So the three little cousins grew up as Robinsons and without the men who loved their mothers and would have given anything
to have held those sweet green-eyed, hazel-eyed, and gray-eyed babies in their arms. And the mothers struggled to rebuild
their lives while raising the cherished offspring of the now-deceased loves of their lives.
Ida Belle threw herself into the cares of the world in a feeble effort to lift the burden of despair that blanketed her heart.
She got so mad at God for taking Charles Kirby away from her until she’d forgotten what folks did when they needed the Lord
in their lives—fall on their knees in prayer and supplication for help in a very present time of trouble.
Margarita ran straight into the arms of God, while holding tightly to her precious baby girl. She knew that the only way she
was going to survive the death of her beloved Stanley Bishop was by the grace of God. She got saved, received the Holy Ghost,
and gave her life completely over to Jesus.
And because God is so good to those who make Him the desire of their hearts, He healed Margarita of her grief and blessed
her with the joyful task of raising her baby girl to be a mighty woman of God. And then he brought a husband, father, and
man of God into their lives in the form of Thomas Robinson, who would have been childless had not the Lord saw fit to bless
him with Margarita and baby Marquita.
Yvonne stood staring at all of those delectable dishes, wondering where to begin with her selections, and just how much food
she could pile on a plate without appearing greedy and uncouth.
“Yvonne!” Marquita said with a huge grin spreading across her sweet pale copper face, dark gray eyes sparkling like brand-new
diamonds. Her shimmering golden brown hair fell in her eyes and softly on her shoulders when she moved her head. Yvonne had
always thought that Marquita had the most beautiful hair—long, thick, coarse, and naturally colored a shade that women, black
and white, spent a whole lot of money trying to duplicate.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where has your little chocolate behind been and what have you been doing? Because I’ve missed
you, Yvonne.”
Yvonne walked around the banquet table and gave Marquita a big hug.
“I’ve missed you, too. But it has been crazy with work and all.”
“Tell me about it. Girl, my business is going through the roof. But between taking care of the grandbabies and working, I’m
running to catch up to meet with my own self.”
“You still have the grans.”
“Umm, hmm,” Marquita said, shaking her head in disgust. Sometimes it was nothing but the Lord that kept her from putting her
foot straight up her daughter, Markayla’s behind.
“You know something, Yvonne, I thought that by having Markayla in my early twenties I’d at least be able to be footloose and
fancy-free in my forties. But here I am with four grandbabies, ranging from thirteen down to eight.”
“But Marquita, you have to admit, they are some of the sweetest babies I’ve ever met. And they have brought so much joy to
your life.”
Marquita nodded. It was true. “And they are no problem, really. They are very self-sufficient.”
“They have to be,” Yvonne said. “I don’t understand Markayla. She’s not on drugs, she a fool but she ain’t crazy, and she
had you and Miss Margarita and Mr. Thomas, but she just—”
“Wants to stay out in the streets, partying and drinking and hooking up with all of the rappers and rap producers who come
to the Triangle. I don’t understand it. The girl has a good job working for Metro over at Yeah Yeah.
“Wait ’til you see what the cheerleaders are wearing to the game with Bouclair College. Markayla is the stylist for the squad.
And she is picking up more and more clients, a few out in Hollywood, every time I look around. So I do not know what her problem
is. And her house is nice—she lives down the street from me in Cashmere Estates. But the babies absolutely refuse to live
with their mama.
“That youngest, June, said, ‘Nana, Mommy has too many hip-hop people in our house. And I don’t like them all in our bathrooms,
either. They ain’t mean but they ain’t got no business at my house. So we are coming to live with you until Mommy gets saved
and starts acting right, like you and Big Mama.’”
Yvonne didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t help it. That little June was something else. She said, “Where is their daddy?”
“Jail.”
“Again? I thought he was trying to get himself together.”
“He is. But this was about one of those old arrest warrants Jamal had dodged around back in the day when he was still gangbanging.
I took him to see Grady Grey and Dayeesha’s daddy, Big Dotsy, when this first came up. They both told him to go ahead and
pay his dues.
