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“Father Greg has told me wonderful things about our parishioners, including you and your husband. I look forward to getting to know you both more.”
“Us as well. Please, if there is anything you need our support on, just let me know.”
The words spill out of me before I can take them back. I don’t want to support this institution any more than necessary. My soul already feels dark for doing so.
I don’t think those who believe in God or a particular religion are wrong for doing so. I’ve just been experiencing an internal war with how I feel about it all. Faith is a journey I’m slowly understanding.
Father Greg cuts in.
“Well, Mrs. Matheson, I’m happy to hear you say that. As you know, the upcoming gala has taken a life of its own,” he says before chuckling like he just said something slightly amusing.
“All in the name of gaining new support for the church. Can you and Father Lachlan get together this week to see if there are any additional sponsorship opportunities you and your husband can do? The church would greatly appreciate it. Your generosity never goes unnoticed by us,” he finishes speaking with a menacing smile.
He has me cornered with this one. I know it and so does he. Father Lachlan picks up on the undertone of his statement and steps in to break the tension.
“Mrs. Matheson, please come by my office sometime this week whenever you have time. I’ll be there most days and have taken over leading the gala efforts from Father Greg,” he says curtly.
“I will. Thank you both. I really must be going now.”
I break away from Father Lachlan’s deep stare only to see Missy eyeing me suspiciously. She had stepped back but was listening to the conversation the whole time. Waiting for Father Lachlan to get free once again.
A sickening smile is on her face right now. It makes my stomach churn. I can’t afford for her to stir up any trouble involving me right now. I already have too many problems I have to deal with.
Martini—I’m coming for you.
Chapter 3
Avoid immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the immoral person sins against his own body.
1 Corinthians 6:18
I come to a halt.
An adult film star is currently in my Boston church. Sitting pensively in the same pew where she was earlier that day during the Mass I performed. She’s staring up at the altar, looking vulnerable yet confused.
This star is one whom I instantly recognized during Mass. Bambi is famous in the industry and known for being open to participating in all types of films. From role-playing to woman-on-woman, threesomes—I think I’ve even watched a foursome on an alien planet with her in it.
Of course, I’m familiar with her work. I only have my hand to use for pleasure, after all.
I’ve come back to the church in search of my notebook with my upcoming homilies written in it. I need to rework one almost completely for next week since the readings have changed.
Even though I really don’t have time to do this, I know I need to help Bambi. It’s been hours since Mass ended; there’s no reason to still be here unless something’s troubling her. I know the feeling of being lost all too well. Patrick helped me years ago; I can do the same for Bambi now.
Walking across the empty church, I reach where she’s still sitting. She doesn’t break her trance as I slide into the pew.
Some time goes by, and I know I need to be here for whenever she’s ready to speak. Sometimes, having a friend to listen to you makes all the difference.
“Hello, Father,” Bambi finally whispers.
She turns her body to face me, hangs one of her arms along the backside of the pew, and places the other in her lap. I mimic her positioning.
“Hello, my child. What troubles you?”
She tilts one corner of her mouth slightly in a coy smirk.
“We can drop the ‘my child’ bit, can’t we?”
“Sure,” I say before clearing my throat.
