bed, and ran from the bedroom. “She gon' get me! Lawd Jesus, she gon' get me!”
Her husband ran after her.
Chapter 12
Arykah
entered the church Tuesday evening and shook the snowflakes from her coat.
It was mid-March, and at least two inches of snow had fallen with no signs of letting up.
She had spent all morning and afternoon mixing paint samples and choosing wood flooring to ensure that her client would be completely satisfied when he moved into his new home.
Arykah took off her wet coat and had started to climb the stairs to her office when she overheard a conversation between two teenage girls. They were standing close to the entrance of the sanctuary.
“I heard that his wife is going to join the choir,” one girl said to the other.
“Girl, I don't care. I can sit next to her in the choir stand and
still
screw her husband.”
At the fifth step, Arykah's climb ceased. She turned around, descended the stairs, and approached the girls.
The two girls saw Arykah walking their way and greeted her.
“Praise the Lord, Lady Arykah.”
“Hi, Lady Arykah.”
Arykah ignored their greetings. “Which one of you is screwing a married man?”
Both of their eyes popped out of their heads. They had no clue that their conversation wasn't a private one.
Arykah's eyes danced from one girl to the other. They looked real young. Arykah guessed the girls to be around sixteen or seventeen years old. Much too young to be having such an inappropriate conversation.
“Which one of you is screwing a married man?” Arykah repeated herself. Maybe she could have chosen an alternate way of asking the question, but Arykah figured that if one of the girls was bold enough to admit to fornicating and had no problem doing it, Arykah would be just as bold and had no problem calling her on it.
“I'm
not,” the girl standing on Arykah's left responded.
Arykah spoke to the girl standing on her right. “What's your name?”
The girl hung her head and looked down. “Natasha.”
“How old are you, Natasha?” Arykah asked her.
Natasha answered the floor. “Seventeen.”
Arykah placed two fingers beneath Natasha's chin and slightly lifted her face. “Look at me.”
When Natasha looked into Arykah's eyes, Arykah saw tears on the verge of falling.
“Are the two of you here for Bible class?”
“Yes,” both girls answered.
“And what is
your
name?” Arykah asked Natasha's friend.
“I'm Destiny, and I ain't having sex with nobody.”
Arykah almost chuckled. Destiny sold her friend out quick, fast, and in a hurry.
“Destiny, you go ahead into the sanctuary. Bishop Howell will be starting Bible class soon,” Arykah instructed.
Destiny looked at Natasha with pity in her eyes, then walked into the sanctuary.
“Is your mother here, Natasha?” Arykah asked.
“No.”
“Come on up to my office. We're gonna have a little chat.”
When Arykah and Natasha ascended the stairs, Arykah saw that Mother Gussie's chair was empty. It was unusual for Mother Gussie to be away from her desk on a Tuesday evening. On Tuesdays, Mother Gussie started her shift later than her normal start time.
She'd work from 11:00
A.M.
until 7:00
P.M.
And when Lance left his office to begin Bible class, Mother Gussie would shut down her computer and follow him down to the sanctuary.
“Come with me,” Arykah said to Natasha as she walked past Mother Gussie's desk toward Lance's office.
Natasha became nervous.
She's gonna tell the bishop on me
, she thought.
Lance was sitting behind his desk going over his notes for Bible class when he looked up and saw Arykah entering his office. “There's my favorite girl,” he said.
“Hello, my love,” Arykah greeted him.
Lance saw that Arykah wasn't alone. “Natasha. Wow, what a special treat I got this evening. My favorite girl, and my favorite choir member both in my office. This turned out to be a great day.”
“Hi, Bishop,” Natasha said slightly smiling. She wondered if she'd still be Lance's favorite choir member when Lady Arykah told him her sin.
Arykah walked around to Lance's side of the desk and sat on the end, then crossed her left leg over her right knee. She'd always liked when Fran Fine from the television sitcom,
The Nanny,
sat on her boss's desk that way. Arykah thought it was a cute pose. “Where is Mother Gussie?”
“She didn't come to work today,” Lance answered. “Deacon Hughes called and said she wasn't feeling well.”
“Humph,” Arykah commented. No doubt her confrontation with Mother Gussie yesterday had played a part in her absenteeism.
Lance saw that Natasha hadn't entered his office. She stood at the door with an uneasiness about her. “What are you ladies up to?” Lance posed the question in general. He didn't care who answered.
Natasha glanced at Arykah with a forced smile. It was Arykah who answered Lance's question. “Natasha and I are gonna have a chat before Bible class.”
“Is that right?” Lance said. He looked at Natasha and knew that something was up. If Arykah was chatting with a young girl, then something was
definitely
up.
Arykah noticed the picture of herself and Jeremy Montahue on Lance's credenza.
“Where did you get that picture of me and Jeremy? He's the one who bought the Belfor estate.”
Lance turned around and grabbed the frame. “Mother Gussie gave it to me. She said a courier brought it to the church.”
Arykah frowned. “What courier? And who took the picture?”
Lance shrugged his shoulders. “My guess is that there was no courier, but I gotta get ready to go downstairs.” That was Lance's way of dismissing the conversation with Natasha being present.
Arykah followed Lance's lead. “Okay, Natasha and I will be down shortly.” She glanced at the photo again. Mother Gussie had her followed. Someone had taken that photo and somehow it ended up in Lance's hands. Arykah wondered why Lance never mentioned that he received the photo. She and Jeremy looked like they were on a date. She would be sure and ask Lance about it when they got home.
