Made Of Honor Part 13

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 shipping 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 shirts 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, wishing 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-"

"That might be a good thing."

Huh? Just when I was about to go into my tirade about how ridiculous the whole thing was, my best bud-well, former at the moment, but we'd get back-says that this nightmare is a good thing? I bit the inside of my cheek. The only explanation for her behavior was something I didn't want to think about-a man. She'd been absent from Golden Corral the past few Sundays, but I hadn't seen her with Bad Pants, either.

My eyes widened as we walked silently from the church to our cars parked side by side in the gravel lot, which looked big without Sunday's cars spilling out of it. We stopped at her Lexus, facing my eight-year-old Cougar. Shoes were an easier sell than soap. Our vehicles reflected that.

"Since when is being a stand-in a good thing, Roch.e.l.le? And for Tangela, no less? You know...how people treat us singles. Always a fix-up-"

A sheepish grin crept across my friend's face. A grin I'd missed. "Speaking of single, I'm seeing somebody..."

My breath caught in my chest. My girl. My partner. The last single Christian woman in my world holding it down on the job and holding out in the bedroom. Even if we weren't speaking outside of e-mail, knowing Roch.e.l.le was going through the same things had helped me stand strong. What was next, Daddy getting a job? "Somebody? Not that guy from Golden Corral? Please, tell me it's not."

She didn't say a word.

I turned back toward the church. Had I somehow driven her to this by not partic.i.p.ating in BASIC?

Let's not start the blame game.

"Why not Deacon Rivers instead?" At sixty-two, he hitched his pants up to his armpits, but he wasn't bad-looking and could sing a mean hymn. He was too old for her, but if she was going to settle, why not sell out all the way?

Roch.e.l.le walked around her car, opened the door and sat inside. She motioned for me to get in too. Car talk.

"Why now?" I asked again, slamming the car door. "What's changed? Just tell me that."

I am the same yesterday, today and forever.

Roch.e.l.le tapped her foot on the gas pedal. "I'm not sure myself. This stuff with Jordan, I guess. It's time for me to move on. I've known it a long time, but I didn't want to let you down."

Let me me down? I'd always thought it would be the other way around. "Okay...why that guy then? Not to be funny, but I didn't take him for your type." Or anybody's type for that matter. Even Tad would have been better than this. down? I'd always thought it would be the other way around. "Okay...why that guy then? Not to be funny, but I didn't take him for your type." Or anybody's type for that matter. Even Tad would have been better than this.

She shrugged. "Because he wanted me, I guess."

A pause whistled across the s.p.a.ce between us. I blew it away, trying to catch my breath. Had it come to this? "You're scaring me."

She turned to face me, her shiny black curls reflecting in the rearview mirror. "He's a chauffeur."

I blinked. "A who?"

"You heard me."

"I thought I did." This was too much. All the times I'd let a fine blue-collar brothah get away because of Roch.e.l.le's needling about having something in common? And now she was going to run off with someone's driver?

"He owns the limo and rents it out, but he does the driving himself." Her voice dipped in pitch. "He does well. It's not serious yet, but if it doesn't work out, I might try one of those dating things."

I leaned all the way against the pa.s.senger door so I could get a look at my friend's face. A good look. "A dating thing? What exactly does that mean?"

She smoothed her scarf against her neck. "It means that a few like-minded people get together and have dinner, exchange business cards...that kind of thing."

My chin hit my chest. Had everyone lost their minds? "I can't believe you, Roch.e.l.le. You're not only dating, but planning for it not to work out?"

She sucked her teeth. "See why I didn't tell you? Because I knew you'd act just like this-foolish." She put the key in the ignition and started her car. "I know I blocked you from good men plenty of times and I thought I was right, that we didn't need anybody...now I'm not so sure. For the first time I think someone good has come into my life. I'd like to find out."

I cut my act. "Does Jericho like him?"

"His name is Shawn and Jericho likes him okay. It's different. We're taking it slow."

Poor kid. Both his parents had lost it. At least she had that much sense to do it slowly. I opened the pa.s.senger door to get out. Quickly.

"Be happy for me and be good in the wedding. We're not getting any younger," she whispered behind me.

Too stunned to respond, I shoved my purse up on my shoulder and focused on getting to my car. What this conversation, this day, meant was more than I was ready to consider. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was hurting.

Bad.

Chapter Ten.

Unfortunately, Tangela was a woman of her word. When she said the dress was coming tomorrow, she meant it. After church, I stopped by the store where the Federal Express box awaited me. After an exhausting morning of trying to sing over Sister Wells and trying to soothe our Music Minister's frustration at our off-tone melody, I had little energy left to deal with Tangela's dress. And let's not even talk about me and Roch.e.l.le. We'd been the dueling soloists this morning.

I'm ashamed of us both.

Roch.e.l.le thought I was jealous of her little man-fling. She couldn't have been more wrong. In a weird sort of way, I was happy for her. The thing that bothered me was the numbness, the deadness in my own heart. A year ago, I might have listened to her little speech and thought, "She's right. I'm not getting any younger. Maybe I'll give it one last shot."

Now, nothing of the sort came to mind. Whatever love had remained in me, was only for Jesus.

I held the red satin slip of a dress in my hands. What kind of woman chose red for a wedding? And strapless at that. I didn't have the nerve to try it on. Just holding it up to me was bad enough. The silhouette of that soft fabric against me, made me think of a part of myself I'd buried long ago in ratty T-shirts and baggy clothes.

My secret woman-self.

The part of me that had always caused me the most trouble in the past, the part of me that I'd surrendered to G.o.d and accepted His love in return for. Was He now trying to reopen that hidden chamber?

Today at church, a nice-looking man had sat on my pew and given me all the usual signals, but I didn't bother to return any of them. A quick once-over gave me all the info I needed about him-too good to be true-probably living with his mama, driving some other woman's car, "in between" jobs. Not to mention that he probably came to the Lord last week. I smiled at the guy, shot up a few prayers and pointed him to the singles' group after service. It was the least-and the most-I could do.

And now I had the rest of the day to myself, since Roch.e.l.le was too caught up with her new man for our usual after-church lunch and hang-out. I could go to Jordan's, but then I'd have to hear about his girlfriend and a whole lot of other stuff I'd rather not know. So I guess I'll just be still...as long as I can stand it anyway. Probably go down to the shop and get a little work done.

A knock boomed at the door. "Dana! You in there?"

I dropped the flaming dress back in its box and kicked it in the closet. I'd deal with that later.

Lips pursed, I set out toward Roch.e.l.le's voice, not bothering to put on my shoes. "Coming."

As I pulled the door open, she almost tumbled in, with Jericho and the new boyfriend following close behind. While she gathered her breath from running up the stairs, I surveyed Mr. Car-and-Driver. He looked the same, wearing his pants tighter than I was comfortable with, but he had a kind smile.

"Girl, I tried to call you. Why didn't you answer?"