The Choir Director (41 page)

“How much are we talking about here?” I asked.

He placed the papers in front of me and pointed to the colorful tabs that marked the lines where I was supposed to sign. “Somewhere in the five-million-dollar range.”

I stopped my hand mid-signature and looked up at him. “What did you say?”

“About five million.” He started pulling out more papers from the briefcase. “Here are the bank papers and the checkbook. I’ll bring this signature card over to the bank so it’s officially the church’s money.”

I stared at this man for about fifteen seconds before the full impact of his words registered. Finally I turned to Aaron and let out a whoop of joy. “Praise God!”

Aaron joined me, hollering in elation and praise. He ran over and grabbed me, and we both started jumping up and down and carrying on.

“Hey, what’s going on in here, T. K.? Why are you guys shouting?” I looked up and saw my wife.

Other members of the church came running in. When they saw Aaron and I hugging, one made a snide remark under his breath. “I knew this choir director couldn’t stay straight but for so long.”

I showed Monique the bank statement and the checkbook but never stopped jumping around with Aaron. “This is James’s estate attorney. James has saved the church, Monique! He saved it!”

Monique looked at Mr. Byrnes for some clue as to what I was saying. He explained everything he’d told me and Aaron, and then she came over and threw her arms around me. “Oh, baby, this is wonderful!”

“Yes, God is always right on time, isn’t He?”

Next thing you know, there were fifteen or sixteen people jumping around, dancing in my very empty office.

“What the hell is everybody so happy for? I told you to be out of the building by eight a.m. You haven’t got half this crap out of here.” Maxwell’s gruff voice interrupted our celebration. He was accompanied by a small man who looked like another lawyer, as well as three goons. They were probably bodyguards, because he knew everyone at the church wanted to kill his behind.

I strode over close enough to Maxwell that the bodyguards moved in as if they were going to try something in this room full of witnesses.

I ignored them and asked, “How much do we owe you again?”

“Three million should cover it. What, you gonna write me a check?” Maxwell laughed hard, even slapping his lawyer on the back for dramatic effect.

I turned to Byrnes. “Can I write a check right now?”

Byrnes nodded. “As many as you want.”

I took great pleasure in pulling out my pen and writing a check to Maxwell’s traitorous behind. “Here’s your three million dollars.” I handed him the check. “Now, get the hell outta my church.”

Maxwell looked down at it briefly, then threw the check back at me. “This is not even as good as the paper it’s written on. You don’t have that type of money.”

“Yes, we do,” I replied with relish. “This is Byron Byrnes, James’s estate attorney. James left money in a trust for First Jamaica Ministries, and it’s more than enough to pay the mortgage. There!” I threw the check back at him.

Maxwell turned to the sheisty-looking guy with him. “You’re my lawyer. What can we do about this?”

The attorney shrugged as he studied the check. “As long as this check clears, it looks like there’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh, yes, there is something you can do,” I said.

“What’s that?” Maxwell asked.

“You can get the hell out of my building before I kick your ass out for trespassing!”

“This isn’t over, T. K.” He glared at me, then turned to my wife. “This isn’t over by a long shot.”

“Yes, it is, Maxwell.” I placed my arm around my wife. “Now get out of my church.”

It was sunset when I stepped out of my Mercedes and headed confidently toward the front door. I was on a mission, one that I hoped would finally put everything in my life into perspective. On the good side, we’d saved the church just in the nick of time and avoided bankruptcy, thanks to James Black’s help from the grave. Yes, God had shown us favor. I just hoped He’d show me a little of that favor when I walked through Maxwell’s door and then later, when I returned home to tell my husband all that had gone on between me and his ex-best friend. Yes, I was going to admit everything to T. K. If my husband was going to find out about this, then it was going to be on my terms, not Maxwell’s.

I’d told T. K. I was going to visit some friends, although Maxwell was far from a friend. In fact, it was like I was going to face Lucifer himself. When T. K. kicked him out of the church the other night, I could see the desperation and anger in Maxwell’s eyes. He had lost the battle for the church, so there was only one more way he thought he could defeat T. K., and that was by sleeping with me or telling on me. I’d been avoiding his calls, and he’d finally gotten bold enough to call my house today to demand that I come see him. I don’t know what he would have said if T. K. had answered instead of me, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance. It was time for me to put a stop to this.

