Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
A heavyset woman in the choir rolled her eyes as if not believing Mrs. Marshal’s performance.
Rafael clapped his hands, but returned to the pews and sat down.
Ms. Curly grabbed the hand at his side and tightened her grip as if trying to keep him sitting.
Rafael smirked and squeezed her palm.
This must be Gwen.
That flight and joint had me mentally slow this morning.
Jean-Pierre dove his hand into his jacket and pulled out his phone. It must have vibrated. I checked the screen and spotted Eden’s sexy picture again. The Butcher rushed out of there so fast one might have thought Jesus was calling him.
Didn’t you just talk to her ass? Pussy whipped Pansy! How many times do you all need to chat it up?
Regardless, I took that opportunity to scoot closer. All I needed was Rafael to get a phone call and stop blocking my way to Ms. Curly.
Surely, I could dirty mack on the Comedienne.
Up in front, a tall, muscular man with dark hair and a beard rose from the pulpit. He held a large, well-worn bible at his side.
That must be the preacher.
Instantly, Mrs. Marshal stopped prancing around and hurried back to her seat.
Everyone’s attention went back to the big man. His eyes scanned the crowd as he began to speak, “Today, we talk about fear and faith.”
A woman whispered behind us, “Yes, Lord.”
“We all know about fear, but what about faith?” His voice boomed out, echoing off the walls of the small church. “Do you know about faith? The sort of faith that you must have when there is only solid darkness in front of you and no solution in sight.”
“Lord!”
“Trusting in God when all hell has broken loose.”
“Speak!”
“Trusting in God when you’re down on your knees and tears are running down your face and your voice is raw because you’ve been screaming over and over, ‘Lord! Lord! Lord! Lord!’“
Several people clapped and murmured their understanding.
I would have paid attention, but Rafael and Ms. Curly held a hushed conversation at my side.
She had the sweetest voice. “What are you doing here?”
Rafael pulled out a small bible from his jacket. “I just bought this. It is in French. Do you like it?”
She frowned at him.
“Your faith can wrestle with your fear, but they cannot become friends.” The preacher stepped forward. “You must trust in the Lord! He can see farther than you!”
“Yes!”
“He can see in the front, in the back, around the corner, and all the way down the hall. And you are just sitting there in one spot scared to move forward.” The preacher shook his head. “But I say to you, trust in the Lord!”
“That smile tells me that you love my Bible.” Keeping his voice low, Rafael flicked through it. “We could have Bible Study in my hotel suite over a nice glass of wine and a high-end dinner. My chef doesn’t cook as well as you, but—”
“Rafael, you better stop playing with God like this.” Gwen scowled.
“What? I am a changed man.”
She frowned. “My cousins said that you were in a brothel a few nights ago.”
The preacher looked at the choir. “You have to trust in the Lord when you’re in the center of the storm!”
One of the choir members called out, “That’s right.”
Rafael leaned close to her. “Me? In a brothel?”
“Yes. You.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “Up in the French Quarter with tons of women.”
“Oh. I know what you are talking about. That was not for me. I did not touch anyone. Did your cousins say I did?”
She frowned. “They did not.”
“And there we go, sweet Gwen. That visit was for my men. They have not found Jesus like me yet.”
The preacher’s voice rose. “I’m not saying you can’t fear, but you must maintain the faith although your hands shake.”
Uninterested, I leaned in closer to hear Ms. curly speak, “Thank you for helping me, Rafael, but now you have to go back to Paris.”
“I would but I need your help and you said that you would give me three favors. This is the first one.”
Ms. Curly let out a long breath. “What?”
“We need to see your grandmother.”
She widened her eyes. “Rafael, I’m not taking you back there. You almost died the last time and—”
“You must. My cousin needs her help.”
“Jean-Pierre?”
“Yes.”
She turned away and shook her head.
“And God will make a way!” The preacher raised the Bible in the air. “He will always make a way!”
The congregation yelled back at him with joy.
Rafael’s eyes darted to the side and he caught me watching Ms. Curly. His face contorted in anger and his eyes narrowed into slits. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. I could see the veins in his neck pulsing with the beat of his heart. He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned bleach white.
Really, man?