~8~

“Hold up.” I sat up in my seat at the mixing board. “Come again?”

“She said she wants me to bring her to your place in the country.”

My face opened up. “My place? She can’t stay at your crib, Evangelist Mary?”

“No, honey. She said the Lord had been on her about a retreat, and He showed her your place in the country.”

I wanted to tell her I didn’t live in the country, but I knew it would be a waste of my time. Every North Jerseyan thought any place south of New Brunswick was considered South Jersey, just like any city bred person thought just because a store wasn’t in a five-hundred-foot radius, it meant you were in the country.

That aside, I had some shit on my hands. My grandmother was coming to stay at my house!

“And how long she talking?”

Evangelist Mary sighed. “She ain’t said. I’m worried about her because she don’t know how to rest. She running around here like a mad woman, doing rerivals, praying in hospitals, visiting the county jail every week for prayer. It’s just too much. That’s why her blood pressure, cholesterol, and sugar numbers is up, carrying her to the emergency room late last night. I think this might be good for her, Raj. Your chef can make sure she eats low fat meals and she can praise and worship out there in the woods.”

“It’s January, Evangelist. Nobody worships outdoors in January. And I don’t live in the woods,” I uttered through tightened lips.

The more she spoke the faster my heart beat. This couldn’t be. Pastor McKinnon here? While I have this chick here? My palm met my face and I slid down the chair. I wanted to say no. Could have easily said it. The problem was nobody said no to Pastor Alberta McKinnon. Not even her armor bearer here, who did everything with the woman.

“Okay, Raj. I gotta go pick up her scripts then go get her.”

My brows rose. “What time is this supposed to go down?”

“I should have her up there at six.” I slipped lower into my seat. “She wants to go pick up a new prayer pillow for her bad knee first. Could you send me your address for my GPS?”

“Can we wait until the morning? That’ll give my people more time to get a room ready.” It would also give me time to think of a way to curve her. I could put her up in a nice hotel suite anywhere in the state.

“No. She said tonight. Besides, she ain’t got no groceries. Today was grocery day until the doctor at the E.R. hit her with the bad news.”

My eyes squeezed close. “I’ll have my assistant hit you with it.”

“Okay, baby. Bye.”

I didn’t respond. Just tapped to disconnect the phone.

“What’s up with you?” Gary, my engineer, sitting right next to me asked.

I sat up in the chair and brushed my hand over my face. “My grandmother.”

I knew they heard the conversation. We killed the volume when Myisha texted me saying Evangelist Mary would be calling about my grandmother.

Leech, off in the corner where he was rolling a spliff, turned to me. “Yo, ya grams is coming?” I nodded. “Damn! She stayed here only that one time. Right?”

He would know. Leech low key lived here himself. He maintained the studio, kept it functioning and clean in between sessions. Would run it if somebody needed it when I wasn’t around. He slept in the back. I’d known him from the days I was trying to get on and we’d sleep in studios. He didn’t do music exactly, but knew lots about studio equipment and how to repair things. When I built this addition to the house, he was here so much, I had him turn one of the rooms into a bedroom and that’s where he’d been since.

I didn’t answer him. My mind ran fast with what I needed to do. I stood and left the studio, traveling the long hall for the main house. I didn’t have many options. I only knew I didn’t come this far to have this shit blown up in my face. My grandmother, a very powerful woman of the Word and one who spoke the truths of God as His mouthpiece, would have to hear it straight from Him that her grandson was full of shit with this marriage thing. I wouldn’t volunteer nothing.

I would go down swinging. 

I found her in the library. It was the last place I would look, but Maria, one of my cleaning staff, told me where she was. I still didn’t know why I had a library. I wasn’t that much of a reader and even though I did when I could, I hardly had the time.

Wynter was at the long table in the middle of the room with her laptop.  She was always on that thing and suddenly, my curiosity got the best of me when I walked up on her. She was so engaged, she didn’t even know I was there.

“What the hell is that?”

She bounded around in her seat, turning to me with wild eyes. Wynter grabbed her chest.

“Shit! You scared the hell out of me!” she spoke out of breath.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She turned to look at her screen as though she’d forgotten. “Groupon.”

