Holy Rollers

by Rob Byrnes

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “That’s a pity. We desperately need sopranos. And a new Rolf wouldn’t hurt, either.” He shook the thoughts away; there was no sense dwelling on the negatives. “But I’m sure this show—and the shows to follow—will be a welcome addition to our ministry. By giving the public a version of The Sound of Music with a new Christian orientation, we’ll be much better able to meet the spiritual needs of our flock.”

  She thought about that. “I thought The Sound of Music was Christian. Aren’t there a bunch of nuns in it?”

  Merribaugh rolled his eyes. “The characters were Roman Catholic, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But—”

  “Here at the Virginia Cathedral of Love, we respect our Catholic friends. But Catholicism isn’t real Christianity.”

  “It’s not?”

  He shook his head, as if wondering why he had to explain this. “Catholicism is a sect that split off from Christianity. With its Pope, and worship of Mary…it’s not real Christianity.”

  Constance nodded, as if every word out of his mouth was, well, gospel.

  “That’s why we had to rewrite The Sound of Music. In our version, Maria and the von Trapps are Baptists.”

  “And the nuns?”

  “Not nuns. Good Christian women, but not nuns.”

  “And the Nazis…?”

  “Still Nazis.”

  Merribaugh began walking again. She moved quickly to catch up and said, “I didn’t know you were allowed to do things like change around the plot of a well-known musical.”

  He thought about that. “I don’t know the rules. But our musical director—there’s a character—our musical director once had some success doing something similar on Broadway, so I suppose it’s all right.”

  “You got someone from Broadway to come to Virginia for this?”

  Merribaugh smiled. “He was a fallen man. The Virginia Cathedral of Love and its affiliates have brought him redemption.” Noting the blank look on her face, he decided to explain. It wasn’t as if they had any secrets. “Walter Pomeroy is his name. A few years ago he turned Annie, the beloved family musical, into a piece of homosexual propaganda filth called Andy, and inexplicably won a Tony Award.”

  “I’ve heard of that.” She didn’t bother adding that she’d not only heard of Andy, but she and her girlfriend had seen it three times.

  Merribaugh continued walking; Constance kept pace.

  “But Walter Pomeroy wasn’t a happy man. He had a degree of success, but no happiness. His life wasn’t fulfilling…until the day he happened upon Dr. Hurley’s television show. One thing led to another, and soon, through Project Rectitude…”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ah!” He stopped again and smiled with pride. “Project Rectitude is the Cathedral’s ministry dedicated to bringing people out of the homosexual lifestyle. Walter Pomeroy is one of that ministry’s most prominent graduates!”

  She could now hear “My Favorite Things” coming from the auditorium, which seemed to be particularly inappropriate background music to Merribaugh’s chatter about his ex-gay programming.

  “In fact,” the clergyman continued, “Project Rectitude will be hosting a conference soon: Beyond Sin. I expect it will be a defining moment for the ministry.” He turned and looked at her. “Tell me, Sister Constance…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know any homosexuals?”

  In her head, to the tune of “My Favorite Things,” a voice sang, Lambert and Lisa, and me and my girlfriend…damn song.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, trying to think over the earworm. “But I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  Merribaugh smiled benevolently. “I’d appreciate that. Every soul we save is a step forward for Project Rectitude.” He leaned a bit closer. “And I don’t forget who my friends are, Sister Constance.”

  She smiled back. “I’ll bet you don’t, Mr. Merribaugh. I’ll bet you don’t.”

  $ $ $

  After Farraday had collected her and returned home, they gathered around the kitchen table for the daily debriefing.

  “So tell me how it went,” said Grant.

  “Lambert, you need to get yourself a gay.”

  Grant smiled. “That’s a strange thing to say in a house full of gays…”

  “Hey!”

  “And Farraday.”

  “Nah, none of us,” she said. “Anyway, half of us have already been to the church. But if I could bring them someone they could try to make straight, I’d be golden with Merribaugh!”

