Sister Betty Says I Do (21 page)

Freddie looked at Thurgood. He could tell there were questions in Thurgood's tired eyes that his mouth had trouble asking.

“I know you're a praying man,” Thurgood continued. “I'm a praying man, too. But when I pray, I expect God to give me enough wisdom on how to move or climb mountains. I don't expect God to leave His throne and come down here with a rope or a shovel to help me.”

Freddie's tongue finally loosened. “What are you talking about, Thurgood?”

“I'm talking about you and my cousin Betty and how y'all done got God all up in something that can be fixed by the two of you.”

“You holding that Bible,” Freddie told him, “but you acting like you don't know that it says to wait upon the Lord and be of good cheer.”

“That's exactly what it says,” Thurgood replied, “but are you happy? Because if you happy, you sure a sad-looking something.”

Freddie didn't answer, but he couldn't disagree, either. “So what are you telling me?”

“I'm trying to tell you that if you tell God that you want a house, He ain't gonna build it for you. God will see that you need to get that job, to put aside that money, or get a loan. All you have to do is find somebody to build it or do it yourself, if you can.”

“I still don't understand, Thurgood.”

“Dammit, man.” Thurgood rose off his seat and shoved the Bible back into his pants pocket. “I'm telling you that you asked God for Betty, so now get off your arse and get her. She won't care if you have cancer or high blood pressure or whatever. Besides, with her praying for God to heal you, it's a done deal. You know the woman has favor.”

Freddie gave a faint smile. “Thank you, Thurgood, for being here for me. I guess I needed a good ole kick in the butt.”

Thurgood sat down again. “I told ya I'd help you. But I realized you waiting on too much help. You got to throw some skin in the game, too.”

“I know you're right. I've got one more checkup, and if it goes well, then I'll be totally finished and released from the cancer trial. I'm still feeling a bit tired, though.” Freddie paused and took a deep breath. “In fact, I'm feeling exhausted all through my bones, and I'm burping like crazy but can't keep nothing down.”

“God is able,” Thurgood said softly. He turned and pretended to look at a picture on the wall so that Freddie wouldn't see anything that looked like pity in his eyes. After all he'd just told him, one sad look could let the Devil throw more doubt in the man's life.

“But I'm believing that when I return, there'll still be no need for a stem cell transplant,” Freddie then added. “If there's a need for a transplant, then at least they've already harvested my good cells.”

“Well, I'm gonna let you get some rest,” Thurgood said as he rose to leave. “It's almost midnight, and I've got to get back to my Dee Dee. We've got the relationship seminar coming up.” Thurgood winked as he opened the front door. “And she and I have to do our homework.”

Freddie stood in his doorway, watching Thurgood walk away, waving while laughing at his own joke. Freddie shook his head and said loudly, “Don't you two study too hard, or you'll break a brain muscle.”

 

The day after Thurgood left Freddie's home and returned to his hotel, Delilah called Sharvon early in the morning and insisted on talking.

“I finally caught up with Sasha,” Delilah said. “I explained that you were just confused and had a lot on your mind when you misspoke about Betty's wedding plans. Sasha actually surprised me. She didn't call you out of your name or anything. In fact, she said she was thrilled that the wedding was still on.”

“Cousin Delilah,” Sharvon snapped, “now you got that old woman thinking I'm crazy. You told me you'd handle it.”

“And I did just that,” Delilah replied sharply. “Too many secrets can ruin too many lives. Trust me, I know.”

“And you're certain that that's all you told her? I need to know if there's more, because I still need to tell Cousin Betty what I've done.” Sharvon could tell Delilah was in self-editing mode. Delilah always gave a summary that was too long and complicated matters. It meant that there was something Delilah either couldn't or wouldn't say.

“What you really need to do is to cut down on working so many hours and find you a good man.”

“You mean like the one you have?” Sharvon replied.

“Oh, child, please. You can't start with someone like your cousin Thurgood. He's been seasoned and whipped real good by God and life. You need someone who knows just as little as you do, so the two of you can make all the dumb mistakes at the same time and move on.”

Sharvon laughed. She hadn't wanted to do it, but Delilah's wisdom always left her puzzled or laughing. “Well, if I run into somebody as dumb as me, I'll be certain to snatch him up.”

Delilah laughed that time. “You won't have to run far,” she told Sharvon. “Just mosey on over a couple of houses down from where you live.”

“Are you talking about Reverend Leotis Tom?”

“I sure am,” Delilah replied. “Lord knows, he's as dumb as you when it's something worldly. Every time I'm around him, I can see and smell Similac in his diet.”

“Cousin Delilah!”

“Cousin Delilah nothing,” Delilah said. “Between you and your cousin Betty, I haven't found another couple of females as underused as you two. But at least Betty's got something on her ring finger. You, young lady, ain't cut your eye teeth, from what I can tell.”

