Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely
is going on?”
“Well, I got a call from Roland about my portfolio. He had some suggestions about diversifying and moving some of my more volatile stock into the safer mutual fund categories. I was hoping to run some of the details by you and get a second opinion.”
“Well, I’d never second-guess the man; he’s one of the best in the business.” Cy had referred her to his friend and business partner shortly after their dating ceased and the phone calls with questions about her portfolio multiplied. “Roland is one of the reasons my portfolio is as strong as it is. He has an innate sense of timing when it comes to the stock market and the seemingly invisible mood swings of our nation’s economy. I’d go with what he says.”
Millicent was disappointed but didn’t want to give up easily. “I was hoping I could fax a copy of the summary page to you and maybe discuss it over lunch tomorrow, my treat.”
“I appreciate the invite, but that’s not going to be possible.” Cy decided to end the conversation before it became even more uncomfortable for him than it already was. “Like I said when I referred you to him, Roland really is the best person I know to guide you through the sometimes murky waters of stocks and bonds. Don’t worry. He won’t steer you wrong. Listen, Millicent, I’ve got to go—”
“Yes, of course. So I’ll, uh, see you Sunday?”
“Sure,” he said abruptly and silently added, hopefully from a distance, as he hung up the phone.
Millicent began to daydream after the call disconnected. Before she knew it, she’d driven several blocks past Crustacean. Her cell phone rang again as she got in the left-hand lane, made a U-turn and headed back down crowded Wilshire Blvd. She looked at her watch and at the ID. Yes, it was Alison and yes, she was late.
Sistah Almighty and Sistah Alrighty
Hope’s mind was moving a mile a minute, and so was she as she rushed past the doors of the main edifice and headed for the walkway that would lead her to the side of the main building and the front of the multipurpose center that stood gleaming fresh and new, next door to the sanctuary. Among other things, the center housed the youth activities and was a jewel in the crown that was the church’s renovation and expansion project.
Two church matrons, whom Hope had secretly named Sistah Almighty and Sistah Alrighty, exited the main building. “Praise the Lord, ladies!” she hollered cheerfully without breaking stride.
She didn’t have to break stride or look back to imagine their reactions. Hope knew that Sistah Almighty thought the skirts she wore, only slightly above the knee, would send her straight to hell, and Sistah Alrighty was always glaring at her whenever she spoke to Pastor King, as if she were going to throw the man on the floor and accost him in the pulpit! They’re just jealous, Hope thought as she neared the door of the youth center, already hearing a swirl of activity inside. And they weren’t the only ones. Hope was aware of how some of the ladies in the church felt about her. They probably thought she was after the preacher. She’d been accused of that before. Well, she didn’t care one iota what those biddies thought; she knew she was flowing in purpose and destiny, and as far as those women were concerned, well, they could just kiss her Bible!
“Hey, Hope, wuz up?”
“Ooh, Hope, I like your shoes!”
“Hope, are we going to finish the routine today?”
“Hope, Selena likes Terron and is trying to get him to go out with her.”
“I’m not either!”
“You are, too.”
“Unh-unh!”
“Uh-huh!”
“You a big fat lie!”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Hope said, grabbing both girls, pulling them under her arms and giving each a chin nuzzle. “Since you both have so much energy, I’ve got some work for you two.” She stopped at the table in the foyer and opened her briefcase. Terron, the leader of the new dance troupe called Heaven’s Hip-hoppers, swaggered around the corner, sixteen years and one hundred sixty-five pounds of testosterone chomping at the bit.
“Hey, Hope! I like that outfit. You’re looking real nice today.”
“Well, thanks, Terron. I hope that routine you’re choreographing impresses me as much as I’m obviously impressing you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Terron drawled while effortlessly executing an intricately woven series of hip-hop steps before gliding forward and spinning to a stop right in front of her. “It’s gonna blow the roof off, ’cause it’s off the ska-zizzy!” Hope didn’t miss the quick glance toward the one he was really trying to impress, little Miss Leah, nor did she miss the pout on Selena’s face. I guess there were two somebodies who liked Mr. T.
“Now, I need one of you to make, say, twenty copies of this and the other to put them inside these folders.” Hope reached for the keys that were somehow buried at the bottom of her purse, even though she’d just thrown them in there. Pulling them out, Hope turned to Leah. “Here’s the key to the office. Be sure to turn the light off and lock the door when you’re finished.”
Leah and Selena started toward the office, their heads together in a Terron-induced conspiracy. “Thanks, girls. And hurry up! We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight.”
Hope felt a bit stressed but pleased with how things were going so far. She had been able to contact Righteous Rebel’s management, and they had worked out a midnight concert for the youth to be held in a city auditorium Friday night. In addition to the debut of Heaven’s Hip-hoppers, Hope had lined up a gospel singing group called Yadah, which meant praise in Hebrew, comprised of three lovely and talented ladies from a church in Kansas City. She’d also confirmed the participation of Musical Messengers, the gospel jazz group. Rounding out the evening would be the Angels of Hope dance group, a popular and funny Christian comedian from Chicago with an award-winning monologue called “A Praying Woman,” and Hope’s own dramatic spoken word presentation she’d composed to kick off the evening and entitled “Joyful.” It was inspired by the penned verses of her favorite biblical character David, with whom she felt much kinship, and his now famous Psalm 100. As if someone had turned on a tape player, the words began swirling in her head, and she bobbed slightly to the beat, even as she headed toward the group of girls sitting quietly in a circle near the middle of the basketball court:
God is awesome, in all of His ways,
For all of our days, we should give Him the praise
So every man and woman, all girls and boys
Make a joyful noise, make a joyful noise…
“What are you bobbing to, Miss Hope-a-letta?” That would be Miss Get-On-Your-Last-Nerve Carmelita Lopez, whose all-encompassing eyes didn’t miss much. She had a mouth on her but was nevertheless a good kid from a not-always-so-good home. In fact, Carmelita had led her own mother to the Lord after she’d come to one of the Youth Night Holy Ghost parties a year ago. She’d given her life to God that very night, and the church had since become her second home. One Friday night several months later, her mom had come to find out what all the hoopla from her daughter was about. As they rode the bus home, Carmelita had asked her mother if she could lead her to the Lord.
“What will I have to do?” her mother had inquired in a hesitant, skeptical tone.
“Just repeat this prayer that we learned in class Wednesday night.” Carmelita had proceeded to say the prayer taken from 1 John 10:9–10 that she’d learned in their youth Bible study. Her mom hadn’t thought much about the exercise at the time, but the next day, she got a call from the IRS stating she’d been overcharged on her taxes two years prior and they were sending her a check, with interest. It was then Rosa felt there was a connection between her repeating the words with her daughter and the IRS admitting a mistake—a modern-day miracle. Then and there she decided to take a closer look at this “church thing” in which her daughter