“Are you getting nervous?” Phor Thomas asked.

​

Travis Holmes checked his watch. He was meeting with Senior Pastor Eugene Randolph in thirty minutes.

​

“A little bit.” Travis pinched the brim of his nose. As the business administration manager, Travis had meetings with the pastor often, but something about this felt different.

​

Phor scratched at his thick beard. “Any ideas what it’s about?”

​

Knowing Pastor Randolph, it could be any number of things. For all Travis knew, they could end up talking about fly fishing for an hour. He made a mental note to Google quick facts about the sport so he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

​

Travis bounced his shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. But he had Tami call me to schedule the meeting, which was odd because, usually, he just shoots me a text.”

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His phone alarm began to chime; he had set it to go off twenty minutes before the meeting. He wanted to give himself ample time to make it to the main building.

​

Tossing his laptop and notebook into his backpack, he gave Phor a dap. “All right, I’m out.”

​

“Give ’em hell,” Phor teased.

​

Travis had been a member of Life Church since he was twenty-two years old, which was now almost ten years. If you told him years ago he would end up working full-time at a church, he would have asked to take a puff of what you were smoking. Growing up in Oakland, California, his mother would drag him and his sister, Aisha, to church every Sunday. She was a faithful member at their little Baptist church, offering to volunteer at every opportunity. Aside from preacher, there wasn’t a church position she hadn’t held.

 

Much like his mother, ever since he could remember, Travis found particular interest in “church business,” which is what they called it back in the day. So, there he was, business administration manager at one of the most progressive mega churches in the Metro Atlanta area. 

​

Exiting one of the annex buildings on the ten-acre campus, Travis took hurried steps toward the main structure. The rain was coming down in heavy sheets as he crossed under a covered walkway, narrowly missing a puddle. He entered the main building through a side door that led to the lobby. It was a Tuesday afternoon, so the lobby was virtually empty, with a few members of the church staff milling about. Wiping the raindrops from his tapered fade, he once again scanned his watch. He’d made good time; he still had fourteen minutes to spare.

​

Eyeing the church café, he wagered that he could grab a coffee before he headed to the wing of the building that housed the administrative offices. Much like the lobby, the café was virtually empty, and Travis made it in and out with ten minutes still on the clock. Back in the lobby, he raised the cup to his mouth, stopping mid-sip as the glass doors of the front entrance swung open, the wind so fierce it caused the door to bang against its frame. In rushed the lead pastor’s youngest daughter, Makayla Randolph.

 

Struggling to close the door, she fought against the wind as her long black curls circled her head like a tornado. The black-and-white polka dot umbrella she was attempting to balance between her neck and chin was caught by the wind and drifted into the center of the church lobby.

​

“Need help?” Travis yelled as he surveilled from the café entrance.

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Makayla ejected a tight-lipped huff. “I got it,” she said, giving the glass door another pull.

​

The lobby was now empty, except for the two of them. Travis took slow sips from his coffee, taking special interest in Makayla’s fight with nature. Her Michael Kors tote bag slipped from her shoulders, scattering its contents to the floor.

​

“Son of a bit … biscuit,” Makayla muttered as she tried to brush her voluminous hair from her face.

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With a grunted breath, he decided it was time to put her out of her misery. Placing his cup and backpack on a café table, he hopped across the lobby and tugged on the door, but it didn’t budge.

​

“I tried that already. It’s stuck or something.” She scooped up her items, cramming them back into her purse.

 

Bending, Travis pulled onto a clasp, which released the door and allowed him to close it successfully. He waved his arms up and down like a game show model in the direction of the door. Makayla swung her tote bag back across her shoulder and walked away.

​

“You’re welcome,” Travis shouted after her, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. Makayla didn’t respond; she just made her way through the spacious modern lobby, only stopping to grab her rogue umbrella. “Thank you” wasn’t a phrase he ever heard her say, at least not to him. With her, no good deed went unpunished. I should have just let her pull at the door in vain, he thought.

​

Returning to his coffee, he took another sip. The nutty, chocolate medium-dark roast helped soothe his grumpy mood. With his coffee in one hand and his backpack slung across his shoulder, he headed down the long hallway that led to the administrative offices.