Sex in the Sanctuary (10 page)

It was a full five minutes before Cy realized he was no longer reading the report in front of him. It had become a blur of black and white against the backdrop of his thoughts, scattering first one way, then another like empty candy wrappers in the wind. He pushed back the report, leaned heavily against his plush, black leather office chair and began tapping his Waterman Edson Blue Sapphire fountain pen against the solid mass of his Plexiglas and chrome desktop.

Images began to play across his mind—images of different women and different times. First there was Stephanie, who’d helped him lose his virginity at the ripe old age of thirteen. She had been seventeen and a senior in high school. Always tall for his age and ahead of his classmates, Cy was a freshman at the time and had told Stephanie he was fifteen. He was a guard on the Cougar’s varsity basketball squad, one of their major offensive weapons and the golden boy of his domain. She was a cheerleader at their arch rival school, all legs, breasts and pom-poms. Cy was smitten. Stephanie was in love. They dated her entire senior year, but the summer she
left for Spelman College in Atlanta, a new girl, Tatiana, moved into the neighborhood, and well, out of sight, out of mind was the melody that Cy’s adolescent body played after Stephanie had gone.

Then there was Jodie, the first White girl he slept with, and Eva, a hot little Hispanic number who could do the splits both horizontally and vertically. Cy warmed at the memory. She was also his first heartbreak because it was one of the few times he was dumped for another guy, Pedro, whom Eva met at her cousin’s wedding. They later married and the last he’d heard had seven children. Throughout his high school years there were others whose faces he couldn’t recall, names he couldn’t remember. Every woman who met Cy wanted him, and in his early years, he tried to be most accommodating. Cy had been wild by his own admission. He wasn’t proud of it, of the countless virginities he’d stolen and hearts he’d broken. It had been for him as it had for so many of his peers, a way of life.

Then came college and Trisha. A smart and sassy preacher’s daughter from upstate New York, Trisha had given him a run for his money. He laughed aloud as he remembered their first encounter while standing in the lunch line at the school cafeteria.

“Who is this pretty young thing standing in front of me?”

“Who wants to know?” She hadn’t even bothered to turn around.

“Turn around and see for yourself!” Cy responded with confidence.

“I don’t need to turn around to know I’m not interested.” But she did turn around. “You may think you’re the ‘meow’ to all the ‘pussies’ on campus, but if you’ll listen closely, you don’t hear me purring.” With that, she grabbed her tray and swished her big booty and short-cut curly ’fro across the room, settling down at a table full of her sorority sisters. Cy
was stunned. And smitten. She had thrown down the gauntlet and the fight was on. Cy won.

Cy rose from his chair and went over to the window, taking in the nighttime cityscape glittering twenty-one floors below his penthouse view. Leaning against the marble column, Cy smiled at the memory, gently rubbing his chin as he did so. He said her name aloud as memories of their three and a half years together flitted through his mind. She was definitely his first true love, and may have been his only one had he not been so foolish as to chance a one-night fling with one of Trisha’s friends and sorority sisters, Jeannetta.

The smile on his face faded slowly at that memory. Jeannetta Harris. Cute and cunning, she’d played him like a saxophone. Lured him into her apartment on the pretense of sharing her large and diversified music collection with him. But Cy wasn’t stupid; he knew what was up. He could still see the barely there red negligee that draped Jeannetta’s large, yet shapely body, could still see those huge mounds of flesh bulging over the top of the sleek, silk material and looking like chocolate-covered grapefruit. Maybe if she hadn’t put on the Isley Brothers, there would have been a chance for logical thinking, but when Ron started crooning “groove with you” and Jeannetta asked for a dance, it was all over but the orgasm. It was what they’d both wanted.

