Chapter One
"I can't breathe," Nina whispered to her friend Dee on the phone about her troubled marriage. "When he's around, I feel claustrophobic; I can't keep hiding this."
"You gotta make a move. It's either you or him," Dee sighed as they ended their phone call. Nina looked out into her crowded living room, packed with chairs from wall to wall. She counted down the minutes. Tonight, Trent's "church" service seemed to go on forever. Every Tuesday at least thirty people came to their tiny ranch home in Allswell, a backwoods town near Houston, Texas, to hear Trent spread his word. But Nina knew it was all a scam, just like his numbers, cards, and car broker businesses.
Nina silently thanked God for her meager blessings along with the rest of Trent's fan club. She asked God to help her catch her breath.
"Let us bow our heads first and thank God for the bounty in our lives. Amen," Trent said as several of his members turned around and acknowledged each other. His booming voice, thick and sweet like maple syrup, spread throughout the room. Everyone bowed in unison. "I want to conclude this service by singing a song from the Book of Hymns."
The crisp sound of turning pages filled the room as Nina ran back to the kitchen to turn off the pot of boiling water spilling onto the stove. She wrapped her blue, stained apron around her jeans and pink fitted top. Not exactly an outfit for a pastor's wife, but in her book, Trent was no pastor. She got the plates of food ready to serve to the guests when the service was done. Beads of boiling water burned her delicate brown hands as she moved the hot cast-iron pot off the stove. She had forgotten what she had boiled the water for. Cooking wasn't exactly her calling. She blasted the faucet to drown out everyone's crooning and bad notes.
She just wanted to get to the good part, the blessings. The singing and the organ music went on and on. Finally, when the song ended, Trent's deep, hazel eyes looked intently into the crowded room. He walked down the middle as heads turned, dabbing his wet, thin, mustached mouth with a handkerchief. He was well put together in a powder blue, pin-striped suit, a jacket that reached his knees, and white wing-tipped shoes with gold buckles. Nina thought he looked more pimp than holy with his nappy, curly hair combed back, but it was Trent. Too bad, she told herself, that he was so good in bed, or she would've left him a long time ago.
Trent walked back to the front of the room and fiddled with his gold cuff links. He looked at the brown palette of patient faces and said, "Look to your neighbor on your right and ask him, ‘How much is getting to know the Lord really worth?'"
Nina peered over the kitchen counter as the voices rose and fell with each person asking the other. This was the part where Trent cashed in. He disguised it all under the name of God. He was already charging ten dollars at the door. Cash only.
"Now, ask yourselves in silence," Trent demanded in that sweet, syrupy tone that seemed more good than its evil intention. He folded and slipped his initial-printed handkerchief back in his jacket pocket. "Ask yourselves if you gave enough tonight in your offering? Or are you still holding back from the Lord!" he yelled, raising his hands over his head. He stomped his feet, and some folks shouted in agreement. A hat was passed around as everyone threw in spare change and many dollars.
Nina rolled her crescent-shaped eyes and carefully took the smoked turkey wings out of the pot one by one. She placed them on individual plastic plates, next to white rice. She mixed a new pitcher of lemonade and poured some in small paper cups. Thirty plates waited on the kitchen counter. This was what she had done every week for the last six months because Trent wanted to justify the money he charged at the door. She wanted no more part in his game, she thought to herself, as she carefully placed the food on the plates.
Trent said a final prayer and thanked everyone for coming. Each person got up and made their way to the kitchen counter. They picked up their plates of food and drink, some elbowing the others with a smile. Nina was courteous as usual, making sure people had enough napkins and that Brother Page had extra gravy. As everyone ate, including Trent, Nina snuck into the bedroom. She closed the door and prayed. She breathed in as far as she could, but the dampness in the air got stuck in her lungs. It was a warm summer evening and the whole place felt like a sauna. She breathed again, this time slower. She wanted to escape him, and the shit was about to hit the fan. Before she could get her prayer words together, Trent knocked.
"Baby, come on out here! Everybody's getting ready to leave. Come on out," Trent said through the door.
When Nina walked out, she saw Trent standing by the front door holding a small paper cup of water. She stood by him, as she always did.
"Sister Pearl, make sure you take some extra wings home with you," Nina said, smiling at the short, husky woman with the curly, orange-red wig.
"Thank you, Sister Raines. I sure did take some. They are good! The rice was a little sticky, but God bless you," she said as she walked out.
Nina wiped her sweaty, tired hands on her behind and faked a grin.
". . . In Jesus's name," Trent said as he sprinkled his holy water over Sister Pearl. He did the same to each person who passed. Everyone thought that Trent's holy water was blessed. If they only knew that the water came from the pipe, Nina thought as she watched Trent's antics. When they left, Nina had a big mess of pots and pans to clean up. Trent didn't help. As always, he disappeared to the basement to count his money.
