Sinners & Saints Read online

  That’s just what Jasmine wanted to hear. She clicked off the light in the bathroom, turned to Mae Frances, and said, “Let’s roll.”

  In the hallway, Mae Frances gave Jasmine the folder that she’d prepared last night; these would be the last moments Jasmine had to study. Once the elevator came, their talking ceased and they rode down in silence. The elevator stopped on almost every floor as the first ladies made their way to the biggest event of the week for the women. Along the way, Jasmine was greeted with pleasant smiles and a few congratulations, but the soft chatter was all about Rachel Adams and Regina West.

  Jasmine sighed. After this morning’s session, she’d expected the women to be groveling at her feet, ready to crown her queen.

  But there was no need to sweat this. In just a couple of hours, she’d be the one back on top—where she deserved to be. And Rachel? Well, the women of the American Baptist Coalition would realize that Rachel was nothing more than a ghetto-not-so-fabulous street girl who couldn’t stand next to her, or any of them, no matter how many lies she told.

  As the women filed from the elevator into the hall leading to the Grand Ballroom, Jasmine and Mae Frances pressed through the crowd as politely as they could. At the door, they paused, and with eagle eyes they scanned the massive space. In moments, Jasmine zoomed in on Cecelia King. She was in the center, as always, her majesty surrounded by her royal court. But this time she wasn’t alone. Rachel Adams stood at her side as if she were the princess preparing to take her rightful place.

  Jasmine had to take a breath. Rachel was standing where she was supposed to be.

  “This is better for the plan,” Mae Frances whispered, as if she knew Jasmine’s thoughts. “Just go on up in there, do it the way I told you, and I’ll handle phase two.” She patted the envelope she held in her hand, then gently pushed Jasmine forward.

  Jasmine sauntered toward the group in the center, as if she wasn’t in a hurry. But each passing second pulled them closer to the start of the program and Jasmine had to make this happen right now.

  There was a crowd around Cecelia and Rachel, and if she hadn’t had a plan, Jasmine would be fuming again. But she delighted in the fact that it wouldn’t be long before Rachel was flat on her face.

  How am I going to get Cecelia’s attention? Jasmine thought. But there was no need for her concern. The moment Jasmine caught Cecelia’s gaze, the older woman smiled. With a nod, Jasmine beckoned her, as if she had something important to share.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Cecelia said before she stepped toward Jasmine.

  But as Cecelia moved away from the group, Rachel did, too, as if she’d been invited to join Jasmine’s discussion.

  It was rude … it was immature … and it played right into Jasmine’s hand.

  Cecelia spoke first. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but I wanted to say what an awesome testimony you gave at the reception. What you want to do for the ladies of the American Baptist Coalition, and the whole country really, is simply amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Jasmine lowered her eyes properly, as if the compliment was too much. “I just want to do what I can to make sure no mother has to go through what I did.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Rachel said. “What you did up there was really special. A million dollars, huh?”

  Both Jasmine and Cecelia stared at Rachel for a moment, letting her know her comment was inappropriate. “Rachel, honey,” Cecelia began in a teacher’s tone. “This has nothing to do with money. Her child was taken away and violated. Don’t you know that?”

  “Yeah, but …”

  Cecelia sighed as if she was exasperated. “This offer came from Jasmine’s heart, to protect other children and other parents.” To Jasmine, Cecelia said, “You are to be commended for going through and coming through that. And to stand up there and share it with all of us …” She pressed her hand against her chest, shook her head, then pulled Jasmine into her arms.

  Over Cecelia’s shoulder, Jasmine saw Rachel roll her eyes. Oh, yeah. This was gonna be fun. It was time to take the wench down.

  “Thank you so much,” Jasmine said, pulling back. “And I wanted to thank you for introducing me at the reception.” She paused, glanced at Rachel, who stood in place as if she had no intention of leaving Cecelia’s side. “I’m hoping, Cecelia, that you’ll let me return the favor. I’m sure there is someone already assigned to introduce you, but”—she hoped this was the part that would get Rachel—“since the women have already met me and are really getting to know me now, which is positive for my husband, I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to make a few more points … and introduce you.”

