Authors: Carl Weber
Tags: #Fiction / African American - Contemporary Women, #Fiction / Contemporary Women, #Fiction / African American - General
The Man in 3B (40 page)
The last bridesmaid was being led by John Nixon, or Pippie as we called him. One of my friends from Virginia, Pippie wasn’t the most attractive brother you’d ever wanna meet, but he’d been there for me when no one else was, including Ross. That’s one of the reasons why I’d asked the bishop to give him a job upon his recent release from prison. Being the janitor at First Jamaica wasn’t what I would call a high-achieving job, but Pippie was grateful.
Once everyone had taken their places in the front, all eyes were on the matron of honor, who happened to be none other than First Lady Monique Wilson, wife of the bishop. It was no surprise that Tia chose her to be the matron of honor. She’d been a good friend to both me and my wife-to-be.
To distinguish her from the bridesmaids, Monique wore a hat made out of the same material as her dress—which was custom-made to accentuate her very large breasts and rather grand rear. If she was anyone else, I would have sworn she was trying to upstage Tia, but I knew Monique well enough to understand that she wasn’t doing anything but being herself. She was definitely like no other first lady you’d ever meet.
Monique took her place across from Ross, and then I knew the time had come. The flower girl had dropped her last petal, and the doors to the church sanctuary had closed. I glanced over at my mother, who blew me a kiss as she stood with the rest of the guests, and the first strains of the “Wedding March” began.
So far, everything had gone just as I expected, and the butterflies in my stomach had settled—that is, until the time stretched on into a second and third repeat of the “Wedding March” and still no sign of my bride. I felt the butterflies taking up flight again.
I glanced at the bishop, who was looking at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged. Bishop turned to Ross, who also shrugged.
We all looked to the first lady.
“Where is she? I thought she was going to ride in the limo with you guys,” I whispered to Monique.
“She did,” Monique whispered back. “She stayed in the limo with her brother when we got out. I sent the driver back to get them right before I came through the doors.”
“Then where is she?”
I glanced over at my mother and then at the crowd. People were starting to get restless, some sitting back down and others mumbling their confusion to each other, looking around as if they’d find the bride somewhere other than coming down the main aisle. I’m sure everyone was wondering the same thing I was: Where was my bride?
God, this can’t be happening. Tia wouldn’t leave me at the altar, would she?
“Everybody just relax,” Ross said to the group assembled in front. “You know how women are. She’ll make her grand entrance and get the reaction she’s hoping for. Just chill.”
I tried to buy into his confidence. “Yeah, man. Yeah, you’re right,” I said, loosening up my shoulders and then cracking my neck.
Once again, I turned my attention to the closed sanctuary doors. By now the organist was on her fourth or fifth repetition of the “Wedding March.”
Finally, the sanctuary doors opened. I felt a momentary rush of relief when I spotted Tia’s brother Kareem. He was the one escorting Tia down the aisle to give her away.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, and my heartbeat slowed down a little, until I saw Kareem striding toward the front—alone. The noise from the guests in attendance was no longer a whisper, but more like a frenzied buzzing. I didn’t pay attention to them, though. I was focused on Kareem. As he got closer, I could see the expression on his face, and I knew it meant nothing good.
He came up the steps and stood in front of me. “Look, Aaron, man, I’m sorry.” Dude could barely look me in the eyes.
“Sorry about what?” I gave a nervous laugh.
“She’s gone,” Kareem said.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Bishop’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he was still clearly taking charge of the situation. I was glad for that because I sure couldn’t. As weak as my knees felt, I was lucky I was still standing.
“She’s gone as in she’s not here. She’s not at the church,” Kareem answered.
I looked to Monique. “You said she rode in the limo.”
“She did,” Monique said, looking confused.
“Then what—where…?” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I grabbed my forehead as I felt a splitting headache coming on.
“I’m sorry, man. She left.” Kareem apologized again. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
I stared off at nothing in particular. “Tell me she’s coming back. That’s what you can tell me. I thought she loved me. I thought she wanted to marry me.”
What was I supposed to do now?
THER
N
OVELS BY
C
ARL
W
EBER
Lookin’ for Luv
Married Men
Baby Mama Drama
Player Haters
The Preacher’s Son
So You Call Yourself a Man
The First Lady
Something on the Side
Up to No Good
Big Girls Do Cry
Torn Between Two Lovers
The Choir Director
She Ain’t the One
with Mary B. Morrison
The Family Business
with Eric Pete
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A Preview of
The Choir Director 2: Runaway Bride
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Carl Weber
Reading Group Guide Copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
An excerpt from
The Choir Director 2: Runaway Bride
Copyright © 2013 by Carl Weber
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ISBN 978-1-4555-0523-4
