Jessica grabbed the handheld microphone that fed into his invisible earpiece. “Then stop talking to yourself.”
The jangle of the bell above the door triggered a Pavlovian response in Dog’s Gaughter, and for a moment, she forgot that the place was no longer hers. Then, with a jolt, she remembered.
A college-age girl Jessica didn’t recognize sat on a tall stool behind the counter and called, “Welcome to It is Risen, the official bakery of Jessica Christ.”
“Yuck,” Jessica said. “They’re really calling me Jessica Christ there? That’s terrible.”
Her half-brother nodded morosely. “You get used to it.”
From the monitor came the sound of Jeremy clearing his throat. “Greetings! What a kind welcome.”
“Is this your first time here?” the girl asked, looking less than thrilled to recite the script.
“Why, yes, yes it is. My very first. Mind if I have a look around?”
She shrugged a shoulder and turned to the next page in her magazine.
The camera panned side to side and Jessica could only imagine what Jeremy looked like at that moment, turning his whole torso rather than his head. Too late, she realized they should have given him a neck brace to explain the strange movement. Next time she needed to commit corporate espionage against Satan, she supposed.
In the course of his movement, she saw that the tables were mostly packed. Granted, it was the tail end of lunchtime, but still. She’d hoped no one would frequent the bakery now that she wasn’t there and the recipes had changed.
You only ever got people there through gimmicks. Dolores actually knows business. Or she can manipulate people who do.
But didn’t Jessica also do that? Manipulate people who knew things? That was how Wendy and Cash and Maria always danced around for her.
No, that was different. Somehow.
She leaned toward the microphone again. “Get us a look at the goods.”
Jeremy complied, leaning close to the case.
“That’s a good angle,” she instructed. “Now move slowly to the left … but don’t, you know, crab walk or anything weird. Slow down.” She looked over the selection. “Do they all look identical to you?”
“Mm-hm,” muttered Jeremy.
“Ask the clerk about the ingredients.”
Jeremy presumably crab walked back to the counter to speak with the girl behind it. “So, it’s all gluten-free?”
“Absolutely.”
“What, uh, flours do you use?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Gluten-free ones.”
“So, they’re not made gluten-free through the use of miracles?”
Her exhale closely resembled a laugh. “No.”
“But they used to be made that way, right?”
“Again, no.”
Jessica whispered, “Lying bitch,” just as the camera lurched. Someone had come out from the back, giving Jeremy a start.
“Can I help you?” said Dolores Thomas in a saccharine tone that made Jessica want to smite a few watermelons. But then again, was there a tone Dolores could take that wouldn’t leave Jessica feeling a little smitey? She suspected not.
The Devil prowled around the counter so that nothing stood between her and Jeremy but air and, according to him, enough microwaves from cell phones to make a prize stallion sterile.
However, the media mogul stood his ground. “I was just asking this fine young lady about—”
“He thought we used miracles.”
Dolores giggled. “Common mistake. But no, unfortunately there was a propaganda campaign by the previous owner to spread those lies. Seems incredibly irresponsible, if you ask me. It was eventually discovered that she was using wheat flour in everything and calling it gluten-free. She could have killed someone. She might even have killed someone with celiac without anyone realizing it!”
Jeremy took it in stride. “Ah. New ownership?”
She stared at him for a moment, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Yes. In addition to being reckless with the health of her customers, the last owner also ran the place into the ground financially, until I took over, that is. Have you not seen this on the news?”
“I don’t watch the news. Mostly lies.”
Dolores smiled. “Too true. Anywho, she was emotionally unstable. I’ve been rebuilding this place ever since she left.”
“You’re talking about the daughter of God?”
“Yes, she believes herself to be that. And I will say, it doesn’t hurt the branding.”
“What’s with the faces?” He nodded at the case.
“Just a little holdover. Like I said, doesn’t hurt the branding. You’d know an It is Risen cookie the moment you saw it, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded. “That’s right. I would.”
“So,” she said, stepping forward. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’ll take a dozen of those sugar cookies.”
Jessica spat into the mic, “You’re not supposed to give her your actual business, Jeremy!”
