Lady Jasmine (14 page)

C
LOSE.
T
HAT’S WHERE
J
ASMINE WANTED
to keep Roxie—close to her. And with the way she was looking today—far from Hosea.

As the woman sat in front of her chatting, Jasmine had a hard time listening. This woman was simply too gorgeous—Halle Berry’s mother, if her mama had been black. Today, her short hair was slicked back instead of spiked. And the crisp white tailored shirt and blue jeans that she wore would have been simple on anyone else. But on Roxie, casual became couture.

Then there was her makeup—or the fact that she didn’t have any on. But still, her skin glowed, her eyes were bright, and her lips shone.

And like before, Jasmine hated her.

“So after I heard what was going on, I made a list.” Roxie pulled her PDA from her purse and clicked it on. “You and Hosea need to take this church back to the things that made it great. Get these people involved in so many programs, they won’t have time to be in your business. Like the Women’s Forum…what’s going on with that?”

Jasmine rested her arms on her desk. “What’s the Women’s Forum?”

“Are you kidding, First Lady? The Women’s Forum has been
a big event for City of Lights. You’ve never attended?”

Jasmine shook her head.

“It takes place during the summer, and it’s simply wonderful: all kinds of speakers come in to lecture about finances, jobs, fitness…this list goes on. But I haven’t heard anything about it this year. I think Mrs. Whittingham usually handles it.” She lowered her voice, and added, “But frankly, First Lady, that should be your project.”

That made Jasmine smile. In the week since Mrs. Whittingham had insulted her in the new-members class, the two hadn’t exchanged a single glance or a solitary word. But now Jasmine imagined marching up to Mrs. Whittingham and telling her that her services were no longer needed.

“Is there a Men’s Forum?”

Roxie shook her head. “Not at this point, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

Jasmine said, “Maybe we can combine the two.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about, First Lady. The more programs the better.”

Jasmine nodded, thought some more. And then another idea. “What about something like a First Lady Appreciation Day?”

“Well,” Roxie began with a grin, “I don’t know. Have you been a first lady long enough?”

“Please! Does length of time matter?” She stood, walked around her desk, paced the length of the room. “An event like this could really help me introduce myself to the women of this church.”

Roxie leaned back in the chair, smiled, and nodded. “Well, if it works for you, it’ll work for me. I can handle that, because the first lady shouldn’t plan her own day.”

That was all it took for Jasmine to like her again.

“So,” Roxie stood up, “I guess this means we’ll be working together.”

Jasmine stopped moving. Today, she’d worn her very best
St. John pantsuit—the black, slimming one—knowing that she was going to be sharing the same space with Roxie. But as Jasmine looked her up and down, not even St. John had been enough.

Then she thought about the woman’s money. And the First Lady’s Appreciation Day.

“Yes, definitely,” Jasmine said, shaking Roxie’s hand. Walking back behind her desk, she added, “I hope you understand why I was so hesitant.”

Roxie held up her hand. “Trust me, I understand. In your position, you have to be careful about who you bring in. Okay, what about if I come into the office…three days a week to start. And of course, any time you need more, that’ll be fine.”

The shadow outside her office made Jasmine frown, pause. And a second later, she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” she growled.

Jerome Viceroy’s grin spread across his face. “So good to see you, too, Lady Jasmine.”

“I said—”

“He’s with me.” Roxie stood up, and Jerome kissed her cheek.

The voice!

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Roxie said. “We’re finished here, right?”

It felt like it took a million muscles for Jasmine to nod her head.

“Okay, well,” Roxie swung her bag over her shoulder, “we’ll start tomorrow…around ten?”

Again, all Jasmine did was nod.

She watched them walk out the door and before they stepped into the hallway, Jerome looked back over his shoulder, licked his lips. “You have a nice day now, ya hear?”

Once they were gone, Jasmine fell into her chair. That was who she’d heard in the background the other night: Jerome
Viceroy. Roxie was in bed with Jerome—literally. That was how she knew what was going on in the church. And that was why she was pushing to get close to her.

Roxie must’ve thought she was a fool! Jerome Viceroy was clearly the enemy. And anyone who was sleeping with the enemy couldn’t be a friend of hers.

S
OMETIMES MEN COULD BE SO
naïve.

That was Jasmine’s thought as she kissed Hosea’s cheek, then jumped from the SUV. She watched her husband hook a left turn and then head south toward the hospital.

“Tell Roxie I said hello,” was the last thing he’d said.

She was going to say hello to Roxie all right, and then say good-bye as she pointed her toward the door.

Hosea’s words remained in her head as she stepped toward the church.

“You should still work with Roxie.”

This was after she’d told him about Roxie and Jerome and it being Jerome’s voice she’d heard on the call. But Hosea’s response was that Roxie’s life wasn’t their business.

“I don’t agree,” she’d said. “They’re probably…sleeping together. And they’re not married. How can we have her working for us when she acts like that?”

