If only that blow to my head wasn’t so hard and I stil didn’t feel so goddamn dizzy.
I needed another option.
I needed a miracle.
Then one arrived.
41
Guilty
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” I heard from the doorway.
“He never showed.”
Jason’s voice. From where he stood, he could see only Locke from behind, sitting in his chair.
“Ahem,” Locke said, “this isn’t the best time.” He put his hand on my head.
“Sir?”
“Just go, Jason. I’l see you tomorrow.” Locke pressed down harder, holding me in place.
“Al right, sir,” Jason said.
I pushed Locke’s hand away and jumped up.
“Jason!” I screamed.
Jason was already walking away. He turned and his eyes opened wide. “Kevin?” I saw he was looking at the open gash on my forehead.
“Jason,” I said, running toward him. “You have to help me. He’s crazy!”
Locke stood up, his pants at his ankles, his underwear tented and damp. “What are you talking about?” he asked me. Then, to Jason, “He was here when I got here tonight. He tried to seduce me!”
“Looks like it was working.” Jason chuckled. Then, remembering his position, he added, “Sir.”
I grabbed Jason’s arm. “He was going to kil me.
Look!” I pointed at the letter opener in Locke’s hand.
“This?” Locke let the weapon fal from his grasp. “I didn’t even remember I had this. My mind was on . . .
other things.”
I bet.
“Don’t believe him, Jason,” I begged.
Jason put his arm around me. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to my forehead. “Calm down, Kevin. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for al this.”
Jason had to believe me. “I’m not the first one he’s tried to kil ,” I told him. “There have been others.
Brooklyn Roy. And Sammy White Tee. Rueben and my friend Randy, but Randy didn’t die and . . .”
Locke looked at Jason. “I don’t even know who those people are.” He looked down for a moment and then back at Jason. “Wait, there was a boy named Roy, right? And wasn’t there a Randy?”
Jason squeezed my shoulder harder and started walking me out of the room. “Kevin, it sounds like you’ve had a very traumatic night. Why don’t we let Father Locke col ect himself and talk this out . . .”
Locke interrupted him. “Wait a minute, Jason.
Sammy White Tee—could that have been that young man Samuel you introduced me to? The one you told me had written the fan mail?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Not now, Father. Kevin, let’s get out of here.”
“No, let the boy talk,” Locke insisted. He bent over and pul ed up his pants, regaining a bit of his authority in the process. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“No, you don’t,” Jason insisted. “It’s just a lot of nonsense and you need to . . .”
“‘Nonsense!’ ” I shouted. “No, wait, you don’t understand. Locke hired these boys, he had sex with them, and now they’re al dead or . . .”
Before I had a chance to react, Jason drew his hand back and smacked me against the cheek. The unexpected impact sent me sprawling to the floor.
“That’s enough from you, Kevin.”
Locke walked toward him in long, quick steps, his arms pumping. “What are you doing, Jason? I told you . . .”
Jason turned to him in a fury. “You shut up, old man! Just shut up!”
Locke hadn’t been hit like me, but he stumbled backward anyway.
“How dare you,” Locke hissed. “Who do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am?” Jason laughed. “Who do I think I am? I’m the man who made you, you old fool.
I’m your creator, Father. I decide what you do, who you meet, what you say, and when. I’m your scheduler and your planner and your pimp. I’m the man who’s been cleaning up your messes, the ones you’ve been stupid enough to leave behind. I’m the man you owe everything to. I’m the man who knows al your secrets, you dumb faggot. I know where the bodies are buried.
“I’m your god.”
Locke blanched and looked unsteady on his feet.
He fel back into his chair. “Judas,” he whispered under his breath. “Blasphemer.”
Jason reached behind his back and pul ed a smal pistol from his belt. He pointed it at me. “And now I have one more mess to clean up.” He sighed. “Oh, Kevin. I had such for high hopes for you.”
“No,” Locke thundered from his seat. “Jason, why are you doing this?”
“Ask your little butt buddy,” Jason answered, waving his pistol at me.
I glared at him.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jason asked me. “Oh, I forgot, you probably don’t go much for pussy, do you?”
My mind struggled to figure out what was going on here.
Locke seemed to know at least some of the boys who’d gotten kil ed, but had no idea what happened to them. Meanwhile, Jason not only knew what was going on, but the gun in his hand made me think he might be the kil er. But why?
And how come he didn’t have an accent anymore?
“How about I get you started?” Jason said, his tone condescending. “Our friend Father Locke here”—Jason spat out the name as if it were venom
—“has certain . . . appetites. Needs he can’t control.
Urges.”
Locke turned even paler. His eyes fil ed with tears.
“When I started working with him, I heard things around the office. Rumors. People wondered about his propensity for hiring young male interns. They talked about how he’d take them on trips with him.
Or meet behind closed doors for longer than seemed necessary. Such ugly rumors. Who would say such things?
“Stil , this kind of talk wasn’t going to help me one little bit. I hitched my wagon to Locke because I wanted to take him places. I knew from the beginning that he had political potential, and I had every intention of going along for the ride. His . . .
inconvenient hobbies threatened to derail that train.
