Selling My Soul Page 10

  I knew Monica was fighting to keep her usually well-controlled cussing demon under raps.

  “After what he did to us? After everything that happened to Kevin? I mean, multiply that by at least eighteen more times that we know of and God knows how many more. And you’re going to help him come off free and clear. And I know you, Trina. You’re the best at what you do. By the time you’re finished doing your job, he’ll look like a perfect angel. And instead of everyone leaving the church like they should, his church will probably grow. You want to be a part of that? Responsible for this man—who has no morals, no scruples and nothing of the spirit of God living in him—you want to be responsible for the growth of his ministry?”

  I couldn’t say anything to her.

  “Trina, I’m listening.”

  I let out another deep breath. “Monica . . .”

  “What, Trina?”

  Her voice was escalating. I wanted to tell her to calm down for the baby’s sake, but I was afraid that would make her even madder. I had to try my last possible defense. “Monica, I have to look at it this way. In spite of the way Bishop Walker handled everything with you and Kevin, that doesn’t mean he knew. I know he’s a liar, but what if he’s being honest about this? What if he didn’t actually know about Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines?”

  Silence. For too long this time. Tiffany came back downstairs with a couple of my suits and held them up for my approval. I gave her a thumbs-up and got up from the kitchen table.

  “Monica?” I walked into my office and shut the door.

  “Trina, you can’t be serious. You mean he actually convinced you that he didn’t know?”

  “I’m not saying he convinced me. I’m just saying I don’t have any proof that he knew.”

  “So you’re saying if you had proof that he knew, you wouldn’t represent him?”

  “Of course, Monica. If I for one minute thought he had any knowledge about what was going on, I would tell Blanche that I couldn’t take him as a client.”

  “You promise?”

  “Of course, Monica.”

  “Okay, then let me tell you this. About nine months ago, Kevin was in a car accident because he couldn’t sleep from the nightmares he was having about being molested. Bishop Walker came to see him in the hospital. Kevin told him about everything that happened when he was little. He specifically told him about both Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines. Bishop Walker threatened that if Kevin came forward, he would release the whole story to the press, including Kevin’s sexual history. He even threatened to spread lies that Kevin had molested boys in the church. So he knew. And did nothing about it.”

  I couldn’t say anything. Just laid my head back against my office chair.

  “And the worst part, two of the boys that have come forward were molested in the last nine months. If Bishop had done something the minute he found out, those two boys would have never been victimized.”

  I let out a slow, long breath.

  “That’s two boys who will never be the same again. They may end up being promiscuous, may never have a healthy love relationship, or may even struggle with their sexual identity. They may never trust God because men of God violated them. Who knows what will happen to their lives? And it could’ve been prevented, Trina. So I ask you again. Are you really going to help Bishop Walker and make it look like he’s completely innocent?”

  “No . . . you’re right. There’s no way I can do that. I didn’t know. He made me believe he had no knowledge of it. I’m sorry, Monnie. Please forgive me.”

  “I will. As soon as you tell Blanche Silver that you’re not gonna represent Bishop Walker.”

  “I will, Monica. I promise. First thing tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I gotta go. Call me after you talk to Blanche.” She hung up.

  I put the phone down on my desk and rubbed my hands across my freshly pressed hair. I had expected her to be upset, but hanging up on me? I guess I deserved that. I couldn’t believe Bishop Walker lied to me. Actually, I couldn’t believe I allowed myself to believe him. Maybe I needed to believe he didn’t know so I could live with having to do the job. Now that Monica had told me the truth, there was no way I could do it.

  But to tell Blanche I couldn’t do it? I would lose my job. And God knows I needed it.

  There had to be another way. Maybe I could persuade Bishop Walker to tell Blanche he didn’t want me to represent him. That way, she couldn’t fire me for refusing to represent a client as assigned. I had to do it in a way that Blanche wouldn’t be suspicious that I was the cause of it. Maybe if Bishop Walker was concerned that I would leak the truth about him knowing to the press, we could come to an agreement that he would tell Blanche he was no longer interested in her firm taking him on at all. He had decided to go a different route. I would be free of him, but able to keep my job.

  And Bishop Walker would do anything to save his image, status and huge pastor salary, including letting me out of this obligation.

  Thirteen

  The next morning, I showed up to Bishop Walker’s office at our scheduled time. Ms. Turner was all smiles when I got there and directed me to go right into Bishop Walker’s office. When I walked in, he was sitting at his desk, sipping on what must have been a perfect cup of coffee.

  I marched over to his desk. “You lied to me. You said you didn’t know anything about what those men were doing. But you knew. And you did nothing to stop it. Do you know that since you found out, two boys were molested? Two young, innocent, pure boys whose lives will never be the same. If indeed you only found out then. I honestly believe you knew much earlier. How can you sleep at night? How can you look at yourself in the mirror?” I stood there with my hands on my hips, breathing hard.