He’d said “Get your ass over here” as if I were his personal slave. Maxwell was still under the impression that he had me by the curlies, and he could do and say whatever he wanted to me. He was never going to let this end peaceably, not as long as he
thought he had T. K.’s supposed thievery over my head. Well, today I was going to bust his bubble and tell him which side of my ass he could kiss. He could no longer pose a threat to our marriage, and I wanted him to stop calling me or I’d have him arrested for harassment.

I took a deep breath, pulled my bag close on my shoulder, then rang the doorbell. I stared at Maxwell’s lavish porch, feeling as if I were standing at the entrance to Sodom and Gomorrah.

Maxwell opened the door, and I noticed he was wearing the same smoking jacket he wore the morning he kissed me in front of Simone. The sash was loose, and his chest was revealed. I had no doubt he was completely naked underneath.

“Well, well, well, don’t you look good?” he said, eyeing me up and down and smoothing his mustache in a suggestive manner.

I felt as if I was going to be sick just thinking about what he had on his mind.

“I’ve got some champagne by the Jacuzzi. Your favorite—chocolate-covered strawberries—too.”

This man was blackmailing me, and he had the nerve to try to romance me, like I was going to have some sudden epiphany that he was the one for me. I gritted my teeth as I stepped inside. “I’m not here for champagne or strawberries.”

“I know you’re a woman who likes to get straight to the nitty-gritty, Monique, but the bedroom can wait a bit. I have about ten minutes until my little blue pill kicks in, so I thought we’d get started in the Jacuzzi.” He didn’t even give me a chance to speak. He just strutted back to his patio. Steam rose from the hot tub into the night air.

I followed him and watched as he slipped off his robe and eased into the hot tub. Like I expected, he was butt-ass naked.

“Come on in,” he beckoned. “It’s nice and hot, just the way I like it.” He reached over and lifted a glass of champagne, as if seeing it would entice me to join him.

I shook my head. “Do you really think I’m going to get in the Jacuzzi with you? You must be crazy. I’m not getting into nothing with you.”

“Come on, Monique. Don’t be shy. I’ve given the entire staff the night off. We’ve got the place entirely to ourselves. Come on now, take off your clothes. It’s going to be fun.”

“I’m not taking off shit!” I folded my arms across my chest.

Maxwell laughed. “See, I hate to do things like this, but I think you’ve forgotten who has the upper hand here. You don’t want me sending your precious T. K. to jail, do you?” He’d been telling that lie about T. K. for so long that it rolled off his tongue with ease, but it was my turn to laugh now.

“You know what, Maxwell? I’ve been waiting for weeks to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I know you were lying. That I know you forged those papers. That I know my husband is a good, honorable man, and you ain’t never getting any of this ever again.”

Maxwell’s face was getting red. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the hot tub or because he was so damn angry, but I was loving it. I decided it was time to twist the knife a little deeper.

“T. K. beat you, Maxwell. He won the woman, and he also won the battle for the church, which means he’s won the war!” I laughed hard.

“He hasn’t won a damn thing!” Maxwell splashed angrily. “I’ve got the senior housing property, and I’m going to make millions on it. So what, I didn’t get the school or the church? I got to drag T. K. through the mud, and I’m still gonna be fucking his wife. Now, get your shit off!” he yelled.

“I ain’t taking off nothing. What part of
we beat you
don’t you understand?”

Maxwell flinched and an expression of pain crossed his face, but he pulled himself together and threatened, “If I were you, I would take my clothes off and get in this tub.”

“Fuck you. Kiss my black ass.” My voice was low, deadly. I was about to turn around and leave.

“If you don’t get in this hot tub, Monique, I will call your husband and tell him everything.” Maxwell motioned furiously. “I know him—he’ll throw your ass out on the street.”

“Go to hell, Maxwell. You can tell him whatever you want. He’s not going to believe you. If he even agreed to talk to you, he
would never believe a word that came out of your mouth. You’ve already proven yourself to be a liar.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure he’d believe the videos I took last time you were here. If I let those tapes out, it will make the Jackie scandal look like a walk in the park. Who wins then?” He gave me an evil grin. “As famous as T. K. is with all his books and DVDs we might even make the
National Enquirer
or TMZ. I always wanted to be a porn star. What about you?”

I felt shock ripple through my system. I had no idea he’d been taping us, but he did get up once and spend a bit of time in his walk-in closet, saying he was looking for some K-Y Jelly. At the time, I’d just been grateful to have a few minutes away from him, but now I realized he could have been fiddling with video equipment in there. Jesus Christ, what had I gotten myself into?

