by Rob Byrnes
Leonard sighed. “Okay, forget I said anything.”
“It’s already forgotten. So tell me what you may or may not know about when that camera is on.”
Leonard began playing with a shirt cuff button. “Like I said, I don’t know much. Sometimes it’s on, sometimes it’s not.”
“Is it ever on when Merribaugh’s in the finance office?”
“Not that I noticed. But I doubt it. I mean, cash contributions were always taken directly to the office as soon as they came in, and I’m sure he went to great lengths to make sure there’s no record of that.”
Chase said, “Maybe Merribaugh can override the camera. Turn it off when he’s making a deposit or withdrawal, then turn it back on when he’s done.”
Grant thought about that. “It’d make sense. But we’d need access to Merribaugh’s office. Constance?”
She wasn’t in love with that idea. “If I come on too strong, Merribaugh’s gonna know something’s up. Then say good-bye to my job in the Cathedral…and our access to the safe.”
$ $ $
The next morning, Constance led Jared by the hand, like a mother dragging her child, around the campus for a while until she spotted Merribaugh in the cathedral entry hall. His attention—or lack thereof—was somewhere far, far away.
“You ready?” she asked Jared.
“Ready.”
“Mr. Merribaugh!” Her shout made his head snap in their direction. “I have some wonderful news. Praise the Lord!”
Merribaugh closed his eyes for a moment. All her Lord-praising was starting to eat at him. But then he remembered to feign politeness, and more importantly, noticed she was holding the hand of a very attractive young man, leading him through the entry hall like an offering to the church.
Or maybe a lamb to slaughter. Whichever. It wasn’t one of those days he felt the need to get his metaphors straight.
“Sister Constance!” Merribaugh feigned enthusiasm as well as he feigned politeness. He took a deep breath and sucked in his stomach. “Praise the Lord indeed. And who have we here?”
“You told me Dr. Hurley wants to save homosexuals, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Then I am bringing you a homosexual to save.” She took a step back, leaving Jared directly in Merribaugh’s line of vision. “This is Jerry Stanley. He’s my hairdresser.”
The young man cocked a hip, smiled, and tossed him a tiny wave. “Hi.”
Praise the Looooooorrrrrd, thought Merribaugh, although what he said was, “Do you want to be saved, Jerry?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you want to feel the tender love of God?”
Jared thought about that. “Tender love is good. Most of the time, at least. Although sometimes it’s sort of vanilla and boring.”
Merribaugh coughed, trying to fight the dryness suddenly tickling his throat. “I mean…I meant…I…I…Oh, never mind.”
Constance took her own moment to recover, using that time to remind herself that Grant and Chase—especially Chase—thought Jared would be perfect for this assignment, and who was she to judge them? Then she thought again and judged them harshly. But she had to work with the tool on hand, and Jared was that tool.
“Oh…ha!” She laughed, the sort of instinctive sudden recovery that had made her a success in her chosen, illegitimate line of work. “I get it! Jerry was making a joke.”
“But it’s true,” Jared said, not understanding what was supposed to be a joke. “There’s nothing worse than boring—”
Constance talked loudly and quickly, drowning out his voice. “Jerry wants to be saved from sin. Do you think you can help?”
Merribaugh sized up Jared. “If anyone can…” He caught himself. “I mean, we certainly can!” He grasped the young man firmly on one bony shoulder with a touch that was slightly too familiar. “Project Rectitude can save you, my son. Project Rectitude will save you.”
Jared giggled. “It sounds like you’re saying Erectitude.” He giggled again. “Like erection.”
Merribaugh blushed and stammered. “Son, if Project Erection—I mean, Erectitude…I mean Rectitude—can cure you, there is no one it can’t cure.” He looked heavenward, then returned his eyes to the humans. “We will teach you to reclaim your manhood, Jerry. In fact, I’m going to take the liberty of enrolling you in Beyond Sin, our upcoming ministry to change fallen men like yourself. We’ll even waive your fee for the week.”
“Week?” Jared looked at Constance uneasily. He hadn’t followed much Merribaugh had said after that bit about boring tender love, but an entire week…something like five or six days? That sounded like more than he had bargained for.
“But you must!” said Merribaugh.
Behind his back, Constance nodded. She wanted him to say yes. After all, he was going one way or the other, and it’d be better if it was on Merribaugh’s dime.
“Okay.” There was a trace of wavering doubt in Jared’s voice. “I’ll do it.”
Tears came to Merribaugh’s eyes and he looked up. “Praise Jesus! You will be cured of the sin of homosexuality, my son!”
“Uh…okay?”
Merribaugh dropped to his knees on the royal blue carpet featuring images depicting the Ten Commandments, landing squarely in the center of Thou Shalt Not Steal. “Let us pray right now. Let us pray for your salvation!”
Again, Jared glanced at Constance, but she had already dropped to her own knees on the fringe of Steal. Jared—used to dropping to his knees for much less than ten thousand dollars—needed no further encouragement to follow suit, and landed on Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness for the block.
