The Choir Director Read online

  “Bishop T. K. Wilson speaking.”

  “Hey, Bishop, this is Aaron Mackie.”

  His voice had a sexy baritone sound to it that made me fantasize about what he might look like.

  “Mackie, how you doing? My wife and I were just talking about you. You make it into town all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m here in town, but I can’t get a cab for the life of me. Can you tell me what subway I should take to reach that apartment you got for me in Queens?”

  “You don’t need to take the subway, Mackie. My wife and I just left Columbia Presbyterian Hospital uptown. Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll be there to pick you up.”

  “Okay, Bishop. Thanks. I’m down here by the Hotel Pennsylvania.”

  T. K. glanced at me and I gave him a nod, letting him know everything he had said was fine with me. Shoot, now I wanted to see the face behind that sexy voice even if I knew that fantasy rarely ever lived up to reality.

  Not long after, we were on FDR Drive headed toward mid-town Manhattan, and then we were driving up Thirty-fourth Street to pick up Aaron Mackie. We had just stopped at a traffic light, and I was about to suggest we call and find out exactly where he was when my husband said, “There he is.”

  “Where?”

  “Over there, standing on the corner next to those suitcases.”

  I looked in the direction he was pointing. “That’s Aaron Mackie?” I almost gasped.

  “That’s him,” T. K. replied.

  I could not believe my eyes. I was hoping he’d be good-looking, but the man I was looking at was straight-up fine. So fine, in fact, that I had to turn my head to keep my husband from seeing my initial reaction.

  Wow! Now, he definitely lived up to the fantasy. He was the kind of man who, if I were still single, I’d jump on with a quickness. Too bad for him I loved my husband. I will say this, though: Life around First Jamaica Ministries was about to get much more entertaining, because when word got around about how fine our new choir director was, the sisters were going to lose their minds. I couldn’t wait to get home and get on the phone.

  “So, what do you think?”

  I glanced over at my husband, who was staring at me with a devilish smirk, like he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

  I took a breath, trying to act casual as I turned back to the handsome man across the street. “Well, there’s no question he is definitely easy on the eyes. If he sings and conducts a choir half as good as he looks, our church is going to be on its way back to prosperity.”

  T. K. smiled as he slapped his hand down on his thigh. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “You know what I was just thinking? A guy that good-looking is going to have to fight off the single sisters at the church. Is he married or dating anyone?”

  “Nope. Far as I know, he’s a single man.”

  I raised an eyebrow as I turned back toward my husband. All of a sudden, Aaron Mackie’s good looks and mannerisms made sense.

  “He isn’t gay, is he?” Just the thought of this fine man being with other men made my stomach hurt.

  “No, he’s not.”

  “You sure? How do you know?” I pushed.

  “I asked him, honey. We don’t need any more scandal around here, so I went out on a limb and asked him. He says he’s not gay.”

  “And you think he told you the truth?” I asked as the light turned green.

  “I have no choice but to believe him.” And on that note, he pulled up to the curb next to Aaron Mackie. T. K. stepped out of the car and shook Aaron’s hand. I got out of the car as they were putting his bags in the trunk. Lord have mercy, he was even more handsome up close.

  “Aaron Mackie, this is my wife, First Lady Monique Wilson.” T. K. smiled as he introduced us.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mackie,” I said, politely offering him my hand.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” He took my hand and kissed it. “And, please, call me Mackie. All my friends do.”

  “Okay, Mackie.” I know T. K. must have wanted to kill me, because I turned all kinds of red, but when I glanced over at him, he had a neutral expression on his face. When he looked toward Aaron, his face took on an expression that I can only describe as prideful, like on the day his son graduated from law school. It was clear that he believed he’d found the best choir director—the only choir director—who could rescue our struggling church.

  “My, you really have a beautiful wife, Bishop,” Mackie commented. He turned to me. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  Was he trying to embarrass me? Couldn’t he see I couldn’t stop blushing? This man certainly knew how to work with what he had.

  “Why, thank you, Mackie,” T. K. replied, walking around to the driver’s side. “I think she’s a pretty fine-looking woman myself.”

  When I finally got myself under control, I said, “Mackie, why don’t you sit up front with the bishop?”

  “Only if you don’t mind.” He flashed those pearly whites at me.

  “Don’t be silly. Could you open the door?” He opened the rear passenger door so I could get in.

  As I squeezed past him and bent over to get into the backseat, a shock went through my entire body.

  No, he didn’t, I thought. No, he didn’t just squeeze my ass.

  I stood up straight and turned to him. I couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Thank God T. K. hadn’t seen my reaction.

  “Oops, sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “I tripped on the curb.”

  I gave him a skeptical glance. “Mmm-hmm. Lucky for you, you had something soft to break your fall.”

  “Yeah, well, it was an accident.”

  “What’s going on?” the bishop asked from the driver’s seat.

  I glanced at Mackie, who was giving me a look that begged me not to tell T. K. what he’d just done. If my husband weren’t so gung ho on this guy, I would have told, but I couldn’t burst T. K.’s bubble.

