Take Her Man Read online

  1. Wifey Status: The belle of the ball, the grand finale, the queen bee. This is the woman he could see himself settling down with. He treats her like gold and shares his dreams with her. Signs It Might Be You: He can’t stand the idea of you being with other men, always tries to impress you and take you to nice places, takes you to meet his mama, has a picture of you on display at his place, asks your future plans, wants to take you on vacation, wants to take you to church, always wants to know where you’re going, buys you jewelry on holidays, and…he asks you to marry him.

  2. Friend Status: R. Kelly called her the “Homie Lover Friend.” This gal pal hangs with him so much people think they’re brother and sister. She’s the girl next door who’s so cool he simply adores her. He’ll do pretty much anything for her. Signs It Might Be You: He always says how “cool” you are, takes you places with groups of his friends, never dresses up or wears cologne when you two hang out, tells you all of his problems—including those with other women, and asks about your dates.

  3. Hoe Status: The sex is great, but the company may not be. She’s not his dream girl, but he spends a lot of time sleeping with her. This is his secret friend no one seems to know about. What you do at your hoe’s house stays at your hoe’s house. Signs It Might Be You: He seldom takes you out places people really frequent, never wants to see you during the day, won’t introduce you to any of his friends, disappears on holidays, always breaks promises, seldom answers your calls, and turns his cell phone ringer off when he’s at your place.

  Warning: Men are creatures of habit; therefore, though you can easily change your category from good (Wifey Status) to bad (Hoe Status) by, say, sleeping with his cousin, changing your category from bad (Hoe Status) to good (Wifey Status) is next to impossible.

  Amen, That Man Is Mine

  “It’s right over there,” said the old man standing next to my car.

  “That’s First Baptist?” I looked out of the window at the church. It was so huge it looked as if it was tearing into the sky above the car. Daddy was right, the church was an amazing old building that reminded people of how great Harlem once was. I couldn’t believe how many times I must’ve passed it running through the city going here and there, never stopping to take notice.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, lady. You stopped me to ask for directions,” the man said, grinning at me in a way that was entirely inappropriate for Sunday morning—not to mention the fact that he was obviously old enough to be my father. I smiled back and quickly rolled up the window before parking my car. I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to see Kyle preach the weekend before my trip to L.A. But he’d sounded so cute on the phone, saying I needed to “hear the word” before I left.

  “There’s not much space left on the floor,” a little girl said when I walked into the church. The inside was even more lovely than the outside. I could tell from the beautiful wood paneling and stained glass windows that the church had been there for a long time. “But if you wait, one of the ushers can walk you in and help you find a seat.” I looked at my watch. I was thirty minutes late.

  “No, that’s okay,” I said, smiling at her. She looked adorable, dressed in a white lace dress and black patent leather shoes. You can say a lot of things about black people, but you can’t say we aren’t dressed to the nines on Sunday morning.

  The church I attended sometimes in Manhattan when I couldn’t make it to Harlem with Nana Rue was predominantly white. They looked like they were going to the mall when they came to church. The little girls had on pants (a no-no in the black church) and the men had on T-shirts and jeans. Nana Rue said they were being disrespectful in God’s house. But I didn’t mind it so much. Knowing I didn’t have to get all dressed up to compete with anyone made it easier for me to get my behind up to go to church.

  I knew better than to dress down when I got up to get ready to go to Kyle’s church. I’d heard about First Baptist and its sanctified fashion show. From the specially made hats to the matching shoes and purses, the sisters there were church-dressing professionals and I wasn’t about to look stupid. Being a guest of the pastor and all, I knew all eyes would be on me. I slipped on my tailored navy blue Chanel suit with matching Jimmy Choo stilettos. Tasha told me I looked like a movie star in that scene stealer.

  “There’s a balcony upstairs,” the little girl said, pointing to a charming wooden staircase to my right. “I like to sit up there. You can see everything.”