He ignored her, and Dolores personally selected and boxed up the cookies while the young woman accepted his payment.
After, Dolores handed him the box over the glass display case, and when he reached for them, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand. Her convivial tone was gone now, and her voice cut like a serrated knife. “Tell Jessica that if she sends another angel spy into my establishment, I’ll stop playing nice.”
Jeremy didn’t answer, which was smart enough when it came to self-incrimination. He hurried out of the bakery and cut the feed.
Jessica wandered out into the living room and flopped across the floor cushions.
Jesus was kind enough to join her, plopping himself down near her head. “Sheesh. What a meanie. Just when I think she can’t get meaner …”
“Yeah, Jesus. She’s the Devil.” Jess shoved her head into the pillow and groaned.
Dolores was not just an obstacle to Jessica owning her own brand, it was so much more than that, had been so much more than that since the moment Jessica’s phone had gained reception in the middle of nowhere on her way back from Caren Powers’ women’s retreat in Carlsbad and the deluge of text messages had alerted her to the truth she’d never wanted to see.
The Devil was a woman. How was she supposed to get around that fact? Was there any getting around it? Making God a woman was supposed to change things, to bring peace to the United States, but could she ever hope to accomplish that if word got out that the Devil was also a woman? She had a hunch the public would be much more likely to believe that part of the story. Not a far jump from the scapegoat of Eve to a female Satan. More like a half-step for many. And a half-step they would be happy to take.
But more importantly, she still couldn’t wrap her head around it all.
How can God be a woman if the Devil is?
WE’VE BOTH BEEN MEN FOR CENTURIES.
She’s going to ruin everything, isn’t she? I can’t fully expose her to the world without her making all women look bad.
WHY DO YOU SUPPOSE I CREATED THE DEVIL?
Same reason you created Original Mistake? You were bored? I really don’t know. Why don’t you just tell me?
OH, NO, I WAS TRULY WONDERING IF YOU HAD AN INKLING. THE LORD CANNOT REMEMBER.
I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.
PROBABLY. I’LL THINK OF IT.
Do you even want to be a woman?
I WANT PEACE.
And you’re sure this is the only way to get it?
“Hey,” Jesus cut in. “I know you’re having a conversation. I can tell by your eyes. Fill me in.”
“We’re talking about creating peace in the United States.”
AND THE DEVIL BEING A WOMAN.
“Ah,” said Jesus.
“If Jimmy Dean even so much as gets a whiff that the Devil is a woman,” Jessica said, “he’ll take it and run. He’ll start preaching about ‘And so it was that Original Sin took the form of the D
evil, and the Devil is woman.’ And then all of his followers will get all riled up, and you know what that means, not just for me, but for the local pig population.”
Jesus cringed. “Then do not tell Jimmy. Not yet.”
AGREED. THERE WILL COME A TIME WHEN YOU MAY NEED TO TELL HIM, BUT WAIT. THINGS ARE ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE FOR HIM.
“Worse than a bestiality scandal?” The excitement in her voice surprised her.
TELL ME, CHILD. HAVE YOU HEARD MUCH ABOUT THAT LATELY?
“No. I guess it’s kind of died down.”
HAS BEEN COVERED UP. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE. BUT THE LORD SHINETH HIS—
“Her—”
SORRY, HER LIGHT UPON LIES. THE TRUTH WILL GLOW BRIGHT FOR ALL TO SEE.
“Not to downplay your mighty-and-all-that flashlight abilities, but I don’t know if I want to see much more of this one.”
FAIR POINT.
Jessica sighed. “I guess I haven’t really confronted my feelings about the Devil being a woman.”
ADD IT TO THE LIST OF THINGS YOU HAVE NOT YET CONFRONTED.
“Not helping, Dad,” Jesus muttered. He turned to his sister. “I hadn’t considered this side of the matter, but I imagine it’s been difficult for you.”
“She was my teacher. She knew me for years. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who believed in me. How am I supposed to trust women now?”
“You trust your mother.”
“Well, yeah.”
