LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      See? I chastised myself. That’s why I shouldn’t be doing this.

      Troy’s frustrated voice filtered through the door. “Shut me out, then. I’m gonna fix me something to eat. I’m telling you, don’t worry. I know you’re fine.” His confidence made my skin crawl.

      When I heard him storm away, I took the only clean washcloth in the place from under the sink and began to freshen up. Emotions started to bubble up. I needed help. I needed something different. I needed not to be in this casual sex relationship.

      Deep down, I felt there was only One that could fix this, so I looked up at the ceiling and said, “God, You gotta know this is not a good time for me.” I shook my head. What was I doin’? He wouldn’t listen to me. I’m sure He gave up on me a while ago.

      But something—sheer desperation—spurred me to get down on my knees and continue. “Well, if You’re still in the forgiving business, I need help. There’s got to be more to this life than living and dying. There has to be more than just trying to get by. If there’s a better plan, God, help me see it.”

      My mom used to make us pray every night, trying to lift our spirits. But ever since I had the abortion after the breakup with Max, I’d strayed away from God. Somehow I just felt unworthy of His love. But at that moment in Troy’s bathroom, I needed to feel close to Him.

      I emerged from Troy’s bedroom fully dressed and headed to gather my stuff. Troy heard my steps and caught my arm before I picked up my bag. He pulled me to the television in the living room.

      “Can you believe this?” he raged.

      A news conference was being held on C-SPAN. A U.S. senator, the Reverend Steven Stokes, was addressing the nation from Atlanta, Georgia. For a brief second, I forgot that I had planned to head to my own apartment.

      “Did he say he’s running for president?” I asked.

      “Yeah,” Troy confirmed.

      I shrugged. “Maybe he can win. He’s a popular senator,” I said, recovering from shock.

      “Please! I don’t care who he is. Jackson’s, Chisholm’s, and Sharpton’s poor showings at the polls over the years should be enough to prove this nation ain’t ready for a black president.”

      “I don’t know,” I said, lowering myself onto the couch. “That was years ago. Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice have since held cabinet posts—they’ve changed America’s outlook about having a black person in politics. Maybe the nation is ready.”

      “Yeah, right,” Troy dismissed.

      The Reverend’s wife, a beige-skinned, petite lady, strode up to her husband with a bright, confident smile. She wore a navy suit, tea-length with a rounded white collar pressed to perfection. Pearl accessories added a touch of elegance. I admired her style.

      Their three children followed, all seemingly in their twenties or early thirties. The eldest, Steven Jr., had a young family of his own with him. But the bad-boy look in his eye told me this guy was probably a bit of a troublemaker.

      The daughter, Savannah, was a younger version of her mom. She looked to be in her early twenties. She walked up to her dad, took his arm, and gave him an adoring smile.

      The middle child, Sebastian, had a muscular build that made me do a double take. He wore dark-rimmed glasses and a charcoal-colored suit and tie that made him look like an overpriced lawyer.

      I didn’t know them personally, but the Stokeses had been in the spotlight lately. The press loved talking about how much the family was putting Georgia on the map. I had seen headlines touting the way their community involvement had helped decrease the number of homeless people, increase the number of corporate headquarters in Georgia, and raise the state’s literacy rate. I’d always felt that though we hadn’t had a black president yet, we needed more politicians to keep reaching for it. And what better candidate than a family man who had been a politician and the leader of a church. Plus, I could get behind someone who wanted to work for America as president and not just push his own agenda. Reverend Stokes seemed like that type of person.

      “They seem like the real deal,” I said.

      “Whatever,” Troy grumbled, heading into the kitchen. “Wait ’til the press starts eating them up. All their dirty laundry will be out there.” Troy poured himself a shot of gin. “White folks don’t want a brother in the White House. They’re afraid we’ll get in there and make our own rules.” Troy laughed to himself.

      “White people aren’t the only ones who vote. You’ll vote for him, won’t you?”

      Troy chugged his drink. “I don’t know anything about the man.”

      “He’s black and he’s a Democrat. Plus, he has a good track record,” I said, angry at his stubbornness. “What else do you need to know?”

      “Chris, if you ever meet them you’ll probably see they aren’t that impressive. I bet those smiles are only on the surface. Most politicians I come across are phony.”

      “All of them can’t be bad,” I said, gathering my stuff. “I imagine their life is pretty wonderful.”

      “Then I suggest you apply for the Secret Service temp job, guard them for a while, and find out all their dirty little secrets. Then you’ll see that the rosy picture you’re talking about isn’t so perfect.”

      I spotted my toothbrush and makeup case and stuffed them into my Gucci overnight bag. Walking back to the living room, I said, “Temp job? What are you talking about?”

      “It was posted through the inner office e-mail system. Something about because it’s election time, the Secret Service needs bodies to help them cover the presidential candidates,” Troy said before kissing me on the cheek and opening his apartment door.

      Once on the other side of his door, I raised my eyebrow, nodded my head, and thought, Good riddance, Mr. Evans. And maybe I should look into that temp job. It was time for a new venture.

      Chapter 2

      Explore

      The following week was not easy. I did apply for the temp job with the Secret Service. But I worried about the possibility of being pregnant. What would I do with a baby? I simply forced myself to concentrate on work. And with many files on my desk needing to be reviewed and data entry piling up, I had much to do.

      The stress of my life made me glad I would soon be headed to Texas for my college roommate and best friend’s wedding. Although I had strayed away from God, Eden still remained true to the Lord. She was the only woman I was close to, with the exception of my mother and Crystal, my feisty younger sister. Even though we now lived in separate cities, when Eden asked me to be her maid of honor, I gladly accepted.

      I was busy typing away at my desk. Over the last week, work had been easy. I didn’t have to deal with Troy, because he was in Maryland working with the DEA on a drug case dealing with suspected trafficking to the D.C.-area high schools. I was thrilled to pieces that we didn’t have to see each other. And since he hadn’t called, I knew he wasn’t trying to deal with me, either.

      “Ware,” my supervisor yelled, “I need to see you in my office. Now.”

      What’s his problem? I wondered as I rose from my chair.

      Everyone in the office considered my boss, Thomas Hunter, an intimidating man. And he knew it. He spent most of his time sitting behind his large mahogany desk barking out orders to other people, instead of being useful in the field. Personally, I rather admired his arrogance.

      I stood in his doorway, leaning against the wall, and watched him flip through some files in a tall, wooden cabinet. Hunter’s jet-black hair started high on his pale forehead and extended to a shoulder-length ponytail. Plaques and awards graced every wall. The credenza held photographs of him cavorting with beautiful women in exotic locations.

      I folded my

Скачать книгу