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"It sounds like you've made a real difference in people's lives," Gia says.
Preacher nods. “I like to think so. It's fulfilling work, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to do it.”
Gia stares at me, and I stare back, waiting for judgment or ridicule or something other than abject silence. But she only nods and smiles. “I can see why you were drawn to it. You have a good heart, Preacher Man.”
I'm not sure what to say to that, so I just nod and smile back. Maybe this chick isn't so bad after all.
Chapter Nineteen
Gia
After listening to Preacher’s job in the Army and the high esteem he held for his faith, I realize that Mom is right. I’m shit. I’m lazy as fuck, and I have no direction in life. It’s not what I want, not who I planned to be, but it’s who I am. It’s what I am.
“Did all the religious talk freak you out?” Preacher’s face pulls into a semi-smile, but I can hear a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and I rush to reassure him.
“No, not at all. It’s just that your job, your work in the Army, it’s all so fucking heavy. So mature and responsible, and it makes me realize just how much I’ve been wasting my life away.” I blow out a breath, feeling silly for saying all that shit to him. “Anyway, it’s cool that you were able to find a way to feel good about what you had to do during the war. Does it bother you?”
He nods. “Taking a life always bothers me, but I recognize that sometimes it is a necessary evil. I hope it never gets easy because then my soul might actually be at risk.”
“Of not getting into heaven?”
Preacher doesn’t respond, and I wonder if I’ve offended him, but worrying about getting into heaven or not seems silly.
“Is this something you actually believe in, heaven and hell and angels and all that?”
“Very much,” he nods with a gentle smile. “I guess you don’t?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I believe in treating people with basic human kindness and all that, but a big guy in the sky watching over everyone? Nah. Life’s taught me there’s no one looking out for me but me.”
“That’s too bad.” He shakes his head, and his eyes gloss over with a kind of sadness that’s palpable.
“Dealbreaker for you, Preacher, a non-believer?”
He grins and shakes his head. “Not at all. Maybe not,” he amends, and I’m a little disappointed.
“So it does matter to you. Interesting.” I wonder if Preacher will turn out to be a hypocrite like every other so-called believer I’ve ever met. “If it’s that serious to you, what’s with the premarital sex? I mean, that’s a pretty big no-no for you, isn’t it?”
“I am a man, not a god. Not a saint or anything like that.”
My shoulders sink a little in disappointment that he’s no different than any other Christian, preaching one thing and living another. Then again, right now, I’m benefiting from that hypocrisy in the most delicious way, so I shrug off the disappointment and get to know Preacher a little better.
“But have you tried not to have sex?”
“You mean celibacy?” He tosses his head back and laughs. “No. That leads to a whole host of other problems that I have no desire to live through. If there’s a woman I like enough to sleep with her, I do. Otherwise, I’m on my own.”
“So you haven’t had a girlfriend in a while?” I don’t know why I ask that question. It’s the kind of question a girl might ask after a few dates, curious to know more about the women in her man’s past, except Preacher isn’t my man. Well, not yet, anyway.
“Nope, not in a while.” He looks away, but I spot the flash of emotion on his face before he covers it up.
“Why not? The church stuff or the military?”
“Neither.” He sighs and turns his gaze back to mine. “I was dating someone a few years back, and we were pretty serious. We were living together, talking about marriage.”
I lean in, hungry for more details. “What happened? What was she like?”
“Beautiful and smart, funny at times. Jealous.” His expression darkens on that last word, and I smile.
“I might be jealous too if you were mine. Especially with all those club whores you’re surrounded by, eager to jump on your cock and become your old lady.”