  “Sounds like me.” I smiled again and headed up the stairs.

  I heard Kyle’s voice vibrating through the church as soon as I reached the middle of the staircase. His confident whisper was building to a shout in the microphone.

  “I need y’all to listen to me in this church here this morning,” I heard Kyle say as I took a seat in the first pew on the balcony. “You must be still in order to receive the blessing the Lord God Almighty wants to give you. You must listen to his call and be prepared to answer when the time comes.”

  I looked out over the ledge to see Kyle standing in front of a packed congregation. You would’ve thought it was Easter Sunday the way people were crowded into the church like sardines. Even the choir pews were filled to capacity. From old to young, each row was overflowing with smiling people. Hands were waving in the air, Bibles were being held high, and everyone looked so blessed, so happy to be there, so happy to hear Kyle.

  “And he wants to give it to you, saints. I know it’s hard to believe for some of you. You’re going through what you’re going through and sometimes it seems like there’s no end in sight. No one who cares. No one to give you a hand. But I need to remind you that, alleluia, our God is the Alpha and Omega. He’s an awesome God. A way-out-of-no-way maker. He can pull you through. He’s the one who cares. He’s the hand you need. He wants to give you everlasting life in his kingdom and it doesn’t matter who you are,” Kyle said, pounding on the pulpit. “You just have to believe and give your life to him.”

  Kyle was a tall man, but he looked even taller from where I was sitting. Maybe it was the loud voice booming through the speakers, maybe it was the long cream-colored robe he was wearing, maybe it was the first row that was packed with women eyeing him just a little too hard—either way, Kyle looked better than ever from the balcony.

  “I said, he wants to give it to you,” he went on. Two women in the front row jumped to their feet and cheered “alleluia” like high school cheerleaders. Another woman, dressed in a red suit (that was just a little too tight) jumped out of her seat and started dancing like she had the Holy Ghost…only she didn’t. It looked more like a striptease, and a bad one. One of the ushers ran up the aisle and pulled her to the back of the church. I couldn’t believe what I was watching. These women were practically purring like cats at Kyle—while he was preaching.

  “Don’t worry about where you’ve been or what you’ve been through—God knows. And guess what? He still loves you. He still wants to give you his hand. You just have to open your heart to receive it,” Kyle said. Everyone in the church stood up and began to shout a chorus of “amens” and “alleluias.” Kyle took his seat at the altar and the choir began to sing my favorite song, “Order My Steps.”

  Kyle sang along and looked through the church with all of the admiration and love of a father. He looked so at peace, it was clear that he was exactly where he was supposed to be in life. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to do, what he was made to do. My heart smiled for him. I hoped he would always be that happy.

  The women in the front row smiled whenever he looked in their direction and went on to primp their hair or fix their makeup when he looked away. The little girl was right, you could see everything from the balcony. I guess that’s why God lives in the sky.

  About a half hour after Kyle said it would be, the service was finally over. My hair was sweating out from praising and my feet were swelling in the Jimmy Choos. But I didn’t mind. Kyle was a master of the word. He ignited each word that came out of his mouth with so much passion and light
that you couldn’t help but be moved. You had to shout “alleluia” and thank God for everything he’d done for you. And while I was sure my pinky toes would fall off when I took the shoes off, I felt rejuvenated leaving the church. And I knew I’d be back.

  “You came!” Kyle said when I finally made my way down the church steps after the service.

  “Yeah, I came to see you preach, as promised.” I smiled.

  “Well, that’s really something, Ms. Troy,” Kyle said.

  The striptease woman in the red suit walked over waving her hands like she hadn’t just seen Kyle in the church. “Pastor Hall, that was a moving service,” she said, looking like she was asking Kyle if he wanted a lap dance.

  “Well, thank you, Sister Glover, but you say that every week,” Kyle replied innocently.

