by Rob Byrnes
“If that’s all…” said Hurley, who began closing the door without waiting for a response.
“I have one question,” Dan said quickly, and Hurley again held the door, although not without a slight eye-roll. “Will there be electro-shocks?”
Hurley neither knew nor cared, so Merribaugh answered. “Oh, no! No one uses electro-shocks anymore!”
It was probably Hurley’s imagination—it had to be Hurley’s imagination—but the kid seemed almost disappointed. Again, he started to close the door.
“Will I have to sleep with a woman?”
Hurley held onto the door handle and it stopped its swing. “What kind of question is that?” he asked sourly, as Merribaugh stuttered.
“I was just wondering what you’ll be doing to make me normal.”
Finally composed, Merribaugh said, “Nothing like that, Daniel. In fact, we frown upon sex outside of wedlock. You will learn to get beyond this sin through reflection, prayer, and the testimony of those who have already learned to leave homosexuality behind and love normally. No electro-shock treatment, no sex with…” He blushed, unable to finish the sentence. “Trust me though, son. When this conference is over, you will only want to have personal relationships with women!”
“And only in a marriage sanctified by the Lord,” Hurley added, tightening his grip on the robe.
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
“Okay,” said Dan. “Thank you. I was just curious.”
But by then, Hurley had finally closed the door and thrown the lock.
$ $ $
Jared sat in an overstuffed chair in the lobby, watching the slow trickle of guests check in. His gaydar told him that at least half the people who’d passed by the registration desk were there for the conference, but few were even passably his type, his type being “pretty” and / or “rich.” Pretty was obvious, rich less so, but there seemed to be little of either in the hotel that afternoon.
There was, however, a lot of “sad,” “angry,” and “self-conscious”; usually in the same package. He could see it in their faces, in their walks, in the way their shoulders slumped and their eyes darted warily.
He’d been sitting for the better part of an hour—time in which he hadn’t even pretended to do something other than watch the passing crowd—when a middle-aged man swept in with such a sense of self-importance that Jared had to take notice. He was trim, tall, fair, and square-jawed, with red hair trimmed short and the hint of a bristly five o’clock shadow. His expensive clothes had obviously been tailored to show off his body.
Jared thought, Hmmm…
He exchanged seats for one a bit closer to the registration desk in time to hear the clerk say, “Here’s your room key, Mr. Lombardo. Enjoy your stay.”
Jared’s eyes followed Mr. Lombardo as he strutted through the lobby to the elevator bank and watched his ass under the perfectly tailored fabric as he waited. Finally, the doors opened; Mr. Lombardo made a half turn toward Jared, smiled, and stepped inside. He held the door open for a few seconds—maybe waiting for Jared to join him?—but finally it closed.
He might have followed him if not for the appearance of another hottie, this one considerably younger than Mr. Lombardo. The sad, angry, self-conscious ex-gays seemed to have made way for eye candy—albeit eye candy of indeterminate sexuality—and that was fine with Jared. This was why he’d come to the lobby, after all.
The hottie wore a blue shirt and khakis that hung loosely on his frame, offering more than Mr. Lombardo to the imagination. It was a preppy look, reinforced by a conservative haircut. Not a bad effect, overall; not Jared’s look, but who else could carry off Jared’s look? Although… He glanced down at the boring clothes Chase had forced him to bring to the conference and sighed.
Jared watched the hottie cross the lobby until he reached the chair Jared had vacated to get closer to Mr. Lombardo, then looked around the room, his eyes passing right over Jared. He picked up a newspaper from the granite-topped table positioned next to the chair, shook it open, and began reading.
Did he really just look right past me? thought Jared. That was not acceptable behavior, no matter how ex-gay he wanted to be.
$ $ $
Hidden behind the newspaper, Dan Rowell was deconstructing his first meeting with the infamous Dr. Oscar Hurley.