“What’s that?” My brow line creased.

“It’s a coupon site…kind of.”

“What’s got your interest?” I moved closer to it, squinting for the fine print. “Teeth whitening? You need ya choppers brighter?” I chuckled.

Wynter slammed down the screen, closing the laptop. “Can I help you?” She seethed.

My eyes narrowed on her. Did I pluck a nerve?

“You can, actually.” I scratched my beard, reaching all the way to my chin. This was hard to do. Fuck it… “I need a favor.”

“Spit it so I can get back to what I was doing.”

“That’s the thing. We gotta act fast.”

“Now, we’re being demanding?” She poked her lips and dipped her chin.

I forgot how slick at the mouth she was.

“Listen,” I took a deep breath. “I know you’re probably gonna tell me to go to hell about this and I swear, lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m on a course there anyway. But I can really use a do-over with us.”

“Us?” Her eyes went wild. “There’s no us.”

I swallowed back my original response; my eyes squeezed. “I need there to be an us.”

“You tryna fuck, Raj?”

My eyes shot open. “For one, hell no. And two, where you get Raj from?”

“For one, I’m glad you know better. For two, that’s what everybody around here calls you. I see I can’t, but you need a favor, though.” She swiveled around to the table and opened the laptop.

“Okay!” I must have said loud enough because when I opened my eyes again, Wynter’s were on me. “I need you to stay in my room for a few days.”

“Again, I’m not fucking you.”

“It’s not for that.”

“Then for what?”

“My grandmother’s coming to stay here for a few days. I can be loose with having you in a different room with my staff, but with her…”

Wynter frowned. “How long?”

I backed up against the wall frustrated by that question. “I don’t know.” I groaned.

“When?”

My eyes rolled over to her. “In a few hours.”

“Only a few hours? That’s not good timing. What do we have to do?”

“Move your things into my room.”

“All that? That’s a lot of work. For what?”

“Because she’s gonna stay in there.”

“Why in there? You have like a gazillion bedrooms in here.”

“That’s where I put people when I need my distance.”

One brow shot up. “Thanks a fucking lot.”

I took a deep breath, realizing my slip. “If you help me,” I tossed my chin to reference her laptop. “I can hook you up with your teeth whitening.”

Wynter pushed her chair from the table and stood. “No thanks. I already copped my Groupon.” She moved past me to the door. “You’re helping me move my things. And I’m not fucking you, so don’t even think about it.”

My damn mouth dropped.

After patting the corners of her mouth, Pastor McKinnon tossed the cloth napkin on the table. Her head fell back and lashes batted as she sighed. “Whew. To God be the glory,” she whispered.

“Good?” Ragee asked, forking the last of his baked sweet potato.

The guy’s taste in food was weird. He dined on baked fished, a salad, and the sweet potato while we had juicy baked chicken breasts, creamy mashed potatoes, and fresh long string beans.

Pastor McKinnon grunted, adjusting herself in her seat as she hummed her approval. Ragee continued to clean his plate. I wondered if he was still rattled by her abrupt visit. It was comical seeing the man who owned this great estate, running from wing to wing earlier this afternoon, transferring clothes from my drawers and closets. He had his housekeeper, Maria, change the pillows and bedding. Pillows. He switched out my pillows, giving her brand new ones and storing the ones I used. And moving into his room was no easy feat. Ragee had clothes and jewelry galore. There was honestly no room for me. That required his buddy, Leech, who I’d seen around the estate, moving some of Ragee’s things to a vacant bedroom closet down the hall.  That was our afternoon, into the evening: running up and down the long corridor of the second floor, transferring clothes and personal items.

Again, comical.

“Everything was delicious,” she murmured with soprano sweetness.

She wasn’t what I’d expected…and she was. Pastor McKinnon was a stout woman of average height and the same warm, cinnamon complexion as her grandson encased her skin. She was visibly overweight, creases in her wrists, and hanging rolls from her elbows. She walked slowly and on a limp, making me wonder how she’d get up and down the stairs here. Earl mentioned a service elevator off the kitchen, but I didn’t know where it led to. I’d been observing the woman with the things her grandson worried of in mind. Ragee bore some resemblance to his grandmother, though not as much as he did his father. That made me curious as to what his mother, Pastor McKinnon’s daughter, looked like. I didn’t see pictures of her on the Internet when I googled him months ago. Her full nose was half an inch wider than his and he inherited her thin and faded brows.

