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Stokes called Mama from Albertsons parking lot.” Sistah Stokes, a longtime church member, knew of King’s affair with Tootie and had believed a warning was warranted.
    Vivian let out a chagrined breath. That’s how stuff got started. “You just found this out? So how do you even know King knows she’s back, Tai?”
    A pause on the other end, and then, “I guess I don’t.”
    “See? And you’re getting all worked up, letting your imagination take you where you shouldn’t want to go, over nothing.”
    “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Viv. I guess I’m still a little paranoid.”
    “A little?” Vivian teased her friend.
    “Okay,” Tai said, laughing. “Your sistah’s trippin’. But King’s past infidelities aren’t easy to forget.”
    “Nobody says you have to. Just remember, the operative word in that sentence is past . We’re living in the now, and right now, you and King have never been better.”
    The conversation drifted to other things until Vivian noticed the smell of teriyaki chicken floating under the office door. “Listen, I need to finish dinner. Call you later?”
    “Sure. And Vivian?”
    “Uh-huh?”
    “Thanks.”
    Vivian smiled, glad to hear the relief in Tai’s voice. “Don’t mention it, sistah. That’s what friends are for.”

5
Tootie Says Hi
    Even though it was Saturday, the parking lot next to the main edifice of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church was almost full. Meetings, rehearsals, classes, and Sunday service preparations were in full swing. A slight flurry of snow began to fall as King navigated the suburban streets of Overland Park, Kansas. On one such street, the buildings of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church, its offices, youth center, and fellowship hall now took up the entire block. He eyed the surroundings dispassionately, critically evaluating size, layout. And even though they’d just finished a major one, he was considering possibilities for a greater expansion. The membership was growing in record numbers, and plans were on the drawing board for a preschool and private K–8 learning academy, within five years.
    King consciously stopped that train of thought as he eased into the reserved spot directly in front of the door that led to his office. There would be plenty of time to consider those projects later. Presently, his focus was on the meeting with his new media staff, and the television broadcast that was being taped the next day. There had been much deliberation before King had decided to go on the air. He’d gotten requests for years, and had done a brief stint on the local cable channel several years back. But the Total Truth Association had linked up with MLM, a cutting-edge broadcast network based in Atlanta, which aggressively pursued a handful of ministers with progressive, contemporary messages to fill their Sunday morning time slots. It had taken several months to find and hire a media director, get the equipment in place, construct a production/media room for the actual taping of the services, and train volunteers to man the various cameras and production equipment. Today’s meeting would be about confirming that everything was in order to shoot tomorrow’s eleven A.M. services. The crew would later do a quick run-through while he moved on to a meeting with the deacons.
    His assistant, Joseph, met him as soon as he stepped into his office. “Afternoon, boss.”
    “Good afternoon, Joseph. You order this weather, brothah?”
    “Hey, I’m from down south; I’m probably never going to get used to these Kansas winters.”
    King placed his coat on the rack, took the scarf from around his neck, and placed it over the coat hook. He looked at the stack of phone messages centered neatly on his desk, next to the one-page report of scheduled activities and appointments that his multitasking, multicapable assistant provided daily. He sat down and began going through the messages. “Besides the media project, how’s it looking