Hosea had looked at his wife as if he wanted her to really think about what she’d said. “Do I have to remind you that you weren’t always saved?”

After Hosea had said that, Jasmine had stopped talking. She wasn’t about to argue when there wasn’t a word he could
say or a deed he could do to convince her to let Roxie stay. She would have banned her from the Sunday services, if she could.

Mrs. Whittingham looked up when Jasmine stepped inside the church. But then the woman did what she always did. She snatched back her smile and lowered her head.

And Jasmine did what
she
always did—rolled her eyes and stomped right past the desk.

Usually her mind was filled with thoughts of ways she could get rid of Mrs. Whittingham, but right now all she could think about was what she was going to say to Roxie when she arrived. She swung open her office door.

“Good morning!” Roxie exclaimed.

Jasmine stood with her mouth opened.

Roxie sat behind her desk, a yellow pad in front of her. “I was making a list of all the things I want to get started on. I was thinking about—”

“I didn’t expect you until ten,” Jasmine said, moving toward her.

Roxie chuckled as she edged around to the other side so that Jasmine could sit down. “One of the things you’ll learn about me, First Lady, is that I’m very serious about whatever I do. After I thought about it, ten seemed too late. We have so much to organize—the Women’s Forum, your appreciation day, and—”

“I’ve decided that we won’t be working together.”

“What?” Roxie’s eyes blinked as if she didn’t understand. “Why?”

Because your friend is my enemy.
“I really don’t feel comfortable not paying you—”

“First Lady—”

Jasmine held up her hand. “I know what you said, but this is about me and how I feel.”

Roxie peered at Jasmine for a long moment. “Is this about
Jerome?”

Jasmine stared right back. “Do you know what he’s been up to with my husband?”

“If you’re talking about his trying to pressure Hosea into selling the church, yes, I know. But that doesn’t have a thing to do with me.”

“So you don’t agree with Jerome?”

“Actually, I do. I think it might be time to move City of Lights out of Harlem. But it’s Hosea’s call, and as your armor bearer, I would support you.” She paused, but Jasmine said nothing. Roxie continued, “This shouldn’t have a thing to do with you and me.”

“You’re wrong about that. Because anyone who doesn’t support my husband cannot be a friend of mine.”

Roxie folded her arms and stood steadfast, as if she planned to stay.

Jasmine continued, “Thank you, but—” And then she stopped. She’d said enough.

At first, Roxie moved without a word. Grabbed her purse, slowly slipped the strap onto her shoulder. “You know, the first thing a pastor’s wife needs to know is who’s on her side. And you don’t have a lot of friends here,
Lady Jasmine.”
Slowly, she switched her hips toward the door, as if she wanted Jasmine to get a good look. Then she stopped suddenly.

Jasmine rolled her eyes, not feeling the fight that was coming.

But when Roxie turned around, all she did was slip an envelope from her shirt pocket. “I forgot. This is for you. It was on the floor when I came in, looked like someone slid it underneath the door.”

Jasmine took the envelope from Roxie and glanced at her typewritten name on the front. She frowned, but when she noticed Roxie still standing over her, she tucked the envelope into
her purse, said, “Thank you.” And then she folded her hands in her lap and stared at Roxie until the woman finally walked out the door.

How was she supposed to work with someone she didn’t trust?

That was the point she was going to make to Hosea when she finally told him what she’d done with Roxie. She didn’t really care how Hosea reacted. Roxie was out of the way.

Jerome may have sent his girlfriend to do his dirt, but they all needed to recognize the truth—Hosea wasn’t going anywhere.

Jasmine dismissed thoughts of her enemies when she stepped into the elevator and pressed the 3 button. As the chamber ascended, she did what she always did when she was about to see her father-in-law—said a quick prayer that today would be the day. She imagined walking into his room and seeing him awake and well. Then taking him home with her and Hosea, where she would take care of him. When the elevator doors opened, Jasmine said, “Amen.”

With hope in her heart, she turned the corner and then…

Flashback!

At the end of the hall, there was Hosea. With Ivy. And she had her arms around his neck.

The two were too far away for her to hear the words they exchanged, but when Ivy turned toward Jasmine, she jumped out of the girl’s sight until she heard her footsteps come closer. Jasmine stepped from her hiding place and blocked Ivy’s path.

“Oh, Jasmine!” Ivy giggled. “You scared me.”

“Did I?” But she didn’t wait for a response. “Let me ask you something, Ivy, why’re you always hanging around here?”

The woman’s thick eyebrows bunched into a unibrow. “I’m here for Hosea. We’ve been friends since—”

Jasmine held up her hand, her palm, barely an inch from
Ivy’s face. “Save that story.”

“Well, then,” she squeaked, “you know that I’m here supporting him. I brought him a couple of sandwiches and a soda and—”

“Let me break this down for you; Hosea doesn’t need your support or your food. He’s my husband, and anything he needs I’ll get for him.”

