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Needy continued. “Let’s ask the Lord to bless our plans.”

      “That’s a good idea. It’s always good to have the Lord on your side when you getting ready to dish out a righteous retribution,” Mother Blister said as she struggled to stand. “I also think we need to thank the Lord for Birdie. After all, we ain’t got the money to hire a hit man, and she does.”

      Birdie wasn’t quite as sure as the others if her financial contribution to the plan would be looked upon favorably on Judgment Day, but she didn’t want to discourage her newfound home girls. She decided to seek God’s counsel on her own, later.

      Cill thought they were taking too long to get heaven on the line so she started dialing by cutting to the chase.

      “Heavenly Father who art the bright and morning star, we’re calling on you. We need you to give us the strength to dismember a man who has done harm to your faithful women…”

      Petunia became caught up in the fervor of the prayer. Her head started bobbing side to side with enthusiasm as she held on to Birdie’s hand tight enough to cut off its circulation.

      Birdie struggled to extricate herself from Petunia’s grip. She thought Cill had gone too far in asking God to step aside and let them do His work. She didn’t want to be counted among the number when God started slaying them in Needy’s living room, one by one.

      “…And if you do these things,” Cill implored, “Lord, we promise to give you the honor and most of the glory, amen.”

      When Cill proudly lifted her head, thinking she’d prayed better than a bishop at a revival service had, she discovered that the others had taken a few steps back, virtually leaving her standing alone.

      “It was a good thing that y’all stepped back. I was in the presence of the Lord, and it was just Him and me while I prayed.” She was quite pleased and at that very moment, she decided that praying for retribution was her calling and purpose.

      The complacent look upon Cill’s face spurred Needy to bring the meeting to a complete halt. “Well, we certainly don’t need to add to Cill’s prayer.”

      “You can say that again,” Petunia quipped as she rushed to gather her pocketbook and other belongings. She thought Cill was being selfish in only offering to give God most of the glory.

      “I, personally, don’t want God to even know I was here when you called on Him,” Mother Blister added as she dragged her stiff hips towards the front door. She turned towards Cill, pointing directly at her. “You’ve really lost your mind.”

      “I’m not crazy. Doesn’t the Word say that we need to come boldly to the throne of Grace?” Cill said without a hint of remorse.

      It was the first time they’d actually seen any sign of weakness from Cill.

      “Boldly, yes, but He certainly didn’t tell you to come before Him acting crazy,” Petunia shouted as she slammed Needy’s door hard enough to make the screen door rattle.

      Cill almost knocked Mother Blister down, causing her belongings to spill from her hand, as she raced past her to catch up with Petunia. There wasn’t a doubt on any of their minds that Cill was rushing to lay hands on Petunia and it would be Petunia calling on the Lord.

      Mother Blister seemed dazed as she gathered her things.

      “I’ll need to call a cab,” Mother Blister told Needy. “I’m not riding in the same car with those two nut cases.”

      “Don’t worry, Mother Blister,” Birdie cut in. “I’ll call a cab for you and pay for it, too.”

      Instead of acting grateful, Mother Blister became even more annoyed. “You should pay for it,” she barked. “This is all your fault, Birdie.”

      “How is it her fault?” Needy asked. She was genuinely surprised at Mother Blister’s ungratefulness.

      “If that woman,” Mother Blister yelled while pointing at Birdie, “knew the difference between a duck and a swan, we wouldn’t be swimming in this cesspool…” She stopped yelling and adjusted her wig, thinking she’d completed the sentence and made her point.

      Both Needy and Birdie looked at Mother Blister with their mouths gaped. They were shocked.

      The taxi couldn’t arrive fast enough for Needy and Birdie. Mother Blister had spent the past ten minutes ranting and raving in half-sentences. One minute she’d call them idiots and the next minute ask Birdie for money to tip the driver. Needy almost broke out in applause when she finally left.

      With all the women except Birdie gone, Needy retreated to her bedroom to change her clothes, leaving Birdie alone with her thoughts.

      So now, this is what it’s like to be like one of the sistahs, Birdie thought. She exaggerated pronouncing the word sister while trying to calm down after Mother Blister’s unwarranted tirade. I can see where it could be a very expensive relationship. She laughed softly to herself more out of disappointment about the lack of solidarity, than happiness. Whatever the price, she’d pay it.

      In truth, Birdie would’ve hocked her mother’s lung machine to get back at Lyon Lipps.

      It didn’t matter to Birdie that, unlike the other women in the group, Lyon Lipps had yet to take full advantage of her and that it had been two years since they’d laid eyes upon each other. He was still going to pay for all the other men who had broken her heart. And, besides, now she had help. The other women from the singles group would see to it that she got her money’s worth. She was going to rip a page out of the Sistahs’ Revenge Handbook and use it until the ink wore off the page.

      “If you want something to drink just help yourself,” Needy shouted from the bedroom, interrupting Birdie’s thoughts. “I’ll be out in a moment. I just need to wear something appropriate for our visit to Sister Hellraiser’s house.”

      “Why do you need something special to wear?” Birdie shouted back as she started towards Needy’s kitchen for a glass of cold water.

      “I forgot. You’ve never met Ima Hellraiser. Do you own a bullet-proof vest and a cross?” Needy asked with a nervous laugh. Her words were starting to fade as she struggled to get into a nylon slip that kept clinging to the perspiration on her body, brought on by her fight to get it over her wide hips.

      Birdie wasn’t quite sure she’d heard Needy correctly so she just answered, “Yes. I do have a cross and whatever else is needed.” She wondered why she needed protection from a church sister. The humidity in the house quickly nudged away any further thoughts of concern as she held down the lever on the refrigerator’s ice dispenser, allowing small chips of ice to fill her tall glass completely, then she added water. The taste of the refreshingly cold liquid quickly erased her need to ask any more questions.

      “Are you going to be much longer?” Birdie shouted as she made her way through the cluttered hallway and back into the living room. Her costly blouse felt clammy and the water offered no relief. I wonder if Needy would be offended if I bought her a new air conditioner as a pre-Christmas gift while this weather is still hot. I’m about to melt.

      Birdie chuckled as the liquid raced down her throat. She remembered that she hadn’t sweated this much since she’d tried to dance the Macarena at an all-black after-hours club back home in California. It was before she’d joined any church.

      This heat is affecting my mind. She’d almost forgotten about that fiasco. Earlier, on the dance floor trying to do the Electric Slide, she’d already stepped on toes and turned in the wrong direction. Birdie learned quickly that black folks could get downright nasty when someone messed up the Electric Slide. She recalled that when she’d felt brave enough to return to the floor to dance the Butterfly, she’d ended up with bruised knees from trying too hard. She’d worked her knees like they were wings.

      On her third attempt at blending into the sea of black faces Birdie accidentally slapped a young woman when she tried to coordinate her Macarena arm movement. The woman, whose complexion was so pale she looked

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