Father Read online

“No …” She smiles. “But everyone needs someone sometimes …”

  “I don’t need a pity fuck,” I reply.

  She raises a brow and shakes her head. “It’s not.” Then she opens the curtains.

  “So you wanted this?” I ask before she goes.

  She doesn’t answer. All she does is smile and close the curtains, leaving me here with my dick out. I’m completely wiped out by one girl and her fingers.

  With what remaining energy I have, I make the sign of the cross on my chest. “Jesus Christ, I beg your forgiveness … because, by God, this woman will make me commit more sins than I ever have.”

  9

  In my tank top, I sit on the bench in the park, enjoying the breezy wind. For the first time in ages, I’m completely sober, and it feels so damn … strange.

  Like I can see the world through a much clearer lens. And I’m not sure if I like it yet.

  Still, it’s something I think I can be mildly proud of. I may be a shitty preacher, but at least now I’m not also a drunk one.

  It’s sunny outside, the perfect day for a random visit to the park.

  Except for the fact it’s not so random that I’m here.

  You see, in the middle of the park, a group of women is having a yoga session that involves lots of stretching and downward dogs. Now, you might be thinking I’m a giant perv, and on that, I would have to agree, but there is one clear difference from my normal routine.

  Yes, I’ve done this before, albeit with a different group of women in an entirely different park. And I mean, what man doesn’t like perky lady butts in spandex? A gay man.

  No, I’m not ashamed.

  Today, I don’t give a shit about any of those women … except one.

  Laura.

  She’s been on my mind ever since that spicy encounter in the confessional, and I’ve wanted to talk to her since. But one doesn’t just casually stroll up to a woman and discuss dirty sex, now do they?

  No.

  However, I’m not letting this slide either.

  She did something to me that can’t be undone.

  When she stepped into that confessional and touched herself right in front of me, she opened a door neither of us can close.

  Now that I’ve had a small sample of what she has to offer, I want more. So much more.

  She makes me unable to control myself, and for a man with needs like mine, that’s a dangerous thing.

  I’ve followed her all the way from her home to this park just to watch her. I don’t know if that’s creepy or not, but I just grasped any opportunity I could to see her. I have yet to think of an appropriate moment to approach her, but for now, I’ll be content with gawking at her juicy spandex butt.

  Fuck me; the way she tightens them as she bends over to touch her toes makes me wanna put my dick in her ass.

  Is that wrong?

  Yeah, it probably is.

  But so help me God, I will do it. It’s only a matter of time before she comes to me again, and we have sex like mad rabbits. One thing’s for sure, though … I won’t let her run off with a tease like that again.

  “Hi.”

  Frowning, I turn my head only to see Bruno standing next to the bench where I’m sitting. “Uh, hi.”

  Shit.

  I knew he was here, but I never actually expected him to approach me.

  He’s been playing on the kid’s playground while Laura exercises, and I honestly completely forgot about him even being here.

  Why would he come over to me? I’m not interesting. Not even remotely.

  God, this is so fucking awkward.

  “What are you doing?” he asks me, crushing a leaf he just picked from a tree in his hand.

  “Uh … just relaxing in the park,” I answer, trying to laugh it off like it’s no big deal.

  “Are you here because my sister is?”

  My eyes widen, and I laugh again. “No, of course not! Why would you think that?” My voice sounds so ridiculous; I’m such a bad fucking liar, it’s unbelievable.

  He shrugs. “Well, I know you followed us from our home.”

  Mortified, I close my eyes and sigh.

  “It’s okay. I can see why you like her. She’s nice to people.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Very nice.”

  He smiles at me in such a cute way that it’s hard for me to maintain my badass composure.

  “So whatcha doing?” I ask him.

  “Nothing,” he says, letting the crushed pieces of leaf in his hand fly away. “I was playing in the sandbox, but I got bored.”

  “Why? You can create so many things with a bit of sand.”

  “I know, but it’s no fun if you don’t have any friends to play with.”

  I nod, feeling a bit sorry for the little guy. “I see.”

  The awkward silence returns, and I feel like this is some kind of invite for me to come play with him or something. But I’m not sure I want to let Laura out of my sight. What if she sees me in the sandbox with him? She might think I’m some kind of weird-ass stalker.

  That’s because I am, but still.

  “Father Frank,” Bruno suddenly begins, “why aren’t you in your church clothes?”

  I shrug. “Because it’s hot outside, and I’m just a regular person now.”

  “So you’re not a person in church?”

  I snort. “Of course, I am. But in church, I need to look like I work there. But I’m not working right now, so I get to dress however I like.”

  “And what are those black things on your skin?”

  Frowning, I look at where he’s pointing, and I realize it’s my back, which is covered in tattoos. “Oh, those are the tattoos I mentioned, remember? They’re drawings but on the skin.”

  “Cool! Can I have them too?”

  “No,” I say sternly, but then I soften my voice again because I don’t wanna sound like a dick. “Tattoos are for grown-ups only.”

  “Why?” He seems disappointed.

  “Well … because they’re permanent. They can’t be erased.”