She almost cracked up when Ivy’s eyes widened so much, Jasmine thought she might bust a vessel. But Jasmine saw only surprise, not fear. So she took another step closer.

It was a bit of a shocker when Ivy didn’t back away, but that didn’t matter. She was tired of playing; when she finished, many months would pass before Ivy stepped to Hosea again.

“So are we clear?” Jasmine hissed. “You won’t be coming back.”

A pause. Then, “And if I do?”

This time, it was Jasmine who stepped back.

“I’m not walking away from Hosea,” Ivy said, the squeaky voice gone. In its place was a deep tone that came from her throat. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and you need to find a way to deal with it.”

Then the pip-squeak of a woman moved as if she was a foot taller. Marched around Jasmine, pressed the elevator button, and got inside the chamber.

She never looked back to see that, this time, she was the one who left Jasmine standing in the middle of the hallway with her mouth opened wide.

I
T HAD BEEN THE LONGEST
day.

Roxie and Ivy had left her with a raging headache and a rumbling stomach.

“Go on in and lie down,” Hosea said as he opened the door to their apartment.

He knew she wasn’t feeling well. The moment she’d entered his father’s hospital room earlier, Hosea had taken a single look at her and knew something was up. But when he’d asked her about it, she’d lied and claimed it was headache. Or a stomachache. Anything rather than tell him the truth about Ivy.

But that was the problem with lying—God had turned her lie into her truth. And now her head throbbed and her stomach was doing somersaults.

“I’ll check on Jacquie,” Hosea said as they stopped in front of their bedroom. “Then I’ll be in to check on you.” He pressed his lips against her cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” she said. “Give her a kiss for me.”

Inside their master suite, Jasmine dumped her purse on the
bed. For a moment, she ignored the keys and papers that spilled from her bag, but then her glance went to the envelope that Roxie had given her this morning.

She’d forgotten about that and picked it up now. She frowned again like she’d done the first time she’d looked at her name—Jasmine Larson—on the front. It was weird—clearly her name had been typed, not printed. And she wondered why there was no mention of her married name. Only Mae Frances referred to her that way.

She slid open the top, unfolded the paper.

Get your husband to step down from the pulpit or else everyone will know what you did in the summer of 1983.

The summer of 1983!

Jasmine could hardly stand up with the way her heart sledged through her chest.

“Darlin’?”

With glazed eyes, she looked up. She wanted to tear the paper into a million pieces before he saw it.

“What’s wrong?”

She squeezed her legs, sucked in her lips, took a breath. All to stop her trembling. All to no avail.

“No…nothing.” Gently, she folded the paper she held, praying the move made no sound. What she really wanted to do was dance a jig so that his eyes would stay on her and he wouldn’t notice the note. But fear had her fettered.

He frowned. “It has to be something; you’re shaking.”

“I just…” And then she held the back of her hand to her forehead. Closed her eyes. Took shallow breaths. Fell back onto the bed. All with the drama of one of the
Young and the Restless
divas. “I think…I think…I think I have a fever!” she exclaimed as melodramatically as she could.

At first he chuckled, as if he knew it was a performance. But then his eyes got small with concern—like maybe she was
delirious, and it was delirium that had her acting like she was a soap star.

Jasmine held her breath when he started walking toward her. Said a prayer that he wouldn’t ask about the paper that was grasped inside her fist. Then, in case God didn’t answer her, she began to form her Plan B—a good lie.

When he placed his hand right above her eyes, doing his own check for a fever, she exhaled and remembered. This was her husband; Hosea cared only about her, not some paper. Knowing him, he hadn’t even noticed.

“You feel a little warm. Get in bed, and I’ll bring you some tea.”

“Thanks so much, babe.” Carefully, she leaned over, picked up her purse, and tucked the blackmail letter inside.

“What’s that?”

She wasn’t sure what was hammering harder—her heart or her head. All she hoped was that he couldn’t hear the sound of either crashing through her skin. “What’s what?” she asked, with the innocence of a woman wearing a halo.

“What you were reading?”

“Oh, nothing.” She turned away so that he wouldn’t see the truth on her face. She stuffed the note deep into her purse. If he wanted to see what she was reading now, he’d have to fight her for it.

He stood, waiting for her to say more.

She added to her lie. “It’s just a note from Malik. He wants me to help him with—” She turned back to Hosea, held one hand to her head again while her other hand grasped her purse strap so tight, she constricted her blood from flowing to her hand. “Do you think I might be coming down with the flu?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his concern back to where it was supposed to be. “Let me get the tea.”

She didn’t move a step until he was out of her sight, and then
she dashed into her closet. What she really wanted to do was sleep with her purse close by her side. But that would be hard to explain. So she stuffed the bag deep into the darkest corner. And then she piled six shoe boxes on top.

Even when she came out, she couldn’t keep her eyes away from the spot where her secret was buried.

Who had found out? Who knew about the only time of her life that filled her with shame? Who, for God’s sake, had found out that she used to be a stripper?