When All Hell Breaks Loose Read Free Page A

revealing the roundness of their push-up-bra-enhanced breasts. I’m sure they’re praying that Reverend Dixon is looking. I put my head back down to concentrate on his words because I know Shreese is going to quiz me later. She always does.
    “… and let eve-r-r-ry person within the sound of my voice receive your blessed spi-i-i-i-rit, O God. Lead your sheep to the pasture of everlasting life! These and other blessings I ask in the name of your only son, Jesus, Amen.”
    Shoot! I missed the main part of the prayer. I say another pointless “Amen.” We raise our heads and take our seats as the pastor begins his sermon. Shreese pulls out her Bible like she’s about to be drilled. Her fingers wait anxiously near the pages and she’s staring straight at the pulpit, directly at Dixon. He straightens his lapel—it’s made of Kente cloth—and begins to speak.
    “Today’s sermon isn’t for the faint of heart nor the weak in spirit. I come to y’all today to bring the message of God. My sermon today is entitled, ‘The Right Love Comes from Above.’ ”
    The women in the audience give a hearty “Amen.”
    From their response, I can tell they are single, bitter, and probably big supporters of the Lifetime cable channel. The I-don’t-need-a-man-but-Lord-send-me-a-man kind of women. The player-hating kind of women. The few brothers in the congregation, including myself, sit quiet. One of them is already nodding off to sleep. Shreese just nods her head in agreement as she jots the topic down on the back of her program.
    The pastor repeats the topic and begins his sermon. By the time he finishes, I’m out of my blazer and sleepy as hell. Shreese has hadto nudge me twice because I started nodding, doing that sleepy head-roll that can hurt you if you don’t have a headrest. I know she let me get some shuteye at some point, because when I woke up, her program had writing all over it and I couldn’t tell where she began. I dip into my blazer pocket for my wallet and prepare for the offering. As the donation bucket comes around, I drop in two dollars and Shreese looks at me like I did something wrong.
    “What?” I whisper to her.
    “Gregory Alston, that’s not ten percent of your earnings.”
    “I know,” I say to her as I put my wallet back into my pocket. “My bills got to get paid too, you know.”
    “Ecclesiastes five and ten reads, ‘He who loves money is not satisfied with money,’ ” she replies, as if I am being stingy with my givings.
    “And my bills say, ‘If you don’t pay us our money, we’re going to take more of your money.’ It’s called interest, and I’m interested in paying my bills too.”
    Shreese hits me on the arm and shakes her head. “That’s a shame. A pure shame.”
    I can’t believe she tried to front me about two dollars. I’ve never given any church ten percent of my earnings. That’s well over six hundred dollars a month. Besides, this church looks fine to me, and Pastor Dixon doesn’t look like he’s hurting for much.
    Now I’m really ready to go. My sister has insulted me and I’m sleepy, starving, and sweating like a bullfrog in a snakepit. Once the collections are taken up, there are announcements and the benediction. Thank God! I’m ready to go!
    I still end up waiting an additional forty-five minutes for my sister after service. She yaps away with some woman in a green polka-dot dress and matching hat. I’m tempted to blow my horn, but just as I get ready to, Shreese flounces over and hops in. “I have to be back at three,” she says. “We have a planning meeting for our Women’s Day program.”
    I look at my watch. “It’s only one-thirty, we have time. Is Chili’s Restaurant okay?”
    “Sure.” She looks over at me and smiles. She reminds me of howour mother used to look in her younger days. They have the same small lips and the same dimpled right cheek.
    “So what did you and Adrian do this weekend?” Shreese asks.
    “She came over after she