As soon as she stepped inside, she handed her things to Leech, who ran them up to my ro—her room. She wasn’t very talkative, her friend or assistant did most of the talking, often speaking for her. I could tell she was waited on often, but not in an aristocratic manner. She appeared simple, everyday in style. She wore an old fashioned bun slicked down by gel and no jewelry to speak of. I assumed her position as pastor gave her the assistant and the need to be fussed over.

When Ragee introduced us, she hugged me tightly and whispered, “God bless you, daughter.” Her frame was wide and incredibly soft, downy. She made a remark about not knowing about the wedding to attend, and Ragee readily delivered an excuse of us being so ready, we didn’t want to delay it with extensive wedding details or projecting the date. That Ragee was a smart one, I saw. This woman had him on edge, though she offered a peaceful presence.

“Did Bishop Carmichael perform the ceremony?” Pastor McKinnon asked, across from me.

Only my eyes lifted from my plate. “Who?”

“Oh,” Ragee interjected quickly. He smiled at me then his grandmother. “No. And Pastor Carmichael isn’t a bishop.”

“Yet.”

His smile turned knowing, eyes shrinking. “If you say so, Pastor.”

“I know so, son. And the day shall come to past,” she declared, now in an alto tone.

Ragee must have read the confusion worn on my face.

His eyes dipped. “Pastor Carmichael is the pastor of my church,” his tenor was lower.

Oh…

“You don’t go to Gee-Gee’s church?” she asked.

I snickered in Ragee’s face.

“No, ma’am. I don’t attend his church.”

“Which one do you go to?”

That flicker of nervousness returned in his eyes. I didn’t know if I should answer honestly. My family didn’t go to church. The closest I got to it was the Kingdom Hall I attended with my girlfriend, Mya, on occasion.

“We didn’t meet at church,” Ragee answered, and by her expression, I could tell Pastor McKinnon caught on to my heathendom.

I snickered inside.

Earl came into the dining room, a place I’d never engaged in a formal dinner with Ragee before tonight. Even Earl seemed to be on his best behavior, cutting the jokes and shenanigans.

“Can I offer you gelato for dessert, Pastor McKinnon?”

His formality around her made me wonder what she thought of his sexuality. I was now sure Earl was gay. He all but told me the other day.

“No thank you.” She sighed. “I’m tired. Don’t wanna hold the house up any longer. We can turn down now.”

Huhn?

Ragee checked the time on his diamond watch. “You mean you’re done for the day, Pastor?” His face opened in shock and understanding. “Grandmother, it’s not even nine. I’m sure Wynter has stuff to do,” he spoke politely and scoffed. “I got work waiting on me in the studio.”

She laughed…giggling shyly, something I now realized was her passive aggressive manner. “Gee-Gee, when you have company over, you don’t overwhelm them by keeping energy going when they need to turn in, baby.” She nodded toward me. “You got a new bride, here. You need to retreat with her at night, not work. I read the gossip blogs when you’re in it. People send them to me. I know you stopped your shows to…build your ministry, so to speak.” She covered her mouth with her sausage fingers and giggled again.

Pastor hasn’t been touched since The Temptations had their first drop from the group…

Raj’s defeated eyes brushed against mine. All I had planned for the night was getting a few words in for the latest piece I’d been working on.

“Amen,” he breathed, conceding.

“Amen,” Pastor McKinnon perked up, ready to leave the table. “Do me a favor and help Pastor up to her room, you two.” Though requested sweetly, there was a bite of authoritarianism to that command.

Without further words, Ragee stood from the table and I followed suit. The next time I heard his voice was when he hummed a song on the way up the stairs. It was clear it was something gospel by the way she carried on with him, praising God along the way.

She grunted, dropping her weight onto the mattress. Grandmother always seemed out of breath…in pain.