Sharvon listened on as Delilah shared her pearls of wisdom on her current state of celibacy and what it was worth. When Sharvon had heard enough, she interrupted. “Listen, Cousin Delilah, I truly do appreciate your eclectic wisdom, but did it ever occur to you that Leotis just might be interested in someone else?”

The sudden quietness on the other end surprised Sharvon. Delilah always had a quick comeback or something to say about everything.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“I most certainly heard that foolishness,” Delilah finally said. “Please tell me that you ain't falling for that nonsense in your head that's telling you that Reverend Tom is interested in Ima Hellraiser, Sasha's wayward niece.”

“What made you bring up her name?” Sharvon was curious. Perhaps there was something more that Delilah knew and that she ought to know.

Delilah summed it up, as she always did when she was keeping a morsel under wraps for another time. “I heard it from Sasha when we were discussing the dumb thing you did. I don't know anyone who gets more of a kick out of discussing somebody else's crazy plans than Sasha. We got to talking about the foolishness that comes along with being young, and I couldn't have shut her up with a sledgehammer to her mouth.”

The mention of Sasha's name brought back the reason why Sharvon had been upset with Delilah in the first place. She didn't try to change the annoyance in her tone when she spoke. “Oh yes, I forgot. You told her the truth about Freddie before I told Cousin Betty.”

“You can't put no blame on me, because like I told you before, I'm not accepting blame for putting most things out in the open,” Delilah shot back. “And especially when they need to be told.” Delilah took a breath before she continued. “Anyway, there's nothing Ima can do about getting the reverend, anyhow.”

“What makes you say that?” Sharvon almost pushed the phone's receiver through her ears, trying to make sure she didn't miss one word.

“You're sure asking a lot of questions for someone who's trying to pretend she ain't interested in the man.”

“What makes you say that Ima can't get Leotis?” Sharvon repeated, ignoring Delilah's honest insinuation.

“She can't get the man, because, according to Sasha, Ima's still got that alienation of affection lawsuit pending against her. The current wife of Reverend Lyon Lipps is coming after Ima. She's claiming Ima knew that the man had gotten married when he was in prison, before he became a reverend. Apparently, from what I've learned, from a source that'll remain anonymous, the current Mrs. Lipps wanted a big slice of his mega ministry dollars to let him go. And it appears that Lyon Lipps figured it was cheaper to keep her, and he let Ima go instead.”

“Then why would she continue with a lawsuit against Ima?”

“That's the same question I had,” Delilah replied. “I guess she didn't like Ima, and frankly speaking, I can't think of anyone who does. I'm guessing the lawsuit is being continued out of spite.”

Sharvon almost dropped her cell phone. She could've stopped Delilah moments ago and told her that she already knew about the lawsuit. How she'd had the manila envelope in her car with the scandalous information on the night Ima had danced at the church, but decided not to out Ima to Leotis and the congregation. First of all, she'd have to explain how she came across such detailed information. Even if she admitted that she'd discovered the lawsuit only by accident when she was researching the background of another preacher whose sordid extra-marital affair was part of another investigation. She'd typed in Reverend Lyon Lipps's name out of curiosity, but she hadn't expected to learn anything damaging. She could've let out a whoop at first, but she quickly calmed down when she realized that if anyone backtracked, they'd seen her pass code next to the research entries. The fact that the information was too good not to print out, even if she did nothing with it, was the excuse she gave herself.

“But my understanding is that Reverend Lyon Lipps chased Ima, and he did ask her to marry him,” Sharvon finally replied in an even tone. She didn't want to appear overly interested.

“That may be true,” Delilah agreed, “but I guess since he hadn't seen or heard from the woman in so long, he figured his wife had gone ahead and gotten a divorce. She fooled him because he was still married when he became engaged to Ima. Besides, it wouldn't be too hard for his wife to win a court case with Ima's sordid history as evidence. If Reverend Tom knew about it, he'd quickly put an end to any lustful attraction he might have. Everyone knows he's real particular when it comes down to the reputation of his church, as well as his own reputation.”

“Well, the way he looks at her every time she's within smelling distance, you'd never know he was thinking about anything holy.”

“He's still a man with needs,” Delilah told her. “But he's also a man who's not quite on the same level of worldly experience as Ima. So if you feel about him the way I now believe you do, you'd better make a plan to snatch that man and rescue him from the hell pit.”

“S
he-rilla,” Sasha snapped, “where in the world have you been?” Living right next door to Bea had its advantages. Both knew the goings-on of the other. “It's almost midnight!”

Thinking she might've stepped outside in the hallway a bit too far, Sasha closed the top of her nightgown. “Get in here. I've got something to tell you.”