“Stil , it was al just rumors and scuttlebutt. The vast majority of Locke’s fol owers never heard any of it, and even if they did, those brainwashed idiots wouldn’t believe a word. I figured that as long as Locke was discreet, we’d be OK.
“Then, one day, a twenty-one-year-old office assistant came to me in tears. He said that Locke was constantly making comments about his appearance, brushing against him, touching him inappropriately. Final y, he claimed that Locke told him that if he wanted to advance in Locke’s ministry, he was going to have to do ‘whatever it took’ to get ahead.
“You remember Charlie, don’t you, sir?”
Locke began to tremble. His pal or turned from white to green. He turned his head, unable to meet Jason’s eyes.
“By that time, I was working as an assistant to Locke’s chief of staff. I went to Locke and told him the situation. At first, Locke denied everything. But I was young back then, and not too bad-looking myself. It wasn’t too hard to get him talking.
“After getting him to understand just how bad a public accusation like this would be, Locke agreed to let me pay off Charlie to keep quiet. Sure, I had to skim ten thousand dol ars that we’d raised to support inner-city churches, but, hey, who cares about poor people, anyway?” He jerked his thumb over at Locke. “Certainly not this hypocrite. Neither did Charlie. He took the money and ran.
“Once I knew Locke’s secret, I had power over him. It wasn’t long before I moved up to the chief of staff position myself. Locke came to trust me more and more, didn’t you, Father?
“Eight months later, another young man came to me complaining about Locke’s behavior. Lucas. Big blond strapping boy. Even though I’m not into guys, I had to admit you had good taste on that one, sir.
“Lucas asked if he
could meet me after work. At a local bar, he poured out his heart to me. I did my best to contain the situation. I offered him the same ten thousand dol ars Charlie had taken, and, when that didn’t work, doubled it. Unfortunately, dear Lucas wasn’t about to be bought off.
“Lucas, bless his heart, was a true believer.
Although he’d come to hate Locke—sorry, sir—he liked and trusted me. He told me the only reason he’d come to me was to give me fair notice before going to the press.
“I have to say, I was impressed by his integrity.
Even his thoughtfulness touched me—imagine, thinking of my welfare at such a stressful time for him.
“I walked him out to his car and commended him on his character. Then I broke his neck.”
Locke doubled over and threw up into a garbage can beside his desk.
“See?” Jason said to me. “Weak. Without me pushing him, protecting him, he’d stil be preaching to fat housewives on cable TV.”
Locke looked up, a smear of vomit staining his shirt. “You told me Lucas went back to school,” he cried.
“Because I knew you couldn’t deal with the truth, old man. You’d never accept what needed to be done.”
Jason turned back to me. “Soon enough, I realized I had a real problem on my hands. Locke wasn’t going to give up dick, and one day I was the one who was going to get fucked. Metaphorical y, of course.
So, I started hiring male prostitutes.”
Locke started to get up from his chair again.
“What?”
“Sit down,” Jason ordered, and Locke obeyed. “I figured it was worth a couple of hundred bucks to get a professional to do the job. It wasn’t like the cash was coming from my pocket, after al . We had plenty of money pouring into the ministry.
“I told Locke the boys were fans, or volunteers, whatever, and arranged the meetings. Every couple of months was enough to keep the old man satisfied.
The rumors about Locke died down and I counted on the fact that confidentiality was one of the perks of hiring pros.
“But after we came to New York, and I’d gone through a few boys for Locke, one of them approached me at the office. The one you cal ed Sammy, I think. The kid was no dummy. He’d seen Locke’s commercials and thought this could be his big pay-day. He told me he had pictures of his assignation with Locke, and that he’d take them to the press if we didn’t pay him one hundred thousand dol ars.”
“So, you kil ed him, too,” I said.
“See, I knew you were a bright boy,” Jason said.
“But you realized,” I continued, “that the other boys were potential problems, too.”
“Exactly right. And that was part of my job.
Cleaning up after Locke’s messes.”
Locke looked like he was going to toss his cookies again. My own stomach was queasy enough with fear that I real y hoped he wouldn’t.
“You kil ed them?” Locke asked, his voice quivering. “You kil ed them al ?”
Jason cocked his head to the side and gave Locke the sideways grin that seemed so charming to me only hours before. Now, it was chil ing.
“Just looking out for you, sir.”
“Bastard!” Locke screamed. With a speed that surprised me, Locke leapt from his chair, grabbing the letter opener as he charged toward Jason. “Not in my name!”
Casual y, as if using bug spray on a fly, Jason leveled his pistol at Locke and shot him. Locke crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him.
“Oh my God!” I screamed, feeling myself becoming hysterical. “You kil ed him!”
“That? Please. I shot him in the shoulder. I’m surprised he even passed out, but given what a wimp he is, I guess I shouldn’t be. No, as soon as I wrap things up with you, I’l cal an ambulance, and he’l be good as new.”
“How can you do that?” I asked. I was trying to get him off balance, force him to make a mistake. Up til now, he’d been unflappably cool and levelheaded.
