When All Hell Breaks Loose Read Free

bouncin’.
    The pastor is sitting in his chair like an emperor. I’ve always wondered what it was like to sit in one of those big chairs that all big-time pastors have. Reverend Dixon must have skills because he has gold knobs at the ends of the armrests—at least, they look gold, probably just brass or gold-plated. I’m not doubting that this man has a blessing on his head, but in my experience, preachers who carry themselves like Dixon have come across as professional hustlers and this man is no exception to the rule. Shreese told me that Dixon isn’t like that. She said he has an anointing that was placed on him when he was twelve and ever since has been on a mission from Jesus. Hmph, Shreese is naive. The only thing placed on this brother’s head at twelve years of age was a hair relaxer that he obviously hasn’t the will to let go of. He’s sitting up there like a black Adonis, smiling and waving to some of the congregation members. He randomly shouts out praises, which cause some of the members to go wild withthe music. Shreese told me he’s single and on many occasions he has talked about how he’s waiting on the Lord to send him a virtuous helpmate, which cancels out about eighty-five percent of the women in his congregation. Shreese practically brags about how he is always complimenting her on her kind ways and beautiful voice. I can see that she’s hopeful something will blossom with him, and being a pastor’s wife would be right up her alley. If he was anything other than a pastor, I know my sister wouldn’t give him the time of day, but he’s not and I have to keep a watch on him. He’s older than my sister by six or seven years, and that is enough for me to make sure his intentions with her, if there are any, are pure. All the other women in the congregation seem just as eager to be the next Mrs. Dixon. As I stare at the brother, I can almost see what they like in him. If I were a woman, I would say he’s handsome on that street level, but I’m not a woman. If you can imagine a young pimp in the pulpit, then that suggests a good concept of Reverend Dixon. A real ladies’ man of God. He was also recently elected to a seat on the city council, which moved him up a notch on the status belt. I never believed in mixing church and politics, so I have strong doubts about this brother and his ministry. I just hope nothing pops off between him and my little sister, ’cause then I’d have to act a real fool.
    My legs get tired, so I take my seat, hoping the song will end soon. Lucky for me, the choir begins to wind down. I guess it’s because half of them have been carried out due to heat exhaustion or the Holy Ghost. The bass player even took off his guitar and shouted into a silent submission. Reverend Dixon gets up and stands at the podium, stretching out his hands to silence the church. As the congregation and the choir take their seats, a few of the fainted return, looking like they’ve been through some bad weather. The ushers case the congregation and then return to the back of the church to take their seats. Dixon puts his hands down and closes his eyes and everyone bows their heads and waits for the prayer. He begins to pray in song.
    “Most merciful and gra-a-acious God. We ask for your anointing sp-i-i-irit right now.…”
    I lift my head and look around. No one else, with the exception ofa little girl in front of me, has their head up. She smiles at me and waves. I wave back, causing her to giggle. Her mother taps her and makes her turn back around. Pastor Dixon still has his arms stretched out and the words seem to flow from his mouth like liquid. Liquid smoke, to me. But I must admit, he’s got his method down and exact, with the outfit to top it off. Designer cuff links, manicured nails, and designer dress shoes to complete his look. Most of the younger sisters in the congregation are fanning their low-cut blouses, causing the fabric to sway away from their perfume-coated skin,