“Now, get your clothes off or go find a good divorce attorney, because you’re gonna need one.”

“You son of a bitch.” I studied his face, realizing I had no choice once again. I reached for the top button on my blouse with tears streaming down my face. “Do you know how much I hate you?”

“You don’t seem to hate me when I climb on top of you,” he said with a smirk.

“I was faking to protect my husband.”

Coldhearted bastard that he was, he completely ignored the distress in my voice and taunted me with, “Hey, why don’t you do a little striptease as you undress?” I wanted to reach over and choke him.

I slowly undid a second button on my blouse, cursing my decision to come over here thinking I could end this whole thing. As my hand moved down to the third button, I considered begging Maxwell for mercy. To my surprise, he was the one who began begging.

He gasped loudly, and then his face tightened. He doubled over and moaned, “Oh, shit! Monique, help … me,” he stammered.

I dropped my hands to my sides and looked at him with fascination. Clearly he was in pain, but I found myself having absolutely
no feelings of sympathy for him. “Why? What’s wrong with you?” I asked unemotionally.

He put his hands over his chest. “Call nine-one-one,” he wheezed, slumping over again. “Please, I need to get out of this hot tub. I need a doctor. It’s my heart.”

I felt a brief impulse to reach over and help him out, but something inside me prevented my hand from touching his. I just stared at him. It did look like he was having a heart attack, but it was as if my feet were glued to the floor.

I was surprised by how calm I felt. If it were T. K., I’d be panicking and doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, because he was my life, but Maxwell …

“I need your help … please …,” Maxwell managed to say between short gasps for air.

“You know, Maxwell, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” I clucked my tongue and shook my head. “Did you even read the health warnings about your favorite little blue pill?”

He reached his hand out to me. “Monique … help me! I don’t … want to die!” he pleaded. I could tell he was struggling to catch his breath. His eyes looked haunted by some inner struggle, but strangely enough, they did nothing to move me.

“The warning says if you have a heart condition, you shouldn’t use Viagra.” I waved my finger at him. “And as for the hot tub, well, that is definitely a no-no for someone with a heart condition.”

I watched Maxwell recoil in pain, but I didn’t budge. It’s a shame when you hate someone that much.

“You know, between the hot tub and that Viagra you’ve been taking, you probably are having a heart attack.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice; it was so cold and flat.

“Go to hell, you … you bitch.” Maxwell’s voice was getting weaker.

“Yes, I am a bitch, and I’m probably going to hell for all that I’ve done and been through, but one thing’s for sure: It looks like you’ll be there before me. Tell Satan hello for me.”

I stayed there and watched as Maxwell slumped over, his body locking into a fetal position and his head going underwater. I waited until the bubbles around his face stopped percolating. He was no longer breathing.

I fixed the buttons on my blouse, put my Coach bag over my shoulder, and headed for the front door, never looking back. I thought about returning to the house and looking for the tapes, but then it came to me. Like everything else, Maxwell was probably lying. He didn’t have any cameras outside his house that I could see. What would make me think he had any inside the house? It was finally over. And the best thing about it was that with Maxwell gone, I didn’t have to tell T. K. a thing.

1. Would you have left your church if you found out the male choir director was sleeping with men in the congregation?
   

2. Were you surprised when Aaron’s first pastor returned to his house, and did you think he was going to shoot him?
   

3. Aaron was paid over seventy-five thousand dollars to come and work for First Jamaica Ministries. Do you think Bishop’s offer was too high?
   

4. Were you shocked by Smitty’s death? And did you think he was murdered?
   

5. Did you think Aaron was going to be gay when you first started reading?
   

6. There was a lot going on in Aaron’s life. Did you think he was doing something criminal when Andrew Gotti kept showing up at the church?
   

7. Do you think Simone was really in love with Aaron?
   

8. What were your feelings about Tia?
   

9. Who was your favorite female character in the book?
   

10. Did you think Maxwell was going to end up being a villain?
    

11. Rank this book from one to ten, with ten being the best.
    

12. Were you shocked by Monique’s actions? Could you sleep with a man to protect the one you love?
    

13. Did you think the bishop might have robbed the church?
    

14. If you were Tia, would you have believed Aaron was a rapist?
    

15. What did you think of James Black, and were you sad that he died?
    

16. Do you think Monique had anything to worry about when she walked out of that house without looking for the tape?
    

17. When it was all said and done, would you have told the bishop about sleeping with Maxwell if you were Monique?
    

18. Would you like to read another book with Aaron Mackie?