Arykah and Natasha left Lance alone and walked across the hall to Arykah's office. Arykah unlocked the door and turned on the light. “Come on in, Natasha, and have a seat.”
Natasha followed Arykah inside and sat in one of the chairs opposite of Arykah's desk.
“Uh-uh.” Arykah pointed to the sofa. “There.”
Natasha obeyed and sat on the sofa. She watched Arykah hang her coat on a coat hanger just inside the door. Then Arykah stepped out of her Ugg boots and slipped into a pair of pink plush slippers that she kept beneath her desk.
“You hungry?” Arykah asked Natasha as she opened a cabinet next to her desk and pulled out a bag of nacho cheese-flavored Doritos and a bottle of Louisiana brand hot sauce.
“No, thank you.” Natasha wished Lady Arykah would just say what she had to say and send her on her way. She knew she was in trouble; there was no doubt about that. But it seemed that Lady Arykah was prolonging the lashing.
Arykah opened the bag of Doritos, then opened the bottle of hot sauce and poured it in the bag of chips. She shook the bag to make sure the hot sauce reached the bottom.
Natasha watched Arykah place the hot sauce back in the cabinet, then open the door to a small compact refrigerator she kept against the wall behind her desk.
“You thirsty?”
When Arykah pulled out a sixteen-ounce bottle of Pepsi, Natasha's mouth watered.
She was very thirsty but was too nervous to eat or drink anything. “No, thank you.”
Arykah looked at her. “You're very polite, Natasha. But don't you know that sleeping with a married man isn't polite?”
Natasha looked at the floor in front of her. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Don't look at the floor,” Arykah said. “Look at me. Cowards look at the floor.”
Natasha connected her eyes with Arykah.
With her chips and drink in her hand, Arykah came and sat on the sofa. Natasha couldn't believe her eyes when Arykah brought the bag to her mouth, threw her head back, and gulped the chips.
Arykah took her time and chewed the chips before she swallowed. “You're seventeen years old, so that makes you a senior in high school, right?”
“Yes,” Natasha answered.
Arykah opened the bottle of Pepsi and drank. After five swallows, she placed the cap back on the bottle.
Buuuuurrrpppp
. “How are your grades?”
Just like every other female in the church, Natasha had heard how ghetto, loud, and outspoken the bishop's wife was. But being up close and personal with Arykah, Natasha saw firsthand how true the rumors were. The first lady had just belched loudly and didn't ask to be excused.
“My grades are excellent. I'm on the honor roll,” Natasha said proudly.
Arykah threw her head back again and took another gulp of chips. She chewed, swallowed, then looked into Natasha's eyes. “Then why are you so stupid?”
If Natasha had one wish that could be granted, it would be to disappear from Arykah's sight. She didn't respond. She couldn't respond. Arykah had shut her down.
“You do know that sleeping with a married man is a stupid thing to do, don't you?”
Natasha looked toward the floor.
“I told you to look at me. Why do you focus on the floor? We're having a conversation. If you're woman enough to screw another woman's husband, then be woman enough to face the consequences for doing so. I heard you tell your friend that you had no problem sitting next to the man's wife and still screw him. That's what tricks do. See, tricks don't have any self-respect. They're easily persuaded to cheapen themselves while thinking they're on top of the world. Tricks hide. They sneak around. They settle for sex in the backseats of cars. A trick can never be number one. She'll always be the dark little secret that no one can know about.
“A trick can't be seen on the arm of her man because she's not worthy. She's not even second best. She's told when to speak, when to sit, and when to breathe.” Arykah swallowed more Pepsi, then asked, “How long have you been trickin'?”
Natasha wanted to crawl beneath a rock. Arykah had basically told her that she had no worth. She was wasting her life. She was nothing. She was useless. She was a cheap whore.
Arykah saw tears spilling from Natasha's eyes. “What do your tears mean?”
Natasha looked at Arykah as though she didn't understand.
Arykah rephrased the question. “Why are you crying?”
Natasha wiped her face with the back of her hand. “'Cause ... I ... I'm just ... I don't know.”
“You don't know what, that you're a trick? Because that's exactly what you are. You're a pretty girl, Natasha. You're on the honor roll, and you're graduating in a few months. You have too much going for you to be treated as though you're nothing.”
Arykah noticed that Natasha was holding on tight to a Coach handbag. Arykah and Monique both owned that same bag. It wasn't cheap. It had cost them a pretty penny.
“He bought you that purse?”
Natasha nodded.
“I can only imagine what you had to do for it.”
Natasha looked at the floor.
“Look at me, Natasha!”
Natasha looked at Arykah, and more tears spilled from her eyes. “I'm so sorry.”
“For what?”
She wiped her tears away again. “For being stupid.”
Arykah reached over and wiped a single tear that ran down Natasha's face. “You're a baby. You're not fully cooked yet. But you're old enough to know that what you're doing is wrong. You don't have to be nobody's fool. You deserve to be treated like a queen. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Yes.”
“Don't settle for anything less than what you're worth. And remember, what goes around comes around. How would you feel if the man you vowed to love, honor, and cherish betrayed you?”
“It would hurt.”
“Yes, it would. So, get yourself together and stop this reckless behavior.”
“Are you gonna tell the bishop?” Natasha was worried. Lance adored her, and she adored her pastor. She knew that if Lance found out what she'd been up to, he'd be disappointed.

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