Doin' Me

  Doin’ Me

  Wanda B. Campbell

  www.urbanchristianonline.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  For everyone who has ever experienced an identity crisis

  “You are my father. You hold my future and destiny. You are my father. You are my father. In you I find my identity.”

  Words from the song “Identity” by Israel Houghton

  Acknowledgments

  First and always, I thank my Heavenly Father for entrusting me with the gift of speaking to His children through the written word. I stand in awe at the marvelous things He has done on this six-year journey. It is my sincere desire to continue writing the stories He gives me.

  My life would be incomplete and the journey would be lonely without the companionship and friendship of my life partner, Craig Campbell, Sr. After twenty-four years of peaks and valleys, triumphs and failures, heartbreak and celebrations, your love for me hasn’t faltered but has intensified to a level that leaves me breathless. I love you, Big Papa!

  While writing this novel, I found myself experiencing what Bishop T. D. Jakes calls “a turn.” This happens when life as we know it changes course and ventures into unfamiliar territory and causes an emotional unbalance. Turns aren’t necessarily catastrophic events. Some turns are vital in catapulting us to the next level. My turn came in the form of my youngest child, Craig “Papa” Campbell, Jr., graduating high school and entering college, leaving me with an empty nest. Papa, while I will miss your daily presence and your smart mouth, I celebrate your future. Persevere and have fun while fulfilling the purpose God has ordained for your life.

  During this same time period, God also performed a miracle by sparing my eldest son, Jonathan’s life in a major car accident. Son, answer the line. The Lord is calling, and your purpose is closer than you think.

  On Wednesday, April 5, 1989, I became a mother. I remember looking at my daughter and thinking, What am going to do with her? Twenty-three years later I still don’t have an answer to that question. Chantel, just when I think I have you figured out, you surprise me with your spontaneity and courage. Keep working hard and being a good mother to your son. Remember, only God can give real peace.

  Special thanks to fellow author Reverend Lawrence Gray Sr. and coworker Wanda Sanford. Doin’ Me would not have its flavor without your expertise.

  To all my faithful supporters and my publicity team at Alameda County Medical Center—Alaina, Amy, Denise, Mary, and Vincent, just to name a few—thank you so much for the encouragement.

  Family and friends label me a fanatic, which I firmly disagree with. Just because I have at least three copies of every Israel & New Breed CD, DVD, and the book A Deeper Level, and have flown on multiple occasions to Israel & New Breed concerts, doesn’t make me a fanatic. I’m simply blessed by their music ministry. Israel Houghton, thank you for writing songs that change lives.

  Finally, but never least, thank you for spending your resources in purchasing this book and for taking the time to read it. Without you, the reader, there wouldn’t be a journey.

  “Come now, and let us reason together,” saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.

  -Isaiah 1:18

  Chapter 1

  Reyna Mills posed in the full-length mirror. She turned to the right, then to the left. She bent over at the waist and shook her shoulders. Unsatisfied with the results, she repositioned the bustier and performed the test again. Now pleased, she turned to view her backside. The snug eighteen-inch black skirt stopped below mid-thigh and just above the knee. She walked over to the closet and stepped into four-inch-heeled black pumps.

  “Perfect!” she exclaimed at her reflection. Tyson, her unofficial date for the evening, was probably too anal to appreciate her newly waxed bare legs, but there was no way she’d ruin the black and red ensemble with nylons. Neither would she limit the display of her thirty-four C-size “girls.” It had taken Reyna almost twenty years to appreciate her assets and not feel condemned to hell for showing them off.

  For years she’d heard her mother and her former pastor, Rosalie Jennings, preach against everything from a woman cutting her hair to wearing makeup. “Modesty is best,” the pastor had said. Pastor Jennings would probably have a coronary if she saw Reyna now. Not only had Reyna traded in her shoulder-length tresses for a tapered hairstyle with spikes, but she had also traded in clear lip gloss for a complete makeup kit loaded with color.

  The new look was more than a metamorphosis. It signified her genesis. A rebirth. A coming-of-age. Why it took her so long to realize that inside her skull rested a brain capable of making sound decisions about her life, she’d never know. She chalked it up to being hoodwinked, bamboozled, or even voodooed. Whatever the verb, she would never allow anyone to control her again. From this day forward, decisions like where to go and what to wear would be based on what she wanted and liked, not the words of a self-serving dictator wearing a robe and toting a Bible.

  Up until two short months ago, Reyna had considered disagreeing with Pastor Rosalie Jennings next to blasphemy on the sin scale. She’d grown up in the church, under the teachings of Pastor Jennings. Her mother and her beloved pastor were friends. Whereas Reyna’s mother had been too occupied with church business to notice Reyna, Pastor Jennings had always had time for her. Reyna had spent many Sunday afternoons at the pastor’s kitchen table. It was at that same table that Reyna had recited the sinner’s prayer and had committed her life to Christ at the tender age of seventeen. Reyna couldn’t pinpoint the date, but at some point the respect she held for Pastor Jennings had been transformed into idolization. That had left her with a busted lip, a blackened eye, and a night in jail for breaking into and entering a private residence.

