Love Like Hallelujah (3 page)

Vivian Montgomery waited at the predesignated meeting point, tapping her foot impatiently. Her children, nine-year-old Derrick Jr. and his seven-year-old sister, Elisia, were getting perilously close to failing their lesson on responsibility. She’d clearly told them to meet her by the Starbucks in Barnes & Noble in exactly one hour, and she’d made sure her and her son’s cell phone alarms were set. The children were young, but she liked to loosen the reins every now and then, give them some independence. Plus, their neighbor’s son, Chris, was with them, and he was eleven. She felt okay with them on their own at the Westside Pavilion, but one more minute, and—

“Hello? Yes, you’d better be on your way. I didn’t tell you to call me in an hour, I told you to meet me in an hour. Bye.” Letting out the worried breath she’d refused to acknowledge she’d been holding, Vivian strolled down the aisles, casually scanning the book covers. Just as she heard Elisia’s high-pitched laugh, she glimpsed the store’s CD section.

“I told them, Mama, I told them to come on,” Elisia said as she ran to Vivian.

“No, she didn’t. She was too busy playing to even listen to me tell her it was time to go,” D-2 countered.

“Uh-uh. I told you, I said let’s go ’cause Mama said one hour—”

“You a lie! You—”

“Enough,” Vivian said in a low tone that brooked no argument. “Both of you were irresponsible. You need to understand that a big part of responsibility,” she said, dragging out the word for emphasis, “is being able to follow through when a direction is given. Especially when it’s your mama’s direction, and especially when that one direction may determine whether you get to follow through on any further such directions.”

Silence.

“Now, calling was good, Derrick; it let me know that you were all right. But being where I told you
when
I told you would have been better.” She looked at Chris, who’d become extremely preoccupied with the pattern on the floor. “And what do you have to say, young man? You’re the oldest of this bunch.”

“Uh, I was so busy making sure no one bothered Elisia that I, uh, lost track of time.”

“I see,” Vivian said with exaggerated slowness. “You got some oceanfront property in Nevada you want to sell me, too?”

“Ma’am?”

So now he was going to act like he was deaf or confused. “You heard me,” she said seriously, while mussing his curly dark hair. “Come on, let’s go look at CDs. I need to get some music.”

Vivian reached the CD aisle and began to browse.

“Mama, can we go look at our music?”

“Yes, D-2. Elisia, stay with me.” She walked over to the R & B section, looking for the artist Tai had babbled nonstop about since his debut years earlier.
He sounds like Al Jarreau, but with his own style. And he’s a Hershey, honey….
One thing about Tai, she’d never let the fact that she was first lady of a large Baptist church get in the way of her love for R & B.

Vivian quickly found the CDs Tai had recommended, Kemistry and Album II, then strolled further, stopping at the oldies compilations. “Do you think Aunt Tai will like some oldies music, Lis?”

“Yes. She always listens to that old stuff.”

Vivian smiled, remembering when she thought people in their thirties and forties were ancient. Now, nearing forty, she knew they were barely middle-aged.

Vivian had just reached for an “80s Gold” anthology when her cell phone rang…. “Hello?”

“You’re not going to believe who’s back in town,” Tai said without a greeting.

Vivian didn’t answer immediately. From the sound of Tai’s voice, whoever it was wasn’t someone she welcomed. Vivian asked anyway, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer. “Who?”

“Tootie.”

“Tootie?” Would the drama never end? Tai and King’s marriage had just gotten back on track following King’s last infidelity. And now Tootie, his schoolboy crush, was back in town? Vivian motioned to the boys and headed to the counter, Elisia following her. “Look, I’m in a store. Let me call you when I get to the car.”

“As soon as you can,” Tai said, exasperated.

“On second thought, I’ve got the kids. I’ll call when I get home.”

Vivian tried to remain calm as she waited in line. No need to get upset before hearing the details. But what did Tai know that had upset her so? Then again, just the mention of Rita “Tootie” Smith’s name could be enough.

Vivian was thankful for the kids’ mindless chatter on the way home. That and the smooth sounds of the newly purchased Kem CD she’d placed in the stereo before starting the car. She only half listened, however, her mind wandering from thoughts of Tai to the Sanctity of Sisterhood seminars she’d been moderating. Thankfully, traffic was light and soon she was turning into her driveway.

