Crossroads

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

Genres: Christian Fiction

Synopsis

Amaryllis Price, once a relationship destroyer and professional husband stealer, has turned her life around. She’s made a vow to live right and walk the straight and narrow, but Amaryllis finds herself at a crossroads when her past catches up with her. She could never resist Charles Walker, and when he reappears in her life, he’s even sexier than she remembered. Will she remain celibate and resist the wiles of the devil?

Bridgette Nelson, Amaryllis’s best friend and roommate, is next in line for a promotion. When she unleashes a harsh tongue against her boss’s nephew, Bridgette is forced to change her vocabulary or lose the very thing that she worked so hard to get.

Nikita Lynnette Nichols delivers another explosive page-turner featuring the character that everyone loves to hate.

Release date: June 8, 2011

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“The doors of the church are open,” Apostle Donald Lawrence Alford announced. He stood in the pulpit behind the podium and spoke to the congregation at Progressive Life-Giving Word Cathedral in Hillside, Illinois.

Amaryllis Price and her best friend, Bridgette Nelson, stood up from the pew and walked to the front of the church. They joined others at the altar who were eager to give their souls to the Lord or join the church.

It had been seven days since Amaryllis’s return from visiting her sister, Michelle, in Las Vegas. And it had been seven days since Amaryllis had left the hospital, caught a taxi to Michelle’s church, and threw herself at her sister’s feet, begging for forgiveness.

Amaryllis was keeping her promise to Michelle, that she’d join a church when she returned home to Chicago. As the two friends stood to confess their love and devotion to God, Amaryllis reflected back to what had brought her to this point in her life.

She had been trained by her mother, Veronica, to be a product of her environment. During Amaryllis’s teenage years, the back door to the home she had grown up in on the south side of Chicago was never locked. In fact, Amaryllis remembered it as a revolving door that constantly moved back and forth. As a drug addict left with his next fix he’d bought from Veronica, a pimp entered to collect what was due him: a peek at Amaryllis’s body.

At the impressionable age of thirteen, Amaryllis had been sold into a life of drugs and sex. She had been taught how to walk into the back room off the kitchen and strip for various men. Veronica had convinced Amaryllis that she was safe because the men weren’t allowed to touch her. She was only there for their viewing pleasure. All Amaryllis had to do was turn around, bend over, or spread her legs when the men told her to. She was forced to watch men satisfy themselves in her presence.

Because of Amaryllis’s obedience, she had become the envy of every teenage girl in her school. Veronica had made sure to splurge where her daughter was concerned. A genuine Gucci bag, Fendi bag, Prada bag, or Louis Vuitton backpack was Amaryllis’s reward for helping Veronica keep food on their table.

“See, baby, Momma didn’t forget about you,” is what Amaryllis remembered Veronica saying when she came home, often with gifts.

“My heart is beating overtime, Amaryllis,” Bridgette said as she snapped Amaryllis out of her thoughts. “I mean, what do we say when Apostle Alford gets to us?”

As he got closer to where she and Bridgette stood, Amaryllis saw the apostle shaking the hands of everyone standing at the altar. “I don’t know, but I remember Michelle mentioning something about receiving the right hand of fellowship.”

Amaryllis looked to her left and saw the organist smiling at her. She returned the smile, but it was his wink that made her turn her head quickly. As soon as she did so, Apostle Alford was standing directly in front of her.

“Praise the Lord, daughter.” Apostle Alford’s smile was illuminating.

Amaryllis didn’t know how to respond to his words. Had he given her an order?

Apostle Alford repeated himself. “Praise the Lord, daughter.”

Amaryllis became nervous. Oh, God, what is this man talking about? She didn’t want to appear to be ignorant or dumb, and she didn’t want to be disobedient. She lifted her hands in the air, closed her eyes, and did what she thought she was supposed to do.

“Hallelujah. Thank you, Jesus. Glory to God.”

When Amaryllis opened her eyes, she saw that Apostle Alford and everyone else was gaping at her. No one said a word. Uh-oh. What did I just do? Amaryllis became embarrassed. He’d told her to praise the Lord, hadn’t he? Well, that’s what she’d done, or so she thought.

“What’s your name, daughter?” the apostle asked.

“Amaryllis Price.”

“And what brings you to this altar today?”

“I need to change my way of living, and I need God to help me.”

“Do you believe that Jesus is the Savior of the world?”