He’d known Jeannetta had a thing for him. What he hadn’t known was the ongoing competitiveness Jeannetta had with Trisha. Trisha was everything Jeannetta thought she wanted to be: petite and pretty, smart and loveable, daughter from a rich family. If Cy was the only part of Trisha that Jeannetta could grab, she was only too willing to do so. The candles had barely burned down before the news had filtered to Trisha that Jeannetta had been with her man. Things were never quite
the same between them after that. Even though it was the only time he had been unfaithful, Trisha, whose mother had suffered years of her husband’s infidelities, couldn’t risk the prospect of a similar future. Three months later she ended the relationship and never looked back.

He’d done everything to try to reconcile with Trisha, but her fear of an adulterous future within their marriage extinguished her passion like water on fire. She carried a love for him until John Rhodes, her next boyfriend who became her husband, helped her to put Cy and the pain he’d caused behind her. Cy wondered about them and how their life was now. Had there been children? After college, he had lost contact with her, and no one, not even her close friends, could seem to answer his questions regarding her whereabouts. Those sistahs stuck together! Except for Jeannetta, that is. There was another rash of names and faces after Trisha as Cy vowed to never give his heart away again.

Guess he forgot to tell his heart that. Because something about Joan, the woman he’d lived with for five years before finding God, had him placing his heart on a silver platter and serving it to her with kid gloves before their second date. Joan was very different from Trisha but special in her own way. Where Trisha was sassy, Joan was subdued. Where Trisha was the life of the party, Joan was the flower on the wall. Joan was intelligent and comforting, a calming presence and quiet strength. Her father was British, and she had his dry, cutting sense of humor. Her spirit was a balm for Cy’s soul.

He wasn’t sure why they didn’t marry right away. Of course, in hindsight, it was obviously not God’s plan. But at the time, there was nothing to keep them from tying the knot. Joan’s parents adored him, and his parents liked Joan as well. They had similar interests and enjoyed some of the same leisure activities. Joan was athletic and energetic and was one of the few who could give him stiff competition in a game of chess.
Even her declaration that she didn’t want to have children—Joan was definitely a career woman—didn’t bother him. At first. Again, in hindsight, this gentle yet firm stance against a family was what eventually unraveled their otherwise happy union. And with each passing year, Cy wanted children more and more.

Remembering Joan made Cy think of Pamela. Like Joan, she was an aggressive career woman, one who’d worked hard to climb the corporate ladder of success. Now vice president in a highly respected public relations company, Pamela had broken through the glass ceiling and joined the ranks of her mostly White, mostly male counterparts. Her campaigns were some of the most successful in the field, and more than once she’d been courted by the competition in hopes of bringing her talent and skill into their corporation. But Pamela had plans of her own, and when the dust settled, it would be under a door reading “DuBoise & Associates,” and she would be the “big ballah, shot callah” in the house!

Cy tried to imagine Pamela and motherhood in the same sentence and couldn’t. His eyes narrowed as he replayed tapes of their conversations in his mind and tried to remember the mention of children. He did not. Yet, he wasn’t sure. He made a mental note to approach that subject on their next date. As hard as it was for him to fathom, Cy was feeling the urge to settle down with a wife and family. Golden boy, sought-after man-about-town, Cy Taylor. Who woulda thunk it?
Millicent Sims
was the reply that popped into his head, and frowning, he picked up the phone to discuss with her the marketing plan for the church’s latest venture. Despite her attempt to be “just friends,” her desires for a deeper relationship left Cy wanting to keep a distance between them. But church business made for regular conversations, almost weekly. How could he manage this without hurting her feelings?

Millicent leaned back and closed her eyes as she inhaled the luscious scent of sandalwood rising with the steam from her bathwater. The scent mingled with that of the candles placed around her large Jacuzzi tub. It was moments like this that justified the hefty mortgage payment on her rather small condo. It wasn’t always the quantity but the quality. And the amenities the complex offered, like her Jacuzzi tub, the marble floors and a surround sound audio system, in this gated neighborhood gave Millicent the feel of luxury she desired. After all, she worked hard and made a comfortable living as a marketing director for a large firm. She was worth it.

