When Renee hired DJ Milly Beatz for Mitchell and Natasha’s wedding reception, she made it clear—no secular music, period.
Marriage is a holy sacrament, created by God, and with it being Christmas also—Christmas, she made sure he heard her emphasis on Christ—it’s important that they remember what they’re really celebrating, that without Him, none of them would even be here. There’d be no wedding reception to plan. Shoot, there’d be no wedding either!
Of course, Beatz rolled his eyes, claimed she was limiting him, and she retorted that there were plenty of gospel artists who sang about love, about God and marriage. She asked him had he ever heard “Alabaster Box” by CeCe Winans. He shook his head. She liked to’ve slapped him, but she kept her composure.
She could only blame herself for waiting until the last minute to find a DJ. Music was the least of her worries when she still needed to confirm the menu with the caterer and go over again with the photographer the correct time he was to arrive at the church, especially after she’d read all those bad Yelp reviews online—couples who paid for four hours of service and only received two.
If it’d come down to it, she would’ve just hooked someone’s iPod up to the loud speakers, but a week before the wedding, Rita gave her a name: Milly Beatz, a hip-hop DJ.
All Rita listens to is mind-numbing rap—nothing but drugs, money, and women. She claims she can vibe to it whenever she’s high, it calms her down.
Hopefully that’ll change, now that Rita’s changed.
Renee on the other hand, has never liked rap, not even when she was unsaved, and figuring that Milly was a play on the word “million,” she wondered how many of his “million beats” were appropriate for a “church” wedding. If the row of bejeweled gold teeth in his mouth was any indication, Mitchell would want his money back before the guy could even play the first track. But Renee teaches her own children never to judge a book by it’s cover, and in any case, it was too late to try to find a Christian DJ. She had to make due with what she had.
So she handed Beatz the latest William Murphy album, circled track four in red Sharpie on the casing, “I Have Found,” featuring Tasha Cobb. “Play this the moment the newlyweds enter the Fellowship Hall,” she instructed. When he asked her about the “turn up,” after everyone’s had their first dance and all the slow songs are over, she gave him a playlist she wrote up, all of her favorites, artists who could crank things up to another level better than any rapper, turn the reception into a true Holy Ghost party—Tye Tribbett, Travis Greene, Fred Hammond, Tamela Mann, Kierra Sheard, Israel & New Breed, Hezekiah Walker, Casey J.
And yet, after all that hassle, the wedding party and guests still found a way to do the Electric Slide to Kirk Franklin’s “Jesus Is the Reason for the Season.”
“My people, my people,” Renee sighs.
Bryan takes her by the wrist, pulls her up to her feet. “C’mon, babe, you’re the only one not dancing.”
She looks around, spots Melody and Rita in a corner behind the buffet table. Melody follows Rita’s lead in the four-count step. To the right, to the left, take it back, step forward, step back, pivot, turn, skip, step, repeat. Melody catches on pretty fast, and Renee notices, thank goodness, that the white skirt of her dress is still void of spilt food. How much longer would the reception continue; could she make it another hour spotless?
Renee lets Bryan drag her to the dance floor, which is just a small, empty section of linoleum between the head table, where the wedding party sat, and the DJ both to the left of it. They squeeze into the crowd, move in sync so as not to disturb the flow. They make the next turn to face the DJ booth, the head table behind them.
Bryan raises his knee, gives it a slap, bites his bottom lip, and half grunts, half barks at Renee. He’s always so over the top, but it loosens her up, and she starts to add a few extra moves of her own to the basic line dance. She shimmies her shoulders, claps her hands. When they step forward she bends over, smacks the ground. Bryan sticks out his tongue, leans into her, whispers something incoherent over the music but most likely filthy in nature. She has to remind him this isn’t their wedding. And as if, just to convince herself of that, she looks over the sea of heads on the next turn, scanning for the happy couple.
Instead, she catches a glimpse of Antonio and Elise, together, dancing, holding hands–well, Ryder is between them, on his tippy toes, feet barely grazing the floor, swinging as he holds onto his parents. It’s the first time she’s seem them cordial toward each other in months, and not just cordial, but, dare she say it, having fun, smiling, laughing. It’s a Christmas miracle.
Bryan whispers in Renee’s ear again.
“Stop it!” She swats at his chest. Now he’s just teasing her. He misses the cue for the next turn, and facing him now she notices his tongue loose, his eyelids low. He’s drunk! Where on earth did he get the alcohol? He wraps his arms around her waist, and while everyone is stepping back, he hauls her off the dance floor, to their table, sits her in his lap.
“And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?” He breathes heavily into her ear, nibbles on her earlobe, curling his tongue around her dangling chandelier earring. His hand on the small of her back is warm, makes her sweat.
She’s got to hand it to him. He’s managed to seduce her without saying a single four-letter word. She kisses him, and he puts his hands in her hair, slips his tongue between her lips. She tastes the champagne. He had to have snuck it in. She’ll get him for that later.
She turns her attention back to the dance floor, drawn in by the beam on little Ryder’s face. He’s so happy that his parents are getting along. If even there’s no chance of them getting back together, Renee believes that they’ll find a way to co-parent peacefully, for Ryder’s sake.
At a distance now, she finally sees Mitchell and Natasha. Tash looks shorter—she must have taken her heels off—and Mitchell, poor Mitchell, they’re on their sixth turn and he hasn’t conquered the dance yet, still tripping over his own feet. Renee guesses now the reason why he never wanted to go dancing with them in college—he has no rhythm. Tash knows it and laughs at him, hugs him, kisses his cheek tenderly, the entire left side of his face red with her lipstick. Whatever happened in that choir room earlier today, it’s good to see that it’s helped them to overcome this recent testing of their faith and find forgiveness. Now pure euphoria gleams in their faces, and Renee can’t wait to see how these two grow together as a married man and woman of God.
As for Rita– oh, Renee is still in jubilation! Her heart leaps in her chest as she remembers those three joyful words, “I got saved.” It gives her hope that the same could happen for Bryan one day, and for this, she must celebrate.
She takes his hand, leads him back to the dance floor. Seeing the good time everyone is having, the DJ has started the song over again, and she has a few more dance moves up her sleeve.
The final chapters of Countdown to 31 Days of Holiday Hooligans