  “Oh … well … that’s an idea.” Cecelia lowered her head as if she was pondering the suggestion.

  “It would mean a lot to me.” Jasmine glanced at Rachel, who stood now, with her arms folded, with her eyes squinted, as if she was in deep thought. But Rachel hadn’t jumped in yet, so it was time for Jasmine to go in for the kill. “It would mean a lot to Hosea … if you know what I mean.” Jasmine shared a chuckle with Cecelia.

  Rachel stepped in—literally. With her elbow, she nudged Jasmine aside. Any other time, Jasmine would’ve knocked the trollop upside her head. But she stepped back and allowed Rachel to fall into her trap. “Ummm … Cecelia, really, I would love to introduce you.” Turning to Jasmine, she added, “I mean, you’ve already had a chance to speak to the women and many of them don’t know who I am. So, I would love the opportunity and I think it’s only fair …” She paused, then added, “And I’m sure you don’t want it to look like you’re favoring one of us over the other.”

  Fool! Jasmine thought as Cecelia’s eyes narrowed at Rachel’s words.

  “I mean,” Rachel began, as if she knew she had to clean this up, “I would never say that, but I heard some of the other ladies talkin’.”

  Jasmine was sure that Rachel was going to ruin her plan if she kept on, so she jumped in. “You know what? That’s probably a good idea. Rachel, you should introduce Cecelia.” Both looked at Jasmine as if they didn’t believe her. Jasmine added, “I mean, you’ve been so gracious to me, Cecelia, and I don’t want Rachel to feel bad …”

  “I don’t feel bad,” Rachel said with too much attitude. “I’m just sayin’…”

  Would you shut up? Jasmine wanted to scream. You’re going to ruin my plan!

  For a moment, Cecelia stared hard at Jasmine, as if she suspected that Jasmine didn’t have a polite bone in her body—that this had to be part of some kind of trick or scheme. But finally, Cecelia relented. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Jasmine?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Cecelia motioned toward the tall, lanky woman who’d been following her around since they’d arrived. Though Cecelia never introduced her to anyone, Jasmine was sure she was her assistant.

  Cecelia whispered something to her friend that neither Jasmine nor Rachel could hear. When they moved apart, the woman motioned for Rachel to follow her.

  With a smirk and a “Hmph,” Rachel sashayed away, putting way too much swing in her hips, as if she’d forgotten where she was.

  Cecelia shook her head slightly, and frowned as she watched Rachel saunter away.

  But Jasmine was all smiles. Some people are just perfect victims, perfect idiots!

  This was one of those good news–bad news scenarios. The good news was that as the wife of one of the top contenders for the position of president, Jasmine was placed on the dais next to Cecelia King. The bad news—on the other side of Cecelia was Rachel, who did her best to keep Cecelia engaged and away from Jasmine throughout the entire program.

  Even after lunch had been served, Rachel never stopped talking. It was only when a short break was announced before dessert and the women stood to mingle that she finally shut up.

  When Cecelia stepped away and Jasmine and Rachel were alone, Rachel said, “You know, Jasmine, when Lester is voted in as president, I’m sure he can find a place for your husband to work for him.” She pushed
her chair back from the table and stood. “In fact, I may ask you to do a few little things for me, too.” She laughed softly as she swung her fake Gucci purse that was a perfect match to the Kmart special dress she wore, and stepped down from the dais.

  Jasmine’s eyes followed Rachel as she sauntered through the crowd, stopping here and there, roaming to and fro … just like Satan. She kept her eyes on Rachel as she left the ballroom, obviously on her way to the restroom to freshen up for her grand introduction.

  And then Jasmine’s eyes wandered to the folder that Rachel had left beside her place setting. In the next instant, Mae Frances joined her on the stage, but neither woman said a word to the other. With the slightest movement, Mae Frances exchanged the manila folder at Rachel’s seat with one that she held. Then she left the stage just as quickly as she came.

