Part 13 (1/2)

Having daydreamed through most of the pages in the Coach catalogue, I wondered how I'd missed this pink monster. How many cows full of strawberry milk had bit the dust for that one? It could level a small nation.

”If you do this, I'll add another zero to your fee for my favors. Today's check is just a start.”

A zero? As in the ten-thousands place? I was no beauty queen, but when it came to math and money, I could run with the best of 'em. I felt like doing the robot to make sure I could move my new doll arms and doll legs. I did a mental inventory of what I'd order the minute Sweet Pea left the shop-ten buckets of cocoa b.u.t.ter, a few drums of olive oil, jojoba, a good bit of shea...Bulgarian lavender, some organic chamomile...

Even with the bridal accounts, the bills were mounting faster than I could open them. Two days ago, I'd been praying to stay in business after the New Year. Just as quick as I'd been knocked down, I was back in the game. And all for the small price of my usual yearly humiliation-joining the supporting cast in someone's fairy tale.

Tangela extended the check to me. I smiled and tried to count to ten and look professional. You know, not too eager and all that. I made it to about four before I s.n.a.t.c.hed the note and scanned for all the pertinent information-social security number, phone, that sort of thing. My eyes skipped across the single line at the top. Sheldon Manson. No numbers. No address. No nothing. The groom's name said it all.

Cash money.

More than I'd ever make in a lifetime, which wouldn't amount to much if things had kept on at their current pace-in addition to the new rent, my essential oil supplier shut down and moved to Miami, tripling my s.h.i.+pping costs. I folded the check and slipped it into the register, grateful for this timely payment and the promised installment. All those zeros were honey to a sistah's heart-even if it did come with a price.

”Now we're even,” Tangela said. ”And if...uh, when you ever get married, I promise to not be pregnant, fat or otherwise indisposed. I understand just how stressful this all is.”

I almost laughed then, staring at homegirl's bejeweled and designer exterior. Stressful? What did she know about it? Whatever problem Tangela's man didn't pick up, her daddy would. Though he'd taken to wearing clean s.h.i.+rts and cooking me breakfast, my father was no doubt on the casino boat, at the racetrack or on his way to the shop to borrow a few dollars to ”tide him over.”

Next, Renee would come for her weekly fill-up, and then my no-good cousins, who stopped by on weekends to see if I wasn't being ”stingy”-meaning whether I'd let them plunder the soap bins and slather lotion from head to toe, filling their purses with goodies for their friends.

No, ole Tange didn't know a thing about stress. My Daddy in Heaven had my back, as Renee so deftly put it. I'd never join the ranks of my once-intelligent, college-educated former friends who'd morphed into breastfeeding, baby-talking soccer moms with sippy cups and minivans. Tangela would become one, too-in the off season, of course. She and Tracey could keep it. There'd be none of that for me.

What about Adrian?

I shrugged off the thought. Things between us were strange but bearable. His sporadic visits and communications kept things they way I wanted them, under control. Church, work, books, bills. Those were my world. And not necessarily in that order.

The cash drawer clicked shut. There wasn't any turning back now. Unless...I wasn't pregnant, but I still had my childbearing hips. They'd gotten me out of worse jams than this. ”Are you sure the dress will fit?”

”Perfectly. She spread at the bottom first...if her belly had held on another two months, we could have made it.”

”Right.” Great. I was a perfect match for a pregnant woman. Next, I'd be a stunt double for a linebacker or something.

Tangela lunged forward to give me a hug. I stumbled from the stench of her perfume. Estee Lauder's Beautiful. Half a bottle at least. Not a bad choice, but with all that money, I'd expected Chanel, but considering her rate of use, cheaper was probably better. Woke my sniffer right up.

She dug in her purse of ma.s.s destruction and pulled out a pamphlet. Tangie's Bridesmaid's Handbook. Tangie's Bridesmaid's Handbook. It actually said handbook. Some people have way too much time on their hands. It actually said handbook. Some people have way too much time on their hands.

”The dress will be delivered tomorrow.”

”On Sunday?”

Her grin said it all. ”FedEx.”

Some intense brides-to-be had pa.s.sed through my door in the past few months, but this one was not to be believed. ”You already sent it?”

The hyena laugh again. ”I knew you'd say yes. Why wouldn't you?”

I could think of one tall, brown reason and it stood across from me, reeking of SD 40 alcohol. That wet cement settled in my throat again-G.o.d's way of reminding me that sometimes it's best to just hush. I shrugged. Why not, indeed.

”The schedule of events is on page twelve. But in case you don't get around to reading it today, the bachelorette luncheon is next Sat.u.r.day. Semicasual-”

Was this a wedding or an inauguration? ”Don't you mean bachelorette party?” Not that it mattered. I'd be working.