“And you trust our delightful friend Judith.”
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
“And you trust Wendy.”
“… Yeah, okay. But should I? I mean, what do I know? They could be in league with Dolores, playing the long game. How do I know that’s not the case?”
Jesus gazed into her face, placing a hand on her cheek. “You can never know that it is not the case.”
“You knew, didn’t you? You knew one of your friends would betray you.”
“Yes, I knew he would. But other friends betrayed me along the way that I did not see coming.”
She pushed herself up to lean on her elbows. “Really?”
Jesus nodded.
“You mind if I ask who?”
“Not at all. For a start, there was Gunther.”
“Gunther.”
“Yes. He was a dear friend of mine, and he betrayed me by selling my favorite pair of sandals to buy himself a wife.”
HEADS UP, DAUGHTER, THERE IS A LOT TO UNPACK ON THIS ONE.
I don’t even know where to start.
BEST IF YOU DO NOT.
But her curiosity got the best of her. “Is Gunther … is he in the Bible?”
“No.” Jesus straightened his spine and lifted his chin. “He was a meanie. I made sure it was clear that he was not to be included.”
“But what about the other guy who betrayed you?”
“Judas? He got to stay in. It’s … complicated.”
“Getting you nailed to a cross isn’t as bad as selling off your sandals?”
Jesus shoulders slumped. “They were really good sandals, Jessica. The point is that we can never know who will betray us, whether they mean to or not. Don’t you think the world would be a much better place if there was a way to know that? Friendships would be wholehearted with no fear of abandonment or broken oaths. We wouldn’t hide behind our many shields when it came to speaking our truths. But the world doesn’t work like that. The people we love most hurt us regularly, and the more love you give to the world, the greater the opportunity for pain.”
Her top lip curled. “You’re really making a case for taking off into the wilderness and never returning.”
“Been there.”
She paused and gave his words an honest chance to settle in. “You’re telling me I should knowingly open myself up to more pain?”
“If it means more love, yes.”
“You think I should reach out and try to make things right with Dolores?”
Jesus gasped. “Oh, Heaven, no. That would just be stupid.”
“Right, right. So, uh, what are you saying?”
Jesus considered it for a moment, but before he could answer, the front door burst open, and Jeremy stumbled in, out of breath, holding the box of cookies and wearing a wild grin. “I dunno about you guys, but I think that went pretty well.”
Chapter Nine
Jessica was thinking about dogs. That was what she usually did while working at Waverly Hills Retirement Center. It was either that or thinking about death, which paced up and down the hallway like a prison guard.
There were a handful of residents who Jessica had taken a liking to in the course of her visits. Jan Bradford was lovely and always had a jar of orange slices ready to hand out to visitors. The woman was also a devout Catholic and thought it was just wonderful what Jessica was trying to do for women. Did she truly believe Jessica was God’s daughter? Who gave a shit, really? She was kind, and she had candy.
Then there was Santori Dukas, a Greek man in his eighties who delighted in asking Jessica who her enemies were and then cursing their names for upsetting such a sweet young woman. He didn’t have candy, but he offered something even sweeter with his outrage.
But today, she wasn’t asked to visit Jan or Santori or any of her other favorites. Instead, the nurse had asked her to go check on Rosemary Heathrow. Rosemary (pronounced rose-mah-REE if you didn’t want to set her off) was the absolute worst assignment. Jessica had taken to approaching the white-haired wight with caution after the woman had insisted she was the Devil and gone after her with the Precious Moments figurine.
Why the nurse in charge of volunteers thought she should ever go back into that woman’s room, Jessica couldn’t understand. Maybe the nurse was a demon. Either way, Jessica would give the nurse’s name to Santori next time she saw him.
Jessica approached the door to Mrs. Heathrow’s room. The woman was lying in her bed, watching the TV that sat atop her standard-issue dresser. Would it be wrong to just back out and spend the next hour with someone else?
Not that wrong, she decided.
But as she tried to inch out without the woman seeing her, she was summoned. “If they sent me the Devil again, then you might as well come in.”
“You shouldn’t invite the Devil into your room,” Jessica advised.