  “Nothing, honey. Mackie just tripped. I was making sure he was okay.” I scowled at Mackie and got into the backseat, promising myself that I would keep a close eye on him. He might not present the same problems that Jackie had, but it didn’t mean this new choir director didn’t come with his own set of challenges.

  Aaron

  9

  It was my first day of work, and I have to admit I was pretty excited as I walked from my new apartment to Merrick Boulevard. I still had a few more blocks to go before I reached First Jamaica Ministries, but I didn’t mind the twenty-minute walk since it was such a nice day. I wanted to get to know my surroundings on foot before I started driving around town. Besides, if everything went as planned, I wouldn’t be walking anywhere for too much longer. One of the first things I had on my agenda when I saw the bishop was to ask him when I was getting the car he’d promised me. The Escalade had been my dream car for as long as I could remember. I’d always loved SUVs, and the Cadillac Escalade was the top of the line, the ultimate in American car engineering.

  I had to laugh, because despite all the craziness with Reverend Jenkins pulling a gun on me the other day, it looked like my life was actually going in the right direction for a change. Here I was with a great new job, a fantastic new apartment, and about to get a new car. It all seemed so surreal. There was only one thing standing in my way, and I’d have to deal with that sometime next week. In the meantime, I was going to enjoy every moment of my recent turn of good fortune.

  When I arrived at the corner of 108th and Merrick Boulevard, I was awestruck by the sight of the church. As the choir director for Mount Olive in Virginia, I’d traveled around the country quite a bit, visiting and performing at different churches. I’d been to my share of megachurches, but I don’t know if you could call the structure before me a church. It looked more like one of those European cathedrals you see on TV. It was absolutely magnificent . I don’t think any black church I’d ever seen could compare to it. I couldn’t wait to take a tour inside.

  “Mr. Ma
ckie! Aaron Mackie?” A female voice snapped me out of my astonished admiration of the building.

  I looked up the stone stairs that led to the church’s entrance and saw a woman dressed very conservatively in a white blouse and navy blue skirt. Being an avid observer of beautiful women, it was obvious to me that her conservative look was an attempt to hide a stunning figure. I mean, it’s not every day you see a woman with D-cup breasts, a tiny little waist, and oversized round hips. I instinctively checked her left hand for a wedding or engagement ring, smiling as I filed away the observation that she didn’t have either. I loved a woman with a nice figure, so she was my kind of woman. The fact that she had baby-smooth charcoal skin with dimples on both sides of her face didn’t hurt matters either. A lot of brothers tended to ignore the real dark-skinned women, but I preferred them. I found them extremely attractive and, for the most part, dynamite in the bedroom. My motto was “the blacker the better,” and this sexy-behind woman put the B in “black.”

  “Are you Aaron Mackie?” She smiled, showing me the whitest teeth I’d ever seen.

  “Yes, I’m Aaron.”

  She walked down the stairs and I met her halfway. I don’t know what type of perfume she was wearing, but it made her smell like heaven.

  “Hi, Aaron. I’m Tia Gregory, the church’s administrative secretary.” She offered me her hand and gave me a firm shake. The only thing I could think was how soft her hands were. If her hands were that soft, how soft was the rest of her?

  “Nice to meet you, Tia. You look very familiar. Have we met before?” She tried to pull her hand back, and I held on to it a second or two longer than I should have. The look she gave me was far from pleasant. Okay, I told myself, pull your mind out of the gutter. I had work to do, and this wasn’t the first pretty sister I’d ever met.

  I let go of her hand. “Sorry about that. I was just admiring how soft your hands were.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took a step back, putting some space between us. “Bishop Wilson asked me to bring you to the choir practice room. We’re having a meet and greet there.”

  “Practice room? The choir has a practice room?” This was too good to be true.

  She gave me a condescending smirk but then put her professional face back on. “Oh, my bad. I forgot the bishop said you were from a small church down South. But yes, to answer your question, we do have a practice room for our choir.”

  She turned around and gestured for me to follow. I followed all right: followed those swinging hips of hers right up the stairs, around the side of the building, and to a pair of double doors in the back.

  “This is the street entrance to the practice room. There is also an entrance from inside the building. I’m sure they will give you keys to both after the vote tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What vote is this?”

  “Uh, nothing. I’m sorry. I misspoke,” she replied, looking flustered. She might as well have had liar written all over her face.

  “Tia, is there something I should know?”

  “Mr. Mackie, I’m sure the bishop has told you everything you need to know. Now, are you ready to meet your new choir?”

  “I’ve been ready for this moment my entire life.” Then under my breath, I said, “It’s showtime.” Sure, I talked a good game, but my heart was palpitating, and my hands were sweaty. I was nervous as hell. After Tia’s cryptic comment about some kind of vote, I had no idea what to expect.

  I inhaled deeply before pushing open the double doors and walking into what looked like a mini auditorium. I raised my right eyebrow and gave everyone in the room the patented Aaron Mackie smile.

  My eyes did a quick sweep around the room, and I was shocked to see that the large area was occupied by only a small number of people. There were about fifteen people present, all women except for two men in their fifties. I thought the megachurch would have been packed to meet the new choir director . I know my face probably mirrored my first reaction—big letdown—so I forced a smile.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Mackie,” the first lady called out. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  I know you have, I thought. I know you have. Confidence was one thing I was never lacking when it came to me and the opposite sex.