The tires had barely stopped rolling before the kids rushed out of the car. Kathy, Chris’s mom, was just running by, at the end of her afternoon jog. Chris ran up and showed her his namesake Chris Brown CD.

“Yes, Kathy, you can thank me for the noise you’ll hear later,” Vivian said as her neighbor trotted up the drive. “It’s the radio-edit version, but you still might want to have a listen.”

“Gee, Viv, thanks a lot. I really needed to hear more hippity-hop in my house.”

“Hip-hop, Mom,” Chris groaned, the expected reaction and exact reason his mother had mispronounced the term.

“Hey, man, let’s ball,” D-2 suggested, inviting himself over to the half-court basketball asphalt in Chris’s backyard. He and Chris began walking toward the Winters’ home.

“Derrick, don’t lose that CD I just bought you,” Vivian directed at his back.

“You can lose yours, Chris,” Kathy added. Both women laughed. “See you later, Viv.”

Vivian ejected the Kem CD, placed it in its case, and retrieved the shopping bags. Once inside her home, she put down her purchases and quickly looked through the mail on the foyer table. “Change your clothes before going out to play, Elisia,” she said to her daughter, who was headed up the stairs. “I need to make an important call. Only disturb if it’s an emergency, okay?”

“Yes, Mama,” Elisia answered.

Vivian watched her rapidly growing daughter bounce up the stairs.
Lord, please help her not grow up too soon
. She lay down the mail, walked into the kitchen, and took marinating chicken breast fillets out of the refrigerator. After placing them in the oven and setting the other dinner preparations on the counter, she headed to her office and called Kansas City.

Tai picked up on the second ring. “I thought you said you’d call right back.”

“This is right back. I had to start dinner. So what’s up with Tootie being back in town? How long has it been, ten, fifteen years?”

Tai’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Janeé, she goes by Janeé now.”

“Tootie is Ja-nay?” Sometimes an upset Tai was hard to follow.

“Yeah, I guess the name
Tootie
didn’t look so good in lights. Remember she moved to Germany, did some recording? She was pretty popular from what I hear, starred in musicals, recorded a couple albums. What was that one hit song of hers? ‘Heat’ or ‘Hot’ or something? Anyway, I haven’t heard anything about her in a minute….” Tai’s voice trailed off.

“So what is she doing back in Kansas City?”

“Her mother’s sick. In the back of my mind I just knew that would bring Tootie’s ass back here. I prayed it wouldn’t, but I just knew…”

Vivian was all too aware of how Tootie used to be Tai’s nemesis, continuing to see King while he and Tai were dating, and having an affair with him after they married. She remembered how relieved Tai had been when right after her second child, Princess, was born, Tootie moved from the Midwest, swearing never to return. But that was a long time ago. Everyone was older, wiser, and Tai and King’s marriage was on solid ground. Vivian wasn’t going to make a mountain out of a molehill.

“Okay, wait a minute, Tai. Why are we going here? Why are you making a big deal of this? Of course she’d come back to care for her mother.”

Vivian continued, determined to make Tai focus on what was really important. “You and King are back on track, tighter than ever. He loves
you.
He’s committed to
you.
So, Tootie’s back in town—Tootie, Janay, whatever her name is. So what? What has that got to do with you?”

“Everything. One of the first people she asked about was King. That’s how I found out she was back.”

“Well, good. He told you.”

“That’s the other thing. King didn’t tell me. Mama Max did.”

Vivian wished it had been King instead of his mother, but she still wasn’t going to help her friend trip.

“When did Mama Max tell you?”

“Earlier today. Sistah Stokes ran into Tootie at the store. Tootie asked about King. Sistah Stokes called Mama from Albertsons parking lot.” Sistah Stokes, a longtime church member, knew of King’s affair with Tootie and had believed a warning was warranted.

Vivian let out a chagrined breath. That’s how stuff got started. “You just found this out? So how do you even know King knows she’s back, Tai?”

A pause on the other end, and then, “I guess I don’t.”

“See? And you’re getting all worked up, letting your imagination take you where you shouldn’t want to go, over nothing.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Viv. I guess I’m still a little paranoid.”

“A little?” Vivian teased her friend.

“Okay,” Tai said, laughing. “Your sistah’s trippin’. But King’s past infidelities aren’t easy to forget.”