Amaryllis thought about the apostle’s question. “Yes, I do. I believe that Jesus died for my sins. I also believe that He is risen.”

Apostle Alford smiled again and extended his right hand to Amaryllis. “Welcome to Progressive Life-Giving Word Cathedral.”

Amaryllis placed her right hand in the apostle’s hand and smiled. She now had a pastor. Amaryllis Theresa Price, who was once a teenage visual prostitute and had grown into a devious, scandalous, vindictive woman, had a church home and pastor.

“How long will your car be in the shop this time, Amaryllis?” Bridgette asked one evening as she and Amaryllis jogged along a bike trail beneath the smoldering sun. The trail was located a half-mile east of Ashland Avenue, on the south side of Chicago.

“It’ll be ready tomorrow. Tyrone said that he’d give me the money today to get my window fixed. This is the second time someone has smashed my rear window this month alone, and it’s starting to scare me.”

“I know what you mean, girl. A few weeks ago all four of your tires were slashed, and now someone keeps smashing your window. Are you sure you don’t have any enemies lurking around?”

Amaryllis hesitated before she answered. “No. Not that I know of.”

This time last year, Amaryllis Price had been a professional husband stealer. Her sister, Michelle, who lived in Las Vegas where Amaryllis was visiting, sounded convincing when she came to the airport to see Amaryllis before she boarded her plane back to Chicago. Michelle had told Amaryllis that she’d forgiven her for drugging James Bradley, Michelle’s then fiancé, and taking nude photos of him and Amaryllis. Amaryllis turned one of the photos into a puzzle and basically stalked Michelle by sending her the puzzle piece by piece for eight weeks leading up to her wedding.

Michelle fought back tears. “Listen, in spite of what happened, we are still sisters, you hear me? I told you that we only got each other, so we gotta take care of one another.”

Amaryllis’s eyes also started to flood. “How can you still love me after what I’ve done?”

“Amaryllis, no one in this world is perfect. Now that you have a Bible, I want you to read Colossians, chapter three, verse thirteen. It tells us that if we don’t forgive others, we won’t be forgiven by God.”

Just that morning, Amaryllis had told her father, Nicholas, that Michelle would get over the hurt she had caused her. Now she had a change of heart. “Yeah, but still, I’ve done some evil things to you. I can’t imagine that I’d be as forgiving if I were in your shoes, Michelle.”

“It comes with growth. In time you’ll get there.”

Amaryllis’s flight number was called. “Well, I guess that’s my cue.”

Michelle helped her gather her bags. “Make sure you find a church home when you get back to Chicago.”

Amaryllis placed her carry-on bag on her shoulder and stood, still looking at Michelle.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Michelle asked.

“Because we look identical, but we’re so different.”

“You have the power to change that, Amaryllis.”

“Michelle, you are a great example for me to follow in this walk with God, and I love you for who you are. If I can be half the woman you are, my life would be just about perfect.”

That statement brought more tears to Michelle’s eyes, and she hugged Amaryllis again. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

They held each other for a long thirty seconds, then Amaryllis’s flight number was called again. Michelle broke the embrace and held Amaryllis’s face in her hands. “I’m proud of you, little sister.”

After that, Amaryllis recalled her ex-boyfriend, Randall Loomis, telling her that he’d forgiven her for various devious acts she had performed while living with him for two years.

Bridgette was driving them home from work one evening when they were just about to pass by Randall’s church. Amaryllis asked Bridgette to pull over because she had some unfinished business with Randall and she needed to get some things off her chest.

Prior to Amaryllis arriving at Randall’s church to speak with him, it had been exactly an entire year since the last time she had seen him. She stood across the street from Holy Deliverance Baptist Church, watching the festivities, the day that Randall and his best friend, Pastor Cordell Bryson, had gotten married to identical twin sisters. It had been a double ceremony. Eight months prior to his wedding day, Randall’s last words to Amaryllis were to pack her things and get the heck out of his house.

She knew that all of the grief she’d caused Randall had left a bitter taste in his mouth but she had to face him. After getting out of Bridgette’s car, Amaryllis walked up Holy Deliverance’s steps and entered the vestibule. Immediately she saw Randall in the sanctuary speaking to a group of young men. It was a Monday evening. Amaryllis remembered that Randall spent “Men’s Night” every Monday evening at church, mentoring young men. When Randall saw Amaryllis standing in the vestibule, he motioned for another man to take his place. He then excused himself, exited the sanctuary, and approached Amaryllis.

