Between Brothers Page 12

  CHAPTER 13

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  GOOD MEN ALWAYS LOSE

  As Sunday-morning worship was wrapping up at Mount Zion AME Church, Brandon stood in the crowd near the back of the sanctuary, shaking hands with Dr. Adam Brinks.

  “Thanks again for your cooperation, Doctor. Ellis Center will be more than grateful to utilize your services.”

  “It’s not a problem, son. I’ve performed free physicals at my daughters’ schools for years, so why not donate that service to a place like Ellis?” Brinks eyed his wife and two young daughters. Brandon could tell the girls were growing restless, ready to get out of their Sunday dresses and into their playthings. “Well, my little ones are giving me the evil eye; I better run. Give me an update when you know the dates they want me there, and make sure to have your daddy call me! We Highland alums don’t stay in touch like we should!”

  “I’ll do that, sir,” Brandon said as the portly physician turned the corner of his pew. A Highland graduate who had studied alongside Dr. Bailey in many science classes, Brinks had been the first person to invite Brandon to Mount Zion AME. Brandon had eventually joined under Watchcare, meaning he was a temporary member until he moved out of D.C. Their conversation this morning capped a profitable week. Counting Brinks, four influential members of Zion had agreed to provide Ellis with volunteer services, including medical, legal, and accounting help, thereby saving the center thousands of dollars in fees. Reduced operating expenses would be every bit as crucial to the Ellis Center’s survival as fund-raising.

  Satisfied that he was accomplishing his objectives for the center, he scanned the oak-paneled sanctuary for a sign of his cousin Bobby. He spied him directly in front of the pulpit, in the midst of a small group of Highland students. Bobby was talking with Kelly Grant, another friend and member of the Disciples of Christ. A short and shapely sister with a deep almond brown complexion, Kelly cut a pleasing image that snagged Brandon’s eye, almost making him forget they hadn’t talked regularly for several weeks now. For a moment, he regretted telling Kelly that their relationship was over, after she’d finally admitted that she’d never let him out of her friend zone. Maybe it was time to rekindle what had once been his best friendship with a Highland woman.

  Then he noticed Kelly’s companion, a tall, lightly muscled man with a well-groomed beard and a close-cut fade. Brandon recognized him immediately but couldn’t match a name with the face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Kelly was with him. As his heart began a slow slide toward his bowels, he realized he may as well face the music. He couldn’t wait on Bobby forever.

  Striding up to the group, Brandon wore a smile that was an unspoken lie. “Good morning, saints,” he greeted them warmly.

  “Hey, Brandon,” Kelly said, her eyes resting on his.

  Straining to appear nonchalant, he observed Kelly’s new hairstyle, a bob that accentuated her soft features. She’d never dolled up like this when he had taken her out. It was obvious Kelly was about to officially break his heart, and he could do nothing but stand firm and take it like a man. A good, “nice” man.

  Her eyes still boring into his, Kelly placed a hand on the shoulder of her companion. “Brandon, have you met Scott?”

  In a flash Brandon recognized the brother. Scott McKnight, the Highland basketball sensation who had broken the school’s record for career points scored as well as rebounds in a single season. Scott McKnight, the brother he had once heard boast about having more girls on campus than any brother in the school’s history. Yes, Scott McKnight, the man who had once been notorious for never stepping foot inside a church.

  Now he and Brandon stood face-to-face, and there was no mistaking why. A few months ago the Highland community had been aghast when McKnight irreparably injured his knee in an intersquad game. Since that time, Brandon heard McKnight had conveniently found God and was even starting to attend some Disciples of Christ meetings. Now he was coming to church with the one good Highland woman Brandon had ever dared to pursue.

  “What’s up, brother?” McKnight grabbed Brandon’s hand and squeezed it aggressively before Brandon could recover from his momentary trance.

  “Oh, yeah, pleasure to meet you, man.” He decided not to fawn over McKnight in the way he figured Bobby already had. “We’re glad to have you visit, hope you come back.” Without Kelly, that is.