It was clear he didn’t like Dan—except for, perhaps, the curiosity appeal of his job with Gordon Cobey—but that wasn’t worth taking personally. Hurley clearly didn’t like any gay people.
Hurley had, in fact, made it clear from what he had not done that Project Rectitude and this ridiculous Beyond Sin conference were Merribaugh’s brainchildren. Merribaugh had been welcoming and maybe a little bit too familiar; Hurley was a cold fish. That knowledge only made Dan resent his attendance all the more.
Equally unsettling were the stares he kept getting in the halls. He’d expected to be the subject of interest, because what kind of hopeful ex-gay or recent convert wasn’t curious about the other men who’d show up for a conference like this? But these were the sorts of stares he’d expect in a bathhouse, not in a hotel full of men who resented their own homosexuality and wanted to change.
He should have dressed to repel. And a bad haircut wouldn’t have hurt, either. But it was too late now. He’d have to tough it out with a decent wardrobe and great hair.
Dan was three paragraphs into an article about the latest turmoil in the Middle East when he sensed the presence of someone on the other side of his newspaper. He lowered it a few inches until his eyes could see over the top, and there stood the kid with the blond, blond, blond hair he’d noticed when he’d walked into the lobby minutes earlier.
He stared over the top of the newspaper. The kid stared back.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Jared.”
Dan sighed and folded the paper into his lap. “Nice to meet you, Jar—”
“Are you here for the conference?”
Dan had no doubt this Jared was gay—there were gray areas to almost everything in life, but not that—but he was unsure how to answer. Jared seemed like the last person whose psyche was burdened by the curse of homosexuality.
“Which conference?” he finally asked.
Jared put a finger to his lower lip. “Oh, wait. I always get this wrong. Project…not Project Erection.” He thought a moment. “Project Erectitude?”
Dan laughed, despite himself. “You mean Project Rectitude?”
“That’s it!”
“Why do you ask?” Dan still wasn’t sure how he should answer. Something felt off.
Jared leaned forward until one knee brushed Dan’s. “That’s why I’m here. I was just curious.”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “You want to give up homosexuality?”
“Oh, sure. Whatever. And you?”
“I’m here because…” He stopped himself and considered how much he wanted to say. “I guess I’m here for the same reason. My boss wanted me to come.”
“Your boss wanted you to…?” Jared looked perplexed, and then got it. “Oh, you mean your boss wants you to be ex-gay! Gotcha. That’s sort of why I’m here, too.”
Dan set the paper aside. “It’s kind of rough when we have to come to a thing like this for the job, right?”
“Right. The last job I had like this, all I really had to do was crash a pool party.”
“A pool…?” Sometimes when Dan was having a hard time keeping up, he blamed his own distraction, but this time he was quite sure Jared was the cause.
It didn’t matter. Jared’s stream of consciousness continued. “So here’s the good thing about Project Erectitude…”
“Rectitude.”
“Right. The good thing is that I get to be the new poster boy!”
“You…what?”
“Hurley and Merribaugh are going to make me the new face of ex-gay! That’s pretty cool, right?”
“Ex-gay?” Dan stared at Jared. “Are you sure you aren’t confusing this with ‘before’
in the before-and-after shots?”
“No!” Jared’s expression turned serious. “Do you think they’ll have me make a commercial? Or pose for billboards?”
Dan shook his head. “I’m having a hard time with this. No offense, but you…” He took a deep breath. “Well, let’s just say I’m having a hard time with this.”
Jared was put out. This “poster boy” concept was the only thing that made him slightly enthusiastic about the conference. If this guy wasn’t buying it…
He spotted Merribaugh across the lobby and waved him over.
Before Merribaugh had even had a chance to greet him, Jared asked, “Isn’t it true that I’m going to be the poster boy?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” It was only then he realized Dan was in the chair below him. “I see you two have met.”
“Not really,” said Jared. “All I know is he’s here for work. I don’t even know his name.”