“You need anything?” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes across the room, seeming to still be adjusting her lungs. Then her thumb reached up to scratch her nose. “You know,” she began then took another breath, “…the Lord’s been speaking to me about due rest. Been doing it for some time now.” Her eyes rose to us, more to me. “You know, I can be disobedient in that area,” she tried to joke, voice gentle as a child. “But then my blood pressure and sugar flew off the charts and I was doing revivals back-to-back, weddings, conferences, shut-ins, and all that. When Evangelist Mary took me to the emergency room, I said, ‘Okay, God. Amen.’ That’s when I had her reach out to you.”

I twisted my neck and shrugged. “And now you’re here. I’mma make sure you chill. My people gone take real good care of you.”

I tossed a look over to Wynter, who looked confused, and I understood why. Grandmother talked to God more than I talked to my personal assistants. She stayed in His face. It was something I was used to, had heard it all my life—seen it, too. I didn’t like this due rest talk, though. I wanted my grandmother to live a long life.

“But when I pulled up to the house…walked through the door,” she cried, “I felt such a peace that shook my spirit. For months now, my mind been wrestling…thinking, praying—spirit running on a mill.” She pointed toward the bedroom door and down. “But here… I get here and a quiet and stillness that shook me felt like a blanket and covered me.”

Mmmm!

I felt that one in my spirit. Not that I agreed, but would hope my home—this property—would be a source of peace. I had just that in mind when I designed every detail of the estate.

“I can hear the Spirit of the Lord telling me now, here is where I need to be. Now, I won’t be in your way. I know you still…secluding and all.” My grandmother actually blushed.

Okay…

“A’ight, Grandmother,” I gave her a soft smile. “We’re gonna leave you to get some sleep. Can I get you anything before I turn down?”

I hadn’t even decided if that’s what I was going to do. I had scripts to read over and a melody looping in my head that I needed to flesh out on the keys.

“Nothing at all.” She tossed her chin to the door. “Just leave that open for me. I wanna see you two off to ya bedroom. That’s all,” she almost whispered, eyes still not on us.

I looked at Wynter to find her eyes on me already. They were big, scared, and questioning. Again, I understood why. My grandmother was a peculiar woman. I did a reverse nod to the door, telling her to lead the way.

I followed Wynter to the door. By the time we left the room, we were side by side. It was weird as hell, walking down the long hallway quietly. The journey felt like forever. I opened one of the French doors when we made it to the room. I was sure we were out of my grandmother’s view now, but my gut told me to play this right. Wynter stepped in first and I closed the door after me and as my head dropped to my chest, a hard breath left my lungs.

How am I gonna pull this off?

“Bathroom’s over there.” I pointed in case she didn’t peep it earlier when we were running in and out of here, setting this up.  “You got the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Ummmm... Actually, I prefer the couch. You’re good.” My face shot up at that.

I shook my head, reading her expression. Wynter stood, frowning and arms crossed in the middle of the empty space just before the bed area. She was tense and angry.

“I don’t mind. No biggie at all. Ain’t like it’s my main bed anyway.” I stepped off, thinking to search the closet for a blanket.

“I said, I prefer the—”

I jumped around to face her. “What’s your deal, lady? Take the damn bed!”

“How many ways can I tell you I don’t want your damn bed?” Her tone was thick.

My face fell into my palms. “Right,” I groaned. “Because you’re not going to fuck me.” Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head, slapped my hands together, opening my stance. “Okay. Name your price.”

“What?”

“I know you ain’t sign up for all this. My grandmother was a curve ball. The last thing we expected to do when you agreed to this was to share a room. I’ll eat that. Tell me what can I do to compensate you?”

Her face blew up, mouth opened wide. “Com—” She let a bitter laugh slip. “Compensate? Are you fucking kidding me? Is everything about money to you people?”

“Let’s not act like it ain’t to you.”

“It ain’t all about money for me, sweetie.”

“Then what’s it about to you, honey?”

“For one, it’s about keeping your damn word! Mike said he’d do things I’ve yet to see.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, get me in the studio.”

My neck swung back like I was hit with a jab. I didn’t take her for a music come up. “Oh, so you sing?”

Her neck jerked back. “No. I write and would like to turn my work into music. He said if I did this shit, he’d help.” Wynter stormed off toward the bathroom. “Just like he said he’d do other shit that I still ain’t see materialized. I wish I never signed that fucking—” She slammed the door, and I couldn’t hear the rest, but imagined it.