$ $ $
“So how’d things go?” Grant asked when they finally walked through the front door after another half hour of Merribaugh-led prayer.
“All good,” said Jared, bounding past Grant and down the staircase to the basement.
“Hey!” Grant hollered after him. “No running in the house!”
When he was out of sight, Constance stared down Grant. “You sure about him, Lambert? He’s kind of…”
“Flighty.”
“I was gonna say he’s a moron, but flighty works, too.”
“I know, I know.” They heard the crack of pool balls from the basement. “Trust me, I know. But he’s not as completely stupid as he comes across. Mostly, but not completely.”
“I’ll try to take your word for it.”
$ $ $
Hurley heard Merribaugh’s knock and considered not answering. But when he knocked a second time, he ran a hand through the silver pompadour, sighed, and boredom heavy in his voice, said, “Come in.”
“Good news,” said Merribaugh, taking a seat exactly in the middle of the center couch. “Project Rectitude is about to convert the gayest person I’ve ever met!”
Hurley blinked. “It is?”
A smug smile crossed Merribaugh’s lips. “It is. I was going to surprise you at the service tomorrow, but now’s as good a time as any to share the news. Sister Constance Brown brought us her hairdresser, a young homosexual named Jerry who really wants to change! And he is so gay…well, I can assure you he’ll become the next poster boy for the ex-gay movement!”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive, Oscar! They don’t come gayer than Jerry Stanley.”
Hurley looked at the half-written sermon on his desk. “Very well, then. Make sure he’s prepared to meet the congregation tomorrow.”
Merribaugh stood and turned toward the door when he heard Hurley call to him in a voice that could almost be described as “singsong,” if that was ever a term that could be ascribed to him.
“Oh, and Dennis? If you embarrass me…”
“Never, Oscar. This one is the real deal.”
$ $ $
Like the rest of the gang, Constance used an untraceable cell phone bought on the streets of New York. They firmly believed it was important to leave as few tracks as possible, just in case someone wanted to find them who the
y didn’t want to be found by.
That was the phone number she’d given Merribaugh earlier at the cathedral, but still she hadn’t expected him to call. Yet it was his voice on the line.
When she hung up, she looked at Lambert and shook her head. “They want to feature Jared at the service tomorrow as the new face of Project Rectitude.”
“Huh,” said Grant. “Sounds like Jerry Stanley finally impressed someone.”
15
“What the hell is Old Stone Fence Post Estates Day?”
Grant stared at a fluorescent yellow sheet of paper that had been neatly folded and tucked into the front door handle.
Chase read over his shoulder. “Looks like another barbecue.”
Grant looked up. “Didn’t we just have one?”
“If there’s an upside to having to go to church,” said Chase, as he walked to the living room, “it’s missing these neighborhood get-togethers.”
Grant followed, still clutching the fluorescent yellow paper, and his expression soured. “I might ask you to take me to church with you.”
He handed the paper to Lisa, who looked up and said, “Don’t these people have jobs? Every time I turn around, they’re planning another neighborhood event.”
“It’s like Stepford,” said Chase, taking a seat next to her on the leather couch. “I’ve never seen such a group of tight-asses manage to ruin a picnic. You’d think dropping ketchup on the driveway was a hanging offense. What’s Tish gonna do when someone drops an entire hot dog?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Lisa folded the yellow invitation and handed it back to Grant. “I sort of feel bad for the neighbors. The Fieldings have them terrorized. Most of them seemed okay.”
“They loved my deviled eggs,” said Farraday, walking in from the kitchen and still wearing an apron. “Ms. Jarvis said she’d make them for her book club and report back to me.” He looked wistfully out the window into the backyard. “Y’know, I think she kinda likes me.”
Grant, Chase, and Lisa stared at him. And after about thirty seconds of silence he realized that.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Lisa said, “Don’t get me wrong, Farraday, but you’re acting very un-Farraday-ish right now.”
“Hey, you got Mary Beth.” He motioned to Grant and Chase. “These two have each other. What’s wrong with wanting a little companionship?”
He didn’t wait for a response before turning and walking back to the kitchen, muttering something about preparing a pupu platter for Old Stone Fence Post Estates Day.
“So…that was strange,” said Chase, and Grant and Lisa murmured their agreement. They might have even gossiped about it, except the wistfulness Farraday had left in his wake was broken by the noise Jared made as he clomped down the stairs from his bedroom.
“I’m ready to go!” he announced.
“The hell you are,” said Grant. The black biker boots were bad enough. The see-through gauze shirt was worse. And he didn’t know how Jared had managed to get into jeans with what appeared to be a twenty-four-inch waist, but those were not the kind of bulges anyone needed to see in this living room, let alone the Virginia Cathedral of Love.
“You are not leaving this house dressed like that, young man. Get upstairs and change.”
Jared stood defiantly. “You’re not really my father, you know.”
“Shoulda left you in the orphanage,” Grant growled, and the growl was enough to wear down the younger man’s defiance.
“Okay, fine.”
He clomped back upstairs, passing Constance at the landing. Then they heard his bedroom door slam.
“Kids,” said Constance.