  Grant didn’t like the idea. Every extra person meant a bigger payroll, as well as the potential for some loose links in the chain. Bad enough he was paying for seven people, a house, a rental car, a lawn service, and a toaster. “I don’t know. There’s gotta be someone we can recruit. Maybe someone in DC…”

  “I may know some people,” said Leonard.

  “That’s not a good idea,” said Chase, as diplomatically as possible. “How would we know we could trust a stranger?”

  “Well, I’d know them,” said Leonard.

  “But we wouldn’t,” said Grant. “And we outnumber you six to one. So that’s a no.” He looked to Chase. “Do we even know anyone we can trust?”

  “What about Marika Christian?”

  “No. Great on the phone scam, not so much on the inside job. Plus, it’d only complicate things having a straight girl play lesbian.”

  “That Green guy we worked with that one time?”

  “Who?”

  “You remember. Green. That one that was into horror movies.”

  “Oh, him. No.”

  “Jamie Brock?”

  Grant sighed. “Do we really have to go through this again?”

  “So Jamie is a no?”

  Grant answered with a very unpleasant glare, and Chase took a step back.

  They sat for a while, clicking through their mental Rolodexes, but every time someone had a thought, someone else had a second thought. That was the tough thing about trying to find an honest criminal.

  It was Chase who finally broke the silence.

  “What about Jared Parsells?”

  Grant dismissed the suggestion. “We’re looking for someone to play ex-gay, not extra-gay.”

  That got Constance’s attention. “The gayer the better with this crowd. They do not do subtle.”

  Chase picked up on that. “In that case, we should bring in Jared. He’s sort of the opposite of subtle.”

  Grant was unhappy. “We don’t need him. We’ll figure something else out.”

  Chase offered him a half smile. “Still jealous?”

  “I’m not jealous.” Which might have been more convincing if he hadn’t said it a bit too quickly. “Just because you’re into men with the brains and body of a nine-year-old girl, why would I be jealous?”

  “Lambert, you sound jealous,” said Constance.

  “He doesn’t like him because Jared has a little thing for me,” said Chase.

  “I’d say it was mutual,” said Grant. “Inexplicable, but mutual.”

  “Also,” Chase continued, “Jared is afraid of Grant.”

  “On that, we agree. In fact, that’s Jared’s only redeeming feature.”

  “I don’t know,” said Constance. “You know him; I don’t. But from what Chase is saying, this Jared character sounds perfect. If I can bring them a stereotype, I’ll have Merribaugh in my pocket. And then I’ll be in that office, keys and all.”

  Grant fixed his eyes on Chase. “Okay, fine. You think Jared can do it, call him. But he’s not getting more than ten grand. And it comes out of your share.”

  “Fine,” said Chase as he pulled his phone out of a pocket and dialed.

  $ $ $

  Jared Parsells looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and smiled. Then he tried out a different smile, one showing slightly more teeth. He didn’t like the second version; his dimples looked better in the first.

  The third smile—head bow
ed slightly down, eyes looking slightly up—also showed off his dimples to great effect, though, so maybe that was the best one. Although the third smile might be too seductive, while the first was more playful.

  It was hard to make a decision, but he supposed he could always use whichever he needed at the time. Although maybe a fourth variation would do the trick…

  So engrossed was he in watching himself smile that he almost didn’t hear Lady Gaga start singing in the living room, but the ringtone eventually attracted his attention and he managed to answer before Chase’s call went to voicemail.

  “Hey,” he said, having already seen Chase’s name appear in Caller ID. “Are you in the neighborhood?”

  “Hardly,” said Chase. “I’m in Virginia.”

  “Virginia?” Jared dropped his slender frame onto the couch. “What are you doing there?”

  “I’m on a job. Which is why I’m calling…”

  Jared flashed Smile Number Three, even though Chase couldn’t see it. It was all about the attitude. “I thought maybe you were calling because you missed me.”