  “Well, I’ve always heard so much about Zion,” Scott replied, “and when Kelly and I were talking last week, she reminded me that I’ve been claiming I’d visit for ’bout a month now. I figured it was time to make good on my promise.”

  Brandon offered up a token inquiry. “Did you enjoy the service, then?”

  McKnight grinned like a kid who’d found his first candy store. “Oh, brother, it was truly a blessing. The way Pastor broke apart 1 Corinthians 12:9 was divine, wasn’t it?”

  Nodding absentmindedly, Brandon looked at Kelly as McKnight carried on with a heartfelt exposition of the sermon. He could see it already in her eyes, the admiration at the sound of a man waxing eloquent over Scripture. How odd; a lifetime of walking with God had not given him this skill, but McKnight had come in off the sidelines and in no time acquired the lingo and mannerisms the black church rewarded in its saints. Two more months and McKnight would have a minister’s collar around his neck.

  Kelly met his eyes again. “Well, we’d better get going. I have to get back and study for my Spanish final. Brandon, are you going to the Black Impact meeting this week?”

  “You know I haven’t been a regular attender lately.” Brandon no longer cared that his tone was short.

  “Well, you know you’re always welcome. Stop by sometime. We should talk and catch up.”

  Talk to your new boyfriend, you got nothing to say to me, he thought. “You know my number. Hey, Scott, nice to meet you, bro. I’ll see you guys around.” Shaking hands with Scott and waving to Kelly, Brandon turned to pull Bobby away from a new conversation he had started with one of the assistant ministers. “Brother, some of us have to get home and take care o’ business. You comin’?”

  Hearing the impatience in Brandon’s voice, Bobby stopped in the middle of his punch line. “You mind if I finish this sentence?”

  “Meet me out front, two minutes.” The words were barely out of Brandon’s mouth before he turned and shot up the aisle. Seeing Kelly with her basketball beau had ruined a fine morning. Now he remembered why his love life at Highland had been so desolate. When he wasn’t avoiding a white-hot sister like Monica Simone, he was getting dissed by a “good girl” like Kelly. If he was a drinker, Brandon would have been ready for a good, stiff Scotch or two, or three. As it was, he’d have to make do by venting to Bobby. Life as a nice guy was so lame.

  Minutes later, as Brandon slammed the driver’s side door and turned the key in the ignition, Bobby leaned against the passenger door, looking perplexed. “Uh, Brandon, did you get anything out of the service today?”

  “Why would you ask that? Of course I did. The Word went forth, the youth choir’s selections were excellent, and I did get an enlightened understanding of that text from Corinthians. No complaints this way.” Hoping to soothe his bruised ego, Brandon turned on his CD player, and the car filled with the bass-heavy rhythms of Commissioned. He fast-forwarded to “King of Glory.”

  Bobby wasn’t satisfied. “So why were you lookin’ constipated when you bullied me into leavin’ with you?”

  “Bobby, didn’t you see who Kelly was with?”

  Squinting and twisting his mouth into a phony frown, Bobby tapped his finger on the dashboard. “Gee, I don’t know. Whatever could you mean?”

  “You know darn well what I mean. The same woman who told me that she couldn’t date me because it would interfere with her ‘focus on God’ suddenly has time to date the Most Desirable Man on Campus.”

  Bobby sighed. “Maybe they’re just friends. She may be taking this as an opportunity to witness to him, you know, exposing him to some good preaching.”
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  “Please. Neither one of us is stupid enough to believe that. Even if her motives are pure, I’ll lay money his aren’t. I’ve seen it enough to know the routine of some of these brothers. When hittin’ the clubs and talkin’ foul to the girls on the street stops workin’ for them, they put on their best sheep’s clothing and cruise the churches and Christian groups. And some of these women seem to enjoy falling for it!”

  Bobby shook his head. “Brandon, you’ve been close friends with Kelly since freshman year. There was a time when you two were joined at the hip. You gonna tell me, as well as you know her, that you’d expect her to fall for McKnight’s act, if that’s what it is?”

