Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely
of Cy since he joined the ministry. Unfortunately for Cy, he’d made the mistake of going out with her a few times, and although he thought she was a wonderful person, he discovered quickly she was not his wife to be. And a wife was just what Cy was looking for. Millicent, however, felt differently and had made it her mission in life to become Mrs. Taylor. She tried everything, including becoming active in every area of ministry even remotely affiliated with the man. When she found out the bookstore fell under his branch of leadership in the church, she became the manager. If Cy pledged a thousand dollars for something the ministry needed, she’d also pledge a thousand, even though for her this often meant a bank loan. When he signed up for the singles cruise to the Bahamas, she booked a ticket. When he offered to conduct a seminar to educate church members on investment, budgets and economic freedom, Millicent volunteered to be the coordinator. She always dressed impeccably in designer suits, shoes and handbags. Her best shopping buddies were MasterCard and Visa. Millicent always had a number of admirers swooning around her. But she had eyes only for Cy.
When she saw him exiting the church after service, she made a beeline in his direction. Unfortunately, she was trying so hard to act as though she wasn’t approaching Cy that when she casually looked behind her, she almost knocked down another member. Even more, her heel caught on a cobblestone, and when she grabbed a post to steady herself, everything she’d been carrying—purse, briefcase and a box of flyers for an upcoming book sale—went flying. Cy had his back to her and missed the entire spectacle, except for the fluttering flyers. Mother Moseley, who didn’t miss much, had seen it all.
“Lawd, I thought the child was gon’ fall and hurt herself or somebody else. She was trying to unhook her heel, grab the flyers and keep an eye on Cy all at the same time. She looked like a human pretzel!” Mother Moseley wiped her eyes, which were tearing up from her laughing so hard. “God’s got a wife for ya,” she continued as she grabbed another piece of chicken and put a scoop of potatoes on her plate. “You just wait and see.”
Stacy, who’d been staring at Cy, now glanced at Darius and then at Mother Moseley, wondering if she had a word on Darius’s wife, and if her name was Stacy.
Stacy had had a crush on Darius from the beginning. She remembered when he first came to the ministry, when it was still called Good Rest Baptist Church, the name before Dr. Montgomery left the National Baptist Association, renamed the church Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center and aligned the ministry with the Total Truth Association. He’d joined the ministry as a keyboard player but also played saxophone and drums. He was married then—to a very possessive, diminutive woman. She sang in the choir, a powerful soprano, and led many of the songs. Darius quickly became an integral part of the music ministry, writing many of the choir’s songs and charts for the band members. He also traveled several times a month as part of Dr. Montgomery’s evangelism team.
It was upon returning early from one of these trips that Darius came home and found a strange car in the driveway. That wasn’t unusual. Gwen was always inviting people over. But the car belonged to Bobby Perkins, Gwen’s former, and it would seem present, lover. Things looked normal enough as he opened the door, but Gwen’s greeting seconds later was a bit too hurried, a bit too forced. She seemed breathless, her make-up smudged, hair thrown back in a hasty ponytail. She couldn’t look him in the eye, and when a toilet flushed, and Bobby came out moments later heading straight for the front door with a quick “Hey Darius! Nice to see you again,” and “Gwen, thanks for letting me use your rest room,” he knew without a doubt the rumors that had been circling about his wife were true. She fought for the marriage valiantly, but in effect it ended when the toilet flushed. They divorced some months later. Darius had been cautious since then and had rarely dated. Rumors had him dating Vanessa, the praise team captain. But Stacy had always had a crush on Darius, and after her most recent relationship ended, she again hoped that Darius was “the one.” Of course, like everybody, she thought Cy was “all that and a bag of chips,” but when it came to the women who were vying for the title of Mrs. Cy Taylor, the line was way too long.
Derrick watched Cy gracefully handle being the topic of conversation. As pastor of a mega-church, he knew firsthand what it was like to have one’s business, or what others assumed was one’s business, discussed openly. He thought of King and hoped his friend’s indiscretions didn’t become dinner chatter for Mount Zion Progressive. That was a conversation that clearly belonged between King and Tai Brook.
After dinner, with company gone and children playing, Derrick and Vivian enjoyed some time alone.
Relaxing in the den, Vivian studied her husband a moment. “You were quiet at dinner.”
“I talked to King.”
Vivian waited. Derrick remained silent.
“What’s going on?” she finally prompted.
Derrick hesitated. “He’s seeing somebody.”
Vivian sat up, more attentive. “Seeing somebody?”
Derrick stood and slowly paced the room. “Yes, King’s having an affair.”
Vivian sat back, closed her eyes. “Not again.”
“Yes,” Derrick said, rejoining her on the couch. “Again.”
“With who? Don’t tell me one of the members.”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say much. I didn’t either. Except to tell him to end it, think of his family.”
“Oh, Tai,” Vivian whispered, thinking again of how distracted her friend had sounded when they talked earlier. “I’ll call her,” she said to Derrick.
“Let her bring it up, though,” Derrick cautioned. “Getting in the middle of this…”
“I know, you’re right,” Vivian said. “When she’s ready, she’ll tell me about it.”
Derrick reached over and hugged her tightly. “We’re blessed, baby.”
“Yes,” said Vivian, returning his embrace. “Blessed.”
Mama can usually smell that coming
“Missed ya at church Sunday.” Mama Max’s stare was speculative and penetrating as she gazed at her daughter-in-law over a cup of coffee. “Feeling better?”
“Not really,” Tai replied, leaning forward to refill her cup from the carafe on the living room table. Mama Max remained silent. So did Tai. They both sipped their coffee, each deep in thought. Finally, Mama Max drained her cup, cleared her throat, placed the cup down on the table, leaned back and folded her hands across her stomach. She turned to eye Tai with compassion.
Tai felt her stare. “I can’t go on like this, Mama Max. Before, the babies were small, I was younger; things were different. I was different.”
“Different how?”
“Stronger, more positive. Before, I felt like each woman was one of the devil’s little flies and I was the fly swatter. I don’t feel like swattin’ anymore. I’m tired. So the flies are just buzzing around and around, getting on my last nerve.”
“You know I talked to King,” Mama Max replied, again filling her cup, adding two teaspoons of sugar and a generous helping of cream before continuing. “And he tells me there’s nothing going on between him and that Hope girl.”
“Famous last words…”
“Maybe, but do you think it’s possible that there isn’t anything happening, that you’re imagining things because of how active the girl is in the church, how enthusiastic she is about the ministry? Now, I admit she’s a bit feisty and she could let out the hem of those skirts an inch or two, but, baby, she’s never given me a reason to believe that something was actually going on with her and my son. And you know Mama can usually smell that kind of thing coming.”
“Well, something’s going on,” Tai replied, then walked over to the big picture window that almost covered the entire front wall. She watched the neighborhood children playing with abandon, unable