Lady Elect (30 page)

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Authors: Nikita Lynnette Nichols

BOOK: Lady Elect
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We're coming in the church now.
Lance returned the telephone to the holder on his belt. He looked at Myrtle and Monique and winked his eye. Then he glanced at Adonis sitting behind the organ and winked his eye. Adonis had been instructed to continue to play throughout the chaos.
Lastly, Lance leaned over to Carlton again. “It's going down now.”
Carlton's knees shook faster.
The doors of the church opened. Lance and Carlton saw Detective Rogers step to a female usher and flash her badge. The two women exchanged words; then the usher escorted Detective Rogers and two other policewomen down the center aisle. The usher brought them to Mother Pansie's row. Lance saw the usher point to Mother Pansie and say something to Detective Rogers.
The choir lost focus on what they were singing about. They stopped immediately, but Adonis kept playing. The entire church saw Detective Rogers gently grab Mother Pansie by her elbow and stand her up.
The look on Mother Pansie's face was horrifying when she realized what was happening. Detective Rogers read Mother Pansie her Miranda rights, then instructed the policewomen to place her in handcuffs. Mother Pansie's nephew, Clyde, was already at the police station. And although Detective Rogers hadn't question Mother Pansie yet, there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Mother Pansie had sent her nephew to attack Arykah. He was incompetent and a nutcase.
Detective Rogers was sure that Clyde did not wake up the morning of Arykah's rape and choose her randomly to attack. He knew where she and Lance lived, knew to sneak past the guard on duty, and he knew that Lance was a bishop. Clyde had never been to Freedom Temple, and he'd never met Arykah. So Detective Rogers put two and two together and came to the conclusion that the only reason Clyde came to Arykah's house and assaulted her was because he had been told to do so. Told by someone who hated Arykah.
Mother Pansie looked toward the pulpit into Lance's eyes. She wasn't remorseful; she wasn't sorry. When her eyes locked on Lance's, he saw pure evil.
Mother Pansie didn't put up a fight. She held her head high as Detective Rogers escorted her out of Freedom Temple.
Lance stood from his chair and approached the podium. “At the table where the feast of the Lord is going on,” he sang.
Adonis raised the volume on the organ. Slowly the choir began to sing along with their pastor. The mood at the church was a somber one. Everyone wanted to know why their beloved Mother Pansie had just been arrested. Lance didn't stop the service to give an explanation. He kept singing until the entire congregation joined in.
After praise and worship, he excused himself from the pulpit and left the church.
On cue, Minister Weeks stepped to the podium and took over the service.
 
 
 
When Lance arrived home, he found Arykah and Diva snuggled up on the sofa in the great room. Arykah was watching a movie on the Lifetime Movie Network Channel. He placed a large bouquet of roses on the table next to the sofa.
“Those are beautiful, babe.”
“Yes, they are, but they're not from me. When I signed in at the gate, Dwight asked that I give the roses to you.”
“You had to sign in?”
“Because of what happened to you, the home owners association has new rules. Residents must sign in and out of the complex, plus we gotta show our ID's. The guard on duty can never leave the post unattended for any reason. And visitors are required to show identification as well. They're only allowed past the gate if the resident they're visiting calls and gives permission to allow the visitor through.”
“Wow. Talk about being on lockdown.”
“What happened to you, Cheeks, could've been avoided. It shouldn't have taken a crime to happen for the new rules to be implemented. As much as we paid for our homes, you, me, and all of our neighbors should never have to worry about the safety of our families. Dwight sent the flowers because he knows he messed up. He wanted me to tell you that he is very sorry for what happened to you.”
“Aw, Dwight is a good guy,” Arykah said. “When I'm better, I'll go and speak with him.” She repositioned herself on the sofa. “So, how did it go at church?”
Lance sat down on the sofa and laid his head on Arykah's lap. “Everything went according to plan.”
“She didn't put up a fight?”
