by MC, Doctor
“Tell him I’ll pick up in a few minutes.” I could say that because we weren’t open yet. I asked, “Customer, vendor, or employee?”
“It’s your neighbor”—Susie looked down at the paper—“Ashley Lynn Effib, and she insisted that she has to talk to you right this minute.”
Oh, shit, I thought. Aloud, I said, “Betty Jane, looks like we’ll have to continue this in your office in a few minutes.”
After Betty Jane and Susie left, I picked up my phone. “Hello, Tim Hanson here.”
Ashley Lynn said, “Hi, uh, Tim? I’m gonna be late for Second Period, can’t talk long. It’s about my dad.”
I got a sick feeling in my stomach, but my voice was calm. “What about your dad?”
“Yesterday afternoon, he was asking me all sorts of questions about Monday. Remember how I lied to him, said I was going to Debbie Barrett’s to study? Yesterday afternoon he was asking me about that, over and over. What we studied, when I got to Debbie’s house, when I left, conversations we had, the whole nine yards. I did serious lying.”
“And he asked the same stuff over and over, like in cop shows? Like he was trying to catch you in a lie?”
“Uh-huh. When he doesn’t believe what I’m saying, he does this thing with his eyebrow, you know? Yesterday he tried to hide it, but twice while I was talking to him, he did the eyebrow thing.”
“So does he know that Monday night, I had sex with you and your mom?”
“Does he know? He’s acting that way, but I don’t see how. Believe me, I sure didn’t tell him, and I can’t imagine that Mom would tell him anything.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Ashley Lynn. I’d better let you go.”
“Tim, one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“You rock between the sheets! Seriously.”
****
An hour later, the other shoe dropped—Ashley Sue called me. The first words out of her mouth were, “Timothy, I messed up.”
“Messed up how?”
“Tuesday night, after I gave Simon his blowjob, I asked him to lick my pussy.”
“I thought you had never done that before.”
“Nope, never have. But Tuesday, I was blowing him and I thought, He owes me. So when I could talk again, I asked him to lick me. He said, `How can you ask me such a thing?’ I said, `Fair’s fair. I did you, now you do me.’”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said, `This is disgusting! Do not say more of this.’ I said, `Why? I deserve better than what I’m getting. Timothy says’—”
“Wait, you mentioned my name?”
“Yeah, that’s where I messed up. Simon was treating me like a slave, and for some reason, that made me mad, and your name slipped out. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. So what happened then?”
“So then he started asking me what I’d been doing Monday night. When I’d left, I’d told him I was going window-shopping. Anyway, he started cross-examining me about that. And I got mad and told him that he was making up nonsense, false accusations, just to get out of licking my pussy.”
“Good for you. The best defense is a good offense.”
“Then he told me that it isn’t a husband’s duty to `submit’ to his wife, but it’s a wife’s duty to submit to her husband. Including in the bedroom. And so I shot back with, `Maybe so, maybe not, but it is a husband’s duty to remain faithful to his wife!’”
“Whoa. It got nasty.”
“Then he said, `What do you mean by that?’ I said, `You know damn well what I mean.’ I wasn’t about to name names—let him worry. So he came back with `You owe me an explanation for that last remark.’ And I said, `I don’t owe you jack shit, adulterer.’”
“Whoa. So what happened last night?”
“Yesterday after Ashley Lynn got home from school, Simon was pushing her and quizzing her, like he’d done to me. Last night after dinner, I’d just started the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. It was Mary Bell. Simon fetched Ashley Lynn from upstairs, they and Mary walked into the kitchen, then Simon said, `We’re going to walk to Mister Hanson’s house, all four of us, and invite him to church.’ You know the rest.”
“So somehow he found out what really happened Monday night. Or at least, found out enough to be suspicious.”
“I can’t see how.”
“Did he say or do anything unusual Monday night, after you two got home?”
“No, nothing. Wait—nah, it’s nothing. But it was unusual.”
“Tell me.”