“Dotsy said that he’d bet some money that this little arrest was nothing compared to what he suspected Jamal had done in the
cut and nobody knew about it. He told Jamal that this way he’d be completely free when he came out because the system had
what they wanted, and wouldn’t go looking for any hidden dirt if he let this go and did his time like a man.
“Dotsy and Grady worked to get the time served down to eighteen months. And then they went behind the scenes and activated
some protection and decent treatment while Jamal is doing his time. And surprisingly, it hasn’t been as bad as we first thought
it would be.
“Jamal gave his life over to Christ before he put on that orange suit, he has received the Holy Ghost, and has started an
in-house prison ministry for his dorm-mates. The Lord has a blood covering over that boy, and He is doing a mighty work in
Jamal—I hardly recognize that boy, the anointing is so strong on him. And I know that he is going to take care of his babies
when he gets out. I just keep praying that Markayla will have it together when their daddy is finally free.”
Yvonne felt like crying for joy for the second time that night. She remembered asking the Lord to bless her with the ability
to experience one miracle in her life today. And the Lord, who always does exceedingly more than what she could think of or
ask for, had given her two.
She said, “Marquita, just think, Jamal has been delivered and set free of the demonic stronghold that once ruled his life.
He is saved. He is working to get others saved and set free. And soon he’ll be physically free and able to finally enjoy life
and take care of his children. That has to be one of the best things I’ve heard all day.”
“Well …” Marquita began, “I don’t think that’s exactly the best thing you’ve heard all day. Seems to me like you have
heard two other good things.”
Yvonne frowned a moment as she tried to think of that third miracle and then remembered Curtis.
“Umm, hmm,” Marquita went on. “You got that check securing your job situation, you’re here with that big ol’ sweet Mounds
chocolate bar, Curtis, and I’ve given you a testimony about Jamal. You have a whole lot to be thankful for this evening, Miss
Yvonne Fountain.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Yvonne told her as she broke out into a huge smile when she saw Darrell and Bettina trying to act as
if they didn’t see her when they came over to the table to get some more food. One look at that outfit that even Miss Baby
Doll Lacy wouldn’t wear let Yvonne know that Bettina had been put in her place tonight. It felt good, too. And what felt even
better was that the Lord had fixed it so nothing about her job was tied to anything that had a thing to do with Darrell and
his wife.
Yvonne smiled and then frowned and then tried to smile again when she remembered that she was standing with Marquita. But
she wasn’t fast enough.
“What’s wrong with yo’ butt?”
“Him,” Yvonne told her as she watched Kordell make his way around the room, scoping out a woman to hit on.
Surprisingly, Marquita frowned, too. Lately, she found herself liking Kordell Bivens less and less. And she didn’t like the
way Rico always had to hop up and run out of town with that ugly man, simply because Kordell started whining about needing
some time away from Durham to get his head straight. If he’d quit ho- hoppin’ and lyin’ to women, maybe he’d be able to keep
his big fat head straight.
Tangie Bonner walked up to where Kordell was standing and planted a kiss on his cheek. He gave her a dry smile, along with
a patronizing pat on the behind. Tangie smiled and walked off to join her friends.
“Sometimes I don’t get Tangie Bonner,” Marquita said. She didn’t like Tangie but couldn’t exactly explain why she felt this
way. Tangie had never done anything to her—that is, not anything she could put her finger on. But there was something wrong
with where Tangie was coming from as far as Marquita was concerned.
“What do you mean?” Yvonne asked, wondering just how much Marquita could see in that girl. She didn’t mess with people like
Marquita. As sweet as they were, somebody like that could see through you once she took a mind to do so. But that was the
operative concept—
take a mind to do so.
And right now, Marquita was not ready to go to that place.
“She’s sneaky but I don’t know why, when all of her business with men is always in the street,” Marquita said.
Yvonne was quiet, but not too quiet as to tip Marquita off. She said, “I feel the same way. She has dirt out there for all
to see but she is still a snake in the grass.”
Marquita nodded in agreement. It was clear that she was working through some things where Tangie Bonner was concerned.
