by L. J. Woods
Hazel leads me through large open doors to the main room. “Holy cocks.” My jaw hangs, eyes darting around the wide-open space. It’s three levels, a stage in the middle with a thick wooden podium. Purple and blue lights shine down on the stage, one big enough for a music festival.
“Don’t say the Lord’s name in vain.” A bored voice warns from the front of the room.
Mariam McQueen.
Her poise and rigid stature match her last name like the royal blue dress she wears. She carries herself like she’s heir to a crown as golden as her silky hair. With a snooty attitude, it completes the image of a perfect, prissy princess.
“Or what?” I ask. Her red lips match the hue on her cheeks as stern eyes turn to slits. Smirking, I follow Hazel to a row of purple-cushioned pews in the second row. “Daddy gonna kick me out of his school before I even start? He’s gonna spank me?”
A snicker comes from the group and I’m too busy watching the look on Mariam’s face to see where it came from. “If the good Lord himself doesn’t strike you down first,” she spits.
“Mariam, you know Delilah,” Hazel cuts in, looking like she might pop a vein trying to force a smile. She tugs on my arm, pulling me down in the seat beside her.
“Unfortunately.” Mariam’s hand lands on her hip. “What’re you doing here, Delilah?”
“I thought this was a place of acceptance.” My Chucks land on the back of the row in front of me as I lean back in my seat. “Accept me.”
“You’re going to need a lot more prayer for that,” she retorts. “Take your shoes down!”
“Okay!” Hazel interrupts, pulling my legs. “We’re reading James today, right? The topic of temptation?”
I know all about temptation. Like how I’m fighting the urge to tell Mariam to suck my cock.
Her chest rises and falls. “Let’s continue.” She starts to read the verse but not without glaring at me. Hazel offers me a Bible and I take it. It sits in my lap as my eyes wander the room.
My body starts to tingle, my muscles relaxing when … damn. Hello again, cannabis. With my high creeping in, flashbacks of being in this room creep into my head with it. I’m remembering when Elijah, Gabe and I got in trouble for giggling in our pew, way too baked for Sunday service.
“Did I say something funny?”
Hazel’s knee nudges me. Lifting my head, I greet Mariam and that’s when I realize I’m smiling like a fucking idiot. “Nope,” I say curling my lips into my mouth.
Mariam huffs before she continues to read and when I look at Hazel I must still have a stupid smile on my face because she stifles a laugh. Shaking her head, she looks back at her Bible.
I’m stoning out as the small group tries to decipher ancient stories written eons ago, my eyes on the array of lighting in the ceiling. The fire’s behind me, gummies taking over my system. Everything will be okay. If the Godfreys can afford to deck out a church like this, they can afford to clean up my mess.
“This is saying that temptation comes from our own lusts,” Mariam continues her mini-sermon. She’s been babbling for fucking-ever. “It’ll be different for everyone but giving in to that temptation will lead to sin. So we should stay away from activities and environments that will heighten our chances of sinning.” Her cheeks redden as if she’s thinking about a specific “sinful” scenario. “Easier said than done.”
“So, are we all sinners because we got that video of Sammy?” someone asks. Turning my head to the raspy voice, a girl with as much sass as her blue bob crosses her arms.
That starts a murmur amongst the girls in the room. They’re all around my age, either in college or about to be.
“Gemma,” Mariam warns.
“What?” Gemma asks. “Are we not gonna talk about it?”
“Why should she be a topic of conversation?” another girl pipes up, one closest to Mariam. “She’s already going to hell for that. We shouldn’t even associate with someone like her.”
Gemma stands up. “Isn’t that slut-shaming?”
“Then she shouldn’t have taken the video.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Hazel pipes up, cutting through the tension.
She’s not leaving me here. “Yeah, me too,” I say, hopping up and following her out the main room.
“Sammy’s right,” Hazel says as we head up a set of stairs. “She shouldn’t be here, that would be crazy to sit through.”