“Nobody says you have to. Just remember, the operative word in that sentence is
past
. We’re living in the now, and right now, you and King have never been better.”

The conversation drifted to other things until Vivian noticed the smell of teriyaki chicken floating under the office door. “Listen, I need to finish dinner. Call you later?”

“Sure. And Vivian?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Thanks.”

Vivian smiled, glad to hear the relief in Tai’s voice. “Don’t mention it, sistah. That’s what friends are for.”

Even though it was Saturday, the parking lot next to the main edifice of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church was almost full. Meetings, rehearsals, classes, and Sunday service preparations were in full swing. A slight flurry of snow began to fall as King navigated the suburban streets of Overland Park, Kansas. On one such street, the buildings of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church, its offices, youth center, and fellowship hall now took up the entire block. He eyed the surroundings dispassionately, critically evaluating size, layout. And even though they’d just finished a major one, he was considering possibilities for a greater expansion. The membership was growing in record numbers, and plans were on the drawing board for a preschool and private K–8 learning academy, within five years.

King consciously stopped that train of thought as he eased into the reserved spot directly in front of the door that led to his office. There would be plenty of time to consider those projects later. Presently, his focus was on the meeting with his new media staff, and the television broadcast that was being taped the next day. There had been much deliberation before King had decided to go on the air. He’d gotten requests for years, and had done a brief stint on the local cable channel several years back. But the Total Truth Association had linked up with MLM, a cutting-edge broadcast network based in Atlanta, which aggressively pursued a handful of ministers with progressive, contemporary messages to fill their Sunday morning time slots. It had taken several months to find and hire a media director, get the equipment in place, construct a production/media room for the actual taping of the services, and train volunteers to man the various cameras and production equipment. Today’s meeting would be about confirming that everything was in order to shoot tomorrow’s eleven A.M. services. The crew would later do a quick run-through while he moved on to a meeting with the deacons.

His assistant, Joseph, met him as soon as he stepped into his office. “Afternoon, boss.”

“Good afternoon, Joseph. You order this weather, brothah?”

“Hey, I’m from down south; I’m probably never going to get used to these Kansas winters.”

King placed his coat on the rack, took the scarf from around his neck, and placed it over the coat hook. He looked at the stack of phone messages centered neatly on his desk, next to the one-page report of scheduled activities and appointments that his multitasking, multicapable assistant provided daily. He sat down and began going through the messages. “Besides the media project, how’s it looking today?”

“I kept it light today, boss. Knew the television taping was the main focus. Darius made it in from LA. He and his band will be coming by later to do a sound check.” Darius Crenshaw and his gospel band, otherwise known as D & C, for Darius & Company, were in demand at churches all over the country. King had had to pull some strings with Darius to book them as special guests for this, his first taping for a national audience.

“Oh, and Deacon Nash called,” Joseph continued. “He’s feeling under the weather. So if you’d like to reschedule the deacons’ meeting, there’s time for me to do that.”

“No, let’s keep it, but no more than an hour. Von here yet?”

“On his way. He called earlier, too.”

Lavon Chapman was the new media director for Mount Zion. He’d been working for another ministry in Minneapolis when King’s church recruited him.

Joseph answered a knock at the door and welcomed Lavon inside. He entered like a snowstorm, powerful and heavy.

“Man, it’s cold outside. Hope this snow don’t fall all day.” Lavon walked over to the desk and extended his hand. “What up, Preach?” He sat down opposite King.

It had been that way from the first time they met, a respectful yet informal quality to their relationship. Most of the staff addressed King as Pastor King or Minister Brook, but somewhere in between the two-hour interview process and the last erected tripod, “Pastor King” had become “Preach,” and from Von, it was okay.

“You tell me,” King responded casually, noting Lavon’s muscles flex through the sweatshirt he wore over jeans. Being around Lavon made King want to join a gym, lift some weights. He resisted the urge to do a curl and check the state of his own biceps.

“It’s all good. Met with Bryan last night. He’s going to be a good right-hand man,” Lavon said, referring to his assistant director.

“So, who all’s in this meeting?” King asked.

“The entire media staff,” Von responded. “That’s Bryan, the program manager, technical directors, sound engineers, camera crews, grips, shaders, tape operators, and a few floaters for whatever miscellaneous needs arise.”