  Reyna turned to examine the tight layered curls on the back of her head. If she’d known she’d look this good, she would have made her hairstylist cut that mess off a long time ago. If she hadn’t been so consumed with pleasing the woman of God, she might have been able to complete graduate school and land a husband. At Pastor Jennings’s request, Reyna had put school on hold and had spent nearly five years chasing the pastor’s son, Kevin. Her grand prize wasn’t the great Dr. Kevin Jennings, but a badge of humiliation she doubted she’d ever live down. Reyna figured Pastor Jennings must have gotten the wires crossed with the prophetic word assuring her Kevin was her husband. Kevin reunited with his estranged wife, and they were now expecting their first child. All Reyna got out of
the deal was a new job as property manager for a local real estate office, thanks to Tyson, who just happened to be Kevin’s best friend.

  Reyna moved to the dresser and sprayed on Halle Berry’s new fragrance, hoping the fruity scent would make her more desirable, but not to Tyson. She hoped to meet a prospect at the charity benefit dinner tonight. Not that attorney Tyson Stokes wasn’t a good catch. He owned his own home, his own firm, and had no baby mamas. But he was saved, sanctified, and filled to the brim with the Holy Ghost. Something she could do without. She’d been freed from the plantation—that was what she now called organized religion—and she was never going back. She’d give Tyson a superficial friendship, but never would she give anyone associated with God her heart. Pastor Jennings’s manipulation and betrayal had annihilated her trust in God and anyone claiming to know Him. From now on Reyna controlled her destiny.

  She’d accepted Tyson’s invitation to the event only because despite growing up in the Bay Area, she’d never been inside the plush Claremont Hotel nestled in the Berkeley hills. Since the historic hotel didn’t normally hold church functions, her once rigid religious beliefs didn’t allow non-Christian social gatherings, and neither did her budget. Being friends with Tyson had its advantages.

  She grabbed her clutch purse and sashayed downstairs and toward the front door. Out of habit, she opened the coat closet, then changed her mind. She looked too good to hide behind a lined wool coat.

  “What street corner are you going to stand on dressed like that?”

  The shrill voice, which always lacked affection, belonged to her mother. Reyna made the three strides to the front door before turning and addressing her mother. With each step she wondered why she hadn’t she used the back door.

  “You heard me, Jezebel. Where are you going?”

  Reyna hated being compared to the evil biblical Queen Jezebel, mainly because up until a few months ago Reyna categorized a woman who went around with bare arms and bare legs and wore makeup as a loose Jezebel. Without knowing the woman’s name or history, she passed judgment. Now she was one of them and didn’t care what her mother or anyone else thought.

  “Mother, I told you earlier, I’m meeting Tyson at the charity banquet for the youth center.”

  Jewel Mills, dressed in a floral-print muumuu, stood and stomped her left foot against the hardwood floor. “Have you lost your mind? You’re going to a formal event with a prominent lawyer dressed like a two-dollar whore?” Jewel threw her hands up and shook her head. “I know Rosalie and I raised you better than that. You need to read what the Bible says about loose women.”

  The sound of her former pastor and mentor’s name sent searing heat throughout Reyna’s body. Her eyes burned. Her right fist involuntarily clenched. Her nostrils flared. Though her emotions raged, she remained calm as she scrutinized every inch of her mother as she stepped into her space.

  The woman who’d birthed her yet failed to nurture her, opting instead to push her off on her best friend, had the audacity to criticize her. Jewel had sat back and plotted with Pastor Jennings and had encouraged Reyna to chase after a married man. Jewel had wanted her to marry Dr. Kevin Jennings and pastor the church. She’d even helped Reyna get dressed the night she attempted to seduce him. Now this holier-than-thou woman had the nerve to judge her?

  “Why don’t you read the Bible for yourself?” Reyna snarled through clenched teeth. “You might learn that your beloved Pastor Rosalie Jennings is the reason you couldn’t keep Daddy around.”

  If Reyna’s face wasn’t so heavily coated with makeup, the slap would have hurt more. Jewel didn’t like to be reminded that her husband had divorced her because she spent too much time on her knees at church and not enough time tending to his needs. Since her husband wasn’t saved, Jewel had followed Pastor Jennings’s advice and had rationed sex. Unfortunately for Jewel, her husband found a neighbor who was always open for business. He left Jewel and moved in with the woman and later fathered her three children.

  Jewel’s hand shook uncontrollably as she pointed at her daughter. “You better watch how you talk to me. I don’t care how old you are. I’m still your mother! And what happened between me and your father is still none of your business!”

  Reyna ceased massaging her cheek. “I’m almost thirty-one years old. How much older do I have to be to know you and Rosalie robbed me of my daddy’s presence?”