“You would enter anyway. But I don’t fear you. I’m a holy woman. I’ve lived a holy life.”
Tell that to the figurines you smashed.
“I suppose you’re here to tempt me,” Rosemary said without looking away from the television.
“Sure, why not?”
“Then go on.”
Shit, this woman was insufferably pious. “How about we just watch the news instead? I can tempt you later.”
Finally, Rosemary pulled her focus from the screen to shoot a sharp look Jessica’s way. “I don’t make a habit of taking suggestions from the Devil, but seeing as how I had plans to watch the news anyway …”
Thank whoever. Watching two hours of Sanctum News on repeat wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the alternative.
After a half hour of it, Jessica thought she might prefer to have porcelain objects chucked at her instead. The news, which she made a point never to watch, was a parading horror show. Suddenly, she found herself unable to really blame someone like Rosemary for thinking the end was nigh.
Three dead in a car accident on I-35 just north of Austin. A bridge collapsing due to flooding just west of the interstate. A school shooting in Dallas. Another school shooting just outside of Dallas. The anniversary of a high-profile kidnapping where bits of the girl’s body were found in a swampy part of coastal Texas. A school shooting in McAllen, but not a major one. Continued trial coverage of a mother who drowned three kids in Amarillo. An outbreak of antibiotic-resistant syphilis on the Texas Tech campus. A man and a woman arrested for beating their child to death. A manhunt for three skinheads who beat a gay man into a coma. A school shooting in Baton Rouge on the two-year anniversa
ry of a previous school shooting there. A memorial for three police officers who were run over on the side of the road one year ago today. A protest against police brutality on the one-year anniversary of a black man being shot while taking out the trash. A school bus carrying a championship high school volleyball team T-boned by a semi-truck on I-10, no survivors. An oil spill in the gulf. Two teens abducted from the beach while cleaning up after the oil spill. A law suit against University of Texas for covering up rape-based incentives for high-performing male water polo players. A school shooting in Alabama that was officially the worst in the state’s history, with fatalities still climbing. An obstetrician’s house wrongfully burned to the ground in protest of abortions she didn’t perform. A gunman entering an office building in Oklahoma City and opening fire on his ex and her coworkers. A memorial service to honor the thousands of Texan soldiers killed overseas in the last decade. An announcement of the 6th Annual Waffle Festival next Saturday! A 5,000 acre wildfire just east of Austin displacing nearly thirty-thousand people. Footage of two meth heads driving a car into a liquor store to rob it. A drug bust of five hundred pounds of cocaine coming up from Mexico. An elementary school on lockdown in San Antonio, no casualties reported. An outbreak of flu in border detention facilities. Internet sensation Pookie the Pugnacious Poodle is coming to Austin!
Jessica nonchalantly searched the room until she located the remote. It was on the bedside table between her and Rosemary. It was her only hope. She had to get to it. She had to.
While Rosemary shouted at the TV about Mexicans, Jessica made her move, grabbing the remote and desperately clicking up a channel.
“What the—” Rosemary whipped her head around, but Jessica had already hidden the remote out of sight.
“I dunno, that’s so weird that it just changed the channel like that.”
The old woman narrowed her eyes. “Just like the Devil to pull an old trick like that.”
Jessica just shrugged. But then she realized how little she’d accomplished, as this channel was showing news, too.
Rosemary yelled, “Not this station! Nothing but lies from the liberal sinners! They want us to sin, but you already knew that.”
The coverage switched from the weather report to a breaking story. On screen, a news anchor in a startlingly green dress said, “New videos surfaced online today, reigniting the recent rumors about White Light Church and its role in a spate of recent bestiality involving pigs. Railroad Commissioner Reverend Jimmy Dean, the founder of White Light Church has issued an official statement in response to the issue saying, ‘The videos that surfaced recently are undeniably sinful behavior that our church network condemns wholeheartedly. The events are isolated incidents that occurred months back, and we have already dealt with those involved and addressed the issue with our various congregations. We do not expect any further incidents of animal relations to occur.’ ”
The End Is Her Page 5