She had expected Randall to be angry. Amaryllis was prepared for him to show that he still held the grudge for all the trouble she had put him through. Had Randall thrown her out of the church without listening to a single word she said, Amaryllis was ready.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the huge smile on Randall’s face when he stood in front of her. Amaryllis was nervous and didn’t know how she would get the words out, but his smile had soothed her.

After Randall greeted her, Amaryllis asked him listen to what she had to say and not interrupt her. He obeyed and kept quiet as she confessed to gambling his tithe money and not giving him messages when his mother had called their home wanting to speak to him.

Randall was calm, cool, and collected as Amaryllis poured her heart out and asked him to forgive her for going to church with him and acting out. She begged him to forgive her for coming out of their bedroom, naked, and walking into the kitchen when she knew that Pastor Bryson was visiting. Amaryllis had confessed to Randall that she asked Darryl and his goons to pour acid on Randall’s car and put sugar in his gas tank. Then she confessed to powering off Randall’s cell phone that night when Pastor Cordell tried to reach him for an emergency at the church. That was the fatal night when Brandon, a sixteen-year-old boy, came to the church, distraught, looking for Randall.

Randall had met Brandon one morning on a train that Randall was driving for the Chicago Transit Authority. Randall sensed that the young man was troubled. When he approached the young man, Randall had asked him his name. Brandon introduced himself to Randall but wondered what he wanted. Randall, the director of “Men’s Night” at his church, had created a program where troubled youth could come and speak about their problems and get the proper help and guidance they needed. Just looking at Brandon’s tattered clothes and shoes told Randall that the young man was trying to catch up to life.

Randall told Brandon about “Men’s Night” and invited him to come that evening. Brandon had informed Randall that he couldn’t make any promises because he was the primary caretaker for his younger siblings. His mother was a dope addict. After hearing the youth’s story, Randall knew that he had to get him to his church that evening for mentorship.

Because Brandon was the sole provider for his family, he was forced to drop out of high school and work two part-time jobs. When he had finished his second shift, Brandon arrived home to find his next-door neighbor, Mrs. Beasley, banging on his front door, yelling for Brandon’s mother to open the door. Mrs. Beasley told Brandon that The Department of Children and Family Services had come by earlier that day and taken his younger brother and two younger sisters away. When Brandon opened the lock and entered the run-down apartment he shared with his family, he found his mother lying on the floor, unresponsive. A needle was found near her arm. When the paramedics arrived, they tried to resuscitate her but failed.

That evening, Brandon found himself at Holy Deliverance Church looking for Randall.

It was Pastor Bryson that saw how troubled and out of sorts the youth was and invited him to his office. Randall had called Pastor Bryson that afternoon and informed him that instead of keeping his commitment to “Men’s Night,” he’d be spending time with Amaryllis. Randall had also told Pastor Bryson that he’d met Brandon on the train that morning and to look out for him and treat him well but Brandon would only speak to Randall. Pastor Bryson had called Randall’s home and cell number but couldn’t reach him.

Amaryllis was home when the call came in from the church. After Pastor Bryson had left his message for Randall to call him back as soon as possible, Amaryllis erased it. It was then when Randall’s forgotten cell phone rang and again, Amaryllis listened to Pastor Bryson’s message, then erased it before leaving the home she and Randall shared.

Randall was in his car waiting for Amaryllis. She had insisted that she be the one to go back inside and get his cell phone when he realized he’d left it behind. When she gave Randall the cell phone, he didn’t look to see that the power was off.

The next morning, Randall read in the Chicago Sun-Times newspaper that Brandon had died. It was printed that the police had assumed he committed suicide.

As Amaryllis stood in Randall’s presence and confessed that she was the reason that Pastor Bryson couldn’t reach him to come to the church and counsel Brandon, she was sure that it would send Randall into a rage. Randall had done the exact opposite. He assured Amaryllis that she had already been forgiven for the things she’d done. Randall was more than happy to share with Amaryllis that he and his wife had adopted Brandon’s brother and sisters and the family of five were living happily ever after.

Randall was more than pleased to learn that Amaryllis had gotten saved when she was in Las Vegas. He prayed with her, giving her advice on how to survive in the Christian world, and sent her on her way with a clean heart.