  “Well, you move me every week,” the woman said, and the double meaning was obvious. I wanted to turn around and give her a hug—she was clearly on her last leg, trying to get Kyle’s attention, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “Oh, where are my manners?” Kyle said. “Sister Glover, this is Troy Smith. Ms. Smith is a friend of mine visiting our church.” The woman shot her eyes at me like he’d introduced me as Lucifer himself. Then a phony smile washed over her face.

  “Hi,” she said. “Nice you came.”

  “Hello,” I managed, smiling just enough to let her know I was on to her.

  “I was just about to invite Troy over to the hall to eat with us,” Kyle said.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” I replied. “I have to get back home, Kyle—I mean, Pastor.”

  “We understand if you can’t come,” the woman said with a frown. “Maybe next time.”

  “Oh, come on, Troy.” Kyle bumped me. “Just for one moment.” The woman stepped back and looked at me. She smiled, but Bitch, go home and never come back. Kyle is mine was written all over her face.

  “I guess I could for just a minute.” I looked at her. I was up for the competition. “If you insist, Pastor,” I said, grinning.

  “You’ve made my day,” Kyle said as if the Holy Ghost ship had just landed in front of the church.

  “Mine too,” Sister Glover muttered under her breath, turning and heading toward the back of the church.

  “Kyle, these women are a trip,” I whispered when she’d disappeared around the corner. “They’re throwing themselves at you.”

  “It does get crazy, Troy, but I have one calling here.” Kyle smiled at a woman walking by. “And that’s spreading the message of the Lord God. I don’t get involved with women who are confused about that.” He smiled. “No late-night Bible study for me. I serve one master and he isn’t in my pants.” We both laughed. “Really. You have to separate the two.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the hall for dinner?” Kyle went on, “I have to speak to a few more people out here before I head over.” He pointed to the long line of people behind me who were waiting to talk to him.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you over there.”

  “Just walk toward the back. The hall is located behind the church,” he said, taking the hand of a man standing beside me.

  By the time I stepped through the doors of the hall, I knew my plan to stay was a mistake. I sensed that the woman in red had told everyone that I was Kyle’s “friend.” Why? Because everyone was looking at me. And as soon as I walked in the room, the girlfriend game of defense/offense was in full swing. By offense I mean they were pretty much lining up to get their shot at the good pastor. And by defense, I mean they were keeping my ass away from the good pastor.

  Tasha and I had planned many plays like that to get the attention of men we liked, but these church women set a new precedent for defense/offense. I felt like I was going up against the damn Los Angeles Lakers when I stepped up to the dinner line. By then I’d totally given up on speaking to Kyle. Every time I came within arm’s length of him, some old woman jumped in his face before I could get a word in. One woman had the nerve to ask Kyle if he’d seen the dress her daughter had on in church. They were like vultures. Anyway, I figured I’d be better off getting something to eat and speaking to Kyle later—once I was back downtown and safe from full-on tackle.

  “So where’s your church home?” asked a woman who had to be ninety, putting string beans on my plate.

  “Oh, I go to St. Mark’s,” I replied, smiling. Surely this sweet little old lady wasn’t part of the defensive line.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Nice to see young ladies going to church.” She put what had to be half a teaspoon of beans on my plate.

  “Yeah, thanks. Can I have some more beans?”

  “Sure, baby.” She put about half a teaspoon more on my plate. “You know, with you being here for Pastor Hall, I was hoping you were at least a Christian woman.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, almost certain I hadn’t heard her correctly. “I’m not here for anyone.”

  “Don’t be sly with me, girl,” the old woman said, giving me the evil eye over her glasses. “Now, you just need to know that the pastor is going to marry a woman of this church.” She pushed my plate back toward me with the spoon from the string beans. “I have three granddaughters in this church and I’m not going to see him bring someone in here when there are well-raised Christian women right here in the church. And not a Methodist either.”

