Lady Elect (8 page)
Authors: Nikita Lynnette Nichols
Chapter 6
Saturday
was upon Lance before he knew it. The morning of Justin Cartwright's funeral, Lance sat behind his desk at the church wondering how he would eulogize him. Lance had never met Justin, and the only thing he knew of him was that he was a drug addict that had been found dead of an apparent overdose.
was upon Lance before he knew it. The morning of Justin Cartwright's funeral, Lance sat behind his desk at the church wondering how he would eulogize him. Lance had never met Justin, and the only thing he knew of him was that he was a drug addict that had been found dead of an apparent overdose.
With dead saints, Lance could celebrate the fact that they've gone on to be with the Lord in his eulogy. When Lance and Arykah visited the Cartwrights on Tuesday, Brother Cartwright had informed Lance that Justin held no interest in God whatsoever and lived the fast life earning fast money.
To Lance, it was easy to preach about a dead person when they were saved and lived the life of a saint, but what could he say about a nonbelieving drug addict? Lance would just have to wing it and talk about the happy times of Justin's life that Brother Cartwright shared with him.
This would be a first for Lance. He had eulogized many people during his pastoral ministry, but they'd all been church members. As he sat behind his desk, he prayed that when he stepped behind the podium, God would write on his tongue.
“It's open,” Lance responded when he heard a soft knock on his office door.
Carlton Weeks, one of the associate ministers, poked his head inside. “Bishop, may I speak with you?”
“Sure, Carlton. Come on in.”
Carlton entered Lance's office and closed the door behind him. He sat in a chair across from Lance's desk with a weird expression on his face. “There's something funky going on downstairs in the sanctuary, Bishop.”
Lance frowned. “Funky how? Have the Cartwright family arrived?”
Carlton twitched in his seat. “Um, yeah, um, see, Bishop, that's what I came to talk to you about. The Cartwrights are here, but there are other people here too.”
“Friends of Justin's?”
As if his necktie had been tied too tightly around his neck, Carlton pulled at it to loosen it up. He then pulled his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at sweat beads that had begun to form on his forehead. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Um, Bishop, how much do you know about Justin Cartwright?”
Lance shrugged his shoulders while frowning at Carlton's uneasiness. Carlton appeared to be on the verge of a stroke or heart attack.
“Not much. I never met him,” Lance said. “Carlton, what is the matter with you? You're losing all of the color in your face. Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
Carlton wiped more sweat from his forehead and neck as well. “Nah, Bishop, I'm cool. But I gotta warn you about something before we head downstairs.”
Lance was becoming impatient. “Well, spit it out.”
Carlton searched for delicate words but couldn't find any to describe the scene in the sanctuary. “There are men dressed as women sitting on the opposite side of the Cartwright family.” He rushed the words from his lips.
Lance's eyebrows rose; then he frowned. Carlton had spoken so fast, Lance was sure he hadn't heard him correctly. He turned his left ear toward Carlton and connected eyes with him. “Say what?”
“Apparently Brother Cartwright had kept Justin's other life a secret. Having the drag queens in the sanctuary won't be a problem as long as they are respectful. But the late Sister Justine Cartwright's side of the family is here as well and her youngest brother, Isaiah, Justin's uncle. They are very disturbed by the drag queens' presence and wants to open up a can of whoop-you-know-what on them.”
Lance hung his head and shook it from side to side. “Oh my Lord.”
Carlton wasn't finished delivering bad news. “And, Bishop, the deacons are fit to be tied. They wanna open up a can of whoop-you-know-what on
you
.”
you
.”
Lance repeated his previous statement. “Oh my Lord.”
Â
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The choir was rendering in song when Lance and Carlton walked down the center aisle toward the pulpit. Lance saw the Cartwright family sitting on the right side of the sanctuary. To his left, he saw the backs of heads with long hair taking up the second through the eighth pews. It took every ounce of Lance's self-control not to look at the faces of the people sitting opposite of the Cartwrights when he passed them by.