“Dan Rowell.” Dan extended his hand. “And I’m not here for work. I’m here because my boss thought it would be a good idea.” He looked up at Merribaugh and remembered to add, “And so do I, of course.”
“I’m thrilled you’re both here,” said Merribaugh. “Dan will be living proof of our success on Capitol Hill, and Jerry, well…” He looked affectionately at the younger man. “Jerry will be a wonderful spokesman for the cause.”
After Merribaugh left, Dan asked, “Why did he call you Jerry? Is that, like, a nickname?”
“It’s a stupid name,” said Jared. “I prefer Jared. Except here, where they want people to call me Jerry.”
Dan blinked. “They? They who?”
“Never mind.” He realized Dan looked a lot like a guy back in Manhattan he’d had a huge crush on, and wondered if he was built the same way under those loose clothes. For that reason, and since he had nothing better to do, he asked, “Want to hang out?”
Dan exhaled a “What?” before he’d had a chance to think.
“You seem cool. I just thought we could hang out.” Dan felt Jared’s hand brush his thigh and was pretty sure it wasn’t accidental.
Dan thought about that and realized he, too, had nothing better to do. However, there were rules. “We’re sort of restricted, aren’t we? The bar is out of the question, and the lobby is getting boring.”
“Let’s go up to my room.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s my idea! Who cares if it’s good or not?”
$ $ $
“I know I sound like a broken record,” said Farraday, “but I really hate driving in this city. My instincts keep failing me.”
In fact, his instincts had been failing him for almost twenty minutes, and the car circled block after block but never seemed to get any closer to the hotel.
Grant looked impatiently at his watch. “Just drop me off up at that bus stop and I’ll walk. I’ve got to get to Jared.”
Farraday pulled to the curb. Behind them, a Metrobus driver laid on his horn.
“What do you want me to do while you’re at the hotel?” asked Farraday, ignoring the horn.
Grant shrugged. “Just keep circling. You’re getting good at it.”
$ $ $
“Here’s the thing I don’t understand.” Special Agent Patrick Waverly sat casually on the edge of a table, looking down at Constance. “The Virginia Cathedral of Love has hundreds of millions of dollars in assets—maybe more—but they’ve entrusted financial management to you. An ex-con using a fake name who’s just arrived in town. That doesn’t make sense to me.”
Constance shook her head. “I didn’t make any decisions. I just did what Dr. Hurley asked.”
He smiled. “The question, Ms. Price, is whether you’re a collaborator or a dupe. Or perhaps you just decided to take your life of crime on the road, and figured a mega-church was a tempting target.”
“Excuse me? Who’d be foolish enough to try to rip off a mega-church?” She looked almost disappointed in him. “Get real, Waverly.”
A few minutes later Waverly stood outside the holding room with Special Agent Oliver Tolan, who’d been watching their session on a monitor.
“You’ve got to get meaner with her, Patrick. Break her.”
“Yeah,” said Waverly. “Maybe we could waterboard her.”
Tolan smiled. “Now, you’re talking. Good times, my friend, good times.” He looked back at the monitor. “She’s a tough one, though. One of those name, rank, and serial number types. I don’t know how much information you’re gonna get out of her.”
“She claims she doesn’t even remember her address,” said Waverly. “Which makes me think…”
Tolan interrupted. “She shares an address with Charles LaMarca?”
Waverly nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
Tolan nodded. “Only one way to find out.” He pushed a button next to the monitor, and moments later, a laser printer deposited a photo of Constance in the tray. “Why don’t you take this up to Old Stone Fence Post Estates and find out.”
$ $ $
“So tell me, Dan,” said Jared, after he’d made sure the door to his room was locked, “what makes you tick?”
“Huh?”
“What do you like to do?”
“I like…well, I like work.”
Jared smiled. “That’s not what I meant. What do you liiiike?” He drew out the word, making every effort to let the thought behind it come to the surface, and knew he’d made himself loud and clear when he saw a thickening in Dan’s khakis.
