Fortune & Fame: A Novel (23 page)

Rachel squeezed their hands, comforted that these women of God weren’t judging her.

“Thank you, sisters,” Rachel said as Jasmine took her arm and led her toward the door. They passed Nathan and Mary. Mary wouldn’t look her in the eyes and that slimeball was grinning like he’d hit the jackpot.

“You won’t get my son. Ever,” Rachel said, as Jasmine lightly tugged her arm.

Chauncey followed them out the door and it was Jasmine who actually turned to him and said, “Enough.”

It must’ve been the tone of her voice because he stopped, then glanced back at Natasia, who had walked out as well. Jasmine scowled at Natasia and repeated, “I said, enough.”

Natasia did a small eye roll but gave Chauncey the cue to stop filming, which he did.

Rachel didn’t know how she made it over to the waiting town car, but she did. Jasmine helped her into the car and the door had barely closed before she released another river of tears.

“Come on,” Jasmine said, sliding in the other side. “You’re better than this. Don’t let them do this. You know it’s all for the show. They will not get your child.”

“They have money, too. What if they hire top-notch lawyers?”

“But they don’t have Mae Frances.”

Rachel sniffed. As much as she despised that old woman, if anyone could fix this, Mae Frances could.

“Didn’t you just get through preaching about faith?” Jasmine asked, a small smile across her face.

Rachel returned her smile.

“Heed your own words,” Jasmine continued. “What’s impossible for man, is possible with God. And Mae Frances.”

Rachel finally managed a small chuckle. “I missed that addendum to the Bible.”

“It’s not in there, but it should be.” Jasmine moved toward the door. “I’m going to go talk to Mae Frances now. She’s still not feeling well, but I’m going to bring her up to speed. You go home, you talk to Lester, and then you meet me at my place at eight o’clock.”

Just then, Mary and Nathan walked outside. He had the nerve to look jovial as he dragged Mary toward their car.

“You should’ve let me kill her.” Rachel’s hand reached for the door. “You know what? I’m just going to go talk to her.”

Jasmine stopped her. “No, you’re not. You’re going to go
home, talk to your husband, then meet me at eight o’clock. Okay?”

Rachel slowly let her hand fall off the door handle. “Fine.”

“Home, Rachel.”

“I said, okay.”

They stared at each other for a moment, then Jasmine did the unexpected, and reached over and hugged Rachel. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Jasmine had just opened the car door when Rachel added, “I’m sorry I didn’t immediately help with Natasia.”

Jasmine smiled. “It’s okay. You’re going to help now.”

“I am,” Rachel said. “We’re going to help each other.”

Jasmine exited and Rachel sat for a minute. Finally, the driver said, “Where to?”

Rachel leaned back against the plush leather seat. One part of her wanted to follow Nathan and Mary and have the driver run them off the road or into the path of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler, but instead she simply said, “You can take me home.”

On the drive to her house, Rachel called her husband. Initially, he was shocked. Then hurt. And when he cried, she cried. They talked the whole ride home, with him trying to assure her that everything would be all right. But it was the shakiness in his voice that told her he wasn’t so sure.

That’s why when the driver dropped Rachel off at home, instead of going inside, Rachel pulled out her car keys, got into her leased Range Rover, and pulled out of the driveway. Yes, she had promised Jasmine she was going home . . . and she would, right after she had a serious face-to-face with Mary Richardson Frazier.

T
hat was a complete and utter disaster.

Mary nursed her jaw, still dumbfounded that Rachel had hit her. She knew Rachel could be ghetto, but she was a First Lady, after all. Mary assumed that Rachel would’ve taken that into account before getting violent. But Rachel had thrown all decorum to the wind and charged her like a raging bull.

Mary cut her eyes at her husband. He was on his cell phone, yapping away, telling one of his friends what had just happened. That bastard hadn’t even asked if she was okay.

“Man, you should’ve seen the look on that woman’s face when they gave her the papers. . . . Oh, you’ll see it. It will probably be the number one YouTube clip once it airs.” He laughed hard. “I love it!”

