For everyone who read The Reverend's Wife and thought it deserved better….

This one's for you.


Prologue
"Now, hear ye, hear ye, want to see Thee more clearly."
-Kanye West


He'd grossly underestimated adulthood.

"Mr. Freeman?" One of the PA's snapped, struggling to get his attention. "We need you in five."

He pushed the makeup artist's trembling hand away from his face.

"I think my groundbreaking story on Annual Elder's Day can wait." Huey glanced up from his reports he'd been hoping to pitch later, snorting. "The new texture of plastic-infused tapioca isn't groundbreaking at all. Actually, I was hoping to-"

His producer, Arielle Nordstrom, interrupted with a snap of her fingers, her heels clacking as she glanced up from her clipboard.

"Boost ratings." She glared at him, bending down to pinch his cheek. "So get your ass out there and smile." She instructed, taking a step back to demonstrate, flashing her pearly whites. "If you want to be the face of our hard-hitting stories, you have to put in work."

He frowned, staring back down at his notes.

He had put in the work, a lot of work, actually.

And where had it gotten him?

"Did you hear me?" Arielle glared, her hands on her hip, finally lifting her mesmerizing, slanted eyes to meet his gaze. "Move!" She clapped her hands together, yelling into her headset. "I need cameras on Zone 1! Where's AV? And Marcus! I know you're not drinking my coffee!"

Huey sighed, slowly walking towards the crowd of cheering seniors, holding the mic in his left hand.

"Huey looks greasy!" Arielle frowned at hair and makeup, turning to glare at the team. "Why does Huey look greasy right now?" She noticed Jazmine in the crowd and scowled. "And what is she doing here?"

What was Jazmine doing here?

It wasn't like Huey didn't love his girlfriend, or that Jazmine had done anything wrong, really.

He was just unhappy.

Incredibly unhappy with his life.

"Please be cordial." Huey shot her a look, watching Arielle's lips curl into a smirk, like she knew something he didn't. "What?"

She folded her arms triumphantly, tilting slightly towards Jazmine.

"She's threatened by me, isn't she?" Arielle whispered, tossing her long, black hair behind her. "Your girlfriend of six years-"

"Seven." He narrowed his eyes, nodding over at Jazmine, who was visibly concerned. "She's not worried about you." He met her gaze, glaring. "And just so we're clear, she doesn't have a reason to be."

Arielle pursed her lips, looking him up and down like she knew he was lying.

Because as fine as she was, he couldn't lie and say he'd never considered it.

"Mm, hm." She shook her head, leaving to yell at some interns. "Hey, you! Get off your ass and pick up those cue cards! And you! Go grab me a new coffee!"

He couldn't believe he'd been reduced to daytime television, that he'd become another cog in the wheel.

Long gone were the days of Huey Freeman: The Badass Domestic Terrorist.

Now he was straight-laced, sensible Huey, everyone's favorite reporter on the nine o'clock news.

Lifting his mic he nodded at the camera, his face blank.

"This is Huey Freeman, your favorite reporter on WGRG 7, reporting to you live from Woodcrest Maryland." He walked over to an elderly woman, feigning a semblance of interest. "I'm here with one of the many senior citizens, today. Gathered to enjoy this…" He paused, glancing at another elderly woman that walked up to him. "Fun event, I'd presume."

The woman just smiled, placing her dentures in his hand.

"Hold that." The woman waddled off, pulling the other woman along with her. "We got some free tapioca to try!"

Huey scowled, yanking out his handkerchief to wrap the dentures up and sign off.

He'd had enough for today.

"Well there you have it." He nodded through clenched teeth. "The perfect start to a perfect Elder's Day. I'm Huey Freeman, back to you, Greg."

He didn't bother waiting till' the PA's finished countdown. Instead, he stormed off, wrenching away from Jazmine as she trailed behind him.

"Not now, Jazmine." He rolled his eyes, still hurrying to his dressing room.

He let the door close behind him, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating everything that had let him to his point.

"You know." He said aloud. "I really wish I were in charge up there." He snorted, pouring alcohol over his slobber-covered hands. "Because this…is a really messed up deal."

"Huey!"

Jazmine banged on the door.

"I'm sorry, but…we really need to get going." She sighed. "You promised you'd be my plus one, remember?"

Ah, yes.

Smoozing with Jazmine's attorney friends.

He definitely couldn't wait to do that.

"I'm coming." He didn't move from his spot, instead staring at himself in the mirror. "Just…looking for something."

More specifically?

The badass, take-no-shit, revolutionary who'd been excited to make a change in the world.

What the hell had happened to him?

He shook his head, staring at the bags underneath his eyes, his dry skin, and less-toned arms.

"HUEY!"

It was all coming back to him, now.

She'd happened.

Hell, life had happened.

And sadly, without a miracle, there wasn't much he could do about it, for now.

"Alright." He made his way to the door. "Here I come."

He took one last look at himself and turned out the lights, his eyes on Arielle, watching from the end of the hall.

Huey tried not to stare, but there was something alluring about the way she leaned back and smirked, her body language screaming that she felt it too, that if he was game, then so was she.

But Jazmine…

"If you're not up for it…" She looked tired, drained. "Don't worry about it." She turned away, fuming in silence. "It seems like your focus is elsewhere, lately."

He looked back to deny it, but stopped, knowing she'd just seen it. Jazmine had seen it for a very long time.

He could tell she was getting just as tired as he was, disillusioned by that feeling of hope, by that small flickering flame he was constantly putting out.

But if he still loved her (and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't), the least he could do is try.

Bare minimum for a seven-year boyfriend, he supposed.

"I want to go." He nodded, taking her hand. "C'mon, Jaz. Please."

She took his hand, seeming to want to believe it.

But that was a lie, to both her and himself.

And before long, the truth would have to prevail.

After all, it always did.