The Choir Director (33 page)

“Why? What do you want with him?”

The short one took out a card and wrote something on the back, then pushed it into my hand. “Just give him this when you see him.”

I watched the men walk back to their car before I glanced down at what the shorter one had written on the card. All it said was
Call me
.

I flipped the card over, and what I saw made my stomach lurch.

“Oh, shit! Talk about having someone by the balls. If I were you, Aaron Mackie, I’d be very nice to Simone Wilcox. Very nice.”

Until I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, I couldn’t believe I had actually come inside this place. At least the last time, Maxwell had given me a room number so I could wait for him without the risk of being seen. I’d sat in my car for ten minutes before finally getting the courage to get out and make the trek to the door. Of all the times to be prompt in my life, it was under these circumstances. But here I sat at the bar of the Brooklyn Marriott, working on my second dirty martini. That was the only appropriate drink for this occasion, something dirty, because that’s just how I felt—like a dirty whore.

When Maxwell sent me a text demanding I meet him at this hotel, everything in me just wanted to text him back “go fuck yourself,” but I didn’t. I couldn’t, because I knew what he would do. He’d have T. K. arrested and sent to prison, and because I loved T. K.’s dirty drawers, I would never be able to deal with that.

“Another drink, miss?” the bartender asked.

I looked down at my almost empty martini glass. “Just one more,” I replied as I picked the olive out of the glass. “Make it a double, if you don’t mind.”

The bartender turned to fix my drink. He couldn’t fix it strong enough to suit me, though, because all I wanted was to be numb. I looked down at my watch. Maxwell was going on fifteen minutes late. Why did he have me sitting there for just anybody to spot me? Then again, that’s probably exactly what he wanted. In his sick mind, he probably thought that if everything was out in the open, T. K. would leave me and I’d come running to him. Not in this lifetime. Not after what he was putting me through. I didn’t give a damn how much money he had.

“Here you are.”

This time I jumped at the sound of the bartender’s voice. I was paranoid. Maxwell needed to hurry his ass up. If he wasn’t there in fifteen minutes, I was outta there. I was not sticking around for the happy-hour crowd.

“Thank you.” I picked up my drink and took a sip.

“And could you please bring me back a shot of 1800? I need something to chase my little blue pill,” Maxwell asked the bartender. I was in such a daze that he’d snuck up right behind me. “Sorry I’m late, sweetness.” When he bent down and kissed me on the neck with his chapped lips, I thought I was going to puke.

I gulped down my martini. I needed a buzz and quick.

“You’re looking quite lovely,” he complimented.

I hadn’t yet spoken a word to him. There were no words. I just wanted to get him up in that room, let him do his business, and get the hell outta there.

The bartender brought Maxwell’s drink.

“Thank you,” Maxwell said, shoving a pill in his mouth before picking up the shot glass and swallowing it down in one gulp. I jumped when he slammed it back on the bar. He pulled out his billfold and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and said to the bartender, “That’s for me and the lady. Keep the change.”

I could feel him staring at me as if I should be impressed by his little act, but I wasn’t. I was repulsed by his presence in all ways.

“So, you ready?”

Now I spoke as I turned on the stool and faced him. “Ready for what?”

He shook his head and half smiled. “Do you really have to ask? We’re in a hotel bar. What do you think?” He pulled a key card out of his pocket. “Let’s go. I’ve already checked us in.” He went to walk away, but I stayed right where I was sitting. “Come on, let’s go. There’s a king-size bed in a suite with our names all over it. I figured this could be our new thing, Thursday evening at the Marriott.” He leaned in and I could feel his lips brushing against my ear. “It beats that stupid step class you’re supposed to be at, and you get your exercise too.”

He led me to the elevator and our room. I kept my head down
and my eyes on the floor. If someone from the church just happened to be in the lobby, I couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on their faces when they spotted us together.

