Bishop T. D. Jakes, bestselling Christian writer and champion of women's self-esteem, makes a foray into fiction with the inspiring story of four women from different classes and cultures who find their faith tested by life's challenges.
Cover Girls
Narrated by Lizan Mitchell
T. D. JakesUnabridged — 8 hours, 0 minutes
Cover Girls
Narrated by Lizan Mitchell
T. D. JakesUnabridged — 8 hours, 0 minutes
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Overview
Editorial Reviews
When a well-known preacher and bestselling nonfiction author (Woman, Thou Art Loosed!) tries his hand at fiction, the result is unfortunately predictable-a heavy dose of sermonizing. Jakes frames his contemporary novel around the seasons of life, telling the story from the perspectives of three African-American women who work together in an office, and a fourth, older woman who acts as a mentor to the youngest. The hip, well-manicured Michelle swears she will "never be under any man's thumb," yet her abusive past is revisited upon her by the men she finds attractive. Tonya loves the Lord, but the death of one son and the trials of single parenting have taken their toll. Delores is in control at the office, but her 13-year-old granddaughter's heartbreaking troubles are about to wreck her own carefully constructed facade. Meanwhile, the aged Miz Ida has her hands full as a sounding board for Michelle and helping any "strays" who cross her path. The novel is marred by overwriting, heavy dialogue, long sermons, an annoying use of footnotes (including a citation of Jakes's own nonfiction work) and the author's self-promoting product endorsements (one character gives another a Woman, Thou Art Loosed! Bible). Also, it's ironic that a novel that's supposed to be about strong women shows those women almost always being rescued or straightened out by men. However, the book offers sound moral lessons for Christians and encouragement for single mothers. (July) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Four contemporary women who on the surface seem to have little in common face terrible stress in their personal and professional lives. As their stories unfold, the women and those around them discover the joys and small miracles that reveal God's presence. Interestingly enough, the supposedly strong women almost always seem to count on men for rescue. Jakes (Woman, Thou Art Loosed) is a renowned pastor who has written many best-selling nonfiction books, and large numbers have heard his preaching on his weekly Trinity Broadcast Network show The Potter's Touch. This, his first novel, is marred by an evangelist's cadences and sermonizing. Nevertheless, the audio is well produced, with actress Pamala Tyson giving a distinct voice to each character; her pacing moves the narrative along nicely, offering inspiration and many would say sound moral guidance to Jakes's fans. Recommended as a secondary purchase where Christian fiction is popular.--Barbara Valle, El Paso P.L., TX Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Product Details
BN ID: | 2940171225254 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Recorded Books, LLC |
Publication date: | 02/04/2008 |
Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
Cinderella was a lie!" Michelle made sure that the emphasis she put on the words didn't shake her hair out of place. She patted her elaborate coiffure to make sure that it was still high and tight, and to make sure that the sides were still smoothed tight to the sides of her head. With one subtle move of a well-manicured, fire-engine-red baby fingernail, Michelle checked to make sure that the hot-iron-flattened piece of hair-the piece that really made her hairdo a 'do— still draped from the top of her coif to hang just to the side of her right eye. When she was sure she was together, she stared into her supervisor's eyes. Well, really her team leader's eyes. "I mean, if you keep cleaning up other people's messes, if you keep inviting other people to dinner and letting them eat first, you are not going to get a prince."
Michelle tugged at the bottom of her
form-fitting yellow suit jacket. "What you're going to get, sister girl, is
leftovers." Tonya, Michelle's team leader, was smart, but common sense avoided
home girl like the plague. She held the key to Michelle getting the promotion
that was due her, but at this moment, Michelle didn't care. She was going to say
what was on her mind. She put her hands on her hips.
"No disrespect to Dr. Phil, but I'm telling you
what I learned at the school of hard knocks. You have to tell people, 'No thank
you.' You keep inviting yourself to leftovers and toilet scrubbing, that's what
you'll get. And it won't be anybody's fault but yours."
She stared at Tonya. Really, she hadn't said
half of what she wanted to say. Michelle really wanted to tell Tonya that she
was sick of her. She was tired of the woman walking back and forth in front of
her desk to check up on her like she was the work police. She was tired of Tonya
acting like she knew it all, especially like she had a personal hotline to
Jesus. She was sick of Tonya acting like she lived on her own personal cross
with a halo on her head. And if she heard Tonya say, "Praise the Lord!" one more
time, Michelle wasn't sure she would be able to keep herself from jumping the
desk and going crazy on her hair-always-pulled-back, cross-wearing,
plain-suit-with-no- jewelry-wearing, flat-shoe-wearing, boring, whining,
pseudo-boss!
Tonya shook her head. She was always shaking
her head. "Well, Michelle, I'm sure that there's some truth to what you're
saying." Michelle watched her but blocked out her words. It was kind of like the
teacher on the Charlie Brown cartoons. Just a lot of noise, like wah, wah,
wah-wah-wah-wah. She didn't even know why she bothered talking to Tonya. It just
ticked her off anyway. Besides, Tonya was in her forties-probably breathing down
fifty's neck— and it wasn't like she was going to change or anything. It really
didn't matter anyway. . . just as long as Tonya didn't say, "Praise the Lord!"