  “Really?” His eyes glow. “Awesome.”

  I snort and shake my head. “You’re a funny one, kid.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “You too.”

  I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it.

  “But … I thought priests weren’t allowed to have tattoos?”

  “I’m not a priest, Bruno,” I reply. “I’m a preacher. And who told you that?”

  “My brother,” he says, making a figure-eight in the dirt with his shoes.

  “Well, your brother was wrong.”

  “How come?” He cocks his head.

  “I’m a special preacher. A bad one.” I turn to face him and squint, trying to look as menacing as I can. “You don’t wanna mess with me, kid. I’m wicked.” I make a scary face, and the kid bursts out into giggles, which makes me smile.

  That’s when I notice Laura walking our way.

  I clear my throat and sit back again, trying not to look like a perving creep, but here I am… being a perving creep.

  She cocks her head when she recognizes me and smiles deviously. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “He’s Father Frank, sis!” Bruno says. “He was in our house eating breakfast! Did you forget?”

  “No, silly, it was rhetorical.” She rubs his head, messing up his hair.

  “What’s rhet-rhet-orca?”

  She chuckles. “It means it wasn’t really a question.”

  “Should I even answer then?” I muse.

  She turns her attention to me as she rubs her forehead with her towel. “Well, well, what a coincidence.”

  I smile and enjoy the view. No point in denying anything, especially since there’s been no allegation. Yet.

  “So Bruno already found you. Are you stalking us or something?” she asks, raising a brow.

  Ah-ha, there it is.

  “Nah.” I grin. “Just your friendly neighborhood preacher patrolling the area.”


  She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s barely able to keep the laughter inside.

  “Got something to confess?” I ask.

  She snorts. “Like you don’t already know everything.”

  “I do!” Bruno raises his hand.

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me then, what’d you do?” I inquire, inching closer.

  He closes his mouth and freezes, so I lean in even closer and pat the bench. “Sit.”

  He does what I ask, and then I turn my ear to him so he can whisper.

  “I peed in the sandbox.”

  My grin turns into a full-on outburst of laughter.

  “What?” Laura asks.

  I turn my face to Bruno and whisper back into his ear, “Is that the real reason you didn’t wanna play in the sandbox anymore?”

  He nods.

  “What?!” Laura’s voice is even louder this time, and she’s even thrown her towel over her shoulder like some kind of statement.

  Bruno looks at me as if he’s pleading me not to tell her—probably because she’d get mad and rightfully so. But I think I’ll play along with this game.

  So I twine my fingers and smile like a motherfucker. “I’m sorry. Confessions made to a preacher are strictly confidential.”

  Oh, that look on her face right now.

  Blood-boiling rage.

  Magnificent.

  “Frank …” she hisses.

  I shrug, still smiling as I lean back.

  “He did something; you gotta tell me. This isn’t a joke,” she grumbles. “What if it’s something embarrassing or wrong?”

  “You mean like that thing we did in church?”

  Her eyes widen, and the shock on her face is amazing to see.

  “What thing?” Bruno asks.

  “Nothing!” Laura hisses. “Frank …”

  I look at Bruno and say, “Bruno. If you say you’re sorry, your sins will be forgiven.”

  “Does that mean God forgives me too?”

  I nod. It’s hard to explain these things to a kid as young as he is.

  He draws a cute cross on his chest and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

  “Good.” I pat his back and then look at Laura. “See? He’s repenting, so he’s forgiven of his sins.”

  She narrows her eyes and snarls at me. “You are so bad.”

  “I know.” I grin because I consider it a compliment.

  I get up from the bench and dust off my pants. “Well, I guess this is my cue to run.”

  Bruno jumps off too, saying, “Thanks, Father Frank!”

  “Don’t mention it, kid.”

  I start walking even though I wasn’t done with Laura yet. However, I can’t talk to her in private with Bruno around. It’s just not happening.

  “What did Bruno do?” Laura yells.

  I glance over my shoulder. “You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Guess you’ll have to come to church then because that’s the only place we’ll talk confessional business.” And with that, I give her a thumbs-up and walk out of sight, leaving a flabbergasted and annoyed Laura behind.

  10

  I’m outside the church at night, leaning against the building as I put a cigarette in my mouth and light it. Only after being alone for a good five minutes, Carl, who’s the church’s pianist and general handyman, walks out and sees me, and he walks right to me. Not a day goes by when I don’t look at his malformed ear and nose. Damn. No wonder people don’t come to our church anymore. They’re either shocked by me or scared of him. We’re like the ghosts at a haunted house at the fair or monsters in Frankenstein’s mansion.

  “Hey,” he says, perching himself beside me. “Got a smoke?”

  I glare at him, wondering when he started smoking. Even though he’s only four years younger than I am, I feel like I need to protect him from bad shit or something. Not that I’m such a great influence.

  I sigh and rummage in my pocket, handing one to him. He puts it in his mouth, and I light it for him. We both blow out smoke and continue to stare at the busy streets in front of us.

  “So uh … can I ask you something?” Carl says out of the blue.

