Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [109]
"Are you saying that you want me to go to that brothel?"
"No, Saphronia. I don't want you to go to that brothel," Precious said in imitation of her voice. "I want you to go over to that ho' service center and give that cheating, no-good, lying Negro a heart attack. That's what I want you to do."
Saphronia wasn't so sure she wanted to set foot in a brothel, even if she did like the idea of getting Marcel. "Precious, I know my presence at the brothel would shock Marcel. But how would I ever get in and find him?"
"Girl, that is the best part of the plan. Wait till you see how I'm gonna fix you up. Did you bring what I told you to?"
A delicious feeling of mischief came over Saphronia, who said, "Take a look at the dress I brought. It doesn't look like anything you'd expect me to wear."
When Precious unzipped the peach satin garment bag and pulled out the pale pink dress, her face broke out into a wide grin. "Ooo, girl. This thing looking good. Expensive, too. Did you bring the shoes for it?"
Saphronia dug around in the bottom of the garment bag and pulled out her shoes. They were low-heeled, pale pink satin pumps—and actually quite nice for the dress. But they were a far cry from what Precious had in mind.
"These shoes cute but they ain't gone work."
"What do you mean by, 'They will not work'?" Saphronia demanded in what Precious thought of as her "Miss Anne" voice.
"Look, these shoes have preacher's wife written all over them—even though you still in the fiancée stage. You gone have to get some better shoes than these if you call yourself doing anything worthwhile tonight."
Saphronia got mad and threw the shoes on the floor. "Okay, so my shoes don't work for you. Do you have a better pair I can wear?" she snapped.
Precious rolled her eyes. "Miss Anne, I just might. What size shoe do you wear?"
"Eight."
"Well, see there, our problem has been solved. Tee has some shoes that will be good."
"So, is this all there is to your plan?" Saphronia asked, her voice tight. "I mean, do you honestly think a fancy dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes are the key to getting back at Marcel?"
"No, girl, that ain't what I'm saying, but you got to look the part to get to play the part."
She tilted her head and looked at Saphronia real hard. "Your hair. We gotta do something about that."
The horrified look on Saphronia's face made Precious start to laugh. But then she stopped, frowning suddenly.
"What's wrong?" Saphronia demanded.
"Please hush your mouth. I just realized that I don't know what we gonna do about your voice."
Saphronia lifted her eyebrows. "My voice?"
"Yeah. You too proper. You gonna have to talk like you got some street in you and you gonna have to curse, too."
All of a sudden Saphronia's feet started feeling very cold. She didn't want to be too successful at this charade. "What if I am so convincing that somebody tries to get me to . . . you know . . . work, Precious?"
"You not going as no ho'," Precious said, with just a touch of exasperation in her voice. "You going as a hostess, food server, or something like that. I do the books for the club, Saphronia, and nothing else. And Tee ain't no ho', neither. All she do is cook food. But you still got to talk right for that place or else your butt won't get steps past the front door."
Tee walked into the room, listening to the two of them going back and forth. "You two standing there fussing like two wet cats. You might as well stop being mad at each other, 'cause ain't nothing wrong with both of you but y'all in love with a trifling man. Saphronia, you knew Marcel would cheat on you, just walked around hoping you was wrong. And, Precious, you were wrong to stay with him after he made it clear he was going to marry Saphronia, despite how much he claimed to love you. And plus, he was your boss and your pastor. Girl,