  As they arrived at a red light, Brandon turned to meet his cousin’s eyes squarely. “Let me state this as clearly as I can. Yes. Hell yes.”

  Shaking his head as Brandon returned his attention to the road, Bobby slapped the dashboard loudly. “Look, you ain’t saying nothin’ new, you know that. We figured out a while ago that sisters lie when they say they want a good man. What they want is a reformed dog, someone who they gotta tame or keep tame. So until guys like us go out and screw everything with two legs, develop a drug addiction, or join a gang, we need not apply where some sisters are concerned.”

  Now Brandon was amused. “Who are you to be so hypocritical? Fool, who just called me last week crying in his soup because Jolene never even bothers to return your calls, after you poured your heart out to her last month? You didn’t sound so sanctimonious then.”

  “I did not cry over Jolene,” Bobby replied defensively. “I cried over Tara, a long time ago. For the record, I was hurt over what I knew to be a fact. I took that woman out, showed her a nice time, told her I was interested in being more than friends, and she said she only saw me as a ‘bud.’ The only problem is, now she won’t have anything to do with me. When I catch her, she’s always sayin’ we should hang out, but she never follows through.”

  Brandon frowned. “It’s called the brush-off, my boy. Trust me, I know it all too well.”

  “I know that, fool. That’s why I’m being logical when I feel hurt over Jolene’s rejection. When Kelly gave you her brush-off speech, at least she was sincere about maintaining the friendship. So you’ve had time to get over it. Now you gettin’ all twisted up just because she shows up at church with some guy. The least you can do is wait until you see them kissin’ or somethin’ before you go off the deep end.”

  “I’m sick and tired of waiting on all these good women to appreciate me, Bobby. If I hear one more tired sister claim that there are no more good brothers or that all men are dogs, I don’t know if I can be held responsible for my actions.”

  Shifting from his devil’s advocate role, Bobby sighed. “I know that’s the truth,” he said wistfully. They rode in silence, contemplating a hard truth: too many sisters liked bad men, and there was no escaping the fact that Brandon and Bobby were good, for better or for worse.

  Brandon broke the silence. “You know what I found in my old trunk the other day when I was cleaning it out?”

  “You not gonna really make me guess, are you?” Bobby’s voice was one big taunt.

  “How about this. My freshman year I sat down and made out a list of things I planned to accomplish by the time I graduated from Highland. You wanna guess what was on said list?”

  “Let’s see. Graduating summa cum laude?”

  “Yes, and you know I got that one down already. How about another?”

  “Get accepted into a top med school?”

  “Yep, and I just got my first admission letter from Duke last week, as you know. Come on, try another.”

  Bobby ticked numbers off on his fingers. “Brother, you had to have somethin’ down there about the Disciples of Christ. We were both sold out to them back then.”

  “Well, it was kind of related. I had the goal of sharing my faith, witnessing, whatever you call it, to at least one hundred people. I passed that milestone last fall. Not that I’ve rested on my laurels since, mind you. I pray for my housemates every day.”

  A smirk leaped across Bobby’s face. “Even O. J.?”

  Brandon paused. “Even O. J.”

  “Well, I bet I know the fourth milestone. I don’t suppose it involved a soft, warm, attractive member of the opposite sex?”

  “A girlfriend. It sounds like such a childish term now. I wanted to have a relationship with a serious girlfriend by the time I graduated, hopefully someone with marriage potential.”

  “Well, you’ve passed that test with flying colors,” Bobby replied cynically.

  “Hey, nobody can say I haven’t tried. That’s specifically why I quit the Disciples, so I wouldn’t feel pressured not to ask girls out. I’m no smooth operator, but if you count Kelly, Nikki, and Melba, I’ve approached several of the spiritually mature sisters I’ve been attracted to. Unfortunately, they never choose to reciprocate.”

  “You know you’re preaching to the choir, right?” Bobby let loose with a deep, throaty laugh that helped lighten the melancholy they were fighting. “I’ve probably hit on, asked out, or harassed ten times that number of women, and what do I have to show for it? Tons of unreturned phone calls, several Let’s Be Friends speeches, more than a few Fake Boyfriend stories, and a pair of pants with broken zippers from that date I had with Alisa Morgan.”