”Oh, no. That's not until after the slumber party, the sisterhood tea and the spa cruise.”

I stared. First at her, then at my purse and finally at the ceiling. A girl had to watch out what she prayed for to be sure. I didn't know what G.o.d was up to, but this sounded like a doozy. I tried to focus on all the lovely soap I'd be able to make. And bath bombs, lotion, maybe even launch the natural hair care line-especially the twist and lock b.u.t.ter and the roll-on scalp shampoo I'd been playing with.

”Sounds like a riot.” The damp sand taste in my mouth traveled to my gut....

”You're so cute. It's all in the book. Read it over. I'll get back with you.” She waved like a little brown puppy. ”This is going to be so fun...and wait until you see your escort. If I hadn't met Sheldon first...well, you know.”

I did know. Girls like Tangela went for the dollars, not the dude. I had to laugh though, considering how much of a jerk Sheldon had been the one time he'd come to the store with her. Girls had come out of every store on the block, flocking behind his Lincoln Navigator limo like it emitted the last oxygen on Earth. He'd stepped out of the car with a cell phone plastered to his cheek and pushed them all aside...including Jericho and my silly cousins, who were too old to be out there anyway. Besides his cornrows, that man was a total loss.

At least Miss Black America hadn't mentioned her gift registries. Purchasing one more crystal candleholder would send me and my credit card over the edge. What did people want those things for anyway? Staging their own murder mystery party? Whatever happened to a Crock-Pot? I held my handbook shut, not daring to look at the index page.

Tangela waved stiffly, like a beauty queen with arthritis. ”See you next weekend, okay? And don't worry. You'll do fine. How many weddings did you say you'd been in?”

Mama always said chitchat comes back to haunt you. ”Ten.” I whispered it, wis.h.i.+ng that even I couldn't hear.

”How many?” Tangela's forehead crinkled. Just as quickly, the supple cocoa skin eased back into its normal place.

”Ten!” In my best you've-made-me-mad loud voice, I prayed for forgiveness as the sound echoed off the bottles of peach cobbler conditioner stacked nearby.

Crinkled forehead again. I hoped she'd save that look for the other side of the altar. ”Ten weddings and you're still single?” She floated toward the door, almost knocking the chocolate body mousse off its display. ”Well, if three is a charm, I guess ten is a chance, huh? With Austin spreading the word about you, you're bound to land somebody. Ciao.”

Yeah. I'd have to drop Austin a note on this one. Everyone else had only been half-batty. Trying to fix me up with one of her groomsmen. Puleeze. I released my clenched abdominals remembering the one man I'd met at a wedding-Adrian's wedding. The best man, Trevor Ice. He'd lived up to his name. Just plain cold. I pushed away her insult and focused on the big picture. I could stay in business.

Though I'd never get married or have a man to protect me, G.o.d had come through for me...again. This money could mean a trip to the Illinois gift show next year-the first step between breaking even and national distribution. In spite of her att.i.tude-and mine-I grabbed Tangela and gave her a quick hug. ”It might be fun playing bridesmaid one last time.” I doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

Tangela added a squint to her expression. ”Bridesmaid? Did I say that? I have enough of those.” She b.u.mped the door open with her hip. ”You're going to be the maid of honor.”

”Somebody has to tell her.”

I looked at Roch.e.l.le and turned my head. True enough, choir rehearsal had been a painful sound, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell Sister Wells that her gifts might be better served at the hospitality counter than the soprano section. Or in her case, the soprano-alto-tenor section. The woman couldn't even hold a pitch through the chorus. ”It's not going to be me. Mother Holly is still cutting her eyes at me after I took her solo. It's your turn.”

I could tell from the look on Roch.e.l.le's face that she was close to total meltdown. Choir practice and taking turns driving Jericho around-his driver's license had been suspended one week after he got it-were about the only communications we had left, but she was here and I needed to talk about Tangela's wedding with somebody.

I leaned in closer to look at Roch.e.l.le's shoes, her feel-good strappies in lime leather with chunky heels. My eyes rested on the polka-dotted scarf at her slim neck in contrasting orange and turquoise, both brilliant against her dark velvet skin. Where did she get those wild, wonderful color combinations?

She started arranging the sheet music on the stands. Ours was a little choir, though when the Minister of Music put on his robe and took us to the heights of the scale, the sound would fill the house from front to back. Being so small though, one person singing out of key changed the melody.

In Sister Wells's case, she changed the whole song. The choir leader was out of town, but if he had to deal with this situation when he returned, he wouldn't be pleased, nor would he deal with it tactfully. G.o.d was still working on Simon in that area, and I didn't hold it against him. I had my own struggles to focus on.

”So are you done with that basketball guy's girlfriend? Angela?”

I knew she'd work her way around to it. ”Tangela. And no, I'm not done. She asked me to be in the wedding-”