  By the time Rachel returned, Jasmine was shivering with anticipation. When the mistress of ceremonies quieted the group, the women settled at their seats for coffee, tea, and dessert … and to hear from their leader, First Lady Cecelia King.

  “It is my honor,” the mistress of ceremonies began, “to present Mrs. Rachel Adams, who will introduce our keynote speaker.”

  The applause was polite as Rachel pushed back her chair, grabbed the folder with the bio, and then took her time strolling to the podium.

  Rachel stood for a moment, her shoulders back, her head high—with much more poise than Jasmine expected. And for the briefest of moments, Jasmine wondered if Rachel was going to be able to pull this off. Would she scan the paper ahead of time, or would she just read, knowing that she’d already reviewed the bio?

  But then Jasmine calmed herself. There was no way Rachel would be smart enough to glance over the sheet once again. The truth was, even she would just get up there and start reading if she were in Rachel’s position.

  Rachel opened her mouth and Jasmine took a breath. “Thank you all so much. It is such a pleasure to be here and to introduce a woman whom I’ve admired from afar for many years.”

  Jasmine raised an eyebrow. Afar? Impressive. She’d expected Rachel to just go up there, stutter a bit, and then start reading.

  Rachel said, “As many of you may know, my father, Simon Jackson, has been the pastor of Zion Hill for many years. And if I’ve learned one thing from him, it’s that our leaders are important because they are the ones who help us set the tone to bring others to Christ. So, Lady Cecelia, thank you for setting a wonderful tone for all of us to follow.”

  The applause was a little louder this time and Jasmine had to release a long breath. Where was this coming from? Rachel Adams sounded like she had a little bit of class. Was she ever going to open that folder? Was she ever going to read what Mae Frances had prepared?

  Rachel cleared her throat, leaned closer to the microphone, then did what Jasmine had been expecting—she began to read. “Cecelia King wasn’t always a first lady. In fact, few know that she was a wildcat often found butt-naked … in college …” She paused as her eyes scanned the page.

  Gasps and the clanking of dropped forks filled the air. Followed by whispers and glares.

  “Oh, my God,” Rachel said, though no one in the room heard her.

  The chatter grew louder as the women stared and pointed, their disgust palpable.

  The moments that passed had to feel like minutes to Rachel as she looked from side to side, not knowing what to do.

  Jasmine jumped from her seat and rushed to Rachel’s side. She put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and spoke into the microphone. “Obviously, there’s been a mistake,” Jasmine said. “But together, Rachel and I can tell you about the real Cecelia King. The woman who was raised in Smackover, Arkansas, who’s been working since she was fourteen years old. The woman who helped her mother raise her six brothers and sisters while she put herself through the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville.”

  Jasmine continued the litany of Cecelia’s accomplishments, never looking down at a single paper and never letting go of Rachel. This was the important part, Mae Frances had told her. The women had to see them side by side.

  “The Bible tells us how important a helpmate is,” Jasmine continued, “and it is because of Cecelia King that her husband, Reverend Andre King, has held the position of president of the American Baptist Coalition for eight years.”

  She paused as the women applauded.

  Jasmine said, “But she leaves her own legacy with the National Head Start program that she initiated, along with the Reading Is Fundamental book drives that occur all over the country because of her vision.”

  More applause, and this time Jasmine paused long enough to take in the crowd. Rachel’s blunder was not forgotten, but in their eyes Jasmine could see that the women were impressed with her. She was snapping off Cecelia’s accomplishments as if she’d been by Cecelia’s side for every one of them—and without reading from any notes whatsoever. And Rachel had to continue standing silently next to her, Jasmine’s protective arm still around her shoulder—the princess and the pauper.

  “And to quote one of Lady Cecelia’s favorite scriptures …” Jasmine paused. She had no idea if this was Cecelia’s favorite scripture or not, but Mae Frances had said with the way that woman went around quoting the Bible, they could pick out anything and it would work. Jasmine said, “For the Lord is great and greatly to be praised. Ladies, let us praise the Lord for our first lady! Without any further ado … or mix-ups”—she paused at the laughter and felt Rachel stiffen beneath her hold—“I bring to you the first lady of all first ladies, Mrs. Cecelia King.”