“Nope. Satan's sister is guilty.”
“What about Mother Gussie?”
Lance sat up and looked at Arykah. “She called me when I left the church. Gossip travels fast. I left right after praise and worship was over. But just as I was getting into my car, Mother Gussie was blowing up my cell phone. First thing she said was, ‘I didn't have anything to do with it, Bishop.'”
Arykah cocked her head to the side. “Oh really? Well, it's obvious that she knew what Mother Pansie was up to if she claimed she wasn't involved.”
“Exactly. Someone had to have called Mother Gussie to tell her that her best friend was arrested at church. When she blurted out that she didn't have anything to do with it, I knew she was aware of Mother Pansie's plan. When I asked Mother Gussie what she was talking about, she paused.”
“Uh-huh. She paused because she realized that neither of you had discussed Mother Pansie's arrest. And for her to call you and say that she was innocent, Mother Gussie inadvertently told on herself because she knew about my assault
before
it happened.”
“She never answered my question when I asked her what she was talking about. But the fact that Mother Gussie knew what Mother Pansie had been planning and didn't tell me about it left a sour taste in my mouth. She knew what was going to happen to you, but she said absolutely nothing. I can't get past that, Cheeks. I told Mother Gussie that she was no longer welcomed at Freedom Temple.”
Arykah's eyes grew large. “Wow. Was that a first for you? Dismissing someone from the church? It couldn't have been easy.”
“It was very easy,” Lance said. “When it comes to my wife, I don't play around. I have zero tolerance as far as you're concerned. Dismissing Mother Gussie from Freedom Temple was a first for me, but it won't be the last if I get wind of anyone else trying to harm you.”
“You are the bestest husband on this side of heaven, Bishop. And you look kinda sexy when you put your foot down.” Arykah ran her finger along Lance's goatee. “You're looking real sexy right about now.”
“Don't start anything that you can't finish, Cheeks.”
“Who says that I can't finish?”
“Your doctor, that's who. He told you to not overextend yourself. No strenuous exercises.”
“My grandmother use to always say, ‘Never let the weatherman stop your plans. So what if it rains?'”
Lance frowned. “What in the world does that mean?”
Arykah took her time to stand. She untied the knot of her robe, slipped it from her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. She turned from Lance and started walking toward their bedroom. Seductively, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I can show you what it means better than I can tell you.”
It had been awhile, and Lance was craving his wife. “What about the beach towel you're sitting on?”
“Don't concern yourself with the towel. There are ways around the towel. I'm a pro at what I do. You know that.”
Arykah was telling the absolute truth. She was a master at loving Lance. She shined in the bedroom and was skilled beyond belief.
Lance rose from the sofa and followed Arykah to their bedroom.
Book Club Discussion Questions
1.
After vacationing in Jamaica, Bishop Lance Howell returned to Freedom Temple with a wife in tow. What affect did Lance's actions have on the church?
2.
Being a pastor's wife, do you think that Arykah should have toned down her dress code? Is it okay for a pastor's wife to wear skinny jeans, plenty of bling, and stilettos?
3.
Was Mother Pansie right or wrong for taking Miranda from the choir because she was pregnant? Was Arykah right or wrong for fighting on Miranda's behalf to get her back in the choir? Lance was caught in the middle, but he ultimately sided with his wife. Did he make the right decision when he escorted Miranda to the choir?
4.
Arykah didn't bite her tongue when she confronted the young lady who was having an affair with a married man. Arykah basically told the young girl that she was a whore. Was Arykah too tough, or should she have been more diplomatic?
5.
Why do you think Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie had such a strong dislike for Arykah?
6.
Was Arykah's character too bold, bossy, and outspoken? How would you have written her character differently?
7.
When Arykah realized that Mother Gussie was behind the suit jacket at the dry cleaner fiasco, she drove to Freedom Temple and confronted her. Was it wrong for Arykah to have threatened Mother Gussie? If so, how should she have handled that situation differently?