  “Okay,” I said. It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping over the table and choking the last bit of life out of her. This woman was playing hardball. And her ninety-year-old ass was winning. I mean, you can’t argue with an old woman.

  “And the next time you sit in the front row of the balcony”—she leaned in toward me—“don’t wear such a short skirt.” She stepped back and rolled her eyes. “Okay, baby?” She smiled pleasantly. “Now, go on and get more to eat. We have much to be thankful for today. Yes, we do. Praise God.”

  I took my teaspoon of string beans and a dry-ass biscuit and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at the table with the children.

  I’d gone up against the Lakers and, like most teams, I’d lost.

  “They’re not that bad,” Kyle said, standing by my car door as I got in. After an hour and a half at the children’s table, I’d decided it was time to raise my white flag and leave.

  “Yes, they are. They had it in for me from the moment I walked in. I was about to call in reinforcements. The woman with the string beans was a mad woman.”

  “Sister Wildren? Oh, she runs the day school and our outreach program for the army troop we adopted in Iraq. She’s one of my most dedicated members. I can depend on her for anything.”

  “What about the one in the red suit?”

  “Hmm.” He laughed. “You may have a point there, but for all of her antics, Sister Glover is a good fund-raiser. She led the fund-raiser we did for the Hurricane Katrina victims. With her help we were able to house eight families and pay for day care. That woman is very dedicated to serving the people of God.”

  “It sounds like you’re dedicated to having her back,” I joked.

  “Well, at least someone wants to get with me.” Kyle laughed but I could tell he was dead serious.

  “I’ll just say, when the time comes, you won’t have any problems finding a wife.”

  “Maybe I don’t want someone in there.” His smile faded and he bent to my level in the car. “Maybe I want what’s out here.”

  Now, why did this man always have to find a way to say things like that? Things that seeped into my heart and made me blush from the inside out. Kyle always seemed to have the perfect words for the perfect moment. It just wasn’t the perfect situation.

  “Kyle, I told you we can’t—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” He cut me off, putting his index finger over my lips. “I was talking about this lady who lives down the street. She’s more my type. She’s Catholic and she’s seventy-two…and Italian, but she’s a hottie.”

  I laughed so hard I honked my horn by mistake with my forehea
d.

  “Stop being silly,” I said.

  “I’m serious. She really is a hottie.”

  “Anyway,” I said, “on a real serious note, Kyle, you were amazing in there this afternoon. Just obviously made for this thing. I see why First Baptist has grown so much under you.”

  “Thank you.” He looked surprised.

  “Yeah, I was just really taken aback. I can only imagine the fire your father has.”

  “Oh, Daddy’s a bad man,” he said. “He won’t turn you loose ’til you have the spirit.”

  “Well, the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

  “Apparently not, but I wasn’t that good. I didn’t see Ms. Troy coming up to the altar when I opened the doors of the church.” He grinned and tapped me on the nose playfully.

  “I was on my way, shoot, with all the crying I was doing up there. I was definitely on my way.” I wasn’t lying; there hadn’t been a dry eye in the place during Kyle’s calling. Even the children had seemed to be touched by his words.

  “We’ll see next time.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, have a nice time in Los Angeles,” Kyle said as I turned on the car. “Don’t have too much fun.”

  “I won’t,” I said. Kyle stepped away from the car so I could see the smirk he had on his face. “I swear I won’t.” I laughed. We both knew it was a lie.

  “Now, I may be a man of God, but I’m also an Omega man, so I know what happens on those vacations.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m not like that. Me and my girls don’t get all crazy,” I lied again to a man of God in front of a church on Sunday.

  “Well, we’ll pray over you next Sunday anyway…just in case the demons got to you.”

  “Fine.” I laughed. If the trip went as planed, I would need it. Kyle stepped away from the car and waved goodbye. I watched him grow smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror as I jetted into traffic. I wondered when he was going back inside the church, but something told me he wasn’t going anywhere until I was safely on my way.