“I was climbing the stairs, intending to take a shower before he smelled me, and he came to the bottom of the stairs and asked me to turn off the water faucet to the soaker hose in the front yard. He’s always the one to turn off the hose before coming to bed, but Monday night he asked me to do it. He was even polite about it.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like it means anything,” I said.
“Probably not,” Ashley Sue agreed. Then she asked me, “So now that I’ve told you all this, what are you going to do?”
I said, “Sometime between now and Sunday, I need to get a haircut. I’m shaggy.”
“You’re still going? But I think Simon is up to something!”
“I know he’s up to something. But I made a promise. Ten a.m. Sunday, I’m in your church.”
“Your promise, he tricked you into making that.”
“Doesn’t matter. I keep my promises.”
****
The only excitement in the rest of my workday was that I slipped out to get a haircut, and talked my stylist out of buying a Honda. Hours passed, and then it was a little before 5:30 p.m.
I was just climbing out of my car in my garage, when my cel phone rang. It was Sarah calling: “Honey, I’m a ditz. I left my sack lunch on the counter. Could you bring it to the club, please, sometime before seven?”
I said, “No problem. I’ll bring it now.”
“You’re a sweetie. I love you.”
Sure enough, on the kitchen counter was an open little brown bag, with a sandwich and a baggie of carrot sticks inside, and an apple next to the bag. I bagged the apple and headed back to my car.
****
Some minutes later, I was walking up to the open front door of Club Nimfo. This was the first time I’d been here since the night that Mike had brought me.
In front of the door was a lectern that was painted purple and had “Club Nimfo” lettered on it in silver. Behind the lectern was a woman (young, blond, stacked, cast on her arm) who was collecting the ten-dollar cover charge. Standing next to her was a man who was huge in every way: well over six feet tall, and with enormous muscles. His biceps were like grapefruits.
I was suddenly very conscious of the fact that I had not pulled a single engine, or manhandled a single transmission, since I’d inherited the dealership.
I walked up to the lectern and held up the sack lunch. “I’m here to give Platinuma her lunch.”
The big man looked at me like I was a worm. “Hey buddy, nobody gets in the frickin’ club without paying the frickin’ ten bucks.” He had a New York or New Jersey accent.
“I don’t want to get in the club, I just want to give Platinuma her lunch.”
“I’m not saying anything more to you, I got woik to do. You wanna talk to me, you get in back of the frickin’ line.”
“I’m not going to pay ten—”
“Back of the frickin’ line, asshole, got me?”
Seeing no alternative, I went to the back of the frickin’ line. There were five guys in front of me.
When I was at the head of the line, I said, “I’m not going to stay in the club. I’m just going to talk to Platinuma for a few seconds, let her know I’m here, then hand off the lunch to the bartender.”
Big Guy said, “Yeah? Well, everybody wants to talk to dis stripper or dat stripper without paying. Do you know how many notes about frickin’ dying grandmas I seen?”
“Look, you got a walkie-talkie?”
“Can you call a manager out here, and I give the lunch to him?”
“Nope, not safe.”
“Will you call a dancer out here, and I give the sack lunch to her?”
“Nope. Buddy, playtime is over—ten bucks, or take a frickin’ hike.”
“Fuck you,” I said. “Will you at least tell me your name, or is that against frickin’ policy too?”
“Vincent Cesare Capriccio.”
Progress, finally. I said, “Okay, Vincent Capriccio, I ask again: You got a walkie-talkie?”
“Yeah, I got one.”
“Then let’s do this, Vincent Capriccio: You tell one of the bouncers inside the club that I’m coming in, and what I’m up to. And if I quit the plan, he’s welcome to slam my head into the wall.”
Vincent went for it. Twenty seconds later, I was entering the loud, dark strip club, a smile on my face and a ten-dollar bill still in my wallet. I waved to Slave Jeanette (a.k.a. Peachy).
I found Sarah on a stage, naked and rubbing her hands over her tits. I walked close to the stage, held up the brown sack, and jerked a thumb at the bar behind me. Sarah gave me a smile that would instantly cure erectile dysfunction.
