Sex in the Sanctuary (15 page)

King looked around inconspicuously as he left April’s condo. Not that he thought he’d see anyone he knew; April lived in a very suburban area. He felt certain few if any from the church even knew of the complex’s existence.

He hit the car alarm/unlock mechanism on his key chain and opened the door, pulling off his suit coat before getting inside. He was tired, yet rejuvenated. This was his first time being with April in almost a month, and she’d let him know in no uncertain terms how much she’d missed him. That made him smile. One thing about April, she turned him on in every possible way and would do anything he asked to please him. Anything.

Some of the things she’d done occupied his mind as he turned onto the boulevard and headed for the freeway. April had been a roaring flame that could not be doused. She’d literally begged him to stay the night, although he’d explained to her that that would never be possible.
Not yet anyway.
And just what did he mean by that? King pondered the thought for a moment. Could he really see himself with April on a
more permanent basis? He thought of her walking in as first lady of Mt. Zion and of the probable looks on some of the members’ faces, such as Sistah Stokes and Sistah Wanthers, and laughed out loud.
I’d really get a chance to see them prove their unconditional, Christian love.
He laughed again. No, he honestly couldn’t say that he loved April that way. He admitted to a deep, deep affection and immense attraction, but to divorce Tai and marry her? Granted, she moved him in a way he hadn’t been moved in a long time, but there were more things to consider than his physical pleasure. But was it just sex? He thought about the conversations he and April had, about life and the world, society and finance. April was very bright, the daughter of a banking executive, and she’d grown up having and knowing how to handle money. At twenty-seven she’d already traveled extensively and seemed well informed on societal issues. No, it wasn’t just a physical thing; April stimulated both heads.

So what was it, then? Why could he not see himself going to the next level with her by his side? Well, for one thing, April was totally ignorant of church matters in general and the Black church in particular. True, he’d been sharing parts of that aspect of his life in the months they’d been seeing each other, but he dared not invite her to the church. And with good reason—as thoughts of the Italian bistro confrontation flashed into his mind. At least he had that much sense. He didn’t want his woman and his wife in the same church at the same time. By his invitation, no less. But somehow, April did need the benefits of a church setting, fellowship with other believers. Was it really fair of him to deny that part of God to someone he loved?
Loved?
Where had that come from? Did he really love April? He deliberated on that thought for a moment and, drawing no concrete conclusions, moved on to other thoughts, like his mama. She’d demanded he end the affair. He’d refused, told her it was his life.

Besides, she hadn’t said anything that he didn’t already
know. He knew how Tai loved him. He knew how hard a divorce would be on the kids. He knew the ministry might suffer if he started openly seeing April, even after a divorce. “What are you thinking?” she’d barked at him. Her words played in his head like a song he couldn’t forget.
I raised you better than that, and Negro, as long as you Black, you bet not think of bringing this kind of shame on the family! I didn’t raise no fool, so for the love of God, stop acting like one!
That was when he’d walked out of the room, not stopping until he was in his car and heading down the drive. They’d spoken little since.

His thoughts turned to Tai. She’d moved out of the master bedroom, and he wasn’t surprised. At least this time it was just out of the bedroom; the times with Tootie and Karen one of them had left the house. He felt too guilty to take the lead and encourage the candid conversation that was needed between them. What was there to say except, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” He knew that was the right thing to do. At times he felt horrible about being with April. He still loved Tai. He’d known her more than half his life, how could he not? They’d been through a lot together, built a life together. But he was cheating on her. Why? Because April brought an excitement, an edge, to his life. Something had been missing, and she filled it. April made him feel good.

King didn’t know what to do. Was it better to let things ride and hope that one day Tai would get over it and forgive him? Forget April ever happened? Put the past behind her like she had before? No, for some reason, this time felt different. Tai was different these days, more confident, more sure of herself. These were things that should have made King proud, but they served only to make him more uneasy. He wondered what she was really thinking, but at the same time was almost afraid to find out.

King thought of April again. He’d reprimanded her fiercely for making the scene at the church before he went to Cleveland, and his not seeing her for almost a month was her pun
ishment, even though he, too, had felt the emptiness of her absence. She seemed to have gotten the message. She’d tried to justify her behavior but eventually became contrite; assuring him that it had been only her frustration at his not returning her phone calls that had led to such drastic measures. She knew he was married and not always available. Things would have to be on his terms or on no terms at all. She promised never to do anything so foolish again. Then she’d ducked down beneath the sheets and made him forget that he was ever angry with her, using her mouth to say things that words could never convey.