Bea looked at Sasha and laughed. “What you got to tell me, Sasha? Huh?” Bea leered as she went ahead and stuck her key in her apartment door. “You've got a lot of nerve, Smurf,” Bea scolded. “I'm doing all the planning and making up flyers for our business, and you couldn't even stay around the other night to hand them out or put one up on the church bulletin board. Why don't you just go ahead and get in business with that floozy niece of yourn?”

“So I take it that you don't wanna know what's happening with Sister Betty and Trustee Noel's wedding plans?” Sasha turned to reenter her apartment. She left the door ajar, knowing if she didn't, Bea would knock it off its hinges to hear more.

Bea pushed open Sasha's door and found her seated on her living room sofa, smiling, with a bunch of papers in her hands. “One day you gonna make me lose my religion,” Bea told her as she found a seat next to Sasha. “What you done found out? Me and Batty just ran into Freddie last night at the Burger King. Batty ain't told me nothing about no change between Sister Betty and Trustee Noel.”

“It's probably because Elder Batty don't know what I'm about to tell you if you just stop pushing me.” Sasha laid down the papers she was holding. She spread them out, knowing Bea would see what was on them. “There's going to be a wedding, after all,” Sasha told Bea. “And we ain't got a lot of time to pull this reception off.”

“Who told you that?”

Sasha sighed and said, “Delilah.”

The expression on Bea's face didn't change. She hunched her shoulders and asked, “Delilah who?”

Sasha shot forward. “Listen, Bea, it's late, and I ain't got time for twenty questions. You know doggone well that besides that hussy in the Bible, there's only one other Delilah we know.”

Bea's jaw dropped before she bristled. “Thurgood's Delilah?”

“That's right,” Sasha answered. “The very same woman who finally got Thurgood to get rid of that ridiculous conked hair and his clothes of many colors.”

“I didn't know she was in town.”

“Both she and Thurgood are here having one of those sex shows they advertise as counseling. They ain't fooling me not one bit.” Sasha moved closer to Bea, seeing that Bea was more interested in what she had to say than in starting another fight. “Delilah called and left me a message to call her. So I called her soon as I got home.”

“But Delilah don't even like you,” Bea offered.

“She don't like you, either,” Sasha snapped. “But that ain't the point.”

“Well, can you get to the point?”

“Delilah told me that what Sharvon said about there not being a wedding was just one big misunderstanding. Delilah said that Sharvon was just concerned that with the trustee being sickly, like before there might have to be a postponement.”

“Well, we had seen him in the hospital that day,” Bea replied. “And he has looked a bit sicker than normal.” Bea's face lit up. “Well, at least he ain't dead or dying, so we need to stop wasting time and get this reception planning going.”

Sasha tapped Bea's arm and pointed to the papers she had spread out on her coffee table. “As you can see, Bea, I'm way ahead on that one. I already called Porky. We got us an appointment to see what our hundred-dollar deposit can get us.”

 

The following morning Bea met Sasha by the elevator in their apartment building. They'd already decided to get as much out of Porky as possible without adding a lot more to their hundred-dollar deposit. With reserved seats on the Access-a-Ride bus, they rode to downtown Pelzer to meet with him.

The two old women arrived armed. Sasha had her cane and Bible. Bea carried her pocketbook and her small notebook. They ambled up the walkway to the El Diablo Soul Food Shanty. Bea stopped and looked at the front of the newly renovated building. She smiled.

“Well, Sasha, at least there aren't citations from the health department plastered all across the front of the building.” Bea looked around further before pointing toward the building. “And look at all those lovely fake silk flowers lined up on the windowsills.”

“I still believe he set the fire to his own place just so he could get the money to fix it up,” Sasha replied. “I wouldn't put nothing past Porky.”

Bea glared and pointed her notebook toward Sasha, asking, “Then why are you so willing to do business with the man if he's so shady in your eyes?”

“I never said there was anything wrong with what he did,” Sasha replied. “I'm just saying he didn't fool me.”

During its almost thirty years on Ptomaine Avenue, the El Diablo Soul Food Shanty had been an eyesore and the source of more food-related illnesses than any other restaurant in Pelzer. It'd remained in business because of the prowess of its notorious owner, Porky La Pierre. Porky had a natural gift for attracting the high and mighty with their low reputations. Church folks would race there after service, looking for the latest gossip or bootleg DVD. No one ever said it was for the cuisine, as Porky loved to call his all-in-one-pot cooking.

“So what's happening?” Porky asked Bea and Sasha after they entered. He raised the dingy chef's cap off his bald head and slid his feet into a pair of his favorite green flip-flops, which he always wore. Porky's brown skin had splotches of something oily all over where there wasn't any clothing. His huge stomach poked out of an equally dingy white apron. “Follow me.”