Lazily grabbing the remote, she turned up the volume of the classical radio station offering background ambience and slid even deeper into her aquatic cocoon. Quietly humming the familiar Brahms melody, Millicent took her finger and created a trail of soapy suds across her lithe form.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this,
she thought as she adjusted the bath pillow behind her head and settled into it. She made a mental note to schedule an appointment at the day spa next week for a full body massage and seaweed wrap. She might even splurge, grab a girlfriend and take a trip to her favorite spa in Palm Springs, topping it off with a luscious dinner at her favorite French restaurant there. She was definitely feeling inclined to treat herself like the child of God she was. Even if she wasn’t special to anyone else, she was special to God and that was enough. Well…almost.

Before the thought could complete its cycle, another one popped up. True as it may be about her being special in God’s eyes, it would mean the world for her to be special in another’s eyes: one Mr. Cy Taylor to be exact. She would do anything, anything to make that a reality.

Millicent reached up and turned on the pulse jets, then lay back and escaped into her favorite fantasy. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and she was in the foyer of Kingdom
Citizens’ Christian Center. The church was full of witnesses and well-wishers to this, the most important day in her life. She was on her father’s arm, resplendent in a form-fitting, Vera Wang wedding dress, complete with a twenty-foot train. Her bridesmaids were gliding down the aisle, one by one in their off-the-shoulder green and gold satin creations, accompanied by Cy’s handsome groomsmen. The classical ballad she’d created and entitled “The Path To Love” was being played softly and brilliantly by the ten-piece orchestra she’d commissioned for the occasion. Finally Alison, her maid of honor, was in place, and the familiar strands of the “Wedding March” began to play. It was as if the sea parted and the floor gave way as Millicent floated down the aisle. She must be walking on clouds because she could feel nothing beneath her feet and had to grab her father’s arm with her other hand to reestablish connection with the earth. Her heart stopped beating, and everyone except Cy seemed to fade from her view. For a delicious, heart-stopping moment it was just she and he in a whirl of clouds and color and crescendos of melodies from every love song since the beginning of time.

Her father kissed her gently as he withdrew his arm and guided her to her place beside Cy, her husband. In only a few minutes, the dream of a lifetime would come true, and she would bear his name. She looked up into his eyes, and once again the world receded as she became lost in a sea of mahogany magic. She mechanically followed the words of Minister Montgomery, lifting her chin as she said, “I do,” with a clear, convincing voice.

“And now Mr. Taylor, you may kiss your bride.”

The persistent ringing of the telephone brought Millicent out of her dream. She blinked several times before realizing that she’d fallen asleep. The jets had turned off automatically and the water had cooled. Millicent rose and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a plush towel as she did so. After drying herself and spraying a body mist, she reached for her silk
robe and stepped into satin slippers before heading out of the bathroom and to the phone on the nightstand next to her bed. She looked down at the ID and recognized the number immediately. A smile spread slowly across her face.

“Hello, husband,” she said to herself as she picked up the phone and hit the callback button. Cy’s phone began to ring right after he closed the door to his penthouse and headed toward the elevator.

“Hallelujah! Ooh, that’s good!” Vivian exclaimed softly as her eyes misted over and her hands lifted in praise at the revelations of God. Ever since He’d given her the foundation Scripture for the upcoming Sanctity of Sisterhood Summit, Hebrews 2:11 which declared the Sanctifier and the sanctified were one, Vivian had marveled at how each stone of the summit topics had been laid and how each verse in the Scripture text fit succinctly with the topics of her initial outline. “Praise you, Jesus!” she said aloud as she put down her pen. She stretched and yawned, looking at her watch, eyes widening. Where had the time gone? She couldn’t believe she’d been in the study for four uninterrupted hours, yet looking at her desk and the masses of notes and outlines was evidence that she’d gotten a lot done. Vivian’s stomach growled as she reached for the phone, a further testament to the singular focus since her early morning prayer time. She had gone straight into her study afterward, stopping only for a cup of herbal mint tea before typing out the things God had whispered during her quiet time with Him.