But on the surface, at least, Dan played it straight. “I like sailing. And softball.”
Jared leered. “And hardball?”
He isn’t very subtle, thought Dan. “Politics is hardball.”
Jared had been moving in for the kill, but now stepped back. “You’re in politics?”
Dan shrugged. “We’re in Washington, DC. It’s a company town. So…yeah.”
“I don’t understand politics.” Jared sat on the bed, a little too close to Dan. “Maybe you could teach me.”
Dan laughed. “I could teach you all night and only scratch the surface…”
Jared took his hand. “I like that ‘all night’ part…”
At that, Dan’s hand was back in his lap. “Look, I think…I think we’re doing this ex-gay thing the wrong way. I don’t think flirting in a locked hotel room and holding hands is the way to…uh…cure our same-sex desires.”
For a brief moment, Jared was going to object. Until he remembered the job was bigger than seducing Dan just because he was sure he could.
Merribaugh obviously felt Dan was important—not as important as Jared, of course, but still…—which made the situation delicate. If he played it wrong—or if, God forbid, Dan became remorseful—his fraud could be quickly discovered, which would in turn bring the house of cards down. He had to play it cool.
But of course, because he was Jared Parsells, what came out of his mouth was, “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”
That almost worked. But then there was a knock at the door.
“Room service.”
Jared stared at the locked door. “I didn’t order…”
“Compliments of Dr. Hurley.”
Jared smiled at Dan, and in a near whisper said, “There are advantages to being the ex-gay poster boy! I hope he sent champagne and strawberries.”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Uh…I don’t think they send those to people at an ex-gay conference. Even to the poster boys.”
“I guess we’ll find out!” Jared bounced off the bed and was halfway to the door before Dan caught him by the back of his belt and he came to an abrupt stop. “What?”
So low Jared could barely hear him, Dan hissed, “What if it’s Merribaugh? Or even Hurley?”
“But it’s room service!” Jared twisted away from him and reached the door before Dan could again reach for the belt.
The door was opened. A frowning man with salt-and-pepper hair stood on the other side of it.
> “Oh.” Jared looked around him and into the hall. “Where did the guy from room service go?”
Grant Lambert shook his head. “That was me, you nitwit.” He looked past Jared to Dan. “Who’s that?”
“Another ex-gay.”
Under his breath, Grant muttered, “Not for long, if I know you.”
Dan walked up behind Jared, taking care not to make any physical contact that could look questionable. “Can we help you with something?”
“It’s okay,” said Jared, turning to face him. “It’s not room service. It’s…it’s…” He glanced at Grant, then returned his attention to Dan. “It’s my father.”
Grant’s frown deepened, and Dan offered one to match. Because if Jared’s father was here, it meant he was complicit in sending him to this ex-gay conference. Certainly someone like Jared wouldn’t be here on his own. Which meant Jared’s father was one of those types of parents.
Not unlike his own.
Still, the politician in him sought to make peace. There would be time to rescue Jared later.
“I can see the resemblance,” said Dan.
“Shut up,” was the mumbled response, and Dan involuntarily took a step back.
Jared’s head bounced back and forth between Grant and Dan several times while he tried to decide what to do or say, but finally he remembered that if Grant was standing in front of him it probably meant seven million dollars was at stake. And he could—no, he would—catch up with Dan later.
“Can you excuse us, Dan? Pops and I need to talk.”
When they were alone and the door was secure, Grant handed Jared his cell phone.
“I’m not supposed to have a phone,” he said. “The rules…”
“Forget the rules. We have our own rules now.”
Jared looked lovingly at his phone. “Hey, I missed seventeen texts!”
Grant took the phone out of his hand. “Forget those until you’re back in New York. What I’m about to have you do will require all your concentration. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh…sure?”
Grant sighed. He hated to play this card, but… “Can you do that for Chase?”