Mary glared at her husband and he finally noticed. “Yo, Deacon, let me call you back.”

Nathan pressed the button to end the call, then turned to face Mary. “What is your problem?”

Mary had been completely against serving those papers publicly, but Nathan had been adamant that they needed to do it this
way. “Rachel will lose it and it will elicit more sympathy for you,” he had said. Those women surrounding Rachel like she was their wronged daughter didn’t seem to have an ounce of sympathy for Mary. If anything, she now felt like some kind of pariah.

“I just think this whole thing was unnecessary,” she admitted.

“That’s why I do the thinking in this relationship,” he casually replied.

Mary noticed the driver pulling up in front of their home. “I thought we were going to get Alvin.”

“Nah, we can just get him from my mom tomorrow.” Nathan got out of the car and headed up the walkway, not bothering to help her out.

Mary sighed, then followed him inside. Nathan was already at the refrigerator getting a beer. That was another thing she wasn’t feeling. She knew ministers drank occasionally, but Nathan drank a six pack a day. If he was such a man of God, shouldn’t he limit his beer intake?

She decided against addressing the beer issue—it’s not like he listened any of the other times she said anything about it. “If we’re a family now, Alvin doesn’t need to be living with your parents. He hates it over there.”

Nathan closed the refrigerator, then popped the top on his beer. “Oh, so now you’re worried about being a family?” He took a swig. “You weren’t worried when Rachel was being served.”

Mary knew that was coming. He’d wanted to make that into a major show and she had flat-out refused. “What did you want me to do, Nathan?”

“I wanted you to do what we talked about. You were supposed to be right there next to her so you could’ve been in the shot together,” he replied. “It’s bad enough they didn’t serve her during the actual church service, but you messed the plan all the way up.”

She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Nathan would be livid to learn that she had actually asked the process server to come during the reception. What they were doing was bad enough. She just couldn’t see having the server walk up into the sanctuary and hand Rachel those papers.

“It’s just wrong to make such a spectacle of someone’s heartache,” she said.

“I don’t get you,” Nathan said, leaning against the refrigerator. “When I met you, you were a washed-up criminal doing hard time.”

“And you were the one that helped me turn my life around,” she said. “You were the one that helped me find God. Your whole ministry.”

He waved her off. “Whatever, Mary. If I had known you were going to turn into Dolly Do-Right, I would’ve left you in the pen.”

That comment stung, but Mary was tired of arguing. “You could at least ask if I’m okay,” she finally said.

“Please. That little punch couldn’t have done you any harm.” He laughed. “Although it did look like it hurt. If you could’ve seen if from my vantage point, whew! She knocked you out like Tyson did Holyfield.”

“Glad you can find some humor in all of this.” Mary folded her arms and turned her back to him.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.” Nathan eased up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “When you have your son back and we’re all one big happy family and Pleasant City’s membership is through the roof to the point that we have to build another church, then you’ll thank me.”

Mary doubted that but she didn’t feel like discussing this with him anymore.

“I’m going to go work on Sunday’s sermon,” he said. “Maybe I’ll preach on how sons belong with their mothers. That’s a good idea, don’t you think?”

She nodded. “Yes, it’s a great idea.” She would say anything just to get him to leave.

Nathan kissed her on the cheek—the sore one—and she grimaced from the pain and the contempt that was starting to fill her heart.

Mary made her way over to a drawer, pulled out a baggie, and filled it with ice. She used to think that her ex-boyfriend Craig, her son’s real father, was bad. He was a serial con artist. If there was a scam to be run, Craig was the man to do it. His hustle and the life of crime they were leading had gotten on her nerves and they’d broken up. But she was starting to think that Nathan made Craig look good. At least Craig never claimed to be a man of God. At least Craig never put his hands on her.

She shook off thoughts of her ex. She hadn’t talked to him since the day she testified against him in court.

Mary had just put the ice pack on her cheek when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out and frowned at the number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Mary?”

Her heart raced at the sound of Lester’s voice.

“Yes?” she said, lowering her voice as she opened the screen door and stepped out onto the back porch.