Platinuma/Sarah was the perfect girlfriend. She was tall, platinum blond, stacked, beautiful of face, and muscle-toned; her current dance moves were pure eroticism. She was affectionate and feminine, and she let me have sex with other women. And she was my girlfriend, thanks to me (accidentally) using the Power that the golden god gave me. If the golden god had a temple open, I would be sending its priests a whopping tax-deductible contribution.
When I returned my thoughts to the here and now, I was walking from Sarah’s stage to the bar. I noticed a giant of a man watching me. He was holding a walkie-talkie in his hand.
Walking to the bar, I also noticed my fired manager, Mike Brown, talking to redheaded dancer Sunset. Mike and Sunset weren’t touching (because of club rules), but you couldn’t shove a toilet-paper roll between them. Twenty to one, those two were having sex.
Mike didn’t notice me, and I had no interest in talking to him. If he would be bothered by the fact that Sunset was once a man (and legally, still was a man), Mike wasn’t going to find this out from me. As for Sunset, I believed that unless she were an axe murderer, she deserved a better boyfriend than Mike. But I didn’t stop to tell her that.
Seconds later, the bartender was asking me, “Yes sir, what’ll you have?”
I plopped the brown bag on the bar, pulled out a pen, then wrote “Platinuma” on the bag. I told the bartender, “Platinuma forgot her lunch.”
A young man who was sitting nearby, spewed beer on hearing my words. “Whoa, you’re banging Platinuma?” Then his face showed panic and he added, “Or you her brother or something?”
“I’m not her brother or something, and I am definitely banging Platinuma.”
“Wow,” he said. “Is it, you know, good?”
“It’s the stuff of legend, guy. But I make it good for her too. That’s the secret.”
I was smiling as I walked away from the bar. I grinned even bigger as I walked out of Club Nimfo and past Vinnie the Mountain. But as I was getting in my car, I wondered, Did he finally let me in the club because I wore him down, or was that somehow my Power at work?
****
Friday morning, I had walked out of the bathroom and was walking by Susie’s desk when she said, “There’s a man waiting for you in your office.”
I looked at her in amazement—even the most newbie receptionist knows better than that. “You let a man in my office when I wasn’t there? You really did that?”
She nodded, not seeing any problem. “He says he’s a friend.”
“That’s not how a receptionist is supposed to do things, Susie.”
“But he told me that it was okay for him to wait in your office, and—well, I believed it when he said that. Was I unhelpful?”
I did not want Susie to go into another endless-loop breakdown, so I said. “Everything’s fine, I’m sure you were helpful.”
When I walked into my office, standing by one of my visitor’s chairs and facing me was the SUV Driver. He was even wearing the same white shirt and blue tie with white polka dots that he’d worn on the day he’d “died.”
As I shook his hand, he said, “I came by to see how you—Eight planets, I never figured on any of this!”
“On any of what?” I asked.
“I was right about you, that you wouldn’t enslave any women with your Power. Not intentionally, I mean. But by pure accident, you’ve built up a harem! Starting with—Cancer and Capricorn, I messed up.”
“You lost me,” I said. I wondered, Do gods “mess up”?
He sighed in relief. “I didn’t think, and I set up a Contradiction Conflict within your receptionist, Susan Gloria Cooper. But already you’ve fixed that. Amazing. Good job.”
SUV Driver stared at my forehead for several seconds. Maybe he was reading my brain, or maybe I had a ladybug crawling around up there.
Then he said, “You really are an exceptional man. You promised that priest that you will visit his temple, and so you shall, though you suspect him of bad intentions.”
I smiled. “Am I right? About Brother Simon’s bad intentions?”
He shrugged. “I’m a mind-reader, not omniscient. But woe unto him if he be indeed a bad priest who abuses true believers.” SUV Driver walked over and slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ve kept your conscience throughout, and words can’t describe how that pleases me. Walk me to my car?”