My eyes wander as I nod, distracted by the geometric pattern on the marble floor. Everything looks so luxurious. So rich. My fingers trail a gold frame on the way up the stairs before I hear the distant sound of music. A thumping bassline. Smooth vocals.
“No Church in the Wild.”
At the end of a long stone-walled hall, a gold plaque reads “Pastor Godfrey”. It sits behind two big gold doors, vases of white lilies on each side. Bingo. Now there’s a place where I can find some info. Tilting my head, my eyes narrow at the smoke coming from under the doors, laughter erupting inside.
Hazel pulls on my hand. “Come on.”
“Who’s in there?” I ask, pulling back.
She shrugs. “Gabriel’s friends?”
I raise a brow. “They just chill in there without him?”
“I dunno. Sometimes. Come on, we gotta get back.”
A loud, deep laugh comes behind the door before I hear the sound of clinking glasses. A crack of a can.
“Why would we get back to that snoozefest when there’s a party happening?” Pulling my hand away, I walk towards the door. Hazel calls my name but I ignore it. It’s time for some fun. Some real fun. Swinging the door open, I’m ready to announce my arrival. “Just what do we—”
Cocks.
I freeze.
I did not expect to see the person in front of me leaning against a big black desk. The music slows, my heart booming with the rhythm as his head lifts. I’ve either gotten way too high or he’s in slow motion.
Deep, dark eyes bore into me, ones that match the blackness of his soul. Ones that still make my stomach flip. Pushing himself off the table, he holds on to the chair in front of him before he strides towards me with steps as confident as he is. As powerful as those new muscles he’s packing.
My eyes wander his frame, one that’s new to me. The ripples of his muscles push through the white shirt clinging to his body, and … is that a new tattoo? The tip of a cross sticks out from the collar of his shirt. And for some reason, I can’t. Fucking. Speak.
I’m regretting taking those gummies because I can’t look away either.
Can’t look away when a rolling chuckle escapes him. Can’t look away when he towers over me. He’s taller than I remember. Wider. His white sneakers meet the tip of my Chucks and when I suck in a breath, tobacco and cinnamon engulf me.
It’s familiar.
Comforting.
Say something, stupid.
His firm hands land on each side of my face, sparks dancing on my skin. It makes it so much harder to pull away, those eyes sucking me in all over again.
What the fuck is he—?
Before I can finish my thought, soft lips press to mine and my body comes alive.
Four
Gabriel
A strong grip on my arm isn’t enough to pull me away from bliss.
I must be at the peak of these pills because it feels like I’m sinking into a marshmallow. A warm, gooey marshmallow.
Warmth spreads through my body as I lean into ecstasy, a soft sigh tickling my mouth. I don’t know what or who this is but I want to swallow this whole. I want to stay here forever.
Nothing else matters.
“Woah! Okay, Hammer!” Adam’s voice sounds like he’s underwater, his British drawl still clear.
A strong arm pulls me away but I fight it. I want more.
“That’s dangerous territory.” Milo’s voice sounds close as a grip lands on my other arm. It takes the two of them to pull me away from my nirvana. From my escape. My back hits a wall, a familiar angelic voice in the d
istance as a coldness washes over me like I’m falling from heaven.
“Not even a day back in Clementine and you’re almost shagging your best friend’s sister.” Adam’s lazy laugh echoes in my head, his words fading away.
“What?” I mutter. I don’t notice I’m in the hall until the golden sconces on the wall come into view. It’s hard to focus on Adam’s words, my eyes following the dust in the air. Fireflies.
“G, are you hearing me?”
Then it hits me. So does Adam’s hand. “Wait. My what?” Blinking, I try to centre myself, pushing my body off the stone.
That can’t be right. I don’t even know where the fuck I am. The last thing I remember is that last line we snorted off the old man’s desk. We stopped at the church to steal a bottle of vodka from his cabinet but Adam made sure he brought enough party favours for the mission. And when have I ever said no?