King exited the freeway and entered the subdivision where he and Tai had lived for almost ten years. He decided that after this stalemate, it was time for a real conversation. He was the man of the house, and he couldn’t let things continue the way they’d been going indefinitely. He needed to know where her head was, what she was thinking. Shoot, he didn’t even know what
he
was thinking. How could he be sure what was on
her
mind? At any rate, they needed to talk—she was his wife after all. And even with all that was going on, he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.

“Maybe tonight,” he said aloud as he turned down his street. Without warning, a picture of April, all sexy and spicy in the black lace teddy he’d purchased, along with garter belt and hose, swam before his eyes. “No, my mind is too distracted,” he decided with a grim smile. “I dealt with April tonight; I’ll deal with Tai tomorrow.” He punched the garage door opener and saw that the choice might not be his to make. Tai’s SUV was nowhere in sight.
Tai knows she should be at home!
King frowned, totally forgetting that he himself was just pulling in the driveway. He muttered indignantly as he reached for his briefcase before closing the door.
Tai needs to remember that she’s a wife and mother first, that nothing is more important than that.

King’s anger continued as he opened the door and felt rather than heard the driving drumbeats of hip-hop music. Lights were on everywhere. He walked through the kitchen and into the den where Timothy and Tabitha were playing videos.

“Go tell Princess to turn that music off…NOW!” King’s uncharacteristic bellow caused both kids to jump.

“Ooh, Daddy, you scared me,” Tabitha said as Timothy flew by her and bounded up the stairs to happily deliver his father’s command. “What’s the matter?”

King took a deep breath, tossing his briefcase on the well-worn couch and taking off his jacket. “Where’s your mother?” He answered Tabitha’s question with one of his own. The booming bass stopped suddenly, and the house once again stood still.

“She left.”

King’s heart stopped. Just quit beating. Anger quickly turned into something else. His worst fear was being realized—and he hadn’t even known it was his worst fear. “What do you mean, left?”

“She said she needed some time to herself and to call Jan if there was an emergency. She said we had to go to bed at ten ’cuz she might be out late.”

King’s heart started beating again—even as he thought about what Tabitha just said.
Call Jan in case of an emergency? Not me? Not their dad?
Fear turned back to anger.

“Why does Mama need time to herself, Daddy?” Tabitha turned large, probing eyes on him, her head cocked slightly to the left. Suddenly she looked older than her years, and King felt older than his.

“I don’t know, baby.” King searched his mind for a logical explanation, knowing that that was the only kind that would fly with Tabitha. “Maybe so she could hear herself think over that loud music.”

“The music wasn’t on when she left, Daddy,” Princess said as she and Timothy bounded down the steps. She leaned down to give King a kiss before heading into the kitchen.

“That music was way too loud, Princess. I don’t want to come in here and hear it at that volume again. Do you understand me?”

Princess poked her head out the kitchen door. She wasn’t used to her father speaking to her harshly. “Yes, sir.”

“Why you mad, Dad?” Timothy sat down next to his father. Tabitha gave an I-told-you-that-you-were-mad look to King before turning back to the television.

King had had enough. Yes, he was mad, and no, he wouldn’t discuss it. So he shifted the focus to Tai. “Where’d your mama go? She knows better than to walk off and leave you guys by yourself.”

“We’re not babies, Daddy,” Princess said as she reentered the room with a soda and bag of chips. “Besides, Mama never goes out. She looked good, too—new outfit and everything.”

Now, where in the hell did she go all dressed up?
King grabbed his briefcase and jacket and headed toward the stairs. As he trudged up, he erased the instant images of Tai out with another man. Even as they ran across his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that he, someone who had just left his mistress’s house in general, and bed in particular, could even think to question Tai’s whereabouts. She was probably just visiting some sick and shut-in church member, or over to his mother’s.

Tai laughed so hard her sides hurt. She grabbed another handful of popcorn and followed it with a long swig of Coke. She looked over at Sandy, who was laughing, almost crying, while eyeing Tai with a satisfied gleam in her eye. “It’s good to hear your laugh again, woman!” she said between chuckles.