  “Very good, Ms. Michaels. But I’m ready for you this time. I spent the entire evening going over your questions, and I’m well prepared. There’s nothing the press can say to shake me up. I have to thank you. Your questions were excellent and really made me think about what I need to say in our press conference. When will it be scheduled by the way? I feel like I’m ready.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not testing you this time, Bishop Walker. I’m serious. I know that you knew.”

  He took a sip of his coffee and set his cup down on its saucer slowly. “Ms. Michaels, what are you talking about? You know that I knew what?”

  “I know that you’ve known for some time that Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines had molested young boys under their care in your churches.”

  “Is that a fact, Ms. Michaels?” He leaned forward and stared me straight in the eye. “And how, exactly, do you know that?”

  Here was the problem. I had been so angry at finding out the truth about Bishop and so concerned about saving my friendship with Monica and keeping my job that I hadn’t thought past this moment.

  I folded my arms. “I just know.” Wonderful. I sounded like a ten-year-old.

  “Ms. Michaels, for you to make such an accusation, I would hope that you have some proof.” He studied my face again, like he had when we first met, like he was trying to place me. I knew he was racking his brain to figure out whether it was possible that I knew, and if so, how?

  I stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Just like in my dealings with Blanche, I was in over my head. I didn’t know how to deal on the level of those gifted in the art of scheming, lying and cheating.

  “Ms. Michaels?”

  I stood there staring at him.

  “What is it that you think you know?”

  I would just have to go for it. “I know that nine months ago, Kevin Day told you that he was molested by both Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines. And you did nothing about it. You pretended that it never happened. In the time between then and the time the ministry council responded to his letters and did their investigation, two other boys were molested. Like I said before, how can you live with yourself?”

  For the first time since I had walked in the door, Bishop Walker looked concerned. His mouth opened
then closed. He bit his lip, rubbed his goatee, then opened his mouth again. “Where did you . . . how do you . . .” He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Kevin Day was in a car accident, and in his hospital room, he confessed to you what had happened to him as a child. You threatened that if he came forward, you would tell the press about his past . . . sexual history. Does that sound familiar?”

  “How did you get this information? Who are you?”

  I stood there, not sure whether I should tell him how I knew.

  “There were only two people other than myself in that hospital room. So I’ll ask you again. Who are you and how did you get your informa-tion? Bishop Walker stood and stared at me. I guess he thought he could threaten the information out of me.

  “I’m Monica’s best friend.”

  He nodded and sat back down in his chair. “I see.”

  I had him right where I wanted him. “It’s clear that there’s a conflict of interest with me working for you. I think the best thing for all involved is for you to call Ms. Silver and tell her that you’re no longer interested in having her firm represent you. I will keep this information confidential, as will Kevin and Monica. You’re welcome to continue to do whatever your conscience will allow.”

  Bishop Walker rubbed his goatee, then picked up his phone. “Ms. Turner, please bring Ms. Michaels some water. We have a long meeting ahead of us.” He gestured toward the chair in front of his large desk. “Please have a seat, Ms. Michaels. We have a press conference to prepare for.”

  I put my hands on his desk and leaned toward him. “You must have misunderstood me. I have no intention of working with you. I think it’s in the best interest—”

  “I heard everything you said, Ms. Michaels.” He took a sip of coffee and picked up his phone again. “Ms. Turner, could you bring me a fresh cup of coffee? This one has gotten cold. And see if we have any Danishes or muffins for Ms. Michaels.” He looked me up and down in a way that made me pull my droopy suit jacket tighter around me. “She looks like she must be hungry.”

  My mouth fell open. Had he lost his mind?

  “Ms. Michaels, you may want to sit down. We could be here for a while, making sure I answer all my questions for the press conference correctly.”

  “As I said—”

  “And as I said, I heard you.” He sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Now you hear me. As I said yesterday, I’m familiar with your work, and I think you’re the best person to assist me in protecting my ministry from damage due to this current situation. I have no intention of letting you go.”

  “There’s no way I can adequately represent you, knowing what I know. I have a conscience, and there’s no way I can do this.”

  “Oh you can, and you will. Because if you don’t, I’ll have to make good on the promise I made Kevin and Monica in that hospital room.”

  I sank slowly into the chair. “What?”

  “You heard me. Either you work with me until this situation blows over, or the next information leaked to the press will be the source of the letters sent to the Bishop’s council. Along with the truth about Kevin’s . . . history.”

  I clenched my teeth and gripped the arm of the chair. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “I wouldn’t?” He smiled at me, and I could swear I had gone to hell and was sitting face to face with the devil. “Please believe that I would.” He leaned forward and gave me a sinister grin. “So, Ms. Michaels, when is the press conference?”

  Fourteen

  I should have never told Bishop Walker that Monica was my best friend . . . I kicked myself for the fiftieth time. If I hadn’t told him that, his threat of outing Kevin would have meant nothing to me. I should have let him think I had gotten the information through one of my media sources, and had no personal connection to Kevin and Monica. Now I was stuck. Really stuck.