Ten minutes later, Jared returned. This time he was wearing khakis, a button-down shirt, loafers, and a lot less attitude.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better,” Grant agreed.
With that, Jared walked to the door. “Time to get to church.” He smiled mischievously. “It’s my coming-out party.”
“I think you mean ‘going in,’” said Constance, following.
Chase sighed and lifted himself off the couch, where he’d grown far too comfortable. “Okay, I’m off to church. And I can’t wait until this job is over and I have my Sundays back.”
Farraday, still wearing his apron, brought up the rear. “If Ms. Jarvis calls…”
“We’ll tell her you’ll be right back,” said Lisa.
When the door was closed, Grant looked at her.
“Maybe it’s the lawn chemicals that are doing this to us. We’ll have to look into that.”
$ $ $
Dr. Oscar Hurley stepped back onto the stage and smiled a hundred-watt smile, visible not only to the two thousand people who’d arrived early enough to fill the best, closest seats, but also the other six thousand toward the back—including Chase and Constance—watching on the huge projection screen positioned to Hurley’s left.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Children and servants of God…” His voice died off to a whisper before roaring back to life. “People sometimes ask why we do what we do. They call us zealots for preaching the word of the Lord. They ask us to compromise…to not make waves.”
His voice dropped to a purr. Now he wasn’t preaching; he was your next-door neighbor.
“They ask us to ignore sin. They ask us to condemn ourselves to eternal damnation because they don’t want to feel uncomfortable.” He had been strolling across the stage but stopped, and his volume rose again. “They want to enjoy their lustful, sinful lives without being called on the carpet.”
His voice began to boom again and he held tight to the microphone.
“I say NO, brothers and sisters! NO to compromising on sin! NO to compromising on eternal salvation! NO! NO! NOOOO!!!”
A congregation of thousands, caught up in Hurley’s oration, joined him for the final “NO!!!” then fell silent except for a smattering of “Amens!” and a “Hallelujah!” or two.
Hurley paced wordlessly in front of the altar for more than a minute—seemingly contemplating his next words, looking a bit angry, but really building anticipation in the audience—before continuing.
He looked up and bit his lower lip. His tone was neighborly again.
“I want to introduce you to a young man who also says no to lust and sin.” He paused and looked off into the wings. “Jerry, could you join me on the stage?”
Jared Parsells took a few tentative steps from the wings. Dr. Oscar Hurley walked to him and wrapped an arm over his shoulder, guiding him to stage center.
“In just a few days, Jerry will be joining over two hundred other men and women in our nation’s capitol for an intensive conference we call Beyond Sin, sponsored by Project Rectitude and the Moral Families Coalition. Through testimony, education, and of course prayer, by the end of that week their lives will have changed. By the end of that week, Jerry will no longer be a homosexual!”
The cathedral resounded with a roar and a torrent of “Amens!” Jared, always comfortable as the center of attention, even when he didn’t fully understand why, smiled and took a little bow.
In the congregation, Chase’s eyes found Constance. They gave each other the slightest of smiles.
Hurley continued. “This is why we spread the word of God, brothers and sisters. To save souls. Not to compromise. Not to play footsie with Satan. But to save people like Jerry, the future face of ex-homosexuals, and a young man who will lead thousands of others away from sin and into righteousness!”
If televisions in any of the dozens of gay neighborhoods around the world where Jared Parsells was well-known had been tuned into Live from the Virginia Cathedral of Love that morning, a collective “What the fuck?” would have been heard. But, of course, that didn’t happen, because Dr. Oscar Hurley and Jared Parsells had quite different demographics.
$ $ $
After the service, safely hidden away in his spacious office in Cathedral House, Hurley looked at Merribaugh from across the Desk of Christ.
“He is perfect,” Merribaugh agreed, and his mind drifted for a moment before focusing again on Hurley. “And when he becomes a spokesman for the cause…”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Dennis. First, he has to change.”
“He will, Oscar.” Merribaugh smiled. “Oh, he will…”
$ $ $
Jared was gushing. “And then Hurley said I was going to be the new poster boy for the ex-gay movement!”
Grant thought maybe he needed his hearing checked. He looked over to Constance, and Chase, but they met his eyes with affirming nods.
“You’re certainly gonna present him with, uh, a unique challenge,” said Grant. “That’s for sure.”
“So, Jared,” said Mary Beth from across the kitchen table, “when you become straight what are you gonna do with your manscara and guyliner?”
Under the table, Lisa gently kicked her, a signal to knock it off.
Besides, she’d stolen Lisa’s line.
16
At the end of the week the neighborhood was abuzz. Literally. From every direction came the sound of lawnmowers and weed-whackers and hedge trimmers. Because everyone had received a fluorescent yellow invitation to Old Stone Fence Post Estates Day, and no one wanted to incur the wrath of Tish Fielding.
Grant and Chase stood on the small front porch in front of their house and watched the employees from their lawn service do their work for them.
“We would have gotten better at it,” said Grant.
“I know,” Chase agreed. “But isn’t it better watching other people do it?”