Before Nina headed off to wash the dishes, she recalled her conversation with Dee, and decided to make use of her free time. To hell with the dishes. Nina crept back into the bedroom.
Lately, she'd been having questions about the thousands of dollars Trent had been making. She hadn't seen a dime. Bills were going unpaid. He was all decked out, and the last thing she bought herself was older than her three-year-old burgundy nail polish. They did better when she had a part-time job at the doctor's office, a job that paid for her massage therapy courses, a job that Trent thought was too "hands on" for a married woman.
There were some rumors around town that he was loaded, but why was she the last to know? She started to do some digging. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she wanted to find anything—receipts, money, or deposit slips. She searched their closet high and low and found nothing. She looked under the mattress, nothing. But there was one place that Trent had no idea she knew about. It was his sock drawer. Nina plowed through his drawer until she felt a sock that had more than just cotton in it. She untied the sock and found a stack of papers stuffed inside. Nina listened to see if she could hear Trent, but everything was quiet. She expected him to be in the basement for at least another half hour. She locked the bedroom door with a click, sat on the bed, and unfolded her find. Her eyes raced over the words on the paper. It didn't make sense. She saw figures like "500,000" and words like "asset" and "real property." When she finally put it all together, Nina discovered that Trent was holding out on her. He had five hundred thousand dollars in savings in several bank accounts from property he had bought and sold over the last year, not to mention an equivalent amount in equity from property he was renting. He was writing everything off under his guise as a preacher. It was never about the Lord.
Nina crumpled the papers in her fist. "He lied," she said into the thin air. He was leading another life she had no clue about, while they ate crumbs and she wore the same clothes day in and out. All the accounts were in his name so she would not have known. This devastated her. She wondered what else she didn't know about Trent, and if she even wanted to be around to find out. Then she heard him coming.
"Hot damn! Eight hundred dollars tonight! Amen!" yelled Trent as he laughed and put the money in a clip on the wall unit.
Nina didn't respond as she stuffed the papers back in the sock drawer and walked to the kitchen where he was, sticking his head in the fridge.
"You know what, baby?" he said, his T-shirt pulled up halfway and showing off his round, brown belly. He slapped Nina's behind as she walked by him. "I think I may raise the price by a dollar or two. With this money, I can buy you a new Chevy. What do you think?"
Nina didn't look at him, but at the clock that read 10 p.m. "I don't want a new Chevy."
He pressed his weight against her behind. "Mmm, what you want then?" he whispered in her ear. "A baby?"
Nina spun around. "Why haven't I seen any of the money?"
He backed away with a sour look. "I have it in a savings account." His light eyes blinked erratically.
"Where's the proof?"
"Proof?"
"Why do I feel you are hiding things from me? You turning into a preacher is not making our life heavenly, it's making it hell!" Nina said, her caramel-colored skin brightening with anger. She stood face-to-face with him in the kitchen.
"Come on, girl," Trent said, trying to reach out for her hand. "You know I ain't into no preaching like that. This is a business. You know we ain't never been no churchgoing folk."
"I wanna see the money in the account," Nina said, walking out of the kitchen.
Trent followed her like a puppy toward the bedroom.
Nina walked quickly to the bedroom, opened the sock drawer, and pulled out the papers. "This is called fraud. We can go to jail taking these folks' money. Not to mention what else I don't know!"
Trent sat on the bed. "You went through my things?"
"What are you hiding, Trent? You haven't worked a job for more than a year. Every year it's a new thing. What's next after this, a strip joint?"
Trent scratched his head like it was a damn good idea. "A real man don't got to explain his money to nobody. As long as I take care—"
"You don't take care of shit but Trent!" Nina sneered, her eyes as narrow as a keyhole slit, and threw the papers at him as they scattered about the room.
"What are you doing with all that money?!"
Trent looked like he was lost. He picked up the papers piece by piece, stopping at the door. "These are some investments I made." He sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. "You can't even spell the word."
Nina ignored that. She wasn't about to let him deflect her, or let him get his ass out of hot water. "Why didn't I know?" Nina asked through her teeth.
"Because you wouldn't understand a damn thing about real estate. I don't want your country ass in my business, period." The cigarette dangled from Trent's thick lips as he put the papers back in his sock.
"How about I take my country ass the hell outta here and leave yours in the dust heap," Nina said as she stormed out of the house.
"Go on then, you still ain't got nothing without me!" she heard him shout.
Nina jumped in their battered black pickup truck for a long ride. She didn't have much, but she had her power and will. She dialed Dee's number and asked for a ride in the morning.
Copyright © 2007 by Maryann Reid. All rights reserved.
