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today?”
    “I kept it light today, boss. Knew the television taping was the main focus. Darius made it in from LA. He and his band will be coming by later to do a sound check.” Darius Crenshaw and his gospel band, otherwise known as D & C, for Darius & Company, were in demand at churches all over the country. King had had to pull some strings with Darius to book them as special guests for this, his first taping for a national audience.
    “Oh, and Deacon Nash called,” Joseph continued. “He’s feeling under the weather. So if you’d like to reschedule the deacons’ meeting, there’s time for me to do that.”
    “No, let’s keep it, but no more than an hour. Von here yet?”
    “On his way. He called earlier, too.”
    Lavon Chapman was the new media director for Mount Zion. He’d been working for another ministry in Minneapolis when King’s church recruited him.
    Joseph answered a knock at the door and welcomed Lavon inside. He entered like a snowstorm, powerful and heavy.
    “Man, it’s cold outside. Hope this snow don’t fall all day.” Lavon walked over to the desk and extended his hand. “What up, Preach?” He sat down opposite King.
    It had been that way from the first time they met, a respectful yet informal quality to their relationship. Most of the staff addressed King as Pastor King or Minister Brook, but somewhere in between the two-hour interview process and the last erected tripod, “Pastor King” had become “Preach,” and from Von, it was okay.
    “You tell me,” King responded casually, noting Lavon’s muscles flex through the sweatshirt he wore over jeans. Being around Lavon made King want to join a gym, lift some weights. He resisted the urge to do a curl and check the state of his own biceps.
    “It’s all good. Met with Bryan last night. He’s going to be a good right-hand man,” Lavon said, referring to his assistant director.
    “So, who all’s in this meeting?” King asked.
    “The entire media staff,” Von responded. “That’s Bryan, the program manager, technical directors, sound engineers, camera crews, grips, shaders, tape operators, and a few floaters for whatever miscellaneous needs arise.”
    “Good, good,” King said, rubbing his newly grown goatee. He loved efficiency, made it his mission to surround himself with capable staff.
    Joseph’s phone rang. “Hello? Oh yes, I’ve got that for you, hold up.” He walked out of the office and to his desk.
    The door had barely closed when Von leaned forward. “Guess what, Preach? Turns out I know an old friend of yours.”
    King leaned back. Never having spent time in Minnesota, he had no idea who that could be. “Who?” he asked.
    “Janeé Petersen.”
    “Janeé Petersen.” King thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, the name’s not familiar. Where am I supposed to know her from?”
    “She said you wouldn’t know her by that name. But that y’all go way back. Said she used to live here, and to tell you Tootie said hi.”
    Just then he remembered Janeé was Tootie’s middle name. King sat forward, on high alert. “Tootie? Tootie Smith? You have got to be kidding me! She lives in Minnesota?”
    “No, she lives in Germany, but I ran into her a few blocks from here.”
    King was even more confused. Minnesota, Germany, and now Tootie’s here, in Kansas? “Is that so?” he said, slowly. Then he remembered the news about Miss Smith. “I know her mother’s been sick. She must really not be doing well for Tootie to come back here.”
    “She’s not,” Lavon answered. “She’s got to have open-heart surgery.”
    King wrote a quick note to have Joseph schedule a hospital visit. Then he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, “How do you know, uh, Janeé?”
    “I met her a couple years back, at a hotel in Minneapolis. You know she had that hit, back in the early nineties. I guess she’s still doing her thang in Europe. Anyway, some of my buddies and I checked her out and stayed to meet