Once we entered our room, Maxwell began kissing my neck. I didn’t respond, but that didn’t make him stop—until he announced, “I think my little blue pill is starting to take effect. God, it’s amazing what you can buy off the Internet, isn’t it?” He cupped his penis like I was supposed to admire it or something. “I’m going to the bathroom. When I come back, the old Monique better be here, undressed and waiting for me on the bed, ready, willing, and able.”

I knew that wasn’t a request, but an order. Maxwell went into the bathroom, and I sat down on the bed and began to remove my clothing. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t erase the horror of what was going on. I was T. K.’s wife and Maxwell’s whore. What a combination.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the Percocet that T. K. had been prescribed when he broke his arm last year. As tears fell from my eyes, I took two pills dry, swallowing them whole. The thought of just downing the entire bottle came to mind, but the last place I wanted to be found was in a hotel room Maxwell had paid for. I knew he’d make sure to rub that in T. K.’s face before he sent him to jail.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I stood up as Maxwell exited the bathroom wearing nothing but his briefs. As much as I didn’t want T. K. going to jail, something had to give, because I was thinking about suicide too frequently. “I love my husband. I don’t want him to go to jail, but I don’t want to hurt him by sleeping with a man who pretends to be his friend either.”

Maxwell didn’t seem moved one way or the other. “If you don’t go through with this, Monique, you know what I’m going to do. Or maybe I should just call him and tell him where his dear wife is?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll tell him myself,” I said, and I meant it. I meant it all the way up until Maxwell took out his cell phone and extended it to me.

“Here, call him, then. Tell him everything.” He opened his phone and pressed a number. “I have him on speed dial. Matter
of fact, let me make it easier for you.” He pressed speaker, and I could hear the phone ringing.

T. K.’s voice came on the line. I could have died right then and there. “What’s up, Maxwell? Thought you had a hot date.”

Maxwell smiled. “I do, and she’s right here. She wanted to talk to you, so I was going to put her on the phone.” He looked at me, daring me with his eyes. “Here, honey, say hello to my best friend, Bishop T. K. Wilson. T. K., she’s a big fan. Matter of fact, she might like you more than she likes me.”

As Maxwell came closer, I shook my head and gestured for him to shut off his phone. My eyes flooded with tears.

“You know, T. K., she’s feeling a little shy all of a sudden. Maybe next time. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later, Maxwell. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Au contraire. I plan on doing everything you would do and a whole lot more,” Maxwell said with a laugh, and then shut the phone. His mouth formed into a smile as he stared at me. “I take it you’re about to take your clothes off, because my little blue pill has me ready to get this party started.”

With no other options, I did as I was told. I just hoped the Percocet kicked in as quickly as his Viagra had, because I didn’t want to feel a thing.

I entered James’s hospital room to find him flanked by two white men I’d never seen before. James had summoned me there for a meeting about something that he felt could save the church. I sure hoped he had something good, because we had run out of other options. At Maxwell’s urging, we had decided to go forward with the three-million-dollar offer on the senior housing property. I’d recently signed papers agreeing to go into negotiations with Pelican Trading Company, so the clock was ticking. Unless some sort of miracle happened, we would be selling that property at a huge loss.

“James, I’d like you to meet Aaron Mackie,” I introduced.

I’d brought along Monique, Tia, and Aaron to visit with James. He had wanted to meet our new choir director for quite some time, and the way he looked now, I was glad I hadn’t waited any longer to bring Aaron by. James barely had the strength to lift his arm and shake Aaron’s hand. He was now wearing an oxygen mask instead of the tubes in his nose. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that my old friend didn’t have much longer.

James lifted the mask with his free hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Aaron’s face lit up. “Likewise, sir. Bishop and First Lady Wilson have told me so much about you. I feel like I’m meeting a legend.”

It was evident from James’s smile that this made him feel good, though he said humbly, “Legends aren’t always good, young man, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

James said hello to Monique and Tia, and then turned back to me, pointing at the two white men. It was now time for him to make introductions. “T. K., this is Mr. Robert Cohn and Mr. Michael Goldberg. They’re from Forest Hills Property Management, and they have a proposal to make you on the senior housing property.”

