Reverend Feelgood (10 page)

Jennifer and her sister, Anita, strolled along the well-worn path of the area in New Orleans known as the French Quarter. They chatted amicably as they took in the sights and sounds of Bourbon Street. It was a sunny afternoon, and while the temperature had dropped, it was still warm enough to need just a jacket.

“It’s not quite like it was before Katrina, huh?” Anita asked.

“No, but they did a good job rebuilding it. It still has that special feel to it; I think people who don’t know it as well as we did will still enjoy it. I’m enjoying it, sister. Thanks for the invite. I’m going to come down and see you guys more often.”

“I told you that you needed a break. Ever since you moved to Texas, it’s been work, work, work. You have to stop and smell the roses sometime.”

“You were right, Anita. But I love what I do, especially as Nate’s manager.”

“Oh, it’s Nate now? Not Reverend Thicke?”

“It’s Nate when he and I are alone, or when I’m talking to my sister.” Jennifer winked.

“Uh-huh. And how often are y’all alone?”

“Not as often as I’d like, to tell you the truth. But that’s all about to change. I think after next month, our relationship is going to go to another level.”

Anita stopped walking and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Just what are you saying, Anita? Are you sleeping with your pastor?”

Jennifer didn’t know how much she should share with her older sister. Just two years apart, they’d always been close. But Anita had always been conservative, especially when it came to church matters and
especially
when it came to sex. She’d married her high school sweetheart, they’d graduated college, and then got the house, the kids, the white picket fence…just like you were supposed to. Jennifer didn’t know if Anita would understand that sometimes life was not always tidy, not always wrapped in pretty paper with a perfect bow on top.

“Nate and I have a lot in common,” Jennifer said. “Our goals are similar and because of the work I did in Kansas City, at Mount Zion, I have a lot of the contacts he needs to reach these goals. It’s brought us closer, and I believe he’s beginning to appreciate me in ways that go beyond the professional.”

“Uh, so would that be a yes…or a no?”

Jennifer laughed. “After next month, it might be a definite yes. We’re going to Los Angeles together on a publicity tour to promote his new book. I was able to line up some stellar appearances, if I must say so myself. So I’m really looking forward to this trip, not just because of what it will do for Nate’s career, but because it will give us some quality time alone.”

“As fine as that man is and as fast as those California women are, y’all probably won’t be alone for long. You be careful.”

“These are so good,” Melody said, biting into her second beignet. “They should start a chain of these, you know, like Dunkin’ Donuts or Krispy Kreme.”

“But I think that’s what makes them so special,” Destiny countered. “That you can’t get them everywhere. They are good though, huh.”

“I’m so glad to be able to really chill for a minute; you never know who’s looking at you in Baton Rouge. Especially with Josh trying to be all up in my grill about where I’ve been and who I’m with. I’m getting ready to dismiss his clingy ass.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-four.”

“So I take it you like older guys. It seems that’s who you’re with mostly.”

“Hell, yeah. They know what they’re doing more than boys our age. How old is your baby’s daddy? What’s his name anyway? And why ain’t y’all together?”

“Dag, girl. Why are you trying to—”

“Get all up in your business? Because your ass is always all up in mine and you don’t see me acting like I’m on
CSI
or some shit. You acting like you got a case and somebody’s trying to solve it. I’m just asking because I want to know.”

Destiny gave the spiel she’d been practicing since meeting Melody in the mall. “His name is Bryan. He’s twenty, and we’re not together because he accused me of sleeping around, said the child wasn’t his.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

Melody shrugged as she took the last bite of beignet and followed it with a swig of cola. “Don’t trip, girl. Wait a few months after the baby, until you have your figure back and shit, and then take his ass on
Maury
so we can all hear, ‘You
are
the father’!”

Destiny laughed.

“But wait until you can get back into your clothes. You’ll want to look good on national TV. I’m going to make sure my stuff is tight!”

“You?”

“Girl, you know I’m going with you. I’ll make sure I get noticed, start a fight or something on purpose, anything to get me on tape. People love that sort of drama. Then the next thing you know, instead of
I Love New York,
it will be
I Hate Melody!
Paper, paper, cha-ching. Feel me?”

“Whatever, Melody. C’mon, let’s walk around. My son is kicking me. I need to put him to sleep.” Destiny got up, put a hand at the small of her back, and stretched.

