Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [83]
Essie glared at him for coming up on her, but did not shrink back.
"Mister, is there some problem?" she asked.
"There definitely is a problem," Laymond Johnson said. "Why don't you come over here by the door so I can explain it to you? I don't think you want me to say it in front of these Reverends."
Essie stood her ground. She put one hand on her hip and stared at him defiantly.
"You don't belong in here," he said. "This dinner is for special people and not women like you."
"Women like me?"
"Yeah, women like you who come here to tempt the first godly man they come across for reasons only the ungodly can truly understand."
Essie was appalled. Here was a supposed churchgoing man at a church function talking to her like the old drunk men from Pompey's Rib Joint. She whispered to herself, "Lord, please don't let this devil make me lose my religion at this fancy dinner."
Laymond Johnson heard her prayer and resented being called a devil. He decided right then and there that he was throwing her out of the hall, ignoring the waves of one of the ministers, who was trying to signal him that Essie was a special invited guest. He took a quick step toward her.
Essie drew up her pocketbook, ready to take a swing at him.
"Baby? You all right?" Theophilus was on his way back when he spotted his wife poised to beat up a big man with her new purse.
He hurried over, and the big fool turned around to see who was talking, only to discover that it was that young up-and-coming pastor from Memphis, looking real unhappy.
"You know her, Reverend?"' he asked, with sarcastic innuendo in his voice.
Theophilus was furious. "Yeah, I know her," he said in a flat, hard voice with the menace of the street in it. "I know her well. I know her as my future babies' mama. And I know she hasn't done a single thing to warrant this mess from you."
He squared off his shoulders, and Essie sucked in her breath when he dropped one shoulder, tilted his head to the side, and flicked his thumb across his nose, looking like he was going to whip up on this man.
"And," Theophilus continued, "I know that if you do not apologize to my wife, I will whip your behind right here at this banquet in front of all your bishops. That's what I know."
Essie reached up and tapped Theophilus on the shoulder to distract him. She knew that he must be blind with anger to shout at the man like he was doing, especially at a church function. He would be angry with himself if he completely lost his cool and whipped this man's behind.
He looked down at her, saying, "I'm okay, baby. I'm okay," then turned his attention back to Laymond Johnson.
Laymond didn't want to apologize to this woman but he was scared of this preacher, who, even in that fancy tuxedo, looked like a formidable opponent. If his wife had come here looking like the rest of the ministers' and bishops' wives, they wouldn't be having this problem.
Theophilus repeated, "I am waiting for your apology and will commence to whipping your tail unless I hear it now."
Laymond's face was swollen with resentment. Against his will, he said, "I apologize to you, miss."
"It's Mrs. Simmons," Theophilus said in a tight, nasty voice. "Mrs. Simmons."
Laymond turned toward Theophilus. "And, I am very sorry, Reverend, for mistaking your wife for the wrong type of woman. I hope you have enough Christian charity in your heart to forgive me."
Theophilus hated to let him off the hook, thinking he deserved to be taught a lesson on how to treat the women in this church. But he said, "I'll do my best," pulling at Essie's arm. "Come on, baby, let's go find our table."
But Essie couldn't resist looking back at that man, and when her eyes fell on his white, fake leather shoes, she whispered, "You nasty, cheap-shoes-wearing thang." The threatening