Michelle would be able to hold it together as long as Tonya just didn't say,
"Praise the Lord!"
Please, please, Michelle thought. Just don't let me lose it up in
here, up in here!
Tonya kept shaking her head and droned on.
"It's so much easier for you, Michelle. You're young, still in your twenties. No
responsibilities.
Trouble hasn't even put a wrinkle on your
face." Tonya laid her hand on her chest. "I mean, I've got a son and I know he's
almost grown, but I just can't kick him out. I can't just get what I need first
then give him what's left over. He's my baby, I'm his mother, I have to look out
for him first."
Everything about Tonya irritated Michelle. She
was too much like a chocolate-covered June Cleaver, recently escaped from the
old Leave It to Beaver television show. Even Tonya's desk got on her
nerves. It was so predictable. There was a light-yellow-ceramic framed picture
of the woman's two sons. Next to it was a yellow vase and yellow tissue holder.
There was an assortment of pens and pencils in a yellow
cup.
It made Michelle shudder. She shrugged her
shoulders. "What is it that he's doing to you? You can't count on any man. Not
even your son. That's why I work-so I will never be under any man's thumb. I'll
say it again: Cinderella is a lie. Prince Charming will just eat your food, then
leave you to go sit at someone else's table." Tonya shook her head again. "You
just don't understand. But—"
Michelle held her breath. Don't let her say
it. Please don't let her say it—not PTL. I will lose it up in
here.
"But that's not even why I stopped by to talk
to you. I just wanted to remind you to watch the personal phone calls. You know
personal phone calls really irritate Mrs. Judson. We want to make sure that
everything is in order so you can get your promotion. But don't worry,
Michelle."
Michelle squinted her eyes. Just what she
needed, another visit from the telephone police. And if she was going to be the
telephone police, Tonya needed a new uniform. How could anyone be so plain, so
gray, so lackluster? She relaxed her shoulders-maybe Tonya wasn't going to say
it.
"No, I wouldn't worry, Michelle. Because,
Praise the Lord—" Michelle wasn't sure how she got to the other side of her
desk. But faster than a speeding bullet and swifter than a thousand midnights,
she leaped-no, dove (or could it more aptly be described as scrambled?)
forward-her eyes red and her nostrils flared. Whatever the case, there she was
clutching Tonya by the throat. "I am sick of this and I am sick of you!" She
couldn't take any more-it felt like a million years of her nerves being worked.
It was too many years of working in positions where people thought she was their
personal flunky. It was too many years of being passed over for promotion just
to now have her chance at a new life blocked by an uptight holy
roller-especially one that was probably a hypocrite, just like all the rest.
Just like her own mother.
Michelle shouted and drew back her hand to slap
Tonya, but with all the agility of a martial arts expert, Tonya slipped away.
Then, just like in the cartoons, they ran around the desk, papers flying
everywhere. If Michelle wasn't so angry, she would have laughed hysterically.
They had to look like Tom and Jerry scurrying about. Instead of laughter,
though, all she could think were acrid thoughts of shutting down Tonya's
endlessly nagging voice. When Michelle got her hands on Tonya, she was going to
slap her back to reality!
Tonya turned and hauled bootie. Michelle had
never seen a bun bob up and down like that. First they ran around the office
area several times, knocking books off of desks. They even sent a computer
monitor crashing to the floor, where the screen disintegrated into tiny shining
silver shards of glass. Each time Michelle reached for Tonya, the woman somehow
managed to elude her grasp. Then the circle broadened and they ran around the
outer ring of the office. Michelle would never have expected Tonya was in good
enough shape to keep running so long-but fear had been known to transform
people.
By their last lap around the outer circle, all
the executives were standing in the doorways of their offices, including the
business owner, Mrs. Judson. The CEO stood with arms folded, an eyebrow lifted
and frozen into place. She wore the cool scowl that was her trademark-along with
an ultra conservative suit that looked like it was a designer original-but she
didn't speak or lift a finger as she watched Michelle chase Tonya out of the
office and into the lobby. When they passed by the bank of elevators, Michelle
noticed Shadrach, a brother-an upright, single brother-and a contract worker in
the building, was standing just in front of a set of doors. He waved, as best he
could with an arm full of packages, while they ran past, like he was waving at a
parade.
Just beyond the elevators, Tonya bolted down
the stairs. Michelle kept grabbing, but couldn't get Tonya as she flew down the
stairs behind her. The Bible-thumping fuddy-duddy was in great
shape!
All the running and pounding down the
stairs-Michelle's heels clack, clacking, while Tonya's thud,
thudded-was putting some wear on the heels of Michelle's new pumps, but she
didn't care. It was going to be worth it to rid the world of Tonya. Soon they
were out on the street. Tonya was almost kicking herself in the behind, she was
running so fast, but Michelle was keeping up. It just seemed no matter how she
turned on the steam, Tonya stayed out of her grasp.