My hand hits something hard, long and sturdy. A rail. We’re at the staircase, the world around me a darkened blur. I’m trying to take my time moving down a step, Adam in front of me, Milo’s hand on my shoulder. A warped image of Adam turns around, his voice muffled, his face moving in and out like he’s breathing through his pores.
“You really don’t know who you just kissed?” he asks. Bumping into him, I squint, trying to make sense of his words. He laughs. “Mate, how fucked up are you?”
His laugh makes me laugh, a lazy smile creeping across my face. “Pretty fucked up.” Trying to shake it off only makes it worse, the staircase looking like a rollercoaster.
My face lands in his palm, his red eyes helping me find reality. “So fucked up you didn’t know you were kissing Delilah Daniels?”
“What?” My muscles vibrate, a buzz tingling my skin and I’m not sure if it’s from Adam’s pills or that kiss.
Delilah.
Delilah?
Delilah!
Her name rings in my head, a warmth washing over me.
It’s been a while since I’ve been on this shit and it appears I’m a fucking lightweight. My brain’s foggier than an east coast morning. Way too foggy to make sense of what the fuck they’re talking about.
“Hammer?”
A familiar voice rings through my head, one that makes me wince. One that makes the church walls close in.
“Mariam.” Adam’s voice is next, his more mellow and calming. He swings a long arm around me, holding me up. “Care to give us a ride?”
That’s the last thing I hear before a breeze hits my face, a bottle of water coming to my chest. I gather where I am as I grasp the bottle in my hands, my mouth pasty and dry. White leather seats and gospel music in the background means we’re in Mariam’s latest BMW. Pulling the bottle to my mouth, I take a long chug before I wince.
“Shit, sorry.” Adam leans in close to me, vodka on his breath. “I thought we’d keep the party going. Keep celebrating your first day back.” He pats my back.
I take another drink of what I now know is vodka. I’m already way too fucked up to care. “We are.” Except it’s not a celebration. It’s more of a funeral. The one I never had for my best friend. The one for my sobriety.
The moon highlights the paved streets ahead, making Clementine look more magical than the hell it is. Craving more wind, I push my head out the window. The song Mariam’s playing only heightens the bells ringing in my head, melodic harmonies making me feel like I’m in a music video.
“If I knew you were coming back today I would’ve cancelled Bible study.” Mariam’s voice cuts through my scene. Adam pulls me back in by my shirt. He shakes his head and it’s hard not to laugh before I take another long sip from the bottle. Adam sneaks a bump beside me, long hair hiding the key when he leans over. Milo picks up my laugh in front of me in the passenger’s seat, arm out the window, red hair hitting the roof. Man, we’re a fucked up trio.
I can see Mariam’s face scrunch in the rearview. “What?” A cold blue eye glances my way. “What’s so funny?”
Adam wipes his thumb along his nose. “No need to worry about Hammer. He’s doing what he does best, hammering away.”
Red and blue lights flash in the distance as I sink into my seat. Fire trucks still sit outside the bookstore, half of it darkened and burnt.
“Woah!” Mariam’s head whips to the store before she returns her eyes to the road. “What happened? Should we stop?”
My nostrils flare as her name rings through my head again. “They’ll be alright,” I mumble, way too stuck in my seat to say much else. But it’s the truth. Taking another swig, I pull my hoodie over my head but it’s hard to ignore the urge prickling my skin. My leg bounces as I close my eyes, trying to forget the events of this evening. Of this summer. Of this year.
Why the fuck did I come back?
Fuck this. I’m checking out. Another nudge with my knee gets Adam’s attention before my finger taps twice on my nose. He slides me the small bag before he pats on the back of Mariam’s seat. “Let’s get this man home!” He’s way too coked up to sit still. “To the Godfrey estate!”
“Okay! Calm down. We’re all excited to see Gabe.” Mariam smiles at me in the rearview and I look out the window, pretending I don’t see it. She asks about my missionary trip but I’m still too out of it to give her any attention. Too fucked up to tell her it wasn’t a missionary trip at all. The guys keep her distracted, while I do another bump. They make up stories about the children I met, the sermons I gave, the people I touched.
