Church Boyz 1 (Rod of the Wicked) Read online

Mount Moriah Baptist Church – Sunday Morning Service

  The Paxton men were known for their dashing looks, which drove women into a blushing frenzy. Their smooth copper-toned complexion exuded confidence. Their toothy smiles got well-respected attention. Their eyes were unforgettable, but nothing appealed more to the Paxton’s fan club than tall black men who had the guts to bare a clean-shaven head. It was unquestionably bodacious. Quirks and imperfections were overlooked in the world of women. Some actually made it their business to study them, concocting schemes to ensure that their genes be preserved into the next generation.

  Devotedly, every Sunday morning at Mount Moriah a horde of them filed into the first two rows, an assortment of every skin shade – mesmerized by Pastor Leroy Paxton’s six-feet-two-hundred-pound powerful frame. Like Asian tiger mosquitoes, they sucked in every word that oozed through the pastor’s full lips. Nevertheless, Leroy Paxton was a fine preacher who had worked assiduously to gain the admiration he now enjoyed.

  Rumor had it that he idolized his pulpit and kept his ministers around to serve merely as showpieces, fearing a ‘holy’ insurrection. His father had experienced conflict early in his ministry, which resulted in a three way split in the congregation. But, Leroy was a quick learner and would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

  In today’s church, everything seemed to be about the numbers, and although Pastor Leroy’s membership tipped near seven thousand, with matching seating capacity, he was humbled. He understood the quickest way to the bottom was to saunter in the shoes of arrogance. His church had state-of-the-art everything. From the sound system to the automatic flush of the toilets, it was the ultimate multi-cultural, mega church, sitting on several acres in the heart of Hillsborough County, Florida. The offering was unheard of: fifty grand a week was an insult to the accounting books.

  The pastor’s salary was sweet and his wife, First Lady Michelle Paxton, was stunning; and to most, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her silky ebony curls and her petite build gave her somewhat of a regal appearance. He winked at her as he normally would when their eyes met. To him, there wasn't another woman on the planet as fine as Michelle. She looked her part; the best dressed First Lady in the building.

  Leroy made certain that she wore nothing but the finest. Her embroidered big-brimmed hats were flown in from London. Her custom-made suits were shipped in from New York, and by his choice, she only wore shoes designed by Pedro Garcia or Marc Jacobs, so expensive that they would cost the average person a two-week salary. Leroy showed her off every Sunday morning on their newly owned TV station. And to seal his good fortune, they were blessed with three fine-looking kids. What more could a man ask for?

  Handsomely arrayed in his red cassock that irresistibly hugged his body, he took to the pulpit at 11:45 a.m. – which was his preferred time to begin a sermon. He would scan the massive audience, lingering on the rows of people who had come from all over to hear him. He broke out into that trademark smile that softly revealed a pinch of gratefulness. To the right, his millionaires sat and to his left were his political supporters. They all had his back.

  “God has been favorable to us all, my fellow laborers,” Leroy said in that James Earl Jones voice. “The abundance of His blessings is evident in us and in this place.”

  The congregation responded, some with a sanctified nod, others with a reverent wave.

  “Yes, my brothers and sisters, we could have been wasted in the market square of life. Our virtues lost and our hope destroyed. We must always recall where the Lord has brought us from, unless we forget where He’s taking us. We cannot forget His hand, which has sustained us over the years. That’s why we ought to show love one for another. Be kind to one another; live peaceably with all men. Because if it wasn’t for God’s mercy, most of us would have been buried six feet under by now. Well, I know I would have been. But our God…” Leroy paused, stirring some of the people to their feet. They knew when his voice struck a certain pitch; he was on the home stretch. “I said our God, my friends, is worthy to be exalted. His hand of mercy has kept us alive!”

  His voice was now filled with emotion as he paced away from the pulpit. It suddenly became hard for him to remain at ease, because his mind unexpectedly went back to the incident five years ago that had nearly cost him his life. It was a miracle that he survived the worst experience a man could endure. He pushed the memories aside and got back on track as the final minutes of his sermon swung into high gear.

