Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [53]
"He deserved it," Essie said, "coming over here trying to start some mess. And that Glodean Benson didn't even have sense enough to see—or care—that he was disrespecting her, too." And she thought to herself, "That crazy woman must have really laid something on Theophilus for him to want to spend more than a second with her."
Theophilus put a big piece of the pot roast in his mouth, closed his eyes, and savored it. "Been waiting for that for what seems like forever," he said.
Essie picked up a rib and pointed it at him, saying, "I just can't get over those men, having the nerve to call themselves preachers. That Rev. Sonny Washington is just nasty, nasty, nasty—and that Marcel, how can he get away with acting like he does?"
Theophilus washed down a forkful of the turnip greens with tea before he answered, "Well, as for Marcel, I think he gets away with so much because Rev. Ernest Brown is his daddy. Plus, he's smooth-talking, light-skinned, and from Detroit. You know how some of these churchwomen can carry on over a high-yellow preacher from a big city like Detroit.
"But Sonny Washington? Frankly, I don't know how he manages to get away with so much. Just about every church he's pastored loses money, while he keeps up his high living—Cadillacs, silk suits, money for trips to almost every district's Annual Conference, and then some."
"That's ridiculous, Theophilus. Church folk should have better sense than to let a preacher get away with so much mess."
He forked up some more pot roast. "I have those exact same thoughts."
On the drive back to Coral Thomas's house, Essie was so quiet that Theophilus wondered if she was brooding over all of that mess with Glodean. Hoping that some music would get them talking, he turned on the radio, fooling with the dial until he heard a Big Mama Thornton song. He said, "Know something? I love to hear that woman sing. Next to Big Johnnie Mae, Thornton is one of my favorite lady blues singers."
Essie listened to the song a few seconds. "I think I like her a little better than Big Johnnie Mae. Although I have to admit that the last time I heard Big Johnnie Mae at Pompey's, she just about tore that microphone to pieces."
"Yeah, Big Johnnie Mae was so hot that night, until she could have fried some chicken with that singing."
Essie laughed. "She sure could have. I wish Uncle Booker would have heard her that night. He loves Big Johnnie Mae but not as much as he does Howlin' Wolf. Uncle Booker will just about lose his mind over some Howlin' Wolf—has been all over Mississippi trying to be at every place that man is scheduled to sing."
Theophilus chuckled. "Uncle Booker looks like he's into some Howlin' Wolf."
He pulled up in front of Coral Thomas's house and turned off the motor and headlights, leaving the radio on. Big Mama Thornton was crooning, ". . . Ahhh, got a sweet lil' angel and I love the way he spreads his wings."
Theophilus patted the seat next to him. "Come on over here by me."
Essie moved just a little closer, so he grabbed her hand and gently coaxed her all the way over to his side of the car. She sat up next to him with her hands folded in her lap, as if she was sitting in church. He took one of her hands, surprised by how much comfort it gave him just to touch her. Intertwining his fingers with hers, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
Essie wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Now he enfolded her complete in his embrace, kissing her with so much passion that she could feel heat running through her chest, down to the pit of her stomach, to the center of her thighs, and even to the soles of her feet, making her wiggle her toes in her shoes.
Theophilus whispered, "Hmmmm, baby," in her ear.
Essie took her arms from around his neck and moved a couple of inches away from him. "Seems like when we're alone, we always manage to get all bothered and busy."
Theophilus smiled at her longingly, moving in for another kiss.
"I'd better go in the house, Theophilus," she said.
"Mmmm, hmmm,"