I shook both men’s hands. “Well, I’m willing to listen to anything you gentlemen have to say.”

“Thank you, Bishop Wilson,” Mr. Cohn replied. “We’ve put in calls to Ms. Simone Wilcox several times to find out if our offer to buy the senior housing property was approved, but we got no response. From what James has told us, he doesn’t think the offer was ever presented to you. He told us that time was of the essence, so at his request, he set up this meeting and we’re contacting you directly.”

My eyes went from James to Monique. “Yes, time is of the essence. We only have a week before our follow-up meeting with the bankruptcy lawyers. And James is correct—Simone hasn’t told us of any offer from you.”

Goldberg handed me a folder as Cohn continued to speak. “We made her a ten-million-dollar offer for the property, with a five-day turnaround for payment. We can have a cashier’s check in your hands Tuesday morning.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked at James and said, “With ten million dollars, we wouldn’t have to go through bankruptcy.”

He nodded his head as if to say “I told you so.” James had always told me the property was worth at least five million, and as usual, he was right.

Cohn continued his pitch. “Bishop Wilson, we think that’s a fair price. The buildings are almost done, and we plan to make them into condos. From what we’re hearing, our offer is only slightly better than our competitors’, but our turnover time is much quicker.”

“Competitors?”

“From what I’m hearing, there were quite a few bids. I’ve been in real estate for most of my life. Recession or not, that price for one hundred units on Merrick Boulevard is a good deal for us all.”

I couldn’t begin to comprehend why Simone hadn’t informed us of this bid, not to mention all the others that were supposedly made, but I knew James. If he had brought these men here, then it was his way of telling me that this was the best deal for the church. We could sort out the mess with Simone later. In the meantime, I was not about to let these men out of the room without securing this deal.

“Mr. Cohn, Mr. Goldberg, if you can really turn things over by Tuesday, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll call an emergency meeting of the joint boards and get this done tonight.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll have our attorneys prepare the paperwork and have it over to your office in the morning.”

We shook hands, a gentlemen’s agreement that we had a deal. “Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you very much.”

“Don’t thank us. Thank your friend over there.”

I turned to James and he winked at me. Once again, my good friend had pulled off what others couldn’t, and from his deathbed, no less.

After Cohn and Goldberg left, we made so much noise whooping and hollering that a nurse had to come down and threaten to kick us out.

When we finally calmed ourselves, I turned to James. “Thank you, friend.”

James lifted the oxygen mask. “You’re welcome. Now, call that bitch Simone and find out why she didn’t tell you about those other offers.”

I pulled out my cell phone. “Doing it right now.”

I dialed her number and she answered. “This is Simone.”

“Good afternoon, Simone. This is Bishop Wilson. I’m calling an emergency meeting of the joint boards. I’ve found a ten-million-dollar buyer for the senior housing property.”

There was a muffled hesitation on the line, almost as if she had covered up the phone and was speaking to someone else. “Bishop, I’m sorry to say it, but we just closed on that property ten minutes ago.”

I almost dropped the phone. “Excuse me, you did what?” I shouted. “To whom and for how much?” Oh my God, this couldn’t be happening. This woman had to be the most incompetent businessperson in the country.

“We sold the property to Pelican Trading Company for three million dollars. You signed the papers yourself, remember?”

“I did no such thing! I signed papers agreeing to negotiate with them.”

“Bishop, I’m not sure what you think you signed, but I have the papers right here in front of me. Didn’t you read them before you put your signature on them?”

The truth was I hadn’t read them carefully. Maxwell had brought the papers to me when I was rushing off to officiate a wedding, and I’d signed them without giving it much thought. Just like James, I trusted Maxwell to have the church’s best interest in mind. Even after I’d signed them, he’d agreed to hold on to them for at least another week before moving forward. I had no idea how we’d gone from that point to now, with Simone insisting that the property was already sold.

“Simone, listen to me very carefully. You have to undo that closing. Tell them we will pay a million dollars to negate the deal. They can’t say no to a profit like that.”