Porky led Bea and Sasha into another room, which had once been his storeroom. He'd had the walls touched up in a cream-colored motif, set off by dark brown panels in each of the room's four corners. “What do you think so far?”

Sasha stood in one spot, saying nothing as she slowly turned around. From where she stood, she could reach over and touch the counter, so she did.

Bea wouldn't keep quiet as she took it all in. “Porky,” Bea said, “how many people can you fit into this room?”

“Depends on whether you got them standing or sitting. If they're standing, then you can get about twenty inside. If they're sitting, then just cut that amount in half, allowing for chairs and tables. I recommend you use this room for your cocktail hour. Folks can just walk up to the counter to get what they like. I'm suggesting that you use colorful napkins. That way they won't need paper plates. They can just suck the food off with one of those fancy toothpicks with the umbrella and use that same toothpick to stir their drinks.” Porky proudly waved his hands around the room. “You can just feel the ambulance!”

“It's called
ambience,
fool!” Sasha hissed, poking the floor with her cane like she wanted to do to Porky's huge stomach.

Bea began swinging her pocketbook back and forth like she was winding up, ready to throw something.

“I can tell by the looks on your faces that you're impressed.” Porky gently pushed Bea and Sasha from their rooted positions and led them through the door to another room, one that he used as his office. “Y'all grab a chair, and let's get down to business.”

Sasha regained her composure and took the small wire-bound notebook from Bea's hands. She then laid it upon the table. The notebook had colorful tabs separating each section to make it easier to get to each. “We don't have a lot of time, so we are stuck with you,” Sasha told Porky. “Bea and me done made our final plans for Sister Betty and Trustee Noel's wedding reception. We expecting it to go off without a hitch, and it'd better not be in that closet you just showed us.”

“And don't be trying to cheat us out of what we expecting for that hundred-dollar deposit,” Bea added. “We done promised you a cut out of the first ten events we gets to plan after this one. We need Sister Betty's send-off to be all first class.”

Porky laid an elbow on the table and began skimming through the notebook. When he finished, he closed it and leaned back in the chair. His eyes began to blink like a broken traffic light, first one and then the other. Everyone in Pelzer knew that it was a sign that he was about to tell a bigger lie than usual. Everyone also knew that Porky couldn't control his eyes when that happened.

With his dark eyes alternately blinking nonstop, he began describing to Bea and Sasha what he was prepared to offer that he considered just as good as first class. “I see you want some whore derbys,” Porky said as he scratched cornflake-size dandruff off his scalp. He quickly used the same hand to sweep it off the table.

“Let me see that!” Bea snatched the notebook and looked inside. “That's hors d'oeuvres, stupid.” Bea quickly turned in her seat to face Sasha. “You'd think for a hundred dollars, the man would be able to read.” She turned back to face Porky, saying, “Just say
or dirbs.
It sounds like
birds.”
She shook her head as Sasha began thumping the floor with her cane to get them back on track.

Porky clasped his hands together and continued. With his eyes still in alternate blink mode, he said, “Along with those birds, you want some crabs, lobster meat, and some of them little franks rolled up in biscuit dough.”

“Just tell us what you gonna do,” Sasha ordered. “It's hot, and we ain't got time to waste here.”

“Well, you're in luck,” Porky said, smiling. “I've got some of those little franks already in the freezer from before the fire last year, and there's some lobster meat I got in last week from old man Red Brown. Y'all knows him. He's that fella with the teeth looking like claws, who sells fish on the side, when he ain't chasing down a dentist. It ain't real lobster, but it's definitely passable.”

Bea and Sasha looked at one another. They began shaking their heads, as though they couldn't believe Porky would try to shortchange them after they'd already placed a deposit.

“We'll come back to those,” Sasha said.

“That's right. That part ain't settled. What about the crabs?”

Porky's smile widened. “Oh, Bea Blister,” he said. “You still the same ole Bea. You know I keep a bottle of Blue Ointment for such things. I can let you have a bottle for an extra dollar or two and it'll clear it right up. It don't make sense, you spending hours down at the free clinic.”

“Bea, please tell me why you had to go and hit him with that metal gravy ladle?” Sasha asked as she and Bea walked to their seats on the Access-a-Ride bus after leaving Porky laid out. “It may take weeks for that swelling on his head and lips to go down. That's gonna cut down on the time we need to get this business off the ground.”

“Well, at least now he won't be able to speak or think of such stupid things.”

“Aw, he hurt your feelings, didn't he, Bea?”

“He sure did,” Bea hissed. “That fool knows I've changed. I'm saved now.”

“Well, that much is true,” Sasha admitted. “He shouldn't have wanted to charge you for that bottle of Blue Ointment. He should've given it to you for free, like he used to do.”