“Good, good,” King said, rubbing his newly grown goatee. He loved efficiency, made it his mission to surround himself with capable staff.

Joseph’s phone rang. “Hello? Oh yes, I’ve got that for you, hold up.” He walked out of the office and to his desk.

The door had barely closed when Von leaned forward. “Guess what, Preach? Turns out I know an old friend of yours.”

King leaned back. Never having spent time in Minnesota, he had no idea who that could be. “Who?” he asked.

“Janeé Petersen.”

“Janeé Petersen.” King thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, the name’s not familiar. Where am I supposed to know her from?”

“She said you wouldn’t know her by that name. But that y’all go way back. Said she used to live here, and to tell you Tootie said hi.”

Just then he remembered Janeé was Tootie’s middle name. King sat forward, on high alert. “Tootie? Tootie Smith? You have
got
to be kidding me! She lives in Minnesota?”

“No, she lives in Germany, but I ran into her a few blocks from here.”

King was even more confused.
Minnesota, Germany, and now Tootie’s here, in Kansas?
“Is that so?” he said, slowly. Then he remembered the news about Miss Smith. “I know her mother’s been sick. She must really not be doing well for Tootie to come back here.”

“She’s not,” Lavon answered. “She’s got to have open-heart surgery.”

King wrote a quick note to have Joseph schedule a hospital visit. Then he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, “How do you know, uh, Janeé?”

“I met her a couple years back, at a hotel in Minneapolis. You know she had that hit, back in the early nineties. I guess she’s still doing her thang in Europe. Anyway, some of my buddies and I checked her out and stayed to meet her afterward. I know Germany pretty well from my army days, so we struck up a friendship. I contacted her when I was in Hamburg last year. We went out for dinner. I was just as shocked as you seem right now when I saw her down the street. Small world.”

Small world indeed. Too small.
“Wonder what she’s doing over this way?” King pondered. Neither her mother’s house nor the hospital was in the area. Was she on her way to the church?

“I don’t know. I was so surprised to see her I didn’t ask. We talked for a few minutes, exchanged phone numbers, and when I told her I had to get to the church, she asked if I knew you. I told her yes. She asked all these questions about you, and said to tell you hi.”

Questions? What kind of questions?
What would his first lay, his steady from back in the day, want to know about him? Regardless, his heart warmed with memories. “How’s she doing?” King responded with a query of his own. “She must be married. Her last name used to be Smith and now it’s…?” He waited for Lavon to fill in the blank.

“Petersen. Yeah, she’s doing grand. Husband is an investment banker or something.”

“Hmm,” King said.

“Yeah, they got a couple of kids, the whole nine.”

King raised his brows. The Tootie he used to know and “mother” was a tight fit in the same sentence. But people change.
Tootie, Tootie, with the big boo
—King shook his head. That was one memory lane he need not go down. He turned businesslike. “Well, I’ll be sure and pray for Miss Smith. And for Tootie, I mean, Janeé,” he corrected. “I know what it’s like to be worried about your mother’s health.” And then an abrupt change of subject: “Did you say your church used five or six cameras?”

Lavon didn’t miss the quick change in King’s demeanor, or in the subject matter. “We used five there. Here, we’ll use six, an additional hand-held for special shots.” And then, because he couldn’t resist, “I’m not trying to be out of line, Preach, but is she an old flame or something? She was looking all nostalgic when talking about you. I mean, I’m just asking. She said y’all hadn’t seen each other in years.”

She was right. It had been a long time. Every now and then he’d wondered if she still lived overseas and how she was doing. Tootie had been a wildcat back in the day; that “cat” had gotten him in trouble more than once. That girl did everything, was a real daredevil. He and his friends used to compare notes afterward.

Lavon watched King try and remain impassive. But he was convinced some past passion lay just beneath the facade.

King was just about to respond to Von’s question when Joseph stuck his head in the doorway. “Everyone’s gathered in the conference room. Should I tell them we’re ready to begin?”

King was up and out of his seat in a flash, reaching for the suit coat he’d removed earlier. He was glad for the interruption, so the conversation about Tootie could come to an end. Relieved to not have to ponder the feelings that the mention of her name evoked. With determination, he channeled his thoughts to the tasks at hand—running Mount Zion Progressive, a million-dollar corporation, for the Lord.