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credit card paid by his personal secretary. It was a minimal concession in comparison to the six-hundred-thousand-dollar salary he had demanded after learning two years ago that ministers with far less notoriety and smaller flocks earned more than he did. He considered his previous compensation of a quarter million a slap in the face. The elders had a meeting, then wholeheartedly agreed.
    Behind closed doors, Richard slid a platinum credit card from his wallet. He laid it on the desk beside the business card Dior had given him. He stared at both of them, interested in what Dior was really like underneath her tough exterior and somewhat gritty homegirl posturing. He’d seen glimpses of warmth and honest compassion, wit, and an underlying angst toward conformity. She was a complex soul, a solitary woman who posed so many questions. Lured to her like a moth drawn by a flame, Richard was more than curious and he couldn’t explain it; not even to himself.
    When he heard a car door shut outside, he turned his attention toward the parking lot. His wife had pulled into her personal space. He watched her climb out of her mint-green Lexus SUV, which she purchased because she thought it complemented her eyes. Nadeen waved at him through the partially opened blinds. He did the same. As she stomped down the pathway toward the business office entrance, chatting into a cell phone, he continued watching. Somewhere during their seventeen years of marriage, the torch he’d carried for Nadeen had blown out. He loved her, nothing changed about that. She was his wife, mother of his daughters, and someone who could no longer fuel his passion. Richard collected the cards from his desk then put them away. He realized his dilemma the moment she stepped through the door. He had everything a man could have prayed for. However, he was utterly and undeniably bored with it all.
    Richard heard Nadeen’s flats clicking down the hall, her feet and mouth moving at an amazing clip simultaneously. He folded his arms and chuckled, remembering how that used to amuse him when she’d tear through a room like a whirlwind. Now, it seemed like a ridiculous way for a forty-three-year-old woman to act.
    Nadeen Allamay wore her fair complexion and emerald colored eyes like fashion accessories. Voted Miss Mississippi Valley College 1987, she still cherished the years when her waistline wasn’t so full and her behind didn’t sag. Her looks hadn’t shifted nearly as much as her shape. Beautiful green eyes, long, thick, sandy-red hair, and high cheekbones still drew second glances from other men. Nadeen held her own as far as carpool moms went, but years had passed since Richard looked at her and saw the beauty queen he’d chased around campus for months before she gave him the time of day. Their marriage hadn’t died, but it was limping along the shores of apathy and mediocrity. Richard loved Nadeen and his children enough to stay in it without making a fuss like his father had to provide a safe environment for him and his four sisters. Nadeen loved Richard much like she always did, before the money and fame entered into it. He was a great provider and a good mate, when he wasn’t overly concerned with church business at the detriment to his family’s issues. Nadeen didn’t mind Richard’s weight increase or that his midsection had softened over the years. His shifting measurements didn’t change the way she felt about him. Unfortunately, Richard didn’t share her philosophy. His predilection to overvalue the visual aspects of his relationship had become a problem, although he hadn’t voiced it. Now that Dior was on his mind, Richard had already begun to reevaluate his marriage and his needs.
    “Hey, Richard,” Nadeen whispered, with her hand up to deter him from starting a conversation while she blabbed into her cell phone. “Yeah, Rose, I’ll make sure your name is on the list for next Tuesday. I’m still hot over the way they acted like you