“It’s good to laugh,” Tai said as the crowd roared their ap
proval of the Clean Comedy Monday stand-up comedian. “You don’t know the half.”

“Well, like I said, you ran across my mind today,” Sandy continued, both of them enjoying the reprieve as one comedian left and pop music filled the room until the next performer took the stage. “I haven’t talked to you in forever, but we had some good times when you were at Sprint. I can’t believe we haven’t stayed in better touch. But then I knew you were busy, with the church and your family and everything.”

“Well, let me just tell you. I’m glad you thought of me, delighted you called and thrilled to be sitting here. I didn’t even know they had clean comedians like this. I mean, I always loved Sinbad, but I haven’t heard him doing comedy in a while. Other than him, I didn’t know there were a whole group of comedians out that had acts without all the profanity and sex-filled punch lines. All I’d heard of was Def Comedy Jam, and you know I can’t handle that.”

“Well, I will say you look much better now than when you first arrived. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“No, Sandy, everything is not all right,” Tai said, taking a sip of Coke and still smiling. “But it’s gonna be.”

Before she could ask any more questions, the MC introduced the next comedian, and before long Tai and Sandy were howling again.

Hope sat back, determined to savor the soothing sounds of jazz guitarist Norman Brown. He was one of Kansas City’s own, and the crowd was especially enthusiastic. The musician’s playing was flawless. It had been so long since Hope had gone to anything other than a gospel concert that she almost forgot how to act. But she was glad to be out. Glad she’d accepted Frieda’s invite to double with her and her latest love interest and do something besides watch videos on a Friday night.

She bobbed her head to the left and the right, taking a moment to slyly check out her date, Rashiid. She had to admit the brother was fine, although with Frieda she’d expected no less. Frieda believed that there were just as many good men in fine packages as in ugly ones, and she always insisted on unwrapping the fine men first. Rashiid seemed to be enjoying himself, laid back in his seat, his shoulder rubbing against hers as he, too, bobbed his head to the beat. He glanced over and caught her gaze. She averted her eyes, but not before she
saw the dazzling smile that eased from his mouth as he noticed her stare. He reached over then and put his arm around her, not possessively, but protectively—as if to say, “Check me out, baby, it’s okay.”

Hope tried to relax further, taking a sip of her Perrier with lemon and focusing once more on the sounds coming from the stage. Each musician was now taking his individual turn in the spotlight with rousing solos, and the crowd shouted and applauded their pleasure at each performer’s expertise. Hope joined in because as a performer, she understood how the energy from the audience only enhanced an artist’s performance. Not only that, but she was truly enjoying herself. She vowed to do this more often and, chancing another peek, thought she might like to do it more often with Rashiid.

“I told you they were off the chain!” Frieda whispered loudly into Hope’s ear, grabbing her arm as she did so. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me, too.” Hope replied, and she really meant it.

Frieda dropped her voice to a lower octave. “So what do you think about…?” She didn’t finish the sentence but rather cocked her head in the general direction of Hope’s new friend.

“Woodeewoo!” Hope yelled, seemingly at the latest song’s flourishing finish, but knowing Frieda caught the gist of her yell’s real intent. Frieda laughed her agreement.

“I thought this one might pull you out of that church pew, for a minute anyway.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I am enjoying the evening.”

“Good,” Frieda said before she turned her attention once more to Norman Brown and company, who were executing a masterful rendition of the Luther Vandross hit, “Any Love.”

Hope smiled as she floated away on their soothing, musical carpet ride. She closed her eyes, and for no reason that
she could fathom, Sistahs Almighty and Alrighty came to mind. She almost laughed out loud—picturing the frowning countenance she was sure they’d have to discover she was enjoying “the devil’s music.”
Well, let them frown,
she thought as she began snapping her fingers quietly to the beat.
Unlike them, I do not intend on ending up like a shriveled raisin in the sun. Unh-unh, darlin’, I see a husband-and-babies package with my name on it.
She looked at Rashiid again, openly this time, and he smiled back, squeezing her shoulder as he did so. She wondered if he went to church. Or if he even knew God. What if he wasn’t Christian? With a name like Rashiid, he could be Muslim. Oh, no, there’d be no
“asalum alaikum”
in her house! Not that his name alone told her anything. Besides, it was just her first date with the man. He may not even like her. What would she think about that? She decided to just enjoy the band, the man and the evening and let the chips fall where they may.

An hour and a half later the couples sat high above the city in Skies, the swanky revolving restaurant atop the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Both Rashiid and Frieda’s date, Damon, were sipping Courvoisier. Frieda nursed a strawberry daiquiri while Hope thoroughly enjoyed a cappuccino piled high with whipped cream and brushed with shaved cinnamon. While nibbling on a variety of appetizers, the couples enjoyed the view and recounted the concert highlights. Hope again thought about how good she felt and how long it had been since she’d actually been on a date. She thought about the men at her church and couldn’t imagine being here with any one of them. Then she looked over at Rashiid and couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else. As Frieda and Damon flirted with each other, Hope turned to Rashiid and smiled.

“So,” she began, taking a sip of her steamy brew, “I take it you’re a jazz connoisseur. I’d not heard of the band before. They were excellent.”

“Yeah, I like jazz. But I like all kinds of music. R&B, hip-hop, all of it.”

“Do you get into gospel music?”

Rashiid turned to look at Hope more fully. “I haven’t gotten into too much of that, but I do like Kirk Franklin, and who’s that one chick, the tall one who looks like a fashion model?”

“Yolanda Adams?”

“Yeah, that’s her. That sistah can blow! I saw her on the BET Awards and was like…who is that?”

“Yeah, she’s one of my favorites. But I like all the contemporary artists, Trinitee 5:7, Fred Hammond, Nicole Muller, the Gospel Gangstas, Tonex…”

“The Gospel Gangstas,” Rashiid repeated with skepticism.

Hope nodded.

“I haven’t heard of them. Maybe you can let me hear your music sometime.”

“I’d like that. I have some really great stuff.”

“Yeah, I just bet you do,” Rashiid responded with a gleam in his eye. “Frieda says you’re a church girl.”

“I go to church, so I guess you could call me that.”

“My mother used to play this song by Marvin Gaye called ‘Sanctified Lady.’ Could I call you that?” Rashiid was grinning; he was obviously enjoying himself.

“Yes.” Hope was enjoying him, too.

Rashiid moaned under his breath. “Have mercy,” was all he said. He took another drink of Courvoisier.

“Maybe you’d like to come to my church one day.”

“I might, if you issue me a personal invitation.”

“Consider it done. We’ve got a concert coming up next week with the hip-hop artist Righteous Rebel. Only he’s God’s man now. He only does things that glorify Him.”

“Ah, yeah? I remember reading about that. I like Righteous’s music. ‘Holy Ghost High’ is tight! I just might come check it out.”

“I thought you didn’t listen to gospel music?”

“That ain’t gospel, that’s hip-hop!” Hope and Rashiid continued to talk comfortably, learning more about each other. She learned he was the oldest of three boys, had lived in Kansas City all his life and worked as a foreman at a construction site. He’d gone to church with his grandmother as a boy, still got there on some Christmases or Easter Sundays until he was sixteen, but hadn’t stepped in one much except for a funeral service or wedding ceremony since he graduated from the local community college. He believed in God but spurned religion, believing that all ministers were just pimping the congregation for money. His father, who left his mother when Rashiid was five, was the one who named him. He had a three-year-old daughter, Rasheda, was on good terms with the mother and paid child support. He beamed with pride as he talked of his daughter, and Hope could see the love he had for the little girl. She couldn’t help but think, however, of the long-term, and how that little girl and her mother would be a part of her life as well should anything develop between her and Rashiid. It wasn’t as if she’d already imagined herself walking down the aisle or anything, but she knew that there was no desire to simply date; she was dating only with an eye toward marriage. To that end, these things had to be considered with every potential candidate.

Before Rashiid dropped her off in his shiny, new BMW, she’d given him her cell and home numbers. He’d given her his number as well—his home number, always a good sign. She’d already decided to go out with him again, and he was actually looking forward to the Midnight Musical. Maybe she needed to look outside the box, she decided as they said their goodbyes and he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He seemed smart, kind and affectionate. And she hadn’t missed the hardness of that massive chest as he’d hugged
her. Not that she was thinking of anything physical mind you, it was just an innocent observation. Still, in the middle of a Midwest heat wave, a shiver went down her back so hard it made her booty wiggle.