  “That, too. But if you’re interested in making a few bucks, I’ll see you soon enough.”

  “Where’s the job?”

  “Here in Virginia.”

  That didn’t even warrant Smile Number Two. “Sorry, but I don’t go anywhere with ‘virgin’ in the name.”

  That statement caught Chase off guard. Mainly because he was shocked Jared knew how to spell Virginia. “Not even for ten thousand dollars?”

  “Oh.” He thought that might be worth a smile, but wasn’t sure. “What would I have to do?”

  At least Chase wouldn’t have to lie. “Just be yourself.”

  Jared thought of all the things ten grand could buy. Maybe he’d even use some of it to pay off a little back rent on his studio. But probably not, because his wardrobe was looking very 2010.

  And it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. Plus, Chase was there, although if Chase was there, that probably meant…

  “Is your boyfriend there, too?”

  Chase paused, hoping it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker. “Yes, he is.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Ten thousand dollars, Jared.”

  The young man sighed and rubbed a hand over his flat stomach. It was a lot of money, but…

  “Jared?” Chase dropped his voice, his verbal equivalent of Smile Number Three. “It’d be good to see you again. Down here. In Virginia…”

  The voice did the trick. Jared had Smile Number Three on his face as he said, “Okay, I’ll go. When?”

  Just for good measure, Chase continued in that low purr. “Can you come down tomorrow?” When Jared said he could, Chase gave him all the information he’d need to get to Union Station in DC, hopefully without getting lost.

  $ $ $

  Chase clicked off the phone and smiled. Across the kitchen table, Grant scowled at him.

  “What was with the Barry White routine?” he asked.

  He shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Remember, that ten thou comes out of your share.”

  The front door opened and Lisa and Mary Beth, each carrying four or five shopping bags although every bag was Mary Beth’s, walked into the house.

  Grant glanced at his watch. “You’ve been gone long enough.”

  Lisa shook her head in the direction of her partner. “It took us a while to find a store with a name that didn’t end in ‘mart.’”

  “You’re lucky I finally found a Macy’s,” said Mary Beth, dropping her bags in the middle of the kitchen. “Now can we please finish this job and get the hell back to New York? I miss Barneys and Bloomingdale’s.”

  “Almost,” said Chase. “We just added one more person to the team. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Mary Beth snorted. “Typical. Once again, you people have over-manned a job.”

  “Yeah, what was I thinking?” said Grant. “You’re man enough for all of us.”

  That didn’t faze her. “Maybe when your testicles drop you’ll be able to handle it, too.”

  “Bitch.”

  “What?!”

  “You heard me.”

  And then Chase was between them. “Okay, fun’s over. Everyone keep cool so we can work together, which is the only way we’ll walk away with seven million dollars.”

  The reminder of a bigger objective quieted them down.

  “Okay,” Mary Beth said cautiously. “So this new person…Anyone I know?”

  “Oooooh yeah,” said Grant.

  Mary Beth didn’t like the look in his eyes. It told her he was about to get great enjoyment at her expense. “Who?”

  “Jared Parsells.”

  “That fuckin’ twink? Why?!”

  “We need gay,” Chase explained. “And no one’s gayer than Jared.”

  “I am not happy with this.”

  Grant said, “That makes this the second best part of this plan…”

  She scowled. “I am always intrigued to hear what you consider the best part of one of your plans.”

  “The best part is that Jared really isn’t part of it. He just has to be the gay bait.”

  Mary Beth considered that. “Yeah, that’s not a stretch for him. That’s just Jared being Jared. Even he can do that.”

  13

  The next morning—after making huevos rancheros for breakfast and a few dozen deviled eggs for the barbecue—Farraday borrowed Lisa’s keys and set off for Union Station to retrieve Jared, leaving the rest of the gang a few hours to figure out how to avoid the neighborhood get-together.

