truck stopped working, every time we’d get in, Mama would turn on what I called the Sermon Station, so I’ve heard all about how good God is and how much He loves all His children.
But for as long as I can remember, Mama has prayed without ceasing, and…well, I find it tough to believe this God character is so great when we continue to barely scrape by despite how hard Mama works and prays.
Seeing the mind-boggling difference between the Victorious Faith three-piece suits exiting Audis and Teslas and the attire cobbled together by the homeless bus people definitely isn’t making me a believer. I mean, they’re all going into the same building, aren’t they? Why does the gulf between their respective *blessings* seem so wide?
Anyway.
Inside is even more intense. In addition to the ethnic garb, there are people standing around the perimeter of what I guess is the lobby holding various national flags.
And everybody is smiling.
“Freaky,” I say.
Zander has apparently inhaled the Kool-Aid because he’s not paying me any attention. Too busy looking around, beaming like a kid who just stumbled into Santa’s workshop. “Is it like this every week?”
“Goodness no!” a frighteningly familiar voice rumbles from behind us.
We slowly turn around.
Oh God…I mean, gosh.
“I thought that was you two!”
It’s the security guard from Checker Cab.
“Officer Kenny! Wow!” Because who could forget the man? “Fancy meeting you here!” I look to Zan for help, but he’s still smiling and tossing waves at random strangers.
“Welcome to VFC!” Kenny says. “So good to see y’all in the house of the Lord this morning!”
“Uhh…” What to say? “Good to be here!”
“You’ve chosen a fabulous Sunday to visit. Today is our Parade of Nations!”
“Parade of Nations?” Zan is utterly in awe.
“That’s right! We’ve got ninety-three nations represented in our congregation. Most multicultural house of worship in Greater Atlanta!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as proud as Kenny is right now.
“Amazing,” Zan says.
Trying really hard not to side-eye him.
“Glad you think so, young man.” Kenny gives Zan’s shoulder a shake, and Zan stumbles forward a good couple of feet.
Then Kenny looks at me. “Did you ever find your locket, young lady?”
And crap.
“Ummm…”
“That’s why we’re here,” Zan says. (So he is still on planet Earth.) “We’re trying to track down the woman who was in the cab after my friend here. Maybe you know her? Driver said he dropped her off here on Christmas Eve.”
Well damn, Macklin.
“Really now?” Kenny replies.
“Mm-hmm. It was her first time here, apparently.” He pulls out the picture…if you can even call it that. More like a series of grayscale blobs on an 8.5x11-inch piece of paper with multiple creases from Zander’s folds. “Sorry the photo isn’t great. Retrieved it from some security footage at a convenience store. You can kinda see her, right?”
Kenny squints and rubs his chin as he looks at the paper. “We get a lot of visitors for the holiday services.”
Trying not to panic. (Because I suddenly care?) “She was a little old black lady with a white Afro and light-up sweater—”
“You’ve seen her in person?” Kenny says.
Oops.
“Yes…” I look at Zan. “I work at the convenience store where we got the picture. The driver was dropping me off as he picked her up.”
Kenny lifts an eyebrow. “She caught a taxi from a convenience store?”
Crap, crap, CRAP. “Yep.” I gulp. “No clue how she got there.”
He narrows his eyes and visually volleys back and forth between Zan and me. “What’d you say she looks like?”
This is going south super fast.
There’s a giant clock over the entrance. Service starts in four minutes.
“Small frame, brown skin, large glasses, little white Afro…”
Kenny opens his mouth to say something else, but a petite lady with big, bright eyes and the most stylish tapered bob I’ve ever seen materializes at his side (thank God). “Who do we have here, Kenneth?”
Kenny smiles. “Pastor Darlene! This is…” He gestures for us to introduce ourselves.
“Gustavo Maxwell,” Zander says, thrusting a hand forward. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Gustavo Maxwell?
“And you?” She smiles at me.
I glance at Zan. “Oh. I’m…Reneé.” I say. “Reneé…Banger.”
Zan chokes and starts coughing.
“Oh my! Are you all right, young man?” Pastor Darlene says. Kenny smacks Zan on the back a little too hard and he stumbles forward again.
“Fine, fine,” Zan says once he recovers. “Saliva went down the wrong pipe.”
“Ah.” Pastor Darlene blinks a few times and clasps her hands in front of her. “Well, welcome to Victorious!”
Good gracious, we are so busted.
“Thank you!” Too enthusiastic? Probably too enthusiastic.
“I’m glad