Amaryllis knew without a shadow of a doubt that Randall hadn’t vandalized her car.

“What about Darryl?” Bridgette asked.

Darryl. That was a name that Amaryllis had hoped to go to her grave without ever hearing again. “I haven’t seen or talked to him in a long time, Bridgette. Last I heard, he was doing time for rape.”

Bridgette exhaled a sigh of relief. “Good for him. But had you pressed charges against that fool and his boys for raping you, he wouldn’t have had the chance to rape another woman.”

Chills ran down Amaryllis’s back in the ninety-degree late August heat. She’d never forget the horrible pain that Darryl, a guy who had much more money than Randall, and three of his professional athletic friends, had inflicted on her. She had gone to Darryl’s house for what she thought was one of their regular booty calls. It turned out that Darryl had another plan in mind when Amaryllis arrived at his mansion in Long Grove, Illinois.

What started out as a one-on-one fling went wrong when Amaryllis felt a hand—not belonging to Darryl—caress her back. That visit had ultimately landed Amaryllis in the hospital with a broken pelvic bone and plenty of bruises.

She remembered arriving at Darryl’s mansion. When she walked in the unlocked front door, Darryl had yelled for her to come upstairs. In the master bedroom he was lying on the California king-size bed. Darryl was naked, and Amaryllis knew that foreplay wouldn’t be necessary. He was ready for her.

She asked Darryl who the other three cars parked in his driveway belonged to, and he told her that friends of his had stayed over the night before.

Amaryllis undressed and got into bed with Darryl. He sat up and asked her how freaky she could be and how far between the sheets was she willing to go. Amaryllis told Darryl that for the right price she could be very freaky. In other words, as long as the money was right, there were no limits. He reached beneath his pillow, pulled out a money clip full of dollar bills, and gave it to Amaryllis. She removed the clip and counted ten thousand dollars. Amaryllis smiled at Darryl and said, “For this, I can be extremely freaky.”

Soon after Amaryllis straddled Darryl, she felt a strange hand touch her right shoulder.

When she looked around, Amaryllis saw three naked men standing next to the bed. She recognized their faces from a time when she had danced at a bachelor party that Darryl had hosted at his home. The man who touched her shoulder was the groom. She saw the ring on his finger.

When she tried to hop off Darryl and cover herself with the sheets, Darryl yanked her arm and pulled her back on the bed. He reminded her that she had just been paid to allow the three men to have their way with her as well.

“You said that you could be very freaky,” Darryl smirked.

“Yeah, as you wanted me to be, Darryl, not them.” As she responded to Darryl, Amaryllis eyed the other men in disgust.

When Amaryllis told Darryl that his strong grip was hurting her arm, he gripped even tighter and held her down while the men raped her one by one. As much as Amaryllis fought back and screamed, they had overpowered her.

Later, Amaryllis left Darryl’s house with a broken pelvis and was driving herself to Illinois Masonic Hospital when she passed out behind the wheel of her late model Nissan Maxima. She veered into a ditch on Interstate 294. It was only by the grace of God that she survived such an attack and car accident.

When Amaryllis woke up at the hospital, she couldn’t remember how she got there, but she did recall Darryl telling her that if she mentioned his name in what had happened to her, he would kill her. So she lied and told the doctor that she had slipped and had fallen down the stairs at her house.

Amaryllis shook the shivers and all thoughts of Darryl from her mind. “Look, Bridge, Darryl basically told me that if I even thought of mentioning his name in what happened to me, he’d kill me. You know, as well as I do, that he’s crazy enough to do it but I honestly don’t believe that he’s terrorizing my car.”

The sun was beginning to set as their three-mile run was coming to an end.

“Well, if Darryl isn’t your stalker, who could it be?”

Amaryllis stopped running and bent over to place her hands on her knees. She panted for air. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Bridgette mimicked Amaryllis and placed her hands on her knees, barely getting enough air into her lungs. “What…about…Randall?”

Amaryllis looked at her running buddy. “No way. Absolutely not. Black is happily married with three kids now. He’s also an assistant pastor. He ain’t thinking about me.”

It hadn’t gone over Bridgette’s head that Amaryllis still referred to her ex-boyfriend, Randall, by the nickname she’d given him years ago. “You still call him that, huh? You still call him Black?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Amaryllis shrugged.

A very dark-skinned man. . .