8.
At first, Lance didn't believe that Mother Gussie had set Arykah up to fail when she'd given Arykah the wrong time to be at Brother Cartwright's house. Was Lance wrong for not automatically supporting his wife?
9.
At dinner, Arykah shared with Gladys, Darlita, and Chelsea that she role-played in the bedroom. As a pastor's wife, should she have revealed that information?
10.
As a pastor, was it wrong for Lance to ask Detective Rogers to arrest Mother Pansie at church? Why do you think Lance wanted to embarrass her in front of the entire congregation?
Coming Soon
Damsels In Distress
by
Nikita Lynnette Nichols
Chapter 1
It
was a late Saturday evening in April when twenty-seven-year-old Ginger Brown modeled a royal-blue, two-piece satin suit as her best friends, Portia Dunn and Celeste Harper, encouraged her to sashay and turn, then turn and sashay again. Ginger had recently bought the suit at Macy's to wear to church on Sunday. It was Women's Day and Ginger was looking forward to emceeing the afternoon service.
Portia and Celeste were seated on opposite ivory lounge chaise chairs in Ginger's immaculate living room in the city of Westchester, a small suburb just west of Chicago.
The thirty-two-inch space between the women that were seated served as a catwalk for Ginger to strut.
“All right, Ginger, girl, show us what you're working with,” Celeste encouraged.
Ginger unbuttoned the jacket, slipped it off her arms, then swung it over her left shoulder to reveal the silver-gray satin camisole she wore underneath. Gracefully, she turned away from Portia and Celeste, then strutted back to her starting point just at the archway that separated the living room from the dining room.
As Ginger walked, Portia's smile quickly faded when she noticed black and blue bruises on Ginger's right shoulder next to the spaghetti strap of her camisole. She sat straight up in the chaise chair. “Ginger, what the heck is that on your shoulder?” Portia's outburst startled both Ginger and Celeste.
Ginger had no clue the boxing match from the previous night with her live-in boyfriend was evident. She was usually careful not to allow any bruises to show. Had she known the marks were visible, Ginger never would've taken off her jacket.
“Oh, girl, it's nothing,” she said, quickly putting the jacket back on. “Ronald got a little high last night. Y'all know how he gets.” Ginger's poor excuse for being a punching bag was for her own benefit. Truth be told, she was quite embarrassed. How could she have been so careless and allow anyone to see the bruises?
When Ronald came home the evening before with his eyes glazed, Ginger knew he had brought trouble home with him. She was in the kitchen, standing at the stove, frying pork chops.
He approached Ginger reeking of marijuana and lifted the lid of a pot that sat on the stove. “What is this?” he asked. His voice was almost a whisper.
Nothing infuriated Ginger more than when Ronald asked her a question that he already knew the answer to. Anyone in their right mind could see that the pot was half filled with white rice. Evidently smoking weed had taken Ronald's common sense away.
Ginger exhaled a loud sigh of frustration. She hated when he asked stupid questions.
“It's rice, Ron. I'm gonna make gravy to go with it.”
Ronald placed the lid back on the pot, then turned to walk away. Ginger thought the conversation was over but was mistaken as Ronald spun back around. He slammed his open palm against Ginger's face and with all the strength he had, he pushed her backward. He sent her flying down, but on the way to the floor, Ginger's right shoulder connected with the edge of the marble-top kitchen table. She screamed out in pain.
“Who the *%# @ are you huffin' and puffin' at, huh?” Ronald stood over Ginger glaring down at her. He drew his leg back in preparation to kick Ginger in her abdomen but stopped short. “I told you about catching an attitude every time I ask you a question.”
Ginger lay on the kitchen floor moaning and wincing in pain. Her right shoulder was on fire.
“I don't want rice and gravy. Throw that crap out and make me some corn.” With that being said, Ronald exited the kitchen.
