Flip Side of the Game by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker Page B

she hung up.
    I gave myself one last overview before I stepped outside, and believe me, to say that I looked good as hell would be an understatement. My black Chanel dress with the mink collar had me looking quite exquisite. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that I resembled an hourglass, with an extra fifteen minutes on the side!
    Finally, the crew rolled up, and I could hear the Shaft music playing in my mind as I stepped in Shannon’s gold 745i.
    â€œWho the hell said Charlie’s Angels had to always be white?” Angie said, as she slapped me five on the black hand side.
    Lee had the nerve to still be crying. “Damn, Lee, you still crying?” I said. “You been gettin’ dogged long enough to be a big girl about the shit by now! Jesus!”
    â€œShut up!” Shannon said. “Y’all just started speaking again, so be quiet.”
    I checked the car over, peeped our gear, and saw we were looking fierce. Angie was decked from head to toe in her off-white suede dress. The top part crossed over the breast and tied on the side. Shannon’s dress had about five crisscrosses in the back and an asymmetrical dip in the front. Lee wore a light blue wool, fox fur trimmed two-piece suit. The sky blue hat she wore had a large brim and a small black veil in the front. The mere fact that the first lady would see us looking so sharp should be enough to let her know that she would be beaten hands down.
    The first person we saw when we got to the church door was Aunt Cookie. She was the head usher, and of all Sundays, she would be at the door.
    â€œDon’t start no mess, Babygirl. This is the sanctuary. Move it to the parking lot,” she said, handing me a program.
    The usher standing in the front of the church tried to get us to sit all the way on the left side of the church, in the back where nobody could see us. We ignored her and sat in the center aisle, third row, directly behind the mother’s bench, not caring about the looks we got for sitting in somebody’s space. We had to be sure that Pastor James knew exactly who was in the house.
    At first there was some singing, then the standing for the choir, and then the sermon was to begin. Mr. Big Stuff walked to the front of the altar, and then he paraded around like he was the Holy Ghost fire. He huffed his shoulders, cleared his throat, and he just about choked when he spotted us sitting in the third row.
    It wasn’t time to blow up his spot just yet, so to get it goin’, I yelled out, “Tell it, Pastor! Fix it!”
    He cleared his throat. “Brothas and sistas, I’m here to tell you today that the devil is a liar and the tongue is a serpent.”
    â€œAmen!” I said, tapping Angie on the knee so she could hit the tambourine. “Amen!”
    â€œJesus said that a man must cleave unto his wife, for they are one. And so, we must honor our wives and stop the backbiting and the backsliding.”
    â€œAmen!” Ching-ching ! went the tambourine.
    â€œAnd let he without sin cast the first stone!”
    I jumped up and said, and trust me this was difficult, especially being in church and not being able to cuss, “Pastor James, you are about as sanctified as horse manure. You got cow slop beat! And if you think that your religion only applies on the weekend, you are certifiably twisted.”
    â€œâ€™Cause it ain’t all good.” Lee gathered the courage to say, “It ain’t all good in the good Lord’s neighborhood, when you cheating and scheming. You ain’t Mr. Clean, Pastor James!”
    â€œI rebuke you, Satan!” Pastor James insisted like he was desperate and lost for words. “I rebuke you!”
    â€œYou can’t rebuke nobody. The two chickens on Noah’s boat got more religion than you! You got about as much religion as a cow, and you goin’ to hell, ’cause you know better! He goin’ to hell, Mrs. First Lady, ’cause he