They passed by a policeman on a corner who
tipped his hat and laughed. They crossed the street and out of the corner of her
eye Michelle noticed Trench, her hot and steaming bad-boy-toy, riding by on a
bus. He was looking fine as always-his skin chocolate-y smooth and his wavy hair
short and well-groomed. If she had had the time, she would have crooked her
finger and called him from the bus, but-she looked ahead of her at Tonya's feet
kicking up dirt and trash on the city sidewalk-right now she had her hands full!
A few blocks down the street, Tonya saw her husband-well, her soon to be
ex-husband-Todd, with roses in his hand, sitting at a table in a
restaurant. He looked as though he were about to stand, looked as though he was
about to start asking questions, asking her if what she was doing was the right
thing to do, but Michelle didn't have time to explain or chitchat with him,
because. She was so close! So close to Tonya. Michelle pumped her arms and legs,
gaining on the woman.
She had her! Michelle leapt and grabbed—
Beep-beep-beep-beep! Michelle bolted up right in the bed. Her hand was
drawn back in the air. Dreaming. She'd been dreaming! No job was worth this, not
even one with a promotion! Hitting the button that turned off the clock alarm,
she turned so that her feet landed on the floor, then held her head. She was
still a little foggy. "This is crazy," she mumbled to herself. "Absolutely
crazy!" Now she was dreaming about personal phone calls. Work was taking over
her home time.
Besides, she was getting her work done. What
was the issue? It was just Todd and sweet old Miz. Ida-Miz Ida who was always
her backbone, who had practically raised her, who usually kept her from going
postal on Tonya and the rest of the pit crew-and Trench,
sometimes.
But obviously, what was making Michelle really
crazy wasn't Tonya monitoring the calls. Michelle tilted her head to the right
and then to the left; she could hear the muscles and tendons in her neck and
back popping and cracking. All this was too much! It was Tonya-Miss Praise the
Lord herself ! Mrs. Judson and the phone calls were bad enough, but Tonya just
wore her out.
If it weren't for that stupid promotion and the
power it held over her, dangling wildly over her head like the proverbial
carrot. . . If it weren't for the job, there wouldn't be any pressure. Michelle
couldn't deny it; she wanted the chance at a promotion. Sure she did. It was her
breakthrough.
She pushed back the covers of her sleep-tossed
bed and prepared herself to get up and get going.
Was it really worth it all? Sure, the job was
an upwardly mobile position, which made it easier to get promoted. She needed
the job. What she didn't need was Tonya, her very own self-appointed, do-good-
all-the-time missionary.
Belief in God wasn't the issue. Michelle didn't
need anyone treating her like she didn't know God. He knew her heart. It just
wasn't necessary to be a holy roller twenty-four hours a day seven days a week.
It was like having Todd at work and that-too much Jesus stuff-was exactly why
the two of them were separated. She was tired of people like him in her life
telling her how she should do things, telling her that she always had to be
good. Bump Todd, bump Tonya, bump them all!
Michelle got up from the bed and stomped to the
bathroom as though there was someone to hear her. As she stepped from her warm
bedroom rug onto the cold tile of her bathroom floor, the big checkerboard
pattern of black-and-white tiles offered no comfort to her feet. She winced and
stepped gingerly forward. Her feet clapped against the floor, sounding almost
like Miz Ida's hands had sounded years ago clapping in the church Michelle had
been forced to go to with her from time to time-after her momma got religion.
That was a joke, too. Her momma was just another hypocrite-after years of doing
wrong, suddenly everyone expected her to forgive her mama. They wanted Michelle
to play along and act like her momma was suddenly qualified for the
big-hat-church-sister club. Well, there was a time when she herself had wanted
to go, when she got religion herself. But she could never get passed her momma.
It was too much to swallow. Her momma sitting in church made it hard for
Michelle to find her own way to God-but that was a story for another morning.
Michelle opened the patterned-glass shower door and turned the water on hard and
hot. She didn't need someone telling her how to live her life-enough of her
young years had been spent with people doing that, with people eating from the
table at her expense. A job with a future that would bring in more cash was
good, but at what price? She stepped into the steam and under the water. It ran
down her soft, supple skin and rushed to the floor, forming warm puddles beneath
her feet.
Michelle mused over her life-where she was and
where she was going. There was one thing about which there was no doubt. No one
was going to control her or hurt her again. That, she was certain of; it was
definitely not negotiable. She had been hurt and misused as a child when she
couldn't fight for herself. But no one was ever going to control her or hurt her
again.
Michelle took a rough loofah from the plastic
loop just to the right of the showerhead. She had promised herself she would not
get used again, and it was a promise she was going to keep. She pulled the
cracked shower door closed. Nothing was worth being used. Not marriage. Not her
family. Not even a job. No one was going to use her. No
one.