Now Ginger stood in the living room having to defend the cause for the bruises to her friends. Celeste stood, went to Ginger, and forcefully pulled the jacket off her shoulders to get an up close and personal look at the marks. Portia came and stood next to Celeste. The bruises were blue, black, and purple.
It wasn't the first, second, or third time Celeste and Portia witnessed bruises on Ginger. They've been begging Ginger to end her abusive relationship with Ronald ever since she moved him into her home three years ago.
Last month, Ginger showed up at church with a swollen busted lip that she tried to hide with lipstick. Portia and Celeste were so angry that they wanted to go to Ginger's house and confront Ronald, but just like all the times before, Ginger had begged them not to interfere. Now the three best friends stood in Ginger's living room facing the issue again for what seemed like the one-hundredth time.
“Is that fool still pounding on you, Ginger?” Celeste asked.
Ginger's heart raced as tears began to run down her chocolate-colored face. “Celeste, please understand,” she pleaded.
Portia frowned. “Understand
what,
Ginger? That fool is out of control, and you need to get away from him.”
“I'm calling the police.” Celeste returned to her chair for her purse. Her cell phone was inside.
Ginger was quickly on Celeste's heels. As soon as Celeste pulled her phone from her purse, Ginger snatched it out of her hand. “No, Celeste.”
Celeste placed her right hand on her hip and shifted all of her weight onto one leg.
“No? What the heck do you mean ‘no'? Ronald needs to be locked up, and you need to be institutionalized for allowing him to beat on you.”
By the expression on Ginger's face, Portia knew Celeste's words had hurt her.
Celeste had basically accused Ginger of being crazy.
Portia came and stood next to Ginger. “Celeste, I know you're upset but—”
“Upset?” Celeste had cut Portia's words off. “
Furious
is what I am, Portia. And why are
you
so doggone calm about this? We've been dealing with this crap for three years. Did you get a good look at her back?”
Ginger placed her face in her hands and cried. Not only was she embarrassed, but if a call was made to the police and Ronald found out about it, Ginger knew she'd be in even more trouble with him.
Portia wrapped her arms around Ginger. “It's okay, sweetie. We're gonna get through this. We'll work it out.”
Celeste couldn't comprehend Portia's attitude about the situation Ginger was in.
“How do you suppose we ‘work this out,' Portia? Huh?”
Portia guided Ginger to a chair and sat her down. “I don't know, Celeste. Let's talk about it.”
In Celeste's mind, talking wasn't necessary. She hastily left the living room and walked toward Ginger's bedroom. “Yeah, okay. You and Ginger talk. I know what I'm gonna do.”
In Ginger's bedroom, Celeste opened the closet door. She found a small suitcase and threw it on the bed. Next, she snatched blouses, dresses, and pants off of racks and threw them on top of the suitcase. Ginger and Portia came into the bedroom and saw Celeste on a rampage. Just as Celeste was headed for the dresser, Ginger ran and stood in between it and her friend.
“What are you doing, Celeste?” Ginger asked her.
“I'm helping you get through this. That's what I'm doing. Get out of my way.”
More tears ran down Ginger's face. “Ron apologized. He promised to never hit me again.”
“That's what he said the last time, and the time before that, Ginger,” Portia interjected from the doorway. “When are you gonna learn that Ronald is sick?”
Ginger looked at her best friends through teary eyes. “Y'all just don't understand. He told me ...” She couldn't finish her sentence as she choked back tears.
Celeste placed her hands on her hips again. “He told you what?”
Ginger knew that if she revealed what Ronald had told her years ago, all heck would break loose. She hesitated. She wondered how she could pacify this situation and calm Portia and Celeste down.
“He told you what?”
Celeste's outburst startled Ginger.
Ginger opened her mouth and spoke softly. She looked into Portia's eyes because she didn't want to see the expression on Celeste's face. “Ron once told me that he'd kill me if I ever left him.”
Both Celeste's and Portia's eyes grew wide.