“So,” Yvonne said, hoping to draw Marquita’s attention away from Tangie, “why are you behind this table and not out there
hobnobbing with the rest of the high-cotton folk? I saw your cousin Charmayne over there with some high rollers looking good
in that black St. John with the crisscross design down the back of the jacket and the skirt. And Charles is over there huddled
up in a serious conversation with the provost. Girl, you know it’s a shame that that boy is so fine and so good at being bad.”
“I know,” Marquita said. “And look at that suit he’s wearing.”
“Girl, that thing is tight. And Charles is the only brother in this room who can wear that suit,” Yvonne answered as she tried
to get a better take on that crimson three-piece suit with black chalk stripes, black shirt and tie, and black gaiters trimmed
in red.
“Look at the women trying to roll up on him, Yvonne.”
“What you two little negroes over here talkin’ ’bout?” Charles asked them as he walked up and then took Yvonne by the hand
and gave her a twirl.
“You look good, baby! And look … look … look,” he said and pointed at Bettina. “Ole’ Sundress is pissed that you are
looking so good and that you are so happy.”
“You are crazy, Charles Robinson,” Yvonne said. “And you are mighty clean your own self.”
“Hey, baby. That’s how I roll. You know a player gots to always be ready and up for anything.”
“Boy, stop,” Yvonne told him. “See, that’s why you’re always getting hooked up with the ‘ready for anything.’”
“I hear ya’, play cuz,” he said as he glanced over to where Veronica Washington was standing with her friends, looking good
in a black knit pantsuit with stovepipe-legged pants and a belted jacket with silver buttons down the front and the sleeves.
He liked those black patent-leather boots with the silver spiked heels that Veronica was wearing.
Charles loved the way that woman smiled and cracked jokes and made others smile, even when he knew she was going through a
rough time. Charles didn’t know Robert Washington well, but what he did know was that Robert was a piece of work, and that
one day he was going to get his.
Veronica was standing there with her friends laughing and having a good time, when, as could be expected, Robert came in with
Tracey Parsons on his arm, acting like she was the catch of the day.
Charles took a good look at Tracey Parsons’s head and said, “You know something, every time I see that woman, I keep expecting
to see Brian the dog, Peter, Lois, Meg, and Chris come up right behind her.”
“Now, you have just lost what little bit was left of a good mind—with your cray-zee self,” Marquita said.
“I haven’t lost all of it,” Charles said, now suddenly serious, as he watched Robert walk over to where Veronica was with
Tracey. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurried back across the room and walked up to Veronica and placed his arm around her shoulder. “I thought I saw your fine
self standing over here holding court like the queen that you are, girl.”
Veronica looked up into Charles’s eyes with a silent “thank you” radiating from her own. Then she regrouped and said, “Boy,
you need to quit,” in a playful voice that didn’t give a hint of how she really felt at the insult her ex-husband and his
woman had just paid her when they invaded her space to be mean.
“Naw, I am not going to quit,” Charles said, turning up the heat when he saw Robert’s eyes narrow. “I’m gone mess with you
some more, Miss Veronica.” He kissed her cheek. “Umph, girl, what you got that got me going—and that was just your cheek.”
“Charles Robinson, you know you are so wrong.”
“Well,” Charles said, “if loving you is wrong, baby, I don’t wanna be right.” He held out his hand toward Robert. “I know
you know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you, playah?”
Robert bristled and blew air out of his cheeks. He said, “No, I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”
“Oh, yes you do. ’Cause you are standing here flaunting this ho in Veronica’s face, as wrong as can be, and actin’ like you
are right.”
Robert took off his dark purple suit coat and put it in Tracey’s hands. He rolled up the sleeves of his gold shirt and said,
“You don’t talk to me or my baby like that,” and then took an empty swing at Charles, who started laughing and pimp-slapped
Robert so fast he almost didn’t know what happened.
Veronica’s girl Lynette Smith started cracking up, and then whipped out her cell phone to call her husband, L. C. As soon
as he said, “Hello,” over the speaker, she said, “Have you parked the car?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m on my way into the banquet hall right now. What’s up?”
“Charles just pimp-slapped the mess out of Robert Washington and called Stewie a ho. Only when he said ‘ho,’ it was like a
real pimp would say it—you know, ‘hoah.’”