“You know it’s a boy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you going to name him?”

“Benjamin.”

“Why not Bryan?”

“Bryan?”

“After the daddy?”

Shoot!
“Oh, him. No, I ain’t naming my baby after nothing that won’t claim him.”

Melody held the door for Destiny as they exited the café. Looking up, Melody saw two handsome young men casually strolling down the street. She tapped Destiny with her elbow. “Girl, it’s time to cross the street. I see the man who’s going to buy me a souvenir.”

Jennifer’s fork hit the plate with a clatter. “I’ll be right back!” She rushed toward the front door of the restaurant, just as a large party, including a woman with a stroller, was making its way in. “Excuse me, please! I need to get through! Move!”

Ignoring the startled, angry looks from the incoming patrons, Jennifer ran out the door. She looked up and down the street, crossed, and then looked up and down again. She put her hands on her hips and waited two, three, five minutes. Finally, she walked back to the restaurant, just as her sister reached the door.

“I was coming to look for you. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw somebody,” Jennifer replied.

“Who?” Anita asked as they sat back down at their table.

“This girl who used to go to Gospel Truth.”

“Oh, one of your friends from Palestine. Well…was it her?”

“She was gone by the time I got out there.”

“Do you have her cell number? Maybe you can call her.”

Jennifer simply nodded. Even though her appetite was gone, she took a bite of her salad. Her mind was reeling with what she was sure she just saw, a very pregnant Destiny Noble walking down the streets of New Orleans—either her or her twin sister!
What does this have to do with Simone abruptly leaving Palestine and getting married?
Jennifer kept looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her again. But no one resembling her nemesis’s daughter passed by. She didn’t look that far along, maybe four, five months, Jennifer figured. But then again, Destiny was tall and skinny. Sometimes women like that were further along than they looked. Jennifer turned into a human calculator, rapidly putting numbers and dates together, trying to determine when Destiny would have gotten pregnant. And would she have still been in Palestine when it happened? Because if she had been, then who was the father? A face immediately popped into her head.
No. Not Nate.
There was no way Jennifer would believe that Destiny Noble was carrying Nate Thicke’s child. She was barely older than a child herself. Surely he wouldn’t…But deep in her heart Jennifer knew that he would.

“Girl, let’s go. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the past five minutes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Anita. I was just thinking about something, that’s all.”

“Does it have to do with the girl you just saw, or Reverend Thicke?”

“Unh-unh,” was Jennifer’s noncommittal response. Because the answer to that question was one she feared: that it had to do with them both.

With the exception of some cable shows, a couple locally produced programs, and a few guest appearances on TBN, Nate was new to television. But one watching wouldn’t know it. He seemed born for the camera, and the lens loved him. In the prep run before the actual airing, he appeared relaxed and natural, as if he was talking directly to the viewer. Nate’s national debut, strategically scheduled during the Thanksgiving holiday when many people were off work and therefore watching, was poised for success.

Carla Chapman made small talk with Nate as the makeup artists blotted the oil from both their faces, and the stylist rearranged Carla’s new hairstyle. After more than a decade of braids, Carla had finally listened to her friends, Tai Brook and Vivian Montgomery, and came into the twenty-first century with a sleek, straight weave that brushed her shoulders. The symmetrical cut and wispy bangs framed her face with a slimming affect, not that Carla was ashamed of any one of the one hundred eighty pounds she carried. Monique wasn’t the only one who thought that big could be beautiful. Carla not only thought it, but proved it with both her outer and inner beauty every single day.

“Nate, you are working that turtleneck like a job. Lord, that tan color looks good on you!”

“Jennifer thought the sweater would be more personable than a suit. What do you think?”

“I agree. You want to seem casual, accessible to people. I think people are more prone to buy nonfiction when they feel as if they know the author a little bit. And after this segment, there’s going to be a whole lot of sistahs wanting to know you!”

Nate’s response was cut short by the producer counting them down to action: “Four, three, two…”

“Good morning, afternoon, evening, everybody. Wherever you are and whenever you’re watching, have I got a show for you!” Carla continued in the down-home manner that had made her show a ratings winner and garnered an Emmy nomination two years in a row. Her intro referred to the challenges facing not only America, but the world, and how in such times, people became more aware of what they had, and what they didn’t have. Often, she noted, depression set in with people convinced they’d never realize their dream of getting married, having children, landing that promotion or plum job opportunity, buying that home.