The room was quiet when I crept in. I guessed I shouldn’t have expected anything different at three in the morning. I headed straight to the bathroom for a hot shower. Washing my hair, I tried telling myself to relax. It was hard to when I felt like things were spinning out of control. It was one thing to put on a front with Wynter. I could keep it contained here at the estate. But adding Pastor Alberta McKinnon to the equation may have tipped me over. My grandmother wasn’t just…different. She saw shit. She could sense the dog and pony in this shit with her eyes closed. I really hadn’t thought this plan through. And now, my mind worked double time to figure a way out of it.  

I didn’t know how it would happen, but I needed sleep. Leaving the room to go for a swim an hour after Wynter and I “turned down” for bed, was supposed to help tire me out. After three hours and I didn’t know how many laps, I should have been yawning and barely able to walk. But here I was, wide eyed and thinking of another plan.

After washing I threw on boxers, shorts, a tee, and socks I stashed in here before leaving for the pool. When I was ready to leave the bathroom, I turned off the light before opening the door. I couldn’t see shit at first. It was pitch black compared to the bathroom. So, I used my hand to guide me past the bed area to the lounge section of the suite. But I missed the damn step leading to it.

Damn…

I stumbled, almost falling on my ass. Needing a minute, I paused bending over with my hands on my knees. My grandmother, now Wynter; why was I feeling like the imposer in my own damn house? I tried waiting out the sting time.

One…two…three…fo—

“You creep out of here close to midnight, stealing away like a damn robber. You could at least come back in just as quiet.”

My body swung up and I looked back over my shoulder, even though my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet and I couldn’t see nothing but shadows.   

“You up?” I didn’t know why I asked that question. Sounded dumb as hell.

“Did you expect me to be sleep?” I heard the sarcasm in her tone. “It’s not like I’m sleeping in the comfort of my own bed.”

I felt my face fold. “Which bed?”

Wynter moved in my apartment where she had her own bed, then here to the house where she was given another one. Was she talking about hers at home?

“Anyone but this one. It ain’t been broken in yet…stiff as shit.”

A soft, barely there smile broke across my mouth. I’d only slept in that bed less than a dozen times. When I came to the house, I slept in the studio or theater room more often than I did in here.

I started moving again, finding my way to the couch. “Consider yaself lucky then. It’s practically new.”

“Luck,” she breathed, and I could tell mostly to herself. “Yeah, right. Luck and me ain’t danced in a while. I’m more conversant with the rhythm of blues.”

I froze. Did I hear that? She was way across the suite, a huge distance between us at this point.

“The rhythm of blues?” It was more of an observation than a question. I liked it.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Having bad shit happen to you successively has a rhythm.”

My eyes bounced left to right, now seeing shapes I could make out, as I processed that. “How is that?”

Did I just ask her that?

I couldn’t believe I basically gave her the green light to keep talking. I didn’t want to talk. I needed sleep. But something about that line had me open. Intrigued.

Wynter didn’t answer right away, making me think she was shocked by that invitation, too.

“Uhhhh,” she stalled, I could tell. “I mean… Life has this arbitrary rhythm no one can control, no matter how much some believe they can. The cool thing about it is it’s like a rhythm with jumps and falls, alternating highs and lows. I’ve learned how to ride the current, make it look fascinating and cool.” She chuckled somberly after that.

She probably didn’t know I heard it. Wynter likely didn’t know I’d also caught on to how smart she apparently was. I’d always looked for conversation in women—men, too. Anyone I aligned myself with had to have a deeper dialogue than just talk of the weather. I needed to hear more from her to discern for sure.

“What’d he promise that he ain’t give you?”

“Huhn?”

“Mike. You said he agreed to a lot. What about the music part?”

Crickets.

Wynter didn’t want to answer.

“It’s cool.” I chuckled, being arrogant. “It’s coming out of my pocket and it ain’t like I can get out of it at this point. We’re legally bound.” There was my damn sarcasm.

I still couldn’t believe I was faking a marriage, of all things to fake.

“About the music?” she was asking if we were on the same page.