  “Shout hallelujah!” he yelled. “Shout hallelujah, church!”

  Dominic pumped the organ along with Leroy, making the Hammond b3 croon like a nightingale, but it didn’t match Leroy’s excitement as the chords toddled between two full octaves.

  Leroy hadn’t a clue about the first note on the pipes, but he knew when a key was off and he knew when his voice wouldn’t go beyond a certain range. On top of that, Dominic was ignoring all of Leroy’s attempts to get his attention. That was because his eyes were parked somewhere else, like a predator ready to turn his prey into an afternoon snack.

  The prey must be close by, Leroy thought, as he followed Dominic's gaze across to the ministers’ section. But there were too many of them for Leroy to single out which cassock was causing the disturbance.

  Assistant minister, Shaniece Bryant, took the microphone from Leroy and rode upon the waves of excitement that he had created. Her feet, which were firmly snug in six-inch stilettos, stomped to the pulse of the soca medley. The band was known to be eclectic, and unpredictable – their ethnic jingles sweetly flavoring the atmosphere. Shaniece appreciated her position and took pride in the way she prepared her sermons. Her presentation was powerful and effective, which at times, stole a bit of Leroy’s spotlight – but the people at Mount Moriah would have it no other way. It was one of the decisions that’d forced Leroy to install her as his assistant – a decision that he had soon regretted.

  Obviously, that didn't sit well with Michelle at all, and after five years, she still threw it up in Leroy’s face. How dare he make Shaniece assistant pastor over his wife, humiliating her image each time that woman stood up to speak? It was an ecumenical slap in the face. If her decision to punish Leroy had been made solely upon vendetta, she would have left Leroy with only the shirt on his back. But thank goodness, for the grace of God, and for the fact that every woman in Hillsborough County was just waiting for her to make one stupid move, she decided to stay.

  “Did not our hearts burn,” Shaniece bellowed in that sanctimonious voice. “Did not Pastor Paxton preach, how my God, the Word, came forth with boldness and with simplicity. I was enriched by it. How many of you were blessed? I could listen to Pastor Paxton all day. My God, he was so good. At this time, I will invite Pastor Abraham Winder to make an announcement. Following which, he will assist me in presenting this child back to the Lord.”

  Abraham took his time climbing up the carpeted steps in his black, ankle-length cassock, trying to appear as reverential as his fellow clergymen. He prayed to God this silly thing he’d been forced to wear, didn’t trip him, and send him down on his face. Part of him longed for that life of solitude he had enjoyed before taking on the task of serving as Youth Minister in Charge. He would have been quite content to remain as Leroy’s chauffer. Now he was a chauffeur with a never-ending portfolio. He offered Shaniece a smile as he took the microphone out of her hand. When he turned to face the congregation, he suddenly felt uneasy. Public speaking was not something he took pleasure in, but that didn’t mean he was short on words.

  “Greetings, church.” His voice teetered a bit before it found its natural authority. “Beginning next week, on Friday, the mentoring classes will now be held in the newly-built gymnasium at 5 p.m. Our program is geared to teach young men how to live a life of integrity and accountability. We are pleased to anno–”

  To everyone’s surprise, Dominic jumped off the organ and hurried alongside the wall, heading toward the nearest exit. Shaniece immediately took mental note of
his disrespect, and vowed to chastise him as soon as the benediction was done. Leroy, on the other hand, had figured out the identity of the prey. Dominic wasn’t the type to lose his cool like that, and was not a neophyte in ecclesiastical matters, but one who displayed a fine example of Christian maturity. He would not have walked away from that organ if the circumstance had not been serious.

  But Leroy was no fool. When it came down to matters concerning his congregation, any information was crucial information. One scandal could dismantle the strength of an organization. It’d happened to several of his contemporaries, all of whom were now contending with the demon of regret. He too, joined them in their misery, as he was pressed to think of his own secret indiscretions. He dabbed the beads of sweat that’d formed on his forehead, and then released a smile of displeasure. Shaniece wasn’t the only one waiting to have a word with Dominic.

  Chapter Three