Those were the most exquisite moments of her day, those morning moments alone with God. After Derrick left for the office and the children had been dropped off at school, Vivian marked out an hour or so of time for meditation with “Daddy,” and He never failed to meet her with just the right nourishment for whatever diet her upcoming day prescribed.

Vivian could scarcely remember the fear that had almost overwhelmed her, right after she’d shared her summit idea with Ladies First. Just like the devil to get inside her head and try to convince her that what she’d envisioned was too much to undertake, impossible to pull off. Even with all the encouragement of her fellow first ladies, the loyal support of her church staff and Tai’s agreeing to speak, Vivian had fasted and prayed continually to work through the fear of failure that plagued her days following their luncheon. Derrick had been a pillar of strength and support as usual, but with his increasingly busy schedule and mounting responsibilities, Vivian knew this summit would be successful only with God’s conspicuous blessing and assistance.

Vivian sat back and picked up the phone. On second thought, she replaced the receiver, opting instead to head toward the kitchen and a much-needed lunch break. She paused for a moment at the window, taking in the beauty of the June afternoon before continuing down the stairs, into the kitchen. She pressed the speaker button on the kitchen wall phone and punched in the voice mail code for the office line before opening the refrigerator and getting a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a large Tupperware container of tuna salad. She grabbed a plate from the cabinet and began scooping out chunks of tuna as the messages played. Derrick had called to ask her opinion on a business matter. Her mother had called just to say hi and to check on her favorite grandbabies. Mrs. Stanford called all of her grandchildren “her favorites”, but to her that was beside the point. Mother Moseley had phoned to see if she could stop by a little later on in the day. Know
ing Vivian was working from home that day, her assistant, Tamika, had called to update Vivian’s calendar of counseling and meetings.

Vivian had just taken a bite from a cracker when the last message played. It was a teary Tai asking in a voice filled with pain for Vivian to call her right away. The uneaten cracker lay like sawdust in her mouth as Vivian grabbed the glass of orange juice she’d just poured, placed the tuna plate in the refrigerator and headed for the comforts of her family room and the cordless phone there. Without asking or praying, Vivian knew she’d need all the comfort she could get for the conversation that lay ahead. She took a long drink of orange juice, finally ridding her mouth of the cracker she kept chewing but was suddenly unable to swallow. Folding her legs beneath her as she sank onto the couch, she said a simple prayer as she punched in the speed dial to Tai’s home. “Help, Lord Jesus.”

“I’m divorcing King.”

Those words seeped out of Tai’s mouth like blood from a fresh wound. Vivian closed her eyes and breathed deeply, silently reciting the Twenty-third Psalm as she struggled to maintain a calm demeanor.

“Viv, you there?” Tai asked in a quiet voice.

“I’m here,” Vivian replied simply. She thought of a thousand different responses, but none of them seemed adequate enough to voice aloud.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Tai asked, not knowing what words she wanted to hear.

“What happened?” Vivian said finally, deciding that the best place to start was at the beginning.

Tai spent the next thirty minutes detailing the blatant confirmation of King’s affair and his stark confession following an emotionally brutal confrontation that morning.

The nightmare had started the day before, after Tai’s thrice-weekly workout at the Full Workout Fitness Center. Feeling proud of herself and the newly rediscovered waistline beneath her recently shed twenty pounds, Tai decided to splurge and purchase a couple summer suits. Passing the usual shops and strip malls in her quiet suburb, Tai had hit I–35 and headed to Kansas City’s upscale shopping and dining district, the Plaza. She’d felt good as she sipped her peach and passion fruit smoothie, turned up the sounds of Oldies 91.5 and chanted along with the soul-stirring sounds of the Pointer Sisters.
“I know we can make it, I know we can…”

Tai bobbed her head and tapped the steering wheel as she cruised down a wide-open Midwest freeway. Mama Max had been right. Focusing on herself and not worrying so much about the so-called other woman in King’s life was just the thing. Tai was feeling better than she had in years. She had more energy, more stamina and more confidence. Her children were pleased, and King had not only noticed, but had complimented her efforts, encouraging her to continue and thanking her for the more nutritious yet still delicious meals of baked chicken and fish, steamed vegetables and light pasta dishes that had begun to replace her former casserole fare.