“Yeah.”

“Getting me in the studio with quality producers and engineers to help me out with my music.”

“What do you need help with?”

“Learning how to turn my writing into lyrics—everything because like I said, I can’t sing.”

“And he ain’t do that?” She’d been living in a house with a full studio.

“He had me in some rinky dink studio in the Bronx with some kids who smoked more blunts than they knew how to work the board.”

“Word?”

“Yeah. But it’s all good. I’ll figure something out.”

“What do you need help with? Finding tracks, production?”

“Everything. I don’t know the first thing about melody, but I have a heart for moving composition and the ear to direct notes. I just need the right environment to figure it out. I spoke to Leech about it and he’s got a guy in Midtown Manhattan he thinks has the time.”

“Yeah. You need a mentor,” I cracked.

Who wants in the music biz with no knowledge of production, melody, or arrangements?

“And I’ll get one.” I caught the rustlings of covers. “Like I said.”

She was being sarcastic, and my first reaction was going to be tuning her out. But there was a determination in her tone. Plus, I couldn’t shake the way she went along with my grandmother without a complaint. My first thought, when I started considering it all at the pool, was she wouldn’t complain when she was happily compensated. Then earlier, when we made it back to the master suite, her anger about this arrangement was clear when she ran into the bathroom. That wasn’t the reaction of a satisfied manipulator.

“I can help.” The words left my mouth before I’d fully decided.

Wynter didn’t respond right away. For the next few seconds all I could hear was the heat pushing from the vents.

“I mean…”

“You don’t have to do that.” She was firm.

“I know I don’t. I said—”

“Then why would you offer?” She quickly cut me off.

I closed my eyes in the dark of the room, trying to fight off the need to dead this conversation and tune her out. “Because of how you handled my grandmother.”

I heard more rustling from the bedding. “You know… You talked more in these few minutes—civilly—than you have since I met you. What is it about your grandmother that has you so generous and chatty?”

I swiped my nose, feeling my jaw tightening. We weren’t going there. My family was none of her business. I was none of her business.

But my spirit was telling me to chill. And with Pastor McKinnon this close to me, I wanted to believe I could trust that inner man.

“If you could just play it cool with my grandmother…for the week or however long she’s gonna be here—”

She sucked in a heap of air. “Oh, my god. How long am I supposed to sleep in here?”

“I told you earlier I don’t know.” I tried putting more bite in my voice. “But if you could just be polite and…easy.” I shook my head then ran my fingers against my scalp. “You do me this solid and I got you.”

When I didn’t hear from her right away, my head popped up. She was thinking about it? That confused me more. This chick wasn’t turning out to be who I thought she was at all. I didn’t like that. It made it hard to deal with her.

Tick…tock…tick…

“It would be helpful if you could just answer questions when I—”

“Deal.” She cut me off again.

I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding, making sure she couldn’t hear it. I swung my legs over until they hit the couch and pulled a throw pillow under my head to get comfortable. Maybe I wasn’t exactly sleepy, but thanks to Wynter, I was tired. This was bad. All of it. But I knew I had to see it through.

“And one last thing…”

“Yeah?” She answered right away, for once.

“Don’t be clownin’ my granny to people, man.” I laughed, but was serious as hell. Alberta was an anointed woman no matter how you sliced it. “She’s a real one.”

“I have a “different” grandmother, too.” I could hear her turning on the mattress. “I’ll try my best.”

That didn’t sound convincing but was better than nothing at all.

“Boy, get up!” her high pitch wakes me out of my sleep.

My eyes open wide to my grandmother glaring down on me with the blanket I fell asleep with raised in her hand.

“You know nobody’s allowed to sleep on this couch! Not in this living room,” she yells even louder.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” I groan, rubbing my eyes.

“Don’t sorry me, boy! I done told all y’all no lounging in here. I come in from night worship to find you disobeying me again?” She steps closer. “I should skin you!”

My palms shoot up. “It’s not like that, grandma!” I beg.

“Then why you up here? You got your own space down in the basement. I cleared a corner down there to let you bang on the drums and the keyboard, so you don’t keep the house up, but you don’t wanna sleep down there after all this time. I’m too tired and old to figure out you young people. Get outta here. Now!”