As he walked up the three steps into the pulpit, Lance glanced at Adonis sitting behind the organ. Adonis was doing his best to keep his spiritual composure and concentrate on the choir, but he had to smirk at the way Lance was trying to control his own body. Adonis knew by Lance's stiff neck and the way he coordinated his upper torso that the bishop was fighting with himself not to look into the faces of the people sitting behind the deacons.
When Lance had reached his seat in the pulpit, he looked at the deacons sitting on the front pew, now on his right. All three deacons scowled at him. They were angry, and Lance knew he was in trouble.
“I'm the pastor of this church, and if I say that Brother Cartwright can have his son's funeral here, then that's what will happen. If the deacons give you any grief about it, direct them to my office.”
His own words had come back to haunt him. Lance wished he could prolong the funeral forever just so that he wouldn't have to face the wrath of the deacons.
“I'm the pastor of this church, and if I say that Brother Cartwright can have his son's funeral here, then that's what will happen. If the deacons give you any grief about it, direct them to my office.”
His own words had come back to haunt him. Lance wished he could prolong the funeral forever just so that he wouldn't have to face the wrath of the deacons.
A situation like that was exactly why rules had been set up. Surely the deacons would be waiting in Lance's office after the funeral. Lance will have to take his butt whooping like a man and learn from this experience. He closed his eyes and listened to the choir.
“Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming forth to carry me home.”
The choir's words were exactly what Lance wished for at that moment. He wished for a chariot to whisk him away and take him home.
Lance couldn't fight the urge any longer. His eyeballs were winning the battle. He gave in to temptation and allowed his eyes to roam over the figures sitting behind the deacons.
Oh my Heavenly Master
, Lance thought. If Carlton hadn't warned Lance ahead of time, he never would've believed that the women he was looking at were actually men.
, Lance thought. If Carlton hadn't warned Lance ahead of time, he never would've believed that the women he was looking at were actually men.
About fifty of the most beautiful drag queens in the world were sitting in the sanctuary of Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ.
Wigs, sewn in weaves, natural hair that had been processed, pressed, and flat ironed were on top of heads of faces that Lance thought should grace the covers of
Ebony
,
Essence
, and
Jet
magazines.
Ebony
,
Essence
, and
Jet
magazines.
Perfectly arched eyebrows and eyelids adorned with various colors of eye shadow blended to compliment light, medium, and dark skin tones brought Lance's attention to false eyelashes. He saw petite noses above full painted lips. There wasn't a mustache or beard in sight. Though he tried his best not to stare, Lance didn't see one Adam's apple.
He was blown away. Pink, yellow, lilac, orange, and mint-green skirt suits and dresses, some with hats to match, reminded Lance of a roll of Sweet Tarts candy. They looked more like they were attending Easter Sunday service on the first day of spring, rather than a funeral near the end of winter.
Freshly painted manicured fingernails dangled over the sides of the pews down the center aisle. Because they were seated, Lance could only view the drag queens from the waist up but guessed that many a stiletto were in the house.
When the choir finished singing, Minister Weeks stepped to the podium and invited to the altar anyone who wished to say a few words in Justin's remembrance; then he sat down and waited.
No one from the Cartwright family stood. A full thirty seconds had passed when Lance saw one of the drag queens stand from the fourth pew, excuse himself as he passed the others still seated, and walk seductively toward the altar. He stood next to Justin's closed casket.
Carlton nudged Lance to look at Uncle Isaiah's red face. He was so angry Lance could see his chest heaving up and down as he breathed.
“Good morning, everyone.” The drag queen stood about six feet four.
With such a soft and sultry voice, Lance found it hard to believe that the tone was coming from a man.
“My name is Peaches,” he continued. “I just want to take a few minutes and say what a wonderful person Pinkie was.”
Uncle Isaiah jumped up. “Who in the heck is Pinkie? His name is Justin. Sit your faggot behind down!”
“Who are you calling a faggot?” another drag queen sitting opposite the Cartwrights yelled out.