Tai breathed deeply and sent a “Thank you, Jesus” up as she found a parking space near the entrance to the Bonwit Teller department store. She squelched the urge to shop the clearance rack and instead headed straight to the designer suit department. A friendly yet unobtrusive sales associate seemed to know exactly what Tai was looking for, and just a little over an hour later, Tai left three beautiful suits behind to be tailored and carried with her two pair of Bebe pumps and a bag filled with feel-good toiletries, including a large bottle of Sung, her favorite cologne.

On her way to the rest room on the third floor, Tai passed
the beauty salon. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone but Sue had done her hair. Feeling adventurous, she stepped through the door. She left with a short, curly carefree hairstyle. Subtle highlights had been added to her rich, auburn color. After generously tipping Nia, her new best friend, Tai almost skipped out of the salon, she was that happy; thought she looked great.

She headed for her car, placed her purchases in the trunk and was about to get in when she remembered the bagel she’d had for breakfast and the smoothie she’d enjoyed right after her workout were long gone. She looked at her watch, and with two hours left before having to pick up the children from school, she sidestepped her first choice, McDonalds, and decided to take a stroll down the boulevard to see if there was a nice little sandwich shop in the area.

She stepped out of the parking garage into the warmth of the sun. It was a perfect summer day. She hadn’t even realized she was humming to herself as she stopped to peek in first one shop window and then another. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled as she patted her flatter stomach, pulling down her long pullover and thanking God that there was less “back” in the back. She turned her head first one way, then the other, still appraising her new hairstyle.

“Don’t worry, you look good.”

Tai turned around and blushed at the innocent compliment the young businessman had thrown her way before continuing down the street, swinging his briefcase and leaving behind a smile and good feelings. “I
do
look good,” Tai agreed. It had been a long time since she felt this way. She almost skipped like a schoolgirl again as she rounded the corner and noticed a deli across the street. She was about to cross when a little Italian bistro just ahead caught her eye. She hesitated for only a moment before deciding to continue her spending spree and actually enjoy a sit-down lunch that
someone else had prepared for a change instead of a sandwich, her unimaginative first choice.

“Table for one?” the waiter asked as he grabbed a menu and led her down a quaint, walkway that wound around wrought-iron table and chair sets hosting red and black candles and white linen tablecloths. Tai admired the building’s Italy inspired décor as she followed the waiter deeper inside the restaurant. She noticed as the waiter led the way that there were also tables set up outside and was just about to inquire about one’s availability when she heard a familiar laugh. Thinking she was surely mistaken, she decided to follow the waiter on around the corner and into the area from where the laughter had come. She quickly looked around but saw no one she recognized. There were three booths set up along the walls, but the occupants were hidden behind the high backs of the mahogany enclosures. She’d just sat down and picked up the menu when she heard the laugh again. It was unmistakable this time. She got up slowly and without quite understanding why, felt just a hint of trepidation. Why shouldn’t her husband be enjoying a nice business lunch in the Plaza? She was! She was being silly. She shook her head, ridding unwanted thoughts.
And I get to show off my new hairdo!
Thinking of sharing lunch with her husband, she walked over to the booth housing the sound of his voice.

“I thought I recognized that vo—” she began, but never finished the sentence. She wanted to finish the sentence, but her vocal chords had ceased to function. She wanted to believe the attractive brunette—all ninety-eight pounds of her—was a business associate, a journalist perhaps or someone from the local Christian radio or TV station. She wanted to formulate some excuse, any excuse as to why her husband would be dining with this gorgeous creature who looked all of nineteen in the middle of the day and twenty miles from his church office. She wanted to capture an explanation that
would hold down the bile that was rising from her stomach, but could not. The faces of both her husband and the other woman told her all she needed to know. King recovered first.

