Free Diva's Last Curtain Call by Angela Henry

from the love seat to make my getaway. It’s been my experience that whenever a man starts praising my attributes, some sort of proposition usually follows.
    Rollins was a widower and free to proposition whomever he wanted. But even though my relationship with Carl was being put to the test, I’m a one-man woman. I didn’t need the kind of drama in my life that juggling men can bring. Plus, I knew if I ever gave it up to Rollins, it would be like taking a hit off a crack pipe. You think doing it one time won’t hurt you, but before you know it, you’re hooked and wandering the streets, strung out with crusty lips.
    “Now, where are you running off to? At least let me take you out to dinner. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” he said, standing up and coming around to sit on the edge of his desk directly in front of me. I could tell by his amused expression that he knew I was trying to get away from him. So he grabbed my hand and pulled me gently toward him.
    He was giving me such a warm smile I found myself hypnotized and didn’t resist as he wrapped his arms around me. My cheek was pressed against his shoulder and he was rubbing my back. This was not what I came here for, but I couldn’t move. Being in his arms felt just a little too good, which was horrible, not because I felt guilty, but because I didn’t. Clearly it was time for me to go.
    “Maybe some other time, Reverend Rollins. I need to see if I can track down Lynette and make sure she’s okay,” I said softly and started to step out of his embrace, but he wasn’t quite ready to let me go.
    “I hope you know I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, hugging me again and planting a warm, lingering kiss on my cheek.
    His beard tickled and I giggled. He took that as encouragement and leaned down to kiss me on the mouth. But I quickly pulled away.
    “Take care, Reverend Rollins, and please give me a call if you hear from Lynette,” I said, walking out of the office, leaving him staring after me looking more than a little disappointed.
     
     
    I decided to drive around to see if I could spot Lynette’s car before calling Greg to report back on my visit to Holy Cross. I was sitting at the traffic light on Main Street when I spotted a young black man with short dreads, sporting faded jeans and a tight blue polo shirt. He looked to be in his twenties. It was the same man that I’d seen sucking face with Noelle Delaney. I watched as he crossed the street in front of my car and walked into Denny’s. There was something so familiar about the guy now that I’d gotten a chance to get a good look at him. I knew I’d seen him someplace other than hugged up in that Honda with Noelle. But I couldn’t put a finger on where it had been. It was now almost one and I hadn’t eaten. So I pulled into Denny’s parking lot and decided to kill two birds with one stone: My nosiness and my appetite.
    Denny’s was pretty crowded with after-church folk. While I was waiting to be seated, I spotted Mr. Dreads in a nearby booth sitting with a well-dressed older white man who looked to be in his sixties, and a fortyish white woman with long, bleached-blond hair. After indicating my preference for a table, I was happy when I found myself seated in the one right across from Mr. Dreads and his companions. I placed an order for a tuna melt and fries and sipped my water so they wouldn’t realize I was listening to their conversation.
    “Quit your bitching, Kurt. Your mother’s dead and all you can do is bug me for money? I already told you I’ll buy you anything you need. But I’m not giving you any cash. You’re not snorting up, shooting up, or drinking up my money,” said the older man. The man was balding and had the sallow liver-spotted skin of old age. But he was dressed to the nines in an expensive looking gray pin-striped suit with a white shirt, red tie and diamond tie tack. I saw a gold nugget ring shining on his finger each time he took a sip of his