  “I warned you that girl was fast, man,” Brandon said, chuckling. “If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t have found yourself running out of her apartment with your pants around your ankles! That was too hilarious!”

  “You put yourself in that situation sometime, you won’t find it so hilarious. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a frustrated love jones! That girl was ready to tear me limb from limb.”

  Brandon was grinning at the memory of Bobby’s rendition of the encounter. “She almost stole your bornagain virginity, eh? Did you ever explain to her why you wouldn’t sleep with her?”

  “That was a tough one, man. At the time, I panicked. I made up a story about coming out of a recent breakup, not feeling ready, or some bull crap. But hey! I told Alisa about my faith recently. She said our talk helped her understand what happened between us, and we’re cool again. I just won’t be going over to her place by myself anytime soon.”

  “Well,” Brandon said, biting his lower lip, “at least it ended with some civility. It could have been another Brandy situation.”

  Bobby inhaled deeply. “Come on, man, why’d you have to go there? What happened to Brandy wasn’t your fault, man. Just because you slipped and—”

  “Never mind,” Brandon said, shaking his head. Why had he brought that up? He had to move on. “Forget it.”

  He whipped the Altima into the parking lot of Sarah’s Soul Food Cafe, a favorite haunt of many Highland churchgoers. The recently renovated two-story structure sat on a corner lot a few blocks from campus. It was surrounded by a grove of transplanted evergreen trees that made it appear an oasis in the midst of the declining community. Most Sunday afternoons Brandon, Bobby, and some combination of their friends could be found here, downing fried okra, black-eyed peas, fried chicken or catfish, and sweet-potato pie.

  The two switched over to small talk as they waited in line and paid. Bobby changed the tenor of the conversation as they took their seats. “You know, while we’ve been having a pity party about Christian sisters, I’ve been letting you off the hook, brother. What’s this I hear about you being out on campus with Monica Simone yesterday?”

  Popping a forkful of catfish into his mouth, Brandon began chewing and wondered if he could avoid the subject if he kept chewing indefinitely. It was so complex. Images, many of which he had confided to Bobby, flooded his brain.

  Brandon had experienced two major unrequited loves at Highland. There was Kelly and then there was Monica. If Kelly had broken his heart, he’d so far denied Monica that opportunity. Where Kelly appealed to the Christian, wife-seeking male in Brandon, Monica called out to his red-blooded, hormone-driven side. He remembered the fir
st time he saw her, freshman year, as clearly as if he had kept a Polaroid.

  He and Bobby had been kicking around in the cafeteria one night with some brothers whose names they could barely remember now when she’d glided past his table. She immediately caught his eye, her jet black hair glinting in the fading sunlight. Her face, with its smooth caramel complexion and striking opal pupils, had won him over, and her trim athletic figure, replete with round, sculpted hips and a carefully restrained bosom, had held the interest.

  He had told himself that night that the infatuation would end just like all the others. He had regretted not talking to her that first time and again on their next few encounters, until the failure to approach her became second nature, as involuntary as a baby’s burp. Then he would spin himself into sanity with a good spiritual rationalization. By denying himself the challenge of chasing Monica, he would reason, he’d be storing up treasures in heaven, resting solely on God’s intervention to hook him up with the right woman at the right time.

  Monica, however, had proven to be the exception. Three years after that first night, she was still the only woman who could give him a mild heart attack; a whitehot, numbing sensation that started in his loins and sliced its way up through his stomach, into the pit of his chest. He supposed this was because he wanted her yearning for him to be comparable to his own, though he didn’t really consider that possible. After their time together on the campaign trail, though, Brandon “Choirboy” Bailey was questioning three years’ worth of assumptions.

  Bobby cleared his throat, interrupting Brandon’s reverie. “Excuse me, man, but I’m not hearin’ any scoop. What up?” He hadn’t touched the food on his plate yet, his curiosity displacing the hunger he had complained of moments ago.