We walked out of my office, but then SUV Driver stopped at Susie’s desk. “Susan Gloria Cooper, I thank you for believing that I am Timothy’s friend. But in the future, it’s helpful to Timothy if you keep me out here till he’s ready for me.”
Susie smiled big. “No problem, and I’ll treat you right while you wait.”
The Golden God’s vehicle was the black SUV. Not only was it now unwrecked, but now it looked like it had less than a thousand miles on it. It even had a pair of Tim Hanson Ford paper license plates, which I thought was a nice touch. The Golden God shook my hand, said, “I’ll see you around,” then he got in the SUV and drove away.
When I came back inside, Susie said, “Your friend is a nice man.”
I laughed. “Susie, you have no idea how nice he is.”
****
The rest of Friday and all of Saturday passed normally—minor crises and customer complaints at work, and fucks and sucks at home. Then came Sunday morning.
While I’d been driving to Brother Simon’s mega-church, my cel phone had beeped: I had a text message. When I’d parked and locked my car in the church parking lot, I read the message—
I M SORRY 4 WHAT I MUST DO. OR ELSE SIMON SAYS I DIVORCED, A-L STARVE. ASHLEY SUE.
Now I was walking into Divine Blessing Cathedral.
Despite my lack of sleep, I didn’t yawn as I walked inside—I was too nervous.
Chapter 18
Public Humiliation
Divine Blessing Cathedral had its own band—a drummer, two electric guitarists, a sax player, an electric fiddle player, and a trumpet player. The musicians were playing a hand-clapping song during the Offering.
The church also had two television cameras and a giant TV mounted on a side wall overhead. At the moment, the TV was switching between close-ups of one musician or another. Very likely, the overhead TV was showing us what Channel 6 was live-broadcasting to viewers throughout the metroplex.
After a while, the music stopped. Then Brother Simon stepped in front of the congregation—the audience, really—to begin his sermon. He walked out holding a book with a red-leather cover, and wearing a hands-free headset.
About this time, the image on the giant TV started flashing and twisting.
Brother Simon’s amplified voice called out, “Is the car dealer Tim Hanson here? Please stand up.”
I thought to myse
lf, Oh shit. But as requested, I stood up.
The TV overhead cleared up and showed me in profile; I had never seen myself on TV without an automobile nearby.
“Thank you, you may sit,” Brother Bob told me. As I sat down, the TV went back to fritzing up.
Brother Simon continued, “Tim Hanson is my neighbor. He’s also a heir to a car dealership that he got when his father died unexpectedly, at an unusually young age.”
I resent your implication! I wanted to shout.
Brother Simon continued, “Brethren and sistren, have you seen his recent commercials with the young and large-breasted women? What you don’t know is, all these women live with him…”
Except for Susie, I mentally corrected.
“…And Tim’s house is the site of nonstop orgies. The racket that these people make, disturbs the neighbors, and the police are called repeatedly….”
Another lie, I thought. No policeman or neighbor has ever come to my door, and Sarah is quiet when she cums.
“…Which brings me to last Monday. Tim was cutting his grass, on a day when decent men go off to work, when I made the mistake of going to his house and inviting him to this church. I say `mistake,’ because I brought my Christian wife and Christian daughter with me. The whole time that I was talking to Tim, he was looking at my women like they were slabs of beef. Isn’t that right, Ashley Sue?”
“Yes,” I heard Ashley Sue’s amplified voice say. Her voice sounded depressed and defeated. “All true.”
The overhead TV cleared up its picture for two seconds, long enough to show sad Ashley Sue sitting in a pew, holding a handheld microphone. Ashley Sue’s free hand was being gripped by both of the hands of a sad-looking Ashley Lynn.
Brother Simon continued, “When I returned to my house, I noticed that both my women seemed excited. Then a few hours later, my daughter left the house, supposedly to do homework with a girlfriend. A few minutes after that, Ashley Sue left the house, supposedly to shop. And I would have believed my wife’s words, but for one thing….”