  This time, the women rose to their feet, but as Cecelia walked past Rachel and hugged Jasmine, Jasmine knew that the ovation was as much for her as it was for Cecelia.

  When Cecelia finally leaned back and caught her eye, Jasmine took a quick breath. It was the smirk that Cecelia wore that made Jasmine wonder—it was a smirk that said she knew Jasmine was behind this whole setup.

  Well, so what? Of course, she probably knew. But even if Cecelia suspected that, it didn’t matter. Jasmine’s goal was to please many more than Cecelia King. There were many other first ladies who had to be impressed with her, and the reaction from the other women just moments before told her that she’d accomplished her goals.

  Rachel moved like a zombie as Jasmine led her back to her seat. She actually had to help the girl sit down—but that was wonderful because Jasmine knew the women were watching and she demonstrated her compassion for the poor, stupid child.

  Then Jasmine took her place, folded her hands in her lap, and turned to Cecelia King as if the woman was about to give the most important speech in the world.

  Chapter

  TWELVE

  Uggghhhhh!!!!” Rachel screamed as she threw the hotel’s lamp against the wall.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Lester screamed.

  Rachel stopped mid-rant. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the hotel suite, but judging by the broken lamp, the overturned coffee table, and the way Nia was cowering in the corner, it had been long enough to terrify her children.

  Her son was standing behind Lester in the doorway, looking scared out of his mind. He must’ve run outside and called Lester when she came stomping into the suite like a stark raving lunatic.

  Lester’s admonishment and the silent tears trickling down Nia’s face brought her back to reality. She hadn’t had an angry explosion like that in years. Rachel closed her eyes and inhaled. How in the world had she let that woman push her to this point?

  “I … I’m sorry, kids,” Rachel said, her eyes watering. “Mommy didn’t mean to scare you. I was just really mad.”

  “But when I got mad and broke Jordan’s airplane, you said no matter how mad you get, you shouldn’t break other people’s things,” Nia softly replied.

  “And you shouldn’t,” Rachel responded, walking over and pulling her daughter out of the corner. “Mommy did a very bad thing, but she’s going to use her own money to pay for the lamp.”

  “
Like you made me use my allowance to pay for Jordan’s plane?” Nia asked.

  Rachel nodded. “I’m sorry I scared you.” She looked up at Jordan. “You, too, Jordan.”

  He looked relieved that she wasn’t mad about him going to get Lester.

  “Why don’t you take your sister down to the gift shop and buy her some ice cream.” She pulled a twenty out of her purse and handed it to her son. “Keep the change.”

  “For real?” Jordan exclaimed. If anything could make Jordan forget about problems, it was money.

  “For real.”

  “What about me?” Nia said.

  Rachel reached in her purse and pulled out two five-dollar bills.

  “Yay!” Nia said. She waved the money in her brother’s face. “I got more than you. I got more than you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Unh-huh. You only have one bill. I got two,” she sang.

  “You are such a dumb dork,” he said as he walked toward the door.

  “Jordan, don’t talk to your sister like that,” Lester said, before moving to let them pass.

  Lester let the sounds of their arguing fade before he stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s that bi—that witch, Jasmine,” Rachel said, her anger returning. “You will not believe what she did at the luncheon.”

  Rachel paced back and forth as she relayed the whole sordid story. After Jasmine swooped in with her fake Wonder Woman cape, the whole atmosphere had shifted. Cecelia had barely said two words to her the rest of the luncheon. Some of the women even spent the whole time throwing her dirty looks. Rachel had tried to apologize afterward, even telling Cecelia that someone had switched out her bio. Cecelia had barely listened to her apology, and quickly made her exit. Rachel didn’t know how, but she knew exactly who that someone had been.

  “Rachel, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.” Lester motioned around the room. “It surely didn’t warrant this.”