By Travis Casey
Excerpt from Chapter 2
Yvette enjoyed the ride to church. What she relished even more than the passing green scenery were the sly glances Isaiah threw her way "checking her out." He had complimented her over breakfast on how nice she looked in her brown and white dress. The brown was the same color as her skin making it look as if she simply wore white strips covering her modesty. The look excited her—and obviously Isaiah too. A million bucks, he compared her to. She was pleased she could still wear horizontal stripes without looking fat. Not all women could do that at forty-one. She was anxious to get to the church and tell Gloria Huntington she still had what it took to get her husband to acknowledge her as desirable. And while in church she'd pray that the good Reverend would keep his sermon short—assure the righteous of their passage to heaven, damn the sinners to hell, and get the heck out of there so she could get back home and screw the principal's brains out.
They pulled into the parking lot where Isaiah parked in one of the six spaces reserved for deacons. Yvette waited for Isaiah as he walked around and opened the door for her. He didn't do it all the time, but church was one place where he always opened the door for her—Sundays and special occasions—that was their arrangement.
Yvette got out of the car, gave Isaiah a smile and a pat on the cheek, and then headed for the church. She bounded up the stairs to the white wooden chapel in three-inch heels in search of her friend, leaving Isaiah behind to shake hands with other parishioners.
Gloria Huntington stood at the entrance of the Hilton Head Evangelical Free Church waving a Japanese paper fan in true Southern Belle style—with short, rapid strokes—each stroke barely covering a two-inch span from start to finish. Despite her fanning vigor, the South Carolina humidity threatened to penetrate her makeup base. That would be unacceptable. God and Maybelline would have a lot to answer for if her superior good looks melted on the steps of the house of the Lord.
They first met when Gloria was fighting to clear her husband's name of murder charges, crimes she insisted he didn't commit. Isaiah donned his shining armor and raised the profile of the case. He loved bringing national attention to injustices against people of color. Yvette and Gloria became friends and both were delighted when the Hightower's moved to Hilton Head, making it an even closer friendship.
Following Gloria's lead, the two women air-kissed, leaving Gloria's makeup intact. Yvette admired her spirit to use such a rich red lipstick to compliment her light-brown skin. Large red and gold earrings dangled prominently over her shoulders ensuring she would be seen as a woman of daring—and style.
"Darling," Gloria purred. "How delightful to see you. I must say, you look adorable."
Yvette stood back, opening her arms and smiling—showing white teeth worthy of a TV commercial. "He noticed," she boasted.
"Darling," Gloria eyed her up and down, "Stevie Wonder would notice you in that."
Yvette slid her hands over her hips. "I do work hard to make him proud."
"And you succeed. The man appreciates his wife. How wonderful is that?"
Even through her dark skin, Yvette blushed. "You're too kind."
"Not kind, observant. After all, you married a significant cog in the education of our children, a champion of the African American community, and a deacon of this very church. You have every reason to be proud of him. And isn't he up for the Citizen of the South?"
"Yes, I nominated him for the COTS award and had the Chief of Police in Savannah second it. Isaiah is the most wonderful man I've ever known—and so driven."
"Yes, and, girl, I bet he's driven you to some places most of us can't even imagine."
Yvette play-smacked Gloria on the arm. "Stop it. You're so naughty." She stepped closer and whispered. "And yes he has. He's driven me to some places even God doesn't know about."
The women giggled.
Yvette straightened her posture. "But when the lights are on, I'm honored to hold the title as Mrs. Isaiah Hightower."
"Of course you are."
Isaiah stepped between the women. "Good morning, Gloria." He attempted to deliver an affectionate peck to her cheek but she pulled back, protecting her makeup. She puckered her lips and simply kissed the air in front of her.
"Isaiah," she greeted him. "Slain any dragons lately?"
"I can't say that I've disposed of any mythical creatures recently, no."
Yvette draped her arm over her husband's shoulder. "But what he has done …"
He held a victorious beam. "Well, only if you consider the Hilton Head Town Council a dragon."
"Oh?"
"I've persuaded them to close the Bare Trap on Madison Street."
Gloria smiled. "I can understand with a wife as beautiful as yours you have no need for strip clubs, but why would you invest your valuable time in such an insignificant crusade?"
"Insignificant? It's hardly that. We need to protect the children."
It was barely noticeable through her packed foundation, but Gloria's face creased. "Isaiah, why are you worried about strip clubs? As immoral as those places may be, they have checks in place to ensure they are kept as a visual orgy for adults; whereas all the children of today's world have to do is jump on the pornographic gateway known as the internet and they can see all the nudity they want—and heaven knows what other kinds of debauchery."
Isaiah shook his head. "It's too near the high school. Young girls see the strippers arriving at work in Corvettes and Mercedes and will give up their education to make money the easy and uneducated way. No, God has spoken to me. He asked me to shut down this particular playground of sin, and I answered. The council has accepted my arguments and the Bare Trap was closed down two days ago." He thrust both arms in the air. "Halleluiah!"
"And that's your dragon?"
Isaiah dipped his head. "No halo required."
"And they did it on that argument? Your students may become strippers one day?"
"I may have mentioned that a sophomore student was already a dancer there."
"What? At sixteen? Was she?"
Isaiah shrugged. "It's possible—one day … maybe."
Yvette stepped forward. "And statistically, the ratio of minority dancers to white ones was grossly out of proportion. The place is not only immoral; it discriminates against people of color."
Gloria looked at her friend. "And you researched this, did you?"
Yvette nodded. "As you mentioned, Isaiah is a busy man. I help where I can when discrimination is involved. Out of twenty-three performers at the Bare Trap, twenty-one were white, one African-American, and one Native American—I believe she dresses up as a squaw."
"I see." Gloria continued flapping her fan. "And you want to see more people of color taking their clothes off?"
Yvette frowned. "No, you're missing the point—"
Isaiah patted her hand. "Not to worry, darling. Those Jezebels won't be taking their clothes off for the underclasses of Hilton Head anymore."
"Thanks to you," Yvette congratulated him, then turned to Gloria. "He's one of God's angels."
"No halo required," Gloria echoed.
Yvette looped her arm through Isaiah's. "Let's go give God the thanks He deserves and get the heck out of here. My pom-poms want shaking."
They entered the church—Isaiah's favorite place on earth.
