“Mr…. Mal-ik…I need you to stop.” Tamia put her handsup crossly. “I am sure all of this stuff—”
“Stuff?”
“—is very important to you and where you’re from—”
“Where I’m from?”
“—but this really isn’t the place for it.”
“Not the place?”
“We need to focus on your case. On the facts. Not your rhetoric about…whatever that was.”
“Rhetoric?”
And just like that the accidental adversaries were easy enemies and Malik was on his feet.
He grabbed his knapsack and as he bent down Tamia rolled her eyes.
“I knew this was going to be a waste of my time. I’m out. Peace.”
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As Tamia’s cautious client was making an abrupt exit in Manhattan, Troy’s righteous rival had yet to arrive at the meeting of the Virtuous Women in Harlem. And it was a bad thing too, because Troy had come to the church early to meet with Myrtle and inform her of her decision to take over the organization before she told the rest of the women. This was step one of her Queen Bee competition goal and thus far, she was falling short.
She sat, quiet and nervous, in the corner of the meeting room, watching as women robed in an outdated mix of floral patterns sauntered in, thanking the Lord for the day he’d made and following up with a bit of premeeting rumor dispersal.
“You okay, First Lady?” asked Kiona, pulling up a chair beside Troy. As usual, she was underdressed in jeans and a tight T-shirt—an outfit that would no doubt prompt Sister Glover to open the meeting by talking about the “proper image of a Virtuous Woman.”
“I’m fine, KiKi,” Troy tried to reassure her.
“I’m saying, we’re just planning the next bake sale today. It’s not that serious…well, unless Mother Wildren insists on bringing her prune pie again.”
Troy and Kiona chuckled at the memory of the pie and its aftereffect stinking up the building. Over the time Troy had been at the church, she’d found Kiona to be one of the most real and hated members. It was funny, she thought, how that seemed to go together there. Sometimes she wondered why Kiona remained at the church and why they hadn’t run her off yet. But the truth, Troy learned, was that while Kiona and her jeans and wild comments had made lots of enemies over the years, she loved God and worked harder than almost everyone at the church. Not one bake sale or drive or Girl Scout meeting went by without Kiona, her tight jeans, and her opinions.
“Hey, Kiona,” Troy started, “you were here before my husband became the pastor, correct?”
“Sure was. Pastor Brown. Lord, that was a wonderful man of God.”
“So you were also here when the Virtuous Women were started?” Troy asked, watching a few more women come in and sit at the table.
“Guilty as charged,” Kiona answered. “First Lady Brown started the Virtuous Women to bring the women of First Baptist together for true fellowship and service. It was so much fun.”
“What was she like? Like, how did she handle being the head of an organization with so many spiritual women? She must’ve been like a saint or something.” Troy laughed, but really she was serious.
“Please, that woman was far from a saint. She was late to most of the meetings and forgot a few events. That woman was a trip.” Kiona looked at Troy. “But, you know, there was something about her. Something human and real and just plain good that just made all of us love and respect her. Women were fighting to join this organization just to be close to her. It was like you knew that no matter where you’d been or what you’d done, she’d love you and embrace you. And, if you ask me, that’s what we should look for in any First Lady. Especially one leading the Virtuous Women.” Her voice quickly went low. “Not the riffraff we have leading us right now…but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Oh, stop it,” Troy chided, playfully spanking Kiona’s hand.
The exchange between the two women quickly turned from a conversation to a confessional, as Troy opened up and informed Kiona of her decision to lead the Virtuous Women as she was expected to. For Troy, who needed to let someone outside of herself and the other Ts know of her plan, it let a bunch of guilt and anxiety off of her shoulders. She actually felt good when the meeting was finally opening and Kiona promised not to tell anyone of her plan. But she immediately realized that even the most real, most well-intentioned woman couldn’t keep a piece of hot gossip like that to herself—not for very long. And the wildest thing was that while Troy hadn’t even seen Kiona speak to any of the other women in
the room, one by one, they turned to Troy with speculative stares. It was as if the bit of communication was being transported among these heavenly women telepathically…or via text message.
Robed in a leopard-print duster that kissed the floor beneath her six-inch leopard-print heels, Sister Glover shifted into the room like a judge prepared to hear her next case. She greeted her jury, smiling pleasantly at their waves, took her seat, and clasped her hands on the table.
“Let us begin with prayer, sisters,” she said with a weak nod to Troy, who was seated to her right.
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