As I was a nervous wreck, Jason’s calm put me at a distinct disadvantage. I needed him distracted.
“Won’t he turn you in to the police the moment he can?” I asked.
“And say what?” Jason asked me derisively. “Tel them that I’ve been kil ing the man-whores he’s been fucking? Throw away his entire career, his reputation, just to avenge some street trash he never even thought of again once he was done with them? I don’t think so, Kevin. Locke owes me everything. I’ve been manipulating him behind the scenes for years now.
“The only thing that’s going to change is that I’l be able to be more open with him about who’s in charge here. It should actual y make things easier for me.
“Too bad for you, though. We’re going to need someone to blame for the shooting, you know.” He looked at me dismissively. “I guess that’s where you come in.”
42
I Can Do It
“You’re going to try and pin this on me?” I asked.
“Sorry,” Jason said. “I real y did like you. Of course, I thought you’d be useful, too. A pretty young thing like you. It was clear you worshipped Locke.
Plus, you were obviously a homosexual.”
Not that it was an insult to be cal ed gay, but I thought I’d played it pretty straight. “Real y?”
“Wel , duh,” Jason answered. “To be fair, I’m kind of an expert at reading people. I hoped that by putting you in front of Locke, giving you some time alone with him, you would be the perfect solution to my problem.
“You know, you’re the real reason Locke didn’t fly to DC today. I told him about you and he canceled his plans, just to meet the cute little piece of ass who’d wandered in off the street. What an idiot he is.
“Not that I minded. My hope was that Locke would be attracted to you and want to keep you around. Not only would that make it easier for me—no more trol ing for hustlers, thank you very much—but I’d have you around to help me out, too. You real y are a bright kid, Kevin. It could have been a win-win for everyone.
“When I walked in just now with you kneeling between Locke’s legs, wel , I thought it al worked out just right. Talk about a perfect plan! Then you had to start screaming about murder and blow the whole thing. Or, blow the wrong thing, I suppose.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Sorry to let you down,” I mumbled.
Jason shrugged as if he was dismissing a petty annoyance. “It was pretty disappointing, I can tel you that.”
“You had it al worked out,” I said. I was stil on the floor, Jason stil had the gun. I figured my best bet was to keep him talking until . . . wel , I real y didn’t have much of a plan after that.
“I told you, Kevin, that’s my job. Making sure things work out.”
“But al those kil ings, Jason? You were a theology major. You started working for Locke because you believed in his message of peace. How could you betray al that?”
Jason threw his head back and laughed. “You believed al that shit? So did Locke. There is no
‘Jason Carter.’ I made him up. The school records, the family, the work history. Al invented. I saw an opportunity with Locke and I went for it. I said whatever I needed to say to make Locke like me. To make him trust me.”
“What about your wife and children?” I asked him.
“What wife and children?” he asked.
“The picture on your desk.”
Jason laughed again. “Everyone fal s for that one.
That’s the picture that came with the frame, Kevin.”
When am I going to learn to trust my instincts?
“Even the name. Jason Carter. It’s one of the first rules of the long con—use a name your target wil relate to. He’s Jacob, I went with Jason. I knew a narcissist like him would go for that one.”
“You’re good,” I admitted.
“The best.”
“Why’d you wear the eye patch?” I had to confirm it was him at the hospital.
“Why do you think?”
“A distraction?”
>
He touched a finger to his nose. “Bingo. You want to guess why I picked the last name?”
I thought about it for moment. “The initials.”
Jason’s smile was genuine. “You are smart. Those Biblethumpers al love them some J. C.”
It was kind of ironic. I had social engineered my way into Locke’s life, and so had Jason.
I remembered what it was like when I was Kevin Johnson. The approval and access were seductive.
My double identity was a heady, powerful secret to keep.
At the same time, though, it was a lonely place to be. People liked me, but not the real me. If they knew who I real y was, they’d never accept me.
And everyone wants to be accepted for who they real y are.
They need it.
When I was in school, I was a psychology major. In my first course, we studied the work of Abraham Maslow, whose hierarchy of needs is one of the most widely accepted tenets of modern psychology.
Maslow proposed that al human beings have the same basic needs, which he placed in a pyramid with five levels. At the bottom are the physiological needs, like food and shelter. As you work your way up, though, the needs become more psychosocial, until you reach the top. There, you find the needs to be accepted, to be valued, to be appreciated.
Without having those needs met, you can never be fulfil ed.
Every week, men paid me thousands of dol ars to be with me. If al they wanted was an orgasm, they could jerk off and save a lot of money.
What were those men seeking if not a person with whom they could feel accepted? Maybe even loved.
For who they real y were.
Even if they wanted to dress like a clown or play with feet or put me to sleep with a china cup. They al wanted to be loved.
Earlier, when I was trying to gain the upper hand with Locke, I thought that al I knew how to do was seduce men.
I sold myself short.
What I did, what I was good at, was understanding what a man needs and giving it to him. Sex was only a tool I used to make him feel, even if just for a moment, even if it was paid for, what he needed to feel.
Jason had been living a lie for many years, now.
I had a sense I knew what he needed.
Second You Sin Page 29