“It’s Lester.”

Mary’s eyes darted over her shoulder. She knew she should just hang up, but her heart raced at the sound of Lester’s voice. Mary didn’t know if it was fear, or the fact that deep down, she knew that she still loved this man.

“I know who it is,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me,” Lester replied. “Are you seriously trying to take Lester Jr.?”

The fact that he’d used her son’s real name made her want to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“How could you do this?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory or demeaning. That’s the way Lester had always been with her. She’d been hired to seduce him and she’d fallen head over heels in love because he was the first man to ever make her feel worthy.

“It’s just . . . Nathan . . . he’s the one, he thinks—he thinks my son belongs with us,” Mary stammered.

“This is devastating to Rachel. To me,” Lester continued. “Why are you doing it?”

“I don’t mean to hurt you, Lester. I—” Mary turned around and dropped the phone at the sight of her husband standing right in front of her, glaring at her through the screen door.

Nathan didn’t say a word as he opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, and picked up the phone. “Rev. Adams, how are you today?” he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. “Yes, I understand that, but in the future, if you have any correspondence whatsoever, you need to talk to our attorney. And if you can’t get our attorney, you need to talk to me. What you
won’t
be doing is talking to my wife. Got that? You have a blessed day.” He hung up the phone and turned and glared at Mary, who had followed him back inside.

“I-I’m sorry. H-he just call—” Before she could get the word out, she felt the sting of the back of Nathan’s hand across the same cheek where Rachel had just cold-cocked her.

“You’re going to stand in my house and talk to another man?” he bellowed. “Have you lost your mind?”

Mary grabbed her face and slid to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she cried.

“I don’t want to hear your tired apologies.” He kicked her. As his wingtipped shoe connected with her side, she let out an agonizing scream. “Don’t you ever disrespect me in my own house.”

“Y-you said you wouldn’t ever put your hands on me again,” she sobbed.

“That’s before I knew you’d be talking to your ex in my
kitchen.” He paced back and forth across the kitchen, his fury on full blaze.

“I’m doing all of this for you, and this is how you repay me?” Nathan reached down, picked her up by her collar, and slammed her against the wall. “I should’ve left you on the dirty jailhouse steps where I found your trailer-park ass. The next time I come in here and find you talking to another man, will be your last time.” He pushed his forearm against her throat. Mary thought she was going to black out. “Don’t let the bible talk fool you. In my former life, I was a thug and I will fu—” He caught himself, then slowly lowered her as he adjusted her blouse. “See how you make me act. Whew!” He blew a tight breath. “Disrespect me again and see what happens.” He tossed Mary to the floor like she was a rag doll. She lay there weeping as she heard those awful wingtipped shoes click away. She was in a lot of pain, but she knew she needed to get up. She had to get dinner started before he acted an even bigger fool.

Mary reached up to grab the counter and pull herself up. That’s when she noticed the figure at the screen door. Staring at her from the other side, her mouth hanging open in shock, was Rachel Jackson Adams.

D
arlin’, are you still sure about this?” Hosea asked her.

With the phone pressed to her ear, Jasmine rolled her eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Hosea what was going on. “Definitely; the majority of the show has been good.” That’s what she said aloud. But inside, scenes where she and Rachel or Rachel and Mary had gotten into it scrolled through her mind. If this show wasn’t edited right,
First Ladies
could end up looking as ratchet as any of the other reality shows. But she kept on trying to convince Hosea. “And you can’t blame the show for what Mary and that SOB did to Rachel and Lester.”

“Jasmine!”

“What?”

“Even though I don’t approve of what Reverend Frazier did, that language . . .”

“What? All I said was SOB. That stands for . . . son of a butcher. Yeah, that’s what it stands for. I heard somewhere that Reverend Frazier’s father was a butcher.”

“Yeah, okay. But I have to agree with you; what the Fraziers
did was foul. I’ll give Lester a call after this meeting this afternoon.”

“I know he’ll be glad to hear from you. Anyway, enough about the show. I miss you. And so do Jacquie and Zaya.”

He chuckled. “I just left this morning.”