Heartbreak of a Hustler's Wife: A Novel Read Online Free

say about the heist.”
    The camera went onto location and Sister Mary was the first person they showed. Still dressed in her Sunday best, she looked into the camera and said her piece. “The people who did this are going to go straight to Hell. Aside from that, I feel sorry for what God is going to do to them.” The reporter tried to pull the microphone away from her; Sister Mary wasn’t having it. She arm-wrestled the reporter, won and brought the microphone closer to her mouth. “I’m not finished yet,” she told him, giving the young reporter the same look she’d shot at the thug who had threatened her life.
    “They got some nerve coming into the house of the
Lord
and taking not only from
God’s
people but from
God’s
tithes and offerings. It ain’t about the people. It ain’t about our loss. It’s about His harvest! God’s harvest.” She pointed at the church. “You know the Bible says those who steal from God will be cursed.” Sister Mary rolled on with conviction now that she had the stage. “Now, that ain’t no hogwash that some Bible-toting man made up. That’s what the good book says.” She nodded and kept going. “And those men—I feel pity on what
God
gonna do to them. May He have mercy on their rotten souls.”
    The reporter had heard enough from Sister Mary and motioned for the cameraman to cut to another bystander. “Theygoing to Hell with gasoline drawers on,” the young man stated to the camera.
    The reporter switched gears. “Do you know about the rumors of the supposedly street-reformed minister of this church still being involved in the drug world? Do you think there is any truth to the speculation that this was drug-related? Perhaps a past debt owed? Or even a current debt, for that matter?” Judging by the reporter’s face, he looked as though he felt he’d hit the jackpot with this line of questioning. One didn’t move up in this field by asking soft questions.
    “Naw, Des been out of the game and he’s rich in his own right. Before he even started this church he had an expensive car lot. Why would he still be throwing bricks, man?” The younger member flipped the script, twisting up his mug. “And why is the first thing you people think when a black man is getting money is that he’s selling dope?” They quickly took the camera off the young man, hoping to get a different perspective from another church member.
    “Naw, it’s related to this economy and people doing bad,” a middle-aged lady answered the reporter’s question. “People see us eating, doing well at the Good Life Ministry, and they want to take from our plates.” The woman was nicely dressed. She paused to pat her head to make sure every hair was in place and then looked directly into the camera. “But like our Pastor Taylor says, we going to pray for our enemies. And
God
will deal with them.”
    Bound and determined to keep digging for dirt, the reporter looked to a bystander with purple hair that matched her purse and nail polish, hoping she would embarrass herself and the minister.“Do you think this had anything to do with the past criminal life he lived?”
    “Heck naw,” the girl exclaimed. “That man been left that life alone. He’s a living witness that people can change. He’s given his life to
God
. This ain’t no joke. He da real deal. And if anybody wanna get their hair done, you can come see me at Hair Extremes on Jeff Davis Highway.”
    “Do you know how much was stolen?” the reporter asked a lady who had a mouthful of gold teeth and a rat-tail comb stuck in the back of her hair.
    “Well, they only got a few dollars from me because I learned at a young age to keep my money where nobody can find it.” The lady then went into her bosom and removed a small bundle of cash.
    “Do she even go to the church?” Des asked, handing Slim his drink.
    “I never saw her,” Slim replied, shaking his head. “But your people held you down. Nobody had a negative word to say about