  “That’s Pastor Jennings to you. And you got to see your daddy from time to time. It’s not my fault he raised his other children and not you. And what’s that got to do with you dressing like a streetwalker?”

  It was useless; her mother would defend Pastor Jennings until her last breath. “Mother, I don’t care what you think. This is how I dress now. If you don’t like it, too bad.” Reyna rolled her eyes and started for the door again.

  “What about Tyson?” Jewel called. “What does he think about this new look?”

  Reyna whirled around and glared at the woman she’d begun to despise. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. I don’t care what you, Tyson, or even God Himself thinks about me. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll do whatever I want.” She slammed the wooden door and decided it was time to move out of her mother’s plantation.

  Chapter 2

  “Man, why don’t you just call her?” Kevin asked after Tyson returned from checking the lobby for the third time. “Maybe you should give her the speech about how much you detest tardiness and have no concept of CP time.”

  Without comment, Tyson reclaimed his seat and took a swig of sugarless iced tea. Reyna was late, and his best friend was correct with his assessment. Tyson’s profession didn’t tolerate tardiness, and socially, neither did he.

  He’d offered to pick Reyna up, but she’d insisted on driving since this wasn’t a real date from her perspective. He didn’t completely agree but didn’t bother to share his thoughts with her. In his opinion, they’d been in some sort of relationship for about four months. They’d never talked about their status, but Tyson’s anal personality prevented him from wasting time on frivolous things, including relationships. After working together on projects at church for five years, Reyna knew that; therefore, having the “talk” was unnecessary. Tyson had spent countless days deprogramming Reyna from their former pastor’s cultlike control and rebuilding her self-esteem.

  He set the glass down and observed his friends. For the first time, he felt a tug of jealousy at the attention Kevin’s wife, Marlissa, lavished on him. They constantly shared physical contact, everything from hand-holding to soft kisses. Tyson had served as best man in their wedding, then had represented Kevin three years later in their divorce proceedings, only to watch them reconcile and renew their vows. Now they were expecting their first child. Through all the drama, Tyson had never thought he’d missed much in the love department. The female acquaintances in college were sufficient in satisfying his physical needs but didn’t come close to touching his soul. In graduate school, the law became his mistress, and up until recently, his law firm had left him fully sated.

  At age thirty-six, he’d accomplished materially what most men dreamed about. Now he desired what Kevin and Marlissa shared. He wanted love, and he wanted it with Reyna. Slight tremors rocked him at the revelation.

  Never in a million years did he think he’d be attracted to Reyna Mills, the church girl who had stalked his best friend. Then one day Reyna the square was transformed into Reyna the woman. Liking what he saw, Tyson dug deeper and pulled back the layers and found a woman he could love if given the chance.

  “If you really want to get Reyna’s attention, you should take lessons from your boy.” Marlissa nodded toward Kevin. “He’s the king of romance.”

  Tyson refused to admit he needed help in the romance department. If he could maintain a 95 percent win record in court, he’d figure out a way to woo Reyna. “You’re right. He’s so romantic that a few months ago you punched him at the altar,” he said, referring to Marlissa’s reaction to Kevin’s confession of love duri
ng their surprise vow renewal ceremony.

  “True. I had to whip him into shape, but now he’s well trained.” Both Kevin and Tyson laughed out loud. “I’m serious,” Marlissa said, patting her slightly extended belly. “If you want to get Reyna or any other woman, you’re going to have to loosen up.”

  “Hey, guys.” Starla approached the table, slightly winded, with Leon a half step behind.

  “Great. Just what I need, more love floating around,” Tyson grumbled at his friends. Like Kevin and Marlissa, Leon and Starla were madly in love and were expecting a baby.

  “Man, don’t be hatin’,” Leon said as he pulled out Starla’s chair. “It doesn’t go well with your award-winning personality.” He smiled and shook Tyson’s hand.

  Tyson’s jaw twitched as he watched his friends greet one another as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, when in actuality the couples shared Sunday dinner every week. He used to join them, until he began feeling like a fifth wheel. Reyna refused to join them, to sit around and listen to how good God was.

  “Is Reyna coming?” Starla asked Tyson after getting settled. “I sure hope so. I don’t want to spend the evening with your funky attitude.”

  Marlissa spoke before he could answer. “I was just telling him that he needs to loosen up. He needs to work on romancing Reyna.”

  “Tell me about it,” Starla chimed in. “They’ve been hanging out for months, and I bet the girl doesn’t even know he’s interested.”

  “Girl, you know he hasn’t even kissed her,” Marlissa noted. Then she and Starla continued talking as if Tyson wasn’t there, then with ease moved on to baby talk.

  Tyson sipped more iced tea and faked interest in Kevin and Leon’s conversation about Star Construction, Leon’s company. Although he was an investor in the business, at the moment he could care less about its success. What Tyson needed was Reyna’s presence, and he needed it now. He wanted someone special to share dinner conversation with, and when the music started, he didn’t want to sit back and watch the other dancers. Tonight Tyson wanted to participate.