She swats me on the shoulder, and I shoot up in the air and out of her range, not feeling the little lick. Her hands can do but so much damage to me now. I’m almost her height. But she still scares me.

“Wait, Grandmother! Can I sleep in your room?” I try keeping my voice low.

“My room? What for?”

I clasp my hands to plead. “I can sleep on the floor, next to your treadmill. Please, grandma!”

“Boy, if you don’t get ya hips down them stairs!” She swats me again and I shoot away.

“It’s cold down there, grandma. Please don’t make me sleep down there no more!” Tears swell in my eyes as she pushes me toward the back of the house.

“Boy, you ‘bout big as your uncle, June. You can deal with that lil bit of chill. I told you last week when you started this to use that heater. Now, get!”

She shoves me out the back door, tossing my blanket behind me. The door slams shut and in my sweats and wife beater, I fall to the steps. I wrap the blanket around me and cry.

Why can’t my mommy still be here?

My body flew into a sitting position on the bed. Heart beating out of my chest as I glanced around the room. White everywhere, from top to bottom with splashes of black and gold.

Ragee’s bedroom, I thought to myself.

It was the weirdest design for a man’s bedroom. Not feminine, but particularly detailed with too much specification for a man. I wondered if Myisha was sure about him designing it all on his own. Maybe she had a hand in this room. All white carpet, black dresser, armoire, and chest of drawers. Stark white bedding with a few black decorative pillows tossed with white textured ones, and a lesser amount of gold. The sitting room was a step down section off of the main bedroom. The couches in there were glaring white, but the table legs and décor were gold: brass or gold plated. Even the earthy green artificial plants in there were muted enough to stand behind the black and white theme, but were shaped to be attention-grabbers.

I somehow forgot where I was for a minute. It’s easy to do when your resting place has changed as much as mine over the past few months. My palm covered my chest and I swallowed, trying to calm my racing heart. I couldn’t remember dreaming, but had clearly fallen to sleep at some point earlier this morning. What was most baffling was what had awakened me.

Raps at the door had my neck snapping to face that direction. There were seven knocks in a row. That’s what had awakened me. I glanced over to the sitting area, though I couldn’t see much. Last I knew, Ragee had been on the couch. My pulse beat in my neck as I shifted off the bed and twisted to toss my feet to the floor. On shaky legs, I toed over to the steps to peer into the sitting room. A thick and long male frame occupied the couch under a throw blanket, exposing his hairy muscled legs and feet covered in ankle socks was all I could make out.

“Gee-Gee?” More knocking had me gasping and remembering why I got out of bed. Quietly, I made my way to the set of doors, slightly opening one.

“Oh,” I stumbled, wiping the crust and mucus from my eyes. “Good morning…” I stalled, not recalling her title.

She smiled humbly, one chunky arm crossing over the other for a scratch. “Pastor McKinnon.”

I nodded back and forth, remembering. “Pastor McKinnon.” My eyes closed in frustration of forgetting. “I’m sorry…just waking up and a little fuzzy.”

She let go of a breath, her lips vibrating against the shooting air. “Okay,” her voice petite, formal. “I guess Gee-Gee’s sleep, too?” I nodded. “All right.” She giggled. “I guess I can see why. You guys were up late.” Her thick shoulders lifted coyly. “I felt tension between the two of you in my spirit last night when you walked me to my room. Then when I went down for water, I saw him jogging down the stairs pouting.” She giggled again. “I know that pout. He been this big since he was eleven…always a big boy. Always pouting…brooding.” The moment grew stale. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Her voice was deliberately low. “I hope I’m no trouble for you.”

Though it was exactly what she was goading for, I assured her. “Oh, no!” I whispered myself. “No tension at all.” Her eyes opened wide as to challenge me for the truth, but a smile remained on her lips. The lady seemed to have known something more than what I was trying to reveal. It made me think about Raj’s sharing of her being “a real one”—whatever that meant. I let go of a breath through my nostrils, eyes closing again to regroup. “We met an understanding before falling asleep.”