Uncle Isaiah didn't know who asked him the question, but he turned to face all of the drag queens. “I'm calling
all
y'all faggots.”
all
y'all faggots.”
Every drag queen in the sanctuary stood, with heights resembling a basketball team, and began yelling obscenities at Uncle Isaiah. The men in the Cartwright family came to Uncle Isaiah's defense and met the obscenities, word for word. Brother Cartwright hung his head in shame.
Lance quickly stood and approached the podium. “Quiet in the church!”
The deacons on the front row had moved themselves out of the drag queens' way as they moved slowly but surely in the direction of the Cartwrights.
“Quiet in this church! Quiet in this church!” Lance's words couldn't be heard over the yelling and shouting.
Carlton stepped next to Lance and grabbed the microphone. “Everyone, calm down and take your seats. Please be seated.”
Someone from the Cartwright side of the church threw the first punch and the brawl was on. The event happening at Freedom Temple Church Of God In Christ was a shame before the Lord.
Wigs were snatched from heads and thrown across the sanctuary. Punches, jabs, scratches, and kicks, along with plenty of profanity, filled the church. Pandemonium had erupted.
Lance and Carlton witnessed Peaches pick up Uncle Isaiah and fling him toward the front of the church. He landed against Justin's casket, and it slid off the riser and tumbled to the floor along with flower arrangements and wreaths that sat upon pedestals. Brother Cartwright saw his son's casket fall. He started crying openly, but he didn't move from his seat.
“Deacons, get order in this church!” Lance demanded.
“This is
your
mess, Bishop.
You
get order!” one of the deacons yelled back.
your
mess, Bishop.
You
get order!” one of the deacons yelled back.
It was a scene from a horror movie. The Cartwrights and the drag queens fought like cats and dogs.
Lance stood flatfooted in the pulpit and yelled into the microphone. “Everybody get out! The funeral is over. Leave the sanctuary now!”
He laid the microphone down on the podium and ran out of the pulpit toward the fight. Carlton and Adonis were on his heels. The three of them began pushing and shoving anyone and everyone out of the sanctuary. Between the three of them, it took a half hour for them to clear the sanctuary. When the last member of the brawl was shoved outside, Lance locked the church doors and leaned against them, out of breath.
“Call the police,” he said to Carlton.
The fighting continued outside until the Chicago police had arrived. Thirteen arrests were made and Uncle Isaiah was the first to be put in handcuffs.
Four pallbearers were allowed back into the sanctuary to pick up Justin's casket and carry it out to the waiting hearse. There was no telling what position Justin's body lay in at that time.
Lance examined the mess the Cartwrights and drag queens had left behind in the sanctuary. Hundreds of flower petals were scattered near the altar. Eyelashes and press-on fingernails lay about the center aisle. Individual micro-braids took up residence on the pews. Lance looked down at a sparkling gold tooth on the floor.
Adonis and Carlton came and stood next to him. “Are you all right, Bishop?” Adonis asked.
He looked at them both. “How in the world could this have happened?”
Carlton chuckled. “That's what the deacons wanna know. They're waiting for you upstairs in your office.”
It was time for Lance to face the fire. “Weeks, I want you to handle the burial. Are you prepared?”
“You taught us to always be prepared, Bishop.”
Lance patted Carlton on the back. “Thanks, Weeks. I appreciate it.”
Carlton proceeded to his car to follow the hearse to the cemetery, and Lance slowly climbed the stairs to his office.
Adonis saw that Lance wasn't in a hurry. “You want some backup, Bishop?”
He stopped and looked back at Adonis. “Yeah, I do, but this is one whooping I deserve. I'll see you in the morning.”
On his way out of the church, Adonis peeked into the sanctuary and saw the cleanup crew hard at work.
The deacons were seated around Lance's desk when he walked into his office. He disrobed, loosened his tie, and sat behind his desk. Without looking into anyone's face, Lance said, “Deacons, I made a mistake. I tried to help a member, but from here on out, I will abide by the rules of the church.”
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