Back to Me by Wanda B. Campbell Page B

teeth.
    â€œStop judging the gift by the outer packaging. See what’s inside first.” Once again he left her speechless. “Now come on. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t open your mouth.”
    With each step, Paige repented, because she had actually considered punching him with her free hand. The joy she’d experienced from his compliment last night was long gone. Instead of eating greasy fried chicken, Paige felt like smearing Vaseline on her face and beating his fine butt right into the pavement.
    â€œLet it go, Paige,” he said, holding the church door open for her. “You know I told the truth. Your face has been clothed with disgust since you parked your car. You don’t think these people know the Lord, because they’re dressed differently.”
    Anger seeped out and embarrassment rushed in and Paige entered the lobby with her head down. She’d just left a place where she sang about Jesus’s unconditional love, undeserving grace, and unlimited mercy, only to learn that she didn’t have any of those characteristics.
    â€œCome on. I’ll show you to your seat.” He always moved forward, like his words didn’t hurt. She hated that about him, yet she followed.
    The floor level of True Worship was nearly packed to capacity, and from what Paige could see by straining her neck, so was the balcony. Unlike her all African American church, the cultural diversity of True Worship mirrored the Bay Area’s population.
    â€œWhy are we going to the front? It’s already crowded,” she asked when they were more than halfway down the middle aisle. “Let’s sit in the back.”
    â€œI already have our seats reserved,” he answered without slowing his pace. “We’ll sit here.”
    Her eyes followed his pointed finger to two empty seats on the second row, next to a man who nearly made Paige’s heart stop.
    â€œOh, my God!” Paige gripped his arm with strength she didn’t know she had. “That’s Marcus Simone. You didn’t tell me he attends here. I love his music, and I have all his CDs.” Paige’s words ran together, and her pitch rose several notches, but she didn’t care. The man whose music never failed to uplift her spirit was just a few feet away.
    â€œSo you’re a fan of Marcus’s music.”
    Her words tumbled out at record speed. “Are you kidding? His music has carried me through some really dark times. I don’t like just his music. I like him. I like—”
    â€œYou do know he’s married, don’t you?” Sergio-Xavier interjected.
    Paige smacked her lips. “Of course I do. I mean, I like the genuineness of his music. I know everything about him. I knew he lived in the Bay Area, but I didn’t know he went here, of all places.” She pointed in his direction. “That’s his wife, Shannon, sitting next to him. They have three kids—Marcus Jr. and Mariah, who are fraternal twins, and Marlon—and they’re expecting their fourth in July. He has six albums, two DVDs, and a book and is in the process of coproducing a movie. He also owns a successful computer business.” Paige closed her eyes and finally took a breath.
    Sergio-Xavier grinned and shook his head. “You amaze me. I never would have thought of you as a groupie.” He gestured for her to enter the row. “Let’s sit down.”
    Paige gasped and gripped his arm again. “I can’t sit next to him. ”
    â€œWhy not? It’s just Marcus. He won’t bite.”
    She still wouldn’t budge. “So you know him, then?” Paige considered it rude for him to laugh in her face, but to bend over, holding his stomach, in the front of the sanctuary was downright humiliating. “What’s so funny?” she sneered.
    â€œYou are,” he said after resuming an upright position. “You don’t have a neutral cell in your