I fell into the crack of the door, stealthily to be sure she couldn’t see he wasn’t in the bed. Pastor McKinnon’s eyes bounced all around my face as she seemed to be processing my words. “Okay. Well, I had breakfast already. That nice Earl made me oatmeal. Now, I’m going for a walk out back. Maybe see Arnie. Thought I’d see if…” She tossed her chin to gesture the room. “If he wanted to get some praise and worship in with me this morning. I guess I’ll let him be. I know you guys’re tired.”

I nodded. “I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes up.”

The pastor smiled, eyes blinking as she turned away. “Okay. You’re more than welcome, too.” Her voice was still soprano, sweeter than she probably gave those she knew well.

After she took off down the hall, I closed the door behind me. Pausing for a second to process that brief encounter with Ragee’s grandmother, I wiped my face again. I promised him I’d be nice to her and I had every intention of keeping my word. My attention went across the colossal room. Him. Before I knew it, I was on my way.

With trepidation, I toed down the two steps into the sitting room. From this vantage point, I could see him stretched across the couch, lips parted while lost in sleep. There was an open book laying on his stomach and an iPad on his chest, playing a video. I chewed on the inside of my mouth, as my mind turned over more than it could process. Not knowing why, I tiptoed over toward him with a crying bladder, too curious to be smart.

On the screen of the iPad played a church service. A thick bearded man crossed a pulpit with… I squinted to be sure. He ran beads through his left hand as he spoke. One of the buds had fallen out of Ragee’s ear. Still stupidly curious, I softly lifted it from his shoulder, plugged it into my ear, and heard the raspy delivery of a preacher.

“Holiness isn’t an act limited to your behavior while within these four walls, tabernacle. Holiness is your conduct on the job, in your bedroom late at night, and when out with friends being social. Holiness is what you present when encountering souls in the streets. It’s what you practice while on social media—in the direct and private messages. Peter told us in Chapter one, ‘Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior.’ Holiness is a journey. You don’t clock in and out of it like you would a job or a visit to your local place of worship.”

I pulled the bud from my ear when the audience went up in applause.

Who is Peter and what book did he write?

My eyes traveled down Ragee’s body to the open book. It was a Bible…unmistakably. The fine print, the numbers next to each line. It looked weathered…and thick. At the top of the two pages was “Ruth.”

I began reading from the top of the first page about a woman named Naomi, who was married with two sons, and they fled their homeland because of a famine. Her whole family, including two daughters-in-law, moved to some place called Moab to start over. She eventually lost her husband and stayed with her sons and their wives. Then eventually, Naomi’s sons died. Both of them. Sheesh!

Talk about the rhythm of blues…

My brows met and face went hard as I kept reading the small print. I’d never read a Bible before. Had no idea it included stories like this. When she lost her sons, Naomi heard about their hometown being lit again with food and opportunity, at least that was how I saw it. So, she and the daughters-in-law set out to return. But out of nowhere, Naomi urged them to continue without her. She told them to go back to their parents and start all over with new husbands. The girls didn’t want to. They cried, not wanting to leave her behind.

Naomi must’ve been a bomb mother-in-law…

The two girls, Orpah—what an ugly name—and Ruth…

My eyes went back to the top of the page where I made the correlation. This was her story. The girls were clearly stuck on Naomi, but eventually Orpah chucked the deuces and went about her way.

My girl…

I kept reading on in spite of the protest from my bladder. “But Ruth replied, ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.’ When Naomi realized that Ruth was determined to go with her, she stopped urging her—

My reading was interrupted by sea deep chords sprinkling over me. “Like what you see?”

My eyes popped so wide the balls of them hurt. They swung all around, in search of what, I didn’t know, but landed on a wide tent made just above the Bible. It was growing taller and taller at his pelvis line.

Whoa…

That’s when I realized, I was crouched down next to him, facing his morning wood. My spine arched and I hunched over. This looked so bad. Felt so bad. I was just reading the Bible and then…measuring the tent of the throw blanket the next.

Then I felt my bladder kick. I scrambled to my feet before embarrassing myself.

“Uh…” I tried before making it to the steps. “Your grandmother stopped by. She said something about praise and worship out back!” I shouted all the way to the bathroom.

I slammed the door behind me, barely making it to the toilet.