  Monique

  10

  I watched Aaron Mackie stroll through the double doors of the practice room like he owned the place. There was no question in my mind that T. K. had made the right decision to bring him on board when I heard the collective sigh of the women who’d been patiently waiting to meet him. I hadn’t seen Aaron since T. K. and I dropped him off at his apartment two days ago. Lord forgive me for thinking it, but he sure did clean up nice. I mean, that man really was easy on the eyes, even more so now that he was dressed in a designer suit. The way he strutted into the room, I could tell he knew how good he looked. I wasn’t even sure he recognized me as he scanned the room, because his eyes were focused on hot-behind Porsche Moore, but I quickly made my presence known.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Mackie,” I called out. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  He looked a little surprised to see me when I walked toward him, but he still smiled, offering me his hand. “Hello there, First Lady. I wasn’t expecting to see you again until Sunday service. Are you going to be joining our choir?”

  I smiled back and took his hand. The thought flashed through my mind that this was the hand that had rubbed up against my backside and squeezed my ass just two days before. Sure, he’d said it was an accident, and I had accepted his apology, but I didn’t believe him. The problem was that when I reflected on the incident now, I felt my heart rate increase a little bit. Certainly not the way a first lady was supposed to be reacting.

  “Um, no.” I shook my head. “Singing really isn’t my thing.”

  “So, what exactly is your thing?” He winked, giving me this devilish smirk that I really didn’t know how to interpret. Was he flirting with me?

  As wrong as it was, I could feel the blood rushing to my face as he held on to my hand, which was starting to perspire. I should have been upset, but a small part of me was flattered. Men never flirted with me like that anymore, at least not since I’d become first lady. In a way it made me feel good. Make no mistake—I loved my husband. It was just nice to have a little attention thrown my way by a handsome younger man.

  “My husband,” I replied. “My husband is my thing.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Aaron chuckled as if it were a game.

  Afraid that someone might misinterpret—or even worse, properly interpret—my blushing, I pulled my hand back, glancing away so that no one other than Tia could see my red face. Thankfully, Tia’s eyes were too preoccupied looking at Aaron’s ass to be concerned with me. Knowing her background, I didn’t think she was that type of girl, but her eyes were all up in his Kool-Aid. She wasn’t the only one either. You should have seen the reaction of the other women in the room. The way some of them were looking at him, you would have thought it was a bachelorette party and he was about to do a striptease.

  I cleared my throat. “Ah, Tia, everything check out down there?”

  “Mmm-hmm, everything checks out just—Oh my goodness.” Tia looked up from Aaron’s behind to see me peering over my glasses at her. At the same time, Aaron was glancing over his shoulder with a big grin on his face. Poor girl was so embarrassed she dropped her clipboard.

  “Oh, excuse me. I thought he had something on his pants.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It was time to get this meet and greet under way before anyone else got themselves into trouble behind this fine man. “Well, Mr. Mackie, why don’t we introduce you to your new choir?”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  I led him toward the group that had assembled in seats near the front. “Good morning, everyone. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed in the crowd, but I’m sure that with our new director in charge, we’ll have members flocking back to the choir in no time. With that being said, I want everyone to give Mr. Aaron Mackie, ou
r new choir director, a warm welcome.”

  “Welcome, Aaron,” the women said in unison.

  Aaron stepped forward to shake each woman’s hand one by one. He seemed to be winning them over, too, but among the group were two dissidents from Jonathan Smith’s camp of Ju-dases. One of them, Trustee Duncan, said, “I want to know what qualifies you to be the choir director here. Other than that suit.”

  A few of the women chuckled, but most turned to hear what the trustee had to say.

  “Yeah, I’d like to know that myself,” Trustee Whitmore, who was seated next to him, added. “Did you ladies know they wanna pay this man seventy-five thousand dollars a year to lead our choir? How many of you make that much in two years, let alone one? I guess the bishop forgot we’re still in a recession when he decided to throw away your hard-earned money on this supposed choir director. We don’t even know if he can sing, let alone play an organ or piano.”

  A few of the women sat back in their chairs, suddenly looking less interested in Aaron, no matter how gorgeous he was. Personally, I wanted to smack the trustee for talking bad about my husband.

  Aaron stood there in front of these people, fidgeting with the lapels on his jacket—until he heard Trustee Whitmore express doubts about his singing ability. That’s when Aaron flexed his long, graceful fingers and went over to the piano. He sat down with a flourish and began to play “Stand” by Ron Winans.

  Oh, he could play the heck out of the piano, but the truly special moment was when he opened his mouth and began to sing. It was as if angels had flown into the room. He had a voice that ranged from bass all the way up to tenor. Some of the women in attendance actually gasped when his voice really started to soar. Now, I’d heard good singing before, but listening to him was like nothing I’d ever heard inside the walls of First Jamaica Ministries. Once again my husband turned out to be right. Aaron Mackie definitely had skills.

  When he was finished, each and every woman present jumped to her feet to give him a standing ovation. Both trustees stayed put, scowling in their seats.