  I remembered the look on Monica’s face in the car, and then in the park when she thought of the possibility of losing her wonderful new life if the truth about Kevin got out. There was no way that I could let that happen to her. I had to protect her at all costs. Even if it meant helping Bishop Walker lie to the world and maintain his ministry.

  Could I live with that, though? Several times through the rest of our meeting the day before, I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. When he put on his sad victimized face and told his pitiful lies, I just knew I would throw up. Even though I hadn’t been able to eat much since I talked to Monica.

  During the meeting, I had thought of throwing him to the wolves, letting him answer the questions wrong and inviting the most difficult reporters to the press conference. He must have heard my thoughts because he let me know he was paying Blanche top dollar for my work and expected that she’d be monitoring our progress carefully. If his answers weren’t perfect or if certain reporters showed up at the conference, Blanche would know I was sabotaging things and would fire me. And if she fired me, Bishop would ruin Kevin and Monica’s lives. And Blanche would blackball me so that I couldn’t get a public relations job anywhere else in the city. And I didn’t have enough experience in the non-profit sector to demand enough of a salary to take care of me and Moms’s bills. I would lose my house. Moms would lose her medical insurance, and who knew what would happen then.

  I had gone over it again and again in my mind all night and all morning, and I couldn’t think of a way out. I kept coming to the same conclusion.

  I had sold my soul to the devil, and there was no way I could get it back without somebody getting hurt.

  And so, as always, I did my best work. I began making arrangements for the press conference, calling my more “church friendly” media contacts—if there was such a thing. We would hold it the next afternoon. Deacon Barnes and Pastor Hines were scheduled for arraignment, and it would be a perfect time for Bishop Walker to make his first statement. I spent the entire day on the phone. I had decided to work from home, in my office. Blanche could be mad if she wanted. I was getting the job done. It wasn’t like she would fire me.

  After making phone calls and last minute arrangements all day, I finally decided I had done my best to set things up and decided to go to bed early. I would need all the rest I could get for the next day. I was starting to feel less guilty about taking daily showers, and that night decided I even deserved a soak in my Jacuzzi tub, bubbles, bath salts, and the whole works. It was a heavenly treat, but wasn’t enough to wash away the disgusting feeling I had about tomorrow’s events.

  I finally climbed into my bed to go to sleep. I had been trying to get back into the habit of sleeping there, hoping I would get a better night’s rest. I was about to drift off to sleep when my cell phone rang. I didn’t bother to open my eyes to look at the caller ID and just answered it. “Hello?”

  “Hello, my beautiful angel.”

  “Gabe?” I sat up. “Is that you?”

  “I better be the only one who calls you that.”

  Not too long after I met Gabriel, I remarked that he was named for the angel Gabriel. He said that I was the angel—a beautiful angel God sent to help him spread the gospel in Mozambique.

  “What are you . . . how did you? I thought you wouldn’t be back in Pemba until next week.”

  “I know.” He was silent.

  “What happened? Is everything okay? Did something happen that you had to go to Pemba early? Is everything okay in the village?”

  “Trina, everything’s fine. Everybody’s fine. Just as you left.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I . . . I had to . . .”

  “Gabe?”

  “I miss you, Trina.” He exhaled slowly. “I needed to hear your voice.”

  It was only then I realized how badly I missed him. My heart melted. “Oh, that’s so sweet.” I pulled the comforter off the bed and spread it out on the floor and stretched out on it.

  “Okay, this is the part where you’re supposed to tell me you miss me too, a
nd you’re glad to hear my voice.”

  “I miss you too, and I’m glad to hear your voice.” I let out a little chuckle.

  “Woman, I think you take great pleasure in playing around with my heart.”

  I sucked in a breath, pretending to be shocked. “Why in the world would you say something like that? Play with your heart? I would never do such a thing.” I laughed some more and pulled a pillow off the bed and propped it under my head.

  “You have and you would. In fact, I think you packed my heart in your suitcase and took it back to America with you.”

  “Oh, Gabe.” It was all I could take. The pressure of the last week surfaced, and I couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Trina?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” I couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. You wouldn’t believe everything that’s happened since I’ve been back. It’s been one thing after another.”

  “It’s just re-entry. Culture shock and jet-lag.”

  “I wish that’s all it was. That I could handle. I’m telling you everything’s gone wrong.” I realized how much I had come to depend on Gabriel. His strength had gotten me through so many difficulties in our little village. Gabriel helped me through my difficult adjustment period when I first arrived in Mozambique and couldn’t handle the smells, sights, food and everything else that so was different from my life in America. He was the one that held me when I cried after my favorite baby I had gotten attached to died of malaria. He was the one that nursed me back to health when I caught an intestinal illness so bad, I thought I would die. Stinky mess and all, he was there the whole time.

  “Trina, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

  “It is, Gabe. Believe me it is.”

  “Let me ask you this. Are you in good health with plenty of food to eat, clean water to drink, and a roof over your head?”

  “Of course. It’s not that, it’s—”

  “Is your life threatened in any way?

  “No, but—”