“Tai! What are you doing here?”

Tai was staring at the woman sitting in the booth with her husband and couldn’t say a word. The woman had big, bright green eyes, now wide with astonishment. Her thin mouth had formed a silent “O.” She was wearing a thin silver chain around her neck, the neck that Tai was gauging at that very moment to determine whether it would take one hand or two to choke.

“Tai,” King began again, reaching out to grab her arm. Tai flinched before stepping back, at the brink of losing control, every muscle in her newly toned body taut with the effort of maintaining control. In seconds she thought of a myriad of angry outbursts, played several scenes of violence in her head. Her hands actually twitched at the thought of grabbing and wiping the already clean floor up with this brunette Barbie. Mama Max’s face swam before her eyes, and she thought of her mother-in-law’s encounter years ago in the hall outside hotel room number 915.
I think you’ve got something that belongs to me!
And King? Tai was sure there was something sharp enough in the restaurant’s kitchen to take care of him. If he was hell-bent on passing his dick around, and that was what the look of guilt on his face implied, she’d make it easier for him. And then a quieter voice:
Don’t lose it, girl, vengeance is mine saith the Lord.
Mama Max’s voice seemed to fill her head with words of warning, words of wisdom. Tai didn’t realize it, but she had been holding her breath this entire time, a fact that caused her eyes to blur for just an instant before an eerie calm washed over her, causing her to recover at last. It could only have been the Holy Ghost.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said calmly, firmly and with meaning. “I’m Tai Brook, King’s wife.”

The woman didn’t move but stammered weakly, “I’m A-A-April.” Then clearing her throat for more poise repeated, “April Summers.”

With the same uncanny calmness she’d just used to address her husband’s mistress, for there was no doubt in Tai’s mind as to whom this woman was, she turned to King. Her eyes were clear, devoid of emotion, almost unseeing. She worked to focus on the face of the man she’d loved over half her life. “Enjoy your lunch,” she said as she shot daggers at April before turning and quickly walking away.

“Tai, wait!” King spoke quickly, getting up to follow her. The few customers in the restaurant followed the action as well. King placed a hand on Tai’s shoulder. She jerked it off.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed between a neat, white row of clenched teeth. “And save your explanation for my attorney.” King took a step back, stunned. Tai turned, head high, shoulders back and walked with the dignity of a queen out of the restaurant. At that moment, she felt that dignity was all she had left. Lord knew her appetite was gone.

That dignity carried her down the sidewalk, helped her cross the street and walk into the underground parking lot. Dignity helped her place the keys in her now terribly trembling hand into the lock and open the door to her brand-new SUV. She sat in the seat and was rock still for what seemed an eternity. She stared straight ahead seeing nothing, feeling nothing. Finally, like an automaton, she placed the key in the ignition and started the engine. She put the car in reverse and began backing out. Only the sound of a loud horn from the car directly behind brought her back to reality. She slammed on the brakes as the car carrying the angry driver careened around her and turned the corner. Tai turned then, making sure there were no cars coming before she continued backing up and headed out of the parking lot and into the afternoon Plaza bustle. The sun was still shining brightly, but Tai didn’t notice. Strains of an Earth, Wind and Fire classic en
couraged her to keep her head to the sky, but she didn’t hear. She was barely aware of any activity around her as she navigated the city streets and entered the freeway. Although she was crying inside, wailing even, dignity kept her face dry. It was as though the Holy Spirit had literally wrapped around her emotions, blanketing her with the calm she needed to make it to the suburbs and her children’s school in one piece. A million thoughts ran haphazardly through her mind. Thoughts of commitment and betrayal. Of adultery and anguish. Of marriage and murder. Here she was, on the receiving end of King’s infidelity again. Not Hope, but April—a White woman. She knew that logically the color of the other woman’s skin shouldn’t matter, that adultery was adultery, but logic aside, the woman’s color added to Tai’s pain.