The Fifth Gospel

by Grubb, Michelle

  “That’s two sentences.”

  Anna grinned.

  “And you’re just regurgitating stuff the church says umpteen times in umpteen variations. What about what you think? Surely that conflicts with your own beliefs or personal experiences even just a little?”

  Anna became distracted with a burly policeman opening her door, but she quickly addressed Flic. “Perhaps it’s beginning to.”

  The car door swung open and the noise of the crowd entered the sanctuary of the vehicle. Flic’s calm state scurried into the recesses of her mind, making way for fear and anxiety to return. Between Anna, Max, and Sergeant Blakemore, she regained control and pushed through the most debilitating nerves she had encountered in her life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Although Flic stumbled on her words in more than a few places, her reading went well and she received laughs on cue. Anna was never too far from her, and she remained in Flic’s line of vision at all times. Intermittently, Flic’s eyes lingered on her, waiting for a reassuring thumbs-up, which always came. She relaxed a little as Anna smiled and nodded encouragingly, and although she was asked many difficult questions, her answers remained clear and always within the overarching message that love is love and that homosexuality in no way diminished your abilities in life.

  “Unless of course you’re a gay man and can obviously dance with more rhythm and coordination than other men.” The crowd laughed, and she glanced up to see Anna giving her the thumbs-down signal. The gesture briefly panicked her. Her entire body flushed with heat as anxiety triggered the initial stages of a natural fight or flight response. It lasted only moments before Anna’s warm smile and sparkling eyes indicated it was merely time to finish up. Tonight’s appearance was only half the duration of Dublin, and warm, fuzzy relief overtook her fear.

  It was over.

  Anna was by her side in moments. “That was fantastic. Really well done.”

  Flic wasn’t convinced.

  “I know you were more nervous, but I honestly think it was better than Tuesday.”

  “It was shorter.” Flic allowed herself to be guided to the rear of the store by Anna.

  “It was, but I think that’s how we need to proceed from now on. What do you think?”

  Barely lasting thirty minutes, her appearance seemed an appalling waste of time, but Flic nodded her agreement. “No, I think it’s good timing.”

  “We’ve been invited to dinner with Martha Devlin, the store owner, and her family. Do you feