The Prodigal Son (A Reverend Curtis Black Novel) (20 page)

A
s soon as Dillon left the church, he called Racquel, asking her to meet him at their usual hotel outside of Chicago. It was only a fifty-minute drive, and though that wasn’t just around the corner, he was glad Racquel didn’t mind taking it. He’d come to enjoy her company a great deal, but today he didn’t just want her, he needed her—he needed someone to hold him, comfort him, and assure him that everything would be fine.

“You have no idea how hurt I am,” he said after partially filling her in on what he’d experienced at church earlier. “My father treated me like I was nothing, and I’m done with him.”

Racquel held him and caressed the back of his head. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“All this time, I’d thought my father was a better man than this, but he’s just as selfish as that witch, Charlotte. They deserve each other.”

“I’m a little shocked about Pastor Black, too, because he always stood up for me when it came to Charlotte. He never treated me badly.”

“Well, he certainly treated
me
badly. But that’s okay, because he’ll never get a chance to hurt me again.”

“I hear you, and maybe we can work together to get what we want from them.”

“I agree. I hate things turned out like this, but I’m not leaving here until I get some sort of satisfaction.”

“Well, I already tried to work things out with Matthew, but since he wants nothing to do with me, I want my son back, I want child support,
and
I want alimony. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he has a trust fund.”

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna file to have my last name changed to Black. I don’t plan to have anything else to do with my father, but I deserve to have his name just like the rest of his children. Then, since I haven’t been able to destroy Charlotte the way I wanted, I’ve decided to take my dad for everything he has. Or at least most of it. That way, I’ll be ruining Charlotte at the same time.”

“At this point, they deserve whatever they get.”

Dillon leaned back on the bed, and Racquel curled up next to him. He still couldn’t get over the way his father had boasted about Matthew and MJ and also Phillip to the entire church. He’d even invited all three of them up to the pulpit with him, but not Dillon.

Dillon tossed out one thought after another, sighing deeply, and Racquel hugged him tightly.

“I know this is hard,” she said. “But this too shall pass. You won’t always feel so hurt.”

Dillon lay there but didn’t say anything. Still, he thought about his aunt, and his pain turned to rage. His dad was the reason he hadn’t been there for her the way he should have been. He’d thought about this before, but now the reality of it all was almost too much to bear. Dillon had left his aunt behind and moved to Mitchell, hoping he’d have the best relationship ever with his father, but it hadn’t happened. Needless to say, Dillon was furious and someone would have to pay.

Racquel grabbed both sides of Dillon’s face and kissed him. It was amazing how awesome she made him feel, and not ever would he have thought any woman could satisfy and console him the way Racquel was doing. He was even to the point where he didn’t want to be without her. She did have a bit of a drinking problem—he’d smelled alcohol on her breath again as soon as she’d entered the room—but she understood him, she never judged him, and she seemed to care about him. They also both had it in for Charlotte and Matthew, and he liked that, too. She didn’t have anything against his dad, but she also didn’t seem to mind that Dillon was planning to take him to the cleaners.

Maybe once they ruined all of them and Racquel got her divorce from Matthew, she would move to Atlanta with him. They might even be able to get married someday, something Dillon had never considered doing with any woman. When it came to Racquel, though, it was just that they connected so well and they had so much in common. Dillon wasn’t sure if she felt the same way as he did or not, but he guessed time would tell. Deep down, he hoped for the best.

It was after midnight, and Dillon almost hated coming home anymore. Mainly because he didn’t want to deal with Melissa, but of course, here she was standing and waiting for him as soon as he walked inside the condo.

“Baby, where have you been?”

Her tone sounded a little curt, and Dillon raised his eyebrows. “You must be losing your mind. Have to be if you’re questioning me about anything.”

“Why didn’t you come home after church? That was hours ago.”

Dillon pushed past her, but like a rodent he couldn’t get rid of, she followed him upstairs.

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked, looking pitiful.

Dillon removed his blazer. “Look. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone.”

“Baby, I just wanna know what’s wrong. Why you’re doing this. Why you haven’t been the same lately.”

Dillon unbuttoned his shirt and ignored her.

She leaned against the dresser. “You know how much I love you. You know I’ll do anything for you, so why isn’t that enough?”

Dillon shook his head at her, removed the rest of his clothing, and slipped into his pajama bottoms. He climbed into bed and relaxed against two pillows, turned on the television, and pretended she wasn’t there.

Still, she wouldn’t go away, and instead, she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Let me make love to you,” she said. “Let me make things right.”

Dillon gazed at her, completely sickened by all her groveling, and went off.

“Didn’t I ask you to leave me alone? Didn’t I?” he yelled. “I don’t love you, Melissa. I never have, and you know why? Because you’re worthless. You’re one of the most naïve, spineless women I’ve ever met, and the only reason I started dating you when we lived down in Atlanta was because you gave me money. You paid my car note, and bought me clothes. You did whatever I wanted. You were a total doormat, and nothing’s changed.”

Tears streamed down Melissa’s face, but Dillon had no sympathy for her.

“Look, Melissa, this isn’t working. It hasn’t worked for a very long time, and I want you outta here by the end of the month. Today is the second, and I want you gone by June thirtieth.”

Melissa sniffled, seemingly in shock. “You don’t mean that.”

“When have you ever known me to say anything I don’t mean? And if you don’t have all your junk out of my house by the thirtieth, it’ll be tossed in the street.”

Melissa wiped her tears but finally got up and walked away.

“Dumb broad,” Dillon said, flipping the TV channel. “That’s why I slept with your best friend. I got with her every chance I could. Although, maybe she really wasn’t your friend after all.”

Melissa turned and looked at him in horror. “What are you talking about?”

“How many best friends did you have in Atlanta? Venus, that’s who.”

“Venus would never do something like that.”

“She would and she did.”

“Why are you telling me this now? Why are you being so cruel?”

“Because I feel like it, and because you didn’t get me what I needed from that investigator. Now get outta here, Melissa.”

Tears poured down her cheeks, but soon she left the room. When she did, Dillon pulled out his phone and called Racquel.

M
att pulled into the parking lot of the bank. It was his first day back, and although he’d rather be back in school or working somewhere different, he was sort of glad to be there. He loved spending time with and taking care of MJ, but he also didn’t like sitting around the house and not being responsible.

As he turned off his vehicle, Nicole got out of her car and walked toward him. Because of their conversation the other day, he couldn’t help feeling a bit uneasy, but he rolled down the window to speak to her.

“How’s it goin’?” he said.

“Good. Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, but we only have about fifteen minutes.”

“This won’t take long,” she said, already making her way around the car and getting in.

“It’s really good to have you back, Matt.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“So, did you think about what I said?”

Matthew didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so all he said was, “I’m really going through a lot right now.”

“I understand, but I can help you with that. I can be here for you.”

Matthew didn’t have the heart to tell her that even if he weren’t in love with someone else, he still wouldn’t be attracted to her in that way.

“You are still filing for a divorce, aren’t you?”

“I am, but I’m not looking forward to it.”

Nicole rubbed her hand against the side of his face, but as soon as she did, Racquel slammed her hand against his window.

Nicole jerked her hand away from him. “Oh my God, is that your wife?”

Matthew never bothered answering, but he opened his car door and got out.

Racquel squinted her eyes in anger. “So, is this the reason you keep blowin’ me off? Is this the tramp you’re sleeping with?”

“Racquel, why are you even here?”

“Because you’re my husband, and I have a right to be.”

“You need to leave before security comes out and calls the police.”

Racquel took a step back, glaring at him. “Do I look like I’m afraid of the police? And anyway, as soon as I explain how you were sitting in your car, drooling over some whore, I doubt they’ll be arresting anybody. Especially once they find out I’m your wife.”

Matthew sighed loudly. “I’m going inside.”

Nicole finally found the courage to get out, but as she hurried away she looked back at Racquel.

“What’re you looking at? And if I catch you with my husband again, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Either that or you’ll be dead.”

Nicole walked faster, and Matthew locked his car door.

“I know you’re sleeping with her, Matt.”

“Nope.”

“Yep,” she said, mocking him. “You think I’m stupid.”

“You must not’ve taken your medication this morning.”

“What? Who told you I was taking anything?”

“Just forget it,” he said, walking past her.

“You dirty snake. You’ve been sleeping with that whore all along, but that’s okay, Matt. Every dog has his day. Just watch.”

D
illon strutted across the street, got into his SUV, and started it up. He’d just left the courthouse, and the application for his name change was complete. He wasn’t planning to ever be a part of his father’s life anymore, but he was certainly planning to use the Black name whenever necessary, which was the reason he’d confirmed again with the clerk as to how long this process would take. He needed to know because as soon as he received the official paperwork, he would use his last name in multiple ways. He was even considering whether he should sue his dad for a lot more money than he’d already given him. He honestly didn’t see why not, since he was in fact the good reverend’s eldest son, and he hadn’t gotten nearly what belonged to him.

Until now, all Dillon had wanted was his father’s love, but today he wanted his fortune. It was the least his father could do for him, what with the awful way he’d handled things, and Dillon planned to get it.

Dillon drove away from the curb but soon stopped at a red light. When he did, his phone rang and he saw that it was his father. Actually, Curtis had called him three other times, too, but Dillon hadn’t answered. He wouldn’t answer now, either, because he didn’t want to talk to him. When the phone stopped ringing, however, he dialed Racquel.

“Hey, baby,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”

“So what’s up?”

“Not much. Where are you?”

“Just leaving the courthouse.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I have to go there this afternoon with my parents, and I’m not looking forward to it. Something about a preconference hearing, but whatever.”

“It’s good you’re going, so you can put this behind you.”

“I guess, but hey, are we getting together today?”

“I have a few errands to run, but I’ll see you this evening for sure.”

“Sounds good. Oh and I got those dates and cities for you.”

Right before they’d left the hotel last night, Dillon had come up with a genius plan, and he’d asked her to get whatever information she could from her friend who worked at his dad’s church.

“Do you want it now? Otherwise, I can just bring it tonight.”

“I’ll take it now,” he said, pulling a pen and notepad from the console between his two front seats.

Racquel recited dates, times, locations, and reasons for travel.

“Is that it?” he asked when he wrote the last of what she’d told him.

“That’s all she gave me.”

“Thanks so much for this.”

“I just hope it helps. And what are you gonna use it for, anyway?”

When the light changed, Dillon drove through the intersection. “I’ll tell you when we meet.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Dillon drove a few more blocks and turned left onto Brockton Street. He immediately saw Sasha, the woman he’d spotted last night while driving home from the hotel. She was wearing a bright red dress that was easily one size too small, and it barely covered the middle of her thighs. It was tighter than tight, shorter than short, and she wore five-inch red sandals to match it. What was interesting to Dillon, however, was that she sported her own hair, which was beautiful, and she didn’t wear excessive makeup. Sasha was clearly a professional hooker, though, and Dillon was glad he’d connected with her, especially since he’d devised the perfect scheme and Sasha had agreed to help him—that is for the right amount of money.

She’d even charged him two hundred dollars just to talk because she said her time was very valuable, but Dillon hadn’t minded paying her. Not when Sasha was going to get him everything he wanted from his father.

Dillon pulled over and parked, and Sasha got in the vehicle.

“So you got my money?”

“Sure do,” he said, readily passing her an envelope with another two hundred dollars in it.

She counted the four fifties and slid her payment into her shoulder bag. “I’m sorry to have to charge you again, but normally I don’t come out during the day like this. Normally, I’m asleep.”

“I understand, and this won’t take very long.”

“I’m listening.”

“A videographer will be recording your full confession, and he’ll be doing it day after tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to say something in particular or just something like, ‘world-renowned Reverend Curtis Black has been paying me a large sum of money for years to have sex with him.’”

“Yeah, I definitely want you to mention that, but I also want you to mention every one of these dates and cities,” he said, passing her the information he’d written down. “That way folks will know you’ve traveled with him as well. I also want you to mention what church events, conferences, or book signings he was in town for. That information is listed also. Oh, and these are all trips that his wife didn’t travel with him on.”

Sasha scanned the piece of paper from top to bottom.

“Then I want you to talk about all the jewelry he’s bought for you.”

“What kind?”

“Anything you wanna say will be great. Just make something up, but make sure the items you name are expensive. I also want you to practice this over and over, so that people will believe you. I want them to have no doubts about whether you’re telling the truth.”

“Not a problem.”

“We’ll do a few dry runs on the day of the recording, and then he’ll cut the final segment. But again, I really need your confession to sound authentic. Then, toward the end, I want you to finish by saying that the reason you’ve decided to come forward is because you can no longer tolerate or watch any pastor sleeping around on his wife the way Pastor Black has been doing. You can even mention how he’s told you a thousand times how awful his wife is in bed and how he basically can’t stand the sight of her. Then you can say that your conscience just won’t allow you to continue participating in this kind of evil-doing and that you also felt completely violated when Pastor Black asked if you’d be willing to do a threesome with him and one of his other women.”

“Wow, you’ve really got this all figured out, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’re still gonna pay me ten thousand dollars, right?”

“Yep, with fifty percent upfront and fifty percent as soon as we finish recording.”

Sasha shook her head. “You must really hate your father.”

“I do,” Dillon said matter-of-factly. “He’s a terrible person, but once I take his money from him, I’ll feel a lot better about everything.”

“Well, to each his own, I guess. And as long as I get my payment, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well, if that’s all,” she said, “then I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Wednesday it is.”

Dillon watched her walking across the street and into the brick apartment complex. He laughed when he thought about how brilliant his plan was. He almost felt like taking that finished video and uploading it to YouTube and then sitting back, relishing in his dad’s destruction. But if he did that, he knew he wouldn’t get any money, so it was better to stick with his original strategy: good ol’ blackmail. He would play the video for his father and name his price. Ten million dollars. He wasn’t sure how much his dad earned or how much he’d saved, but Dillon knew ten million was a good number to start with. He also knew that since his dad had recently returned to the church as senior pastor, professing his newfound relationship with God, he would never want to chance dealing with another scandal. He wouldn’t want his members or the public questioning his integrity or envisioning him buying and sleeping with a prostitute. His parishioners had forgiven him before, but they wouldn’t likely do it again—not when his father had promised them that there were no more secrets about his past or current life.

Dillon drove away from Brockton Street with a crafty smile on his face, picturing the downfall of his famous father and church. A year ago, Dillon had been happy just getting the half-million dollars Curtis had given him, which had been more money than he’d ever imagined. But now his financial status was about to change drastically because once he carried out this scheme of his, he’d be a full-fledged millionaire. He’d be filthy rich, and he’d never have to see his cold-hearted father or stepmother again. He wouldn’t need anyone, period.