“Oooh, what smells so good?” Curtis asked.
“I’m frying chicken, with green beans and mashed potatoes.”
“Good, ’cause I’m starving. Look, baby—made four hundred dollars today painting a few cars,” he said, pulling out crumpled bills.
I shifted my eyes to the money, then back on the chicken I was seasoning. “That’s good, Curtis,” I replied unconcerned.
“How long before dinner?” he asked as he took off his grimy shirt and hung it on the back of the chair next to the dinner rolls I’d set out.
“Not long, and could you please put that dirty-ass shirt in the laundry?” I snapped.
“My bad.” He grabbed his shirt and tossed it into the laundry room on his way to the bedroom.
That was a pet peeve of mine about Curtis. He would always toss his dirty clothes anywhere in the house once he got home and expected me to pick up after him. Also, he rarely cleaned the bathtub after using it and hardly ever washed the dishes.
Curtis went into the bathroom and showered before coming out with a towel wrapped around his body and grabbing another beer out of the refrigerator.
“I may be going out of town this weekend for a job. Cedric knows this guy in Columbia, South Carolina, who wants a couple of cars repaired he’s trying to sell.”
“Why does Cedric need you? Doesn’t he have a crew at the shop that can go?”
“Yeah, but he asked me along, too. Besides, it’s easy money.”
“There’s no such thing as easy money, Curtis. Someone is always getting screwed on the back end.”
“That’s not my problem. I’m just doing what I have to do to open “Curtis Auto Repair.’”
“Don’t get caught up in Cedric’s bullshit. I think he’s just using you because you work cheap.”
“No, it’s because I can do the work better than those other shops that try to rip you off.”
“Says who? Cedric?”
“Says me. I did my homework. I know what these other shops charge so I just mark my price down a few dollars.” Curtis took a sip from his beer.
“So you got it all figured out, huh?” I replied.
“Not all of it, just the things that pertain to me.” He turned and walked into the bedroom.
After dinner, Curtis went into the den and lay across the couch watching TV. I put Brandon to bed and went into the bedroom to get my clothes together for school tomorrow. Moments later, Reggie called again.
“Hey, sister, I’m just leaving the church and was wondering if you wanted to be in the female mentor program? We meet twice a month and try to talk to kids about personal issues. It’s a very successful program that has helped hundreds of kids over the years. You’ll get a chance to meet a lot of other members of the church who volunteer.”
“Well, let me think about that, Reggie. It sounds good, but I have a son of my own to raise, and that takes up a lot of my free time.”
“Well, how about coming out when you can?” he suggested.
“Okay. That sounds better. But let me think about it before I make a decision.”
“Has your boyfriend thought about the mentor program?”
“Uh, well, because he works so much he probably won’t have the time to do it,” I lied.
“Well, that’s fine. Maybe sometime in the future we can convince him to come out. Well, sister, nice talking to you, and I’ll see you Wednesday at Bible study.”
“Thanks, Reggie, for everything.”
Curtis entered the room as I put the phone down. With a puzzled look, he asked, “Who the hell is Reggie?”
I turned toward him. “That’s the guy from the church I told you about.”
“What did he want this late?” he asked.
“He just wanted to let me know that Brandon’s scheduled to be baptized in three weeks.”
A smile came across Curtis’s face. “Oh, really? So my boy will be baptized? That’s great.” He walked over and kissed me.
“So tell me about this damn Reggie,” Curtis asked.
“What?”
“This, uh, Reggie dude. Is he the reverend or something?”
“No, he’s like a deacon, I think. All I know is that he is helping me get my life together.”
“Your life together?”
“I mean spiritually, Curtis.”
“Shit. I bet his ass is gay.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everybody knows that half of the so-called deacons in these big churches are fruitier than a Christmas cake.”
“Curtis, I really don’t know what you’re talking about, and to be honest, I really don’t care. If this is your excuse for not wanting to join the church with Brandon and me, that’s fine, but you really need to look at yourself before you start judging other people.”
“It’s not about me not wanting to join. I told you I’ll go when I can, but I already belong to a church. It’s all a scam, anyway. The preacher stands up there with a thousand-dollar suit on, reading the Bible to the poor and confused. You said it yourself—Mya’s dad is a preacher and he drives around in a Rolls-Royce. Now what kind of shit is that?”
“Mya’s dad has two churches in New Orleans. If the members want to pay him that kind of money, then why shouldn’t he accept it? Plus, he travels and speaks at engagements out of town. I’m sure he gets paid for that.”
“All that shit is a scam. Nowadays, anyone who turns their life around is trying to preach.”
“Well, then, you should make a hell of a preacher, as much shit as you’re into.”
Curtis gave me a strange stare before he continued on with his negative opinions about churches. I think his problem is not so much joining the church as trusting one. Now I was convinced that once he saw how involved I was getting, he would join, too.
CHAPTER 12
Mya
I was still admiring the roses Darryl gave me on our first date—they were in a vase on my mantel. Each time I passed them, it reminded me of how much of a gentleman he was. I felt like I was with the perfect man at the perfect restaurant on the perfect evening. With him fresh on my mind I picked up my cell phone and called. Before it could ring, I got his voice mail.
“Hey, Darryl—it’s me, Mya. Just wanted to see what you were up to. Call me when you get this message. ’Bye.”
As I sat on the couch reading through my mail, my parents called.
We haven’t talked much since my dad took over as president of the Full Gospel Baptist Counsel a year ago. Before that, we talked three times a week. Now they spend most of their time traveling to different churches across the country, speaking or going to banquets and conferences. My spirits quickly rose when I heard their voices.
“Hey,” I said with excitement.
“How’s my girl?” my dad asked.
“I’m okay. Just working.”