“
How
is often the big question, isn’t it? How can I get what I want? Well, my guest today has an answer that might surprise you. He says that you can have absolutely anything you want, but you have to give up something first. Why don’t I let him explain it? Please join me in welcoming first-time guest, motivational speaker, pastor, and now, author, Nathaniel Thicke.”

The applause from the mostly female audience was enthusiastic, and more than a few of the members wore glazed expressions as they ogled the Adonis in their midst. Nathaniel looked like he was kicking back with an old friend as he shared the couch with Carla, an arm casually draped across the back and his left ankle resting on his right knee.

When the audience finally stopped clapping, Carla put her hand on her hip and addressed them. “Oh my! That was some kind of applause. Have y’all already read the book?”

Nate joined in with the audience’s laughter. They all got Carla’s joke. The book’s big debut was tomorrow, so Nate knew the chances of anyone in the room having read the book, besides Carla and Jennifer backstage, were slim.

“Nate, let’s start with the title. It’s really interesting. What do you mean by”—Carla turned the book out toward the camera—“
Give Up Everything and Have It All?
”

“First of all, Carla, thanks for having me on your show. You’re even more beautiful in person than you are on TV.”

“Ooh, suky, suky, now! Somebody go get my husband so I make sure I behave!” The audience laughed again. She continued. “Seriously, thank you. Lavon and I met Nate a while back,” she told the audience. “And he is as impressed with him as I am. Now back to the book:
Give Up Everything and Have It All.
Explain that title.”

“There are many ways to frame what I mean by it, but simply put: to get something, you have to give something. And often to gain something, you have to lose something. Now this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Most often what a person gives up pales in comparison to what they gain. For instance, I remember watching President Obama right after the election. One reporter asked what he missed about his old life. He said he missed the anonymity of being regular, taking a walk, going to the store, those kinds of things. But what he gained, becoming president of the United States, made what he lost worth it. Anyone in here agree with me?”

Sustained applause was his answer.

“In life, it’s easy to become comfortable with what we have, so much so that we don’t want to part with it, even when we sometimes know that to do so would be in our best interest. Say you’re looking for your mate.” A murmur, mixed with laughter, ran through the audience. More than one woman watching obviously hoped they were looking
at
him. “And you have this ideal, perfect man in mind,” Nate continued smoothly, a sly smile his only acknowledgment that he was aware of his effect on the opposite sex. “But you’ve got this knucklehead, this nucka, sitting in your living room night after night. Or you’re going out with someone who doesn’t have even fifty percent of what you say you want. What would happen if you gave him up—released that which was comfortable and familiar? What if what you wanted was worth giving up everything to get it? And what if you were guaranteed to get what you wanted if you were willing to sacrifice everything. Would you do it?”

A camera scanned the rapt faces of women in the audience. Some were nodding, others thinking, a couple sistahs high-fived each other at a comment only they’d heard. “My book details, in ten easy steps, how to get rid of whatever you don’t want—to make room for what you desire. I share how to lose the fear of the unknown, how to step out on faith and trust the universe, God, to deliver your heart’s desire. Because I can tell you from personal experience that if you give up everything…you can have it all.” He ended his comment with a dazzling smile.

Carla looked at Nate’s smile and began fanning her face with her hand. “Whew, talk about having it all,” she joked, knowing every female in the room and watching knew what she meant. “God gave some people extra, more than enough. I can’t even think right now, y’all. We’ll be back right after the break. Sit tight.”

The hour flew by, with viewers loving Nate more with every answer. He was at once intelligent, engaging, inspiring, and warm. Even as this live show aired, the studio’s switchboards blew up as did both of Jennifer’s cell phones. As had become customary with many authors, he gave everyone in the studio audience a signed copy of his book. As was not customary, he stayed for forty-five minutes afterward posing for photos with them.

Before the month was out, Nathaniel E. Thicke would be an
Essence
and
New York Times
best-selling author—and his life would never be the same.

Reverend Ed Smith steamed as he watched Nate on
Conversations with Carla.
He wanted to throw up as he saw the women swooning over him. They were repulsive to witness—none more, he thought, than that whore of a former first lady, Carla. Ed had relished the day she got her comeuppance, when her husband threw her out of the house like yesterday’s trash. Not that he liked him any better. To Ed, Stanley Lee was a heretic, a false prophet, just like the rest of those money-hungry preachers.