  Mary Beth had already figured it out.

  “I’m not going,” she announced flatly, to no one’s surprise. “I hate this place, and I hate these people.”

  Grant tried to stare her down, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I sorta wish there was a way out of this. But it sounds like we’ll stand out if we don’t go.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “You would be.” With a sigh, he added, “Anyway, if we don’t go, we gotta eat all those deviled eggs ourselves.”

  So promptly at noon, the crew—minus Mary Beth—exited 455 Old Stone Fence Post Road with faces that looked like they were going to the electric chair, not a barbecue. Across the street at 462, a small group had already gathered around a grill in Tish and Malcolm’s driveway.

  “Grant!” Tish called, spotting them. “Lisa! Come meet the neighbors!”

  She introduced them. Each neighbor was a variation on low-key, with only Tish and—to a lesser extent—Malcolm serving as the life of the party. Which, to Grant and his confederates, only underscored how much they didn’t belong there.

  But they were there, and determined to make the best of it…until their earliest opportunity to get out.

  Lisa hoisted the platter in her arms at Tish. “Deviled egg?”

  Tish wrinkled her nose. “Uh…”

  “Try one. They’re delicious.”

  “Uh…”

  “Farraday made them.”

  Ms. Jarvis from 488 reached for the plate. “May I?” Before Lisa could answer she had a deviled egg in her mouth. She chewed. She swallowed. And then she said, “Oh my God, these are so good!”

  With Ms. Jarvis’s seal of approval, other neighbors gathered around the platter. Tish stood unhappily to the side.

  “You should have a deviled egg,” said Constance, approaching her. “They’re really good.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Tish had been dismissive, but then eyed Constance with more interest. “And shouldn’t you be the one serving them?”

  “Me?”

  “Well, yes! You are the housekeeper, after all.”

  Oh, you did not just go there. It took all of Constance’s willpower to keep those words in her head and off her tongue.

  Malcolm, who was wearing plastic baggies under over mitts as he worked the grill, announced, “The Black Angus steakburgers are ready. Who wants one?”

  �
�That like a regular burger?” asked Grant. Malcolm nodded. “In that case, I’ll take one. All of Farraday’s recipes from Mongolia or wherever ain’t been sitting right in my stomach the last couple’a days.”

  But no one else paid attention to Malcolm. They were still devouring the deviled eggs.

  “These are divine,” said Mr. Scribner, from 420. “How did you make them?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I can’t take credit. Our chauff—I mean, our chef made them.”

  Ms. Jarvis raised an eyebrow. “You have a chef?”

  Lisa did her best to keep a straight face. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Loud male voices rose from the yard between the Fieldings’ and the neighboring house, attracting the attention of most of the neighbors in the driveway. Tish frowned. She thought she knew those voices.

  Sure enough, those black sheep of the subdivision—Mr. Ford and Mr. Herren, who left clutter on their lawns and liquor bottles in the recycling bins, no matter how many times she’d admonished them—soon emerged between the houses. Tish didn’t know which violation of community standards was the worst: that they had cut through private property; that they were carrying beer bottles while they did so; or that she’d made a point of not inviting them in the first place.

  “Hey, great! They’ve got deviled eggs,” said Mr. Ford, grabbing for the platter.

  As discreetly as possible, Tish said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Herren and I figured we’d pop over. It’s always fun times with you and Malc.” He waved at her husband. “Hey, Fielding! How’re they hanging?”

  Malcolm smiled weakly and waved his oven mitt.

  Grant watched as Farraday pulled the rental car into the driveway across the street. He turned to Chase and said, “Just what this party needs. Farraday and Jared.”

  “Could be worse,” said Chase. “Mary Beth could be here.”

  “What the hell is Jared wearing?”

  Chase focused. “That shirt is kind of sheer.”

  “So are the shorts. He looks almost naked. Get over there and tell him to change his clothes.”