Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [62]
Precious could no longer hide her sniffles.
"Go back to work," Marcel said harshly.
His reference to Saphronia sounded hard, he knew, but he was talking to himself as much as to Precious. To show her he was sorry he had hurt her feelings, he patted her on the head before pushing her off his lap. She was still dabbing at her eyes as she headed back to her office, with the scent of honeysuckle trailing behind her.
She had left not a moment too soon. Minutes later Bishop Caruthers burst into his office, looking so full of hell the devil wouldn't be stupid enough to mess with him.
"Where the hell was your secretary, Marcel? Do you know how long I've been sitting out there?" he bellowed. "Then when she did come waltzing by, she had the nerve to say, 'Just a moment, while I tell the Pastor you're here.' Well, I wasn't about to keep on waiting on Miss—"
"Miss Precious, Miss Precious Powers, Bishop Caruthers," she said from the doorway.
Otis Caruthers stopped and sniffed the air, making it clear that it didn't take a genius to know that a woman had been in the office just moments ago—and that his nose, picking up the honeysuckle scent, told him it was Precious.
"I see you keep your girls real busy, Marcel," he said, looking Precious up and down like she was cheap. "But this one seems too dumb to know when she's keeping a bishop waiting."
"I knowed," Precious said defiantly. "But I was doing my job for the Pastor, just like always."
"You have to be the most loyal church secretary I have ever laid eyes on, Miss—"
"Precious Powers," she repeated. She wasn't afraid of Otis Caruthers, though she knew he terrified Marcel. He had some hold on Marcel, but, much as she snooped, she could never find out what it was. Since she did the books, she knew that it was costing Marcel money.
When Bishop Caruthers saw she wasn't planning to leave the office, he started pacing in agitation, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he wanted to slug her. Precious just smirked at him, looking like she was just praying for him to throw the first punch.
"Miss Powers," Marcel said. "Let's call it a day. I need to talk to the Bishop alone."
Precious looked at him to make sure that he really wanted her to leave, not to stay for moral support and to watch his back. But with his eyes, he signaled to her, "You making this worse, not better."
As soon as the office door closed, Caruthers sat down in one of the two blue, black, and red plaid armchairs facing Marcel's massive mahogany desk. It was a gracious room, with a blue, gold, and ruby red Persian area rug lying on the walnut-stained hardwood floor; subdued sky blue walls decorated with a painting of the church and a large portrait of Marcel; navy blue silk draperies; and the two tree-height plants placed in front of the long, wide windows that overlooked a busy boulevard. Caruthers pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and Marcel pushed a heavy crystal ashtray across the desk to him. It had been a gift from one of his Trustee Board members who refused to smoke outside whenever he came to call on the pastor.
After lighting his cigarette, Caruthers sat back. "Now, your Miss My-Name-is-Miss-Precious-Powers must be one hell of a secretary for you to set back and let her show her tail with a bishop."
In his mind, Marcel begged Precious to forgive him as he said, "Precious is a real good secretary, Bishop—a real mighty good secretary. And she can type pretty good, too."
Caruthers let out a snort of a laugh. "Well, Reverend, you and your daddy always did have a knack for selecting the right women to work for you. And I see you haven't lost your weakness for the ones with big juicy behinds, either."
Marcel, relieved he had scored a few points with Bishop Caruthers, opened his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of Seagram's he kept hidden in his desk. He opened the sliding panel on the narrow mahogany credenza behind the desk, took out a