Ed snorted as Carla introduced Nate Thicke as, among other things, a motivational speaker. “So here he’s a preacher,” Ed said to the walls, “but in la-la land he’s a
motivational
speaker.” Ed’s laugh was dark and sinister as he reached for the bottle of brandy and poured another shot. “I’ll tell you what he is. He’s a whoremonger and a pimp!” Ed turned and spoke directly to the television. “You took something of mine, and I’m going to take something of yours…like your ministry, you fake-ass son of a bitch!”

Later that evening, Jennifer and Nate joined Carla and Lavon in the Chapman home. Carla had fixed one of her legendary southern spreads. Tonight’s included oven-fried red snapper, greens, fried corn—cut fresh off the cob—mashed potatoes loaded with cream cheese, sliced tomatoes, fresh corn bread from scratch, and a berry cobbler—blueberry, blackberry, raspberry—for the wee bit of stomach room that anyone had left.

“Goodness, gracious, Carla Chapman!” Nate exclaimed as he took a bite of the still warm cobbler that he’d chosen to have à la mode. “I didn’t think the dinner could get any better than that fish and those potatoes and greens, girl. But…unh, unh, unh…” Whatever he was going to say was forgotten as he took another bite.

“This food is stupid good, girl,” Jennifer agreed, taking a small forkful of the sliver of pie, sans ice cream, she’d accepted. Being in LA the past two days had made her acutely aware of her clothes labels that read “size 16,” as had her observation that Nate’s eyes seemed to linger especially long on slender women. She’d decided right then and there to cut back on food intake and start exercising when she returned home. Then, after another bite of Carla’s pie, she decided to skip that “cut back” for tonight. “I think I’ll have one more, tiny, tiny slice.”

Carla and Lavon simply looked at each other and laughed as Carla dished up the big slice she knew her sistah friend really wanted.

“I suggest we get started right after the holidays,” Lavon said when conversation returned to business. “Have the four-part segment on your book air around March or April. Your being on Carla’s show is going to keep the buzz going at least until then, so the series will just ride that wave.”

“Sounds good to me, but what’s important is what my manager thinks.” He tweaked Jennifer’s cheek as he said this, then kept his hand resting on her shoulder.

Jennifer’s heart soared. Everything was happening according to plan. She tried to remain casual, even as it felt like Nate’s hand was burning a hole in her blouse. “Lavon’s the expert in this arena,” she answered. “I think we should follow his advice.”

“You know life as you know it is over,” Carla said to Nate. “You’re public property now, my darlin’. I hope you’re ready because it can be a crazy ride.”

“I better be ready, especially with a manager like Jennifer, trying to book me on every radio and television show across the country.”

“It’s important for PR, Nate. We’ve got to stay in their faces. Especially during the first three months of book sales. Those are crucial, and will help when you negotiate the second book deal.”

“You’ve already got plans for a second one?” Carla asked.

Nate nodded. “Publisher called me shortly after reading the manuscript for this one and said they were interested.”

“Well, after today,” Lavon said, “you can count that deal as good as done.”

“The company is lovely but it’s been a long day,” Nate said as he wiped his mouth and laid his napkin on the table. “If y’all don’t mind, I’m going to call it an early night.”

The foursome continued their easy banter as Lavon and Carla walked Nate and Jennifer to the door. Jennifer hung back to let the men go down the hall first.

“You seem so happy,” she whispered to Carla. “I saw those looks you and Lavon kept giving each other.”

“What can I say? I’m madly in love with my husband.”

“I’m so happy for you, Carla. You deserve it after all of the hell you went through.”

The story was old news and there weren’t many who didn’t know about it. Carla had been the wife of and copastor with Stanley Lee, as well as a popular speaker on the Christian women’s circuit, when she’d met and had an affair with Lavon, a producer invited to their church by her husband to create a DVD series. Pictures of them together had been taken and then given or sold to
LA Gospel
, a popular tabloid-style magazine geared toward the Black Christian community. The scandal had rocked that community, not to mention Carla’s marriage and ministry. But just like the phoenix, Carla had risen from the ashes and was now having the time of her life.

“I appreciate your saying that, Jennifer, really. Going through that heartache, especially in public, wasn’t easy. But I’ll tell you what a very smart man said to me recently…If you give up everything, you can have it all.”