  “That depends,” I say.

  “Do you still have some of those old contacts?”

  “Old contacts?” I lower my cigarette and eyeball him.

  “Yeah, you know … with the dealers and shit.”

  I tap my cig and ask, “Why?”

  He shrugs and takes another drag. “I dunno. Been thinking about doing some side business.”

  “What? Is the church not enough for you?” I growl, putting my cig back into my mouth.

  “I just … Look, I don’t want this to be awkward, but I really need to earn more. So I thought, why not get another job? I mean it can’t be hard right?”

  I snort and shake my head. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  “But you were part of that—”

  “Stop,” I interrupt.

  I can’t believe we’re talking about this.

  “What? Why? I just wanna earn more.”

  “Not that way. Not with them.”

  “Look, I know they’re bad people, but I need the money more than anything.” He chucks the cigarette away. “My medical bills are stacking up, yo.”

  I think he’s referring to his apnea as a result of his nose, and maybe even the continued use of medicine for the pain. I can’t imagine what it must be like, and I really don’t want to, to be honest. Too many bad memories.

  “C’mon, dude, you know how long I’ve been working here. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

  “No,” I reply. “Not happening.”

  “What? You’re not even going to give me the contacts? I’m not asking you to vouch for me. I just wanna talk.”

  “Not. Happening.” I flick my cig away and fold my arms. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”

  “Don’t treat me like a kid,” he huffs.

  “I don’t give a shit how old you are,” I say, tapping on his chest. “You’re still younger than I am, and by default, that makes me more experienced.”

  “Fuck that logic.”

  “No, fuck you wanting to die.”

  “Die?”

  “Did you forget what happened to you?” I grab his ear, and he screeches, after which I release him again. “Next time you get involved in that shit, you’ll lose a finger or two.”

  Two days, he went missing, and when we finally found him on the steps of the church, he refused to discuss what happened. But I know … you only need to look at his face.

  “They’re a different gang,” Carl says.

  “Who gives a shit? Exchange one motherfucker for another motherfucker and you still have shit.”

  “I’d have money,” he says. “And how would you even know what they’d do or if it would happen again? Nothing like this ever happened to you.” He points at his nose, which has been chipped away by acid.

  “That’s because I knew what the fuck I was doing. But make no mistake, kid, I paid the price.”

  “Maybe I’m willing to pay too,” he says.

  I grab his collar. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again. I lost something precious to me. Something no one can ever replace. And all thanks to those motherfuckers you wanna work with.” I shove him away and spit on the ground. “You should be ashamed of yourself for even bringing it up. How dare you? You know as well as I do what happened that day.”

  He swallows, visibly shaken by my honesty.

  “I don’t have anything important.”

  “Your life,” I growl. “Nothing is worth giving that up.”

  “But you did it too …” he retorts. “And then you just gave up? After going through all that?”

  “Too. Late. I gave up too late. And that’s why you need to be smart now, Carl.”

  He swallows again, leaning away from me, his eyes still skidding around while he probably thinks about his options. If he sho
uld do it or not.

  “Don’t you even think about it, Carl. It’s not fucking worth it. Not a dime in the world, trust me.”

  “But I can’t pay …” he says. “The church … it’s not enough.” Tears well up in his eyes.

  I place a hand on his shoulder. “Look. I will ask Margaret if she’s got any more jobs for you, okay? Would that be good?”

  He nods, closing his eyes.

  I grab him with both hands and shake him softly. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  He sighs. “Fine.”

  “Good.” I slap him on the back. “Now go back inside. You know they’re waiting on you to fix the lights.”

  He nods. “You coming?”

  I contemplate it for a second, wanting to stay out here for the fresh air, but I realize it’s probably better if I support him while he’s down, so I agree and follow him inside.

  He goes to Mother’s room where she asked him to fix a couple of things while I sit down on one of the pews in the church. It’s empty right now; no visitors, no churchgoers. I love these days of peace and quiet. Even Mother is leaving in a few minutes; off to play bridge at the old ladies’ club where she’s a member. And when Carl’s done with his work in her room, he’ll also be leaving, allowing me to finally enjoy a nice bit of alone time in the church.

  I wanna enjoy it, but that conversation I had with Carl really put a damper on my mood. It’s not every day that I get confronted with my past. And I don’t like it one bit. Mostly because of the memories involved … the ones I try to bury so deep no one can reach them.

  But now … ever since Laura came into my life, those memories have been bubbling to the surface, and strangely enough, it doesn’t even hurt as much as I thought it would. Or maybe I was stuck in my own little world of drunken pain until she came along and somehow quenched that thirst I felt.

  But it doesn’t feel right.

  I sigh and lean over in the bench, clutching my face as the guilt washes over me.

  I shouldn’t even be thinking about her.

  I should be repenting … day in, day out … praying to God for mercy.

  Begging him to forgive me for what I’ve done.

  For what was taken away from me.

  Yet whenever I talk to him or plead with him to give me an answer, a reason for it all, I just get radio silence, and I’m left with empty nothingness.