Truth is, I’m not the same guy that left Clementine. There’s only one reason I’m back in this town and it’s not Mariam.
The bottle’s almost done when we get to our street, most of the damage done by me, proving that I’m still the same Hammer. The god I claim. The wind on my face pushes the rolling in my stomach down enough for us to get through the gate, into the marble and stone driveway. My hand on the door stops me from tumbling right out of the car when I open it. Milo hops out the front to give me a hand.
“Is he okay?” Mariam asks, heels clicking on the driveway when she gets out of her car. The house is lit up like a museum, but I know no one’s inside.
“Uh, yeap.” Adam smacks my face and it makes me laugh, the sting buzzing my skin. “Just a little jetlagged, aren’t ya mate?”
Something incoherent comes out of my mouth. Don’t know what I said but Mariam doesn’t ask again. Adam grabs the keys from my pocket, already used to the drill.
Their chatter warbles in and out as I stumble through the swivelling door, sneakers squeaking against the marble. Sensored lights fade on as I sway through the main hall. Biblical paintings and family photos tilt on their nails as I barrel through.
A loud thud startles me when I slam into a large painting of Jesus. I tell Jesus to shut the fuck up as I keep moving towards the open living room. The fireplace is a blur between floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with Bibles and religious literature. My stomach rolls. Being here makes coming home feel all too real. Too permanent.
Turning around, the room seems smaller, and for this house, that’s saying a lot. My eyes come to the glass display at the back of the room, a gold medal hanging in the middle. Pulling it around my neck, I’m brought back to that night, the chants and cheers from the crowd loud in my head.
“What’re you doing?” Mariam leans against the white wall, her arms crossed before a smile forms on her lips. “Being the star you are?”
“What are you doing?” I ask, wondering why she’s even in my home.
“Mare, can you give us a minute?” Adam asks, pulling me by the medal. “Make that fifteen. We need to uh, tidy Gabe’s room.”
With the guys already dragging me down the hall, I don’t hear her response. If it was up to me I’d send her home. She doesn’t have far to go, her family living across the street.
As soon as the door closes, I flop in the middle of the floor. More marble. It’s cold. Soothing. I’ve never had much say in the appearance of my room, but right now I’m thankful it’s spacious and empty. The only thing
reminiscent of me is the hockey merch framed on the stone walls around the room.
“So … Delilah got hot.” Tilting my head back, Milo settles on my bed with more pillows than I remember. He swipes through his phone as Adam reaches for my mirror on top of the dresser.
My abs tighten, hands clasped across my stomach. “Delilah?” Didn’t I hear her name moments ago? Didn’t I see her this afternoon?
Adam brings the mirror over to the glass coffee table behind me. “Look at him.” He chuckles, dropping into the white couch. “He’s pissed.”
“Pissed in love.” Milo tosses his phone, hopping over the back of the sofa from the bed. “I’ve never seen you kiss anyone like that.”
“Like what?” The room starts to level out, my peak coming down and I’m happy Adam already has some lines racked up. But, the fuck are they talking about?
My eyes on the wood panelling in the ceiling, the pot-lights blur but I can still hear the sound of Adam tapping a card against the glass.
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Milo laughs. One that tells me he’s as far from sober as I am. “Delilah is Grade-A primo. And if you’re not interested, I sure as hell am.”
“Delilah’s hot but did you see Hazel?” Adam asks. “She got knockers this summer.”
“She’s a fucking prude.” A long sniff comes from behind me and when I tilt my head back again, Milo has a rolled-up hundo in his hand. He wiggles his nose. “Worse than Mariam.”
“Well, this year’s about to be fucking interesting, innit?” Adam takes the bill from Milo, holding it out to me. His head hits the seat and that’s the exact feeling I’m chasing. Crawling towards them, my eyes stay on my next release.
“The short line’s for you. You need to take it easy,” Adam warns. “You’re a noob all over again.”
That’s the last thing he says before I take a long snort of that sweet, sweet powder. My mind goes numb. So does my body.