“What?”
they screamed at the same time.
Celeste became enraged. She was even more eager to pack Ginger's clothes and get her out of that house. “Move out of my way, Ginger.”
Ginger pleaded with Celeste to calm down. “Celeste, please understand.”
“Why do you keep saying that, Ginger? What is it that you want us to understand? You ain't married to that fool. Ron won't even give you his last name. He's too darn lazy to get a job. All he does is smoke weed all day. He's living in
your
house while
you
go to work every day.
You
pay the mortgage, utilities, and
you
buy the groceries. Ron has you so twisted that he makes you ask his permission to go to church. Plus he's ugly. I don't see how you can stand to look at him let alone sleep with him. You deserve better, Ginger. So, since you don't have enough brains to pack your bags, I'm gonna do it for you.” Celeste pushed Ginger aside and opened the top dresser drawer, then grabbed a handful of bras and panties and threw them on the bed.
Ginger grabbed her underwear from the bed and brought them back to the dresser.
“Stop it, Celeste.”
Celeste ignored Ginger and proceeded to another drawer. She grabbed another handful of clothes and took them to the bed. On her second trip, she looked at Portia standing in the bedroom doorway. “What the heck are you just standing there for? You should be helping me.”
Portia didn't move. She was torn. She knew Celeste was doing the right thing by packing Ginger's clothes, and of course she should be helping Celeste. But Ginger just said that Ronald would kill her if she left him.
Portia watched as Celeste transferred clothes from the dresser to the suitcase; then she watched Ginger transfer clothes from the suitcase back to the dresser. Portia knew Celeste was out of control, but then again, enough was enough.
Ginger was crying and begging Celeste to stop trying to pack her clothes.
Celeste forcefully took the clothes from her hand and looked at her. “Look, Ginger, I'm sick of this crap. Now, either we pack your clothes and you come home with me, or we pack Ron's clothes and put them out on the curb. One of you is getting the heck out of here tonight. Now, since this is your house, I'll let
you
decide. Because if he touches you again, I'm gonna pay somebody to touch
him
. So, who's leaving—you or Ron?”
Ginger didn't answer Celeste. She stood in the middle of her bedroom crying.
Celeste waited five seconds, then threw the clothes on top of the suitcase and walked to the dresser to grab more. Ginger reached out to try to stop Celeste but lost her balance and fell. She managed to grab a hold of Celeste's left leg. Celeste stumbled but was able to deliver the suitcase's deposit. Ginger begged and cried for Celeste to stop packing her clothes. “Celeste, please. Please, Celeste.”
Celeste dragged Ginger from the dresser to the bed as she continued to pack her clothes. “Portia, get her off of me.”
Portia had a decision to make. She could only pray that Ginger would eventually forgive her and Celeste for doing what had to be done. She went to Ginger and pulled her arms from around Celeste's legs. “Ginger, we gotta do this.”
Ginger stopped fighting. She knew that her friends were relentless, and they were not going to let her stay in her home as long as Ronald resided there also. But Ginger also knew that she needed to come up with a plan to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home. “Okay. Okay, I'll go to the police station.” She told them what they wanted to hear.
Portia released Ginger's arms. “You will?”
“Now you're talking like you got some common sense,” Celeste said.
“Get your big butt off of me, Portia.”
Portia stood, and so did Ginger.
Celeste grabbed a suitcase by the handle and instructed Ginger and Portia to take one each. “Ginger, you're coming home with me after we leave the police station.”
“Okay.” Ginger didn't argue. She wanted them to leave. She had a plan.
 
 
Celeste, Ginger, and Portia rode in silence to the police station. It was when Celeste drove into a parking spot that Ginger said from the backseat, “I'm not doing it.”
Both Portia and Celeste turned around and looked at her.
Celeste was furious. “What the heck you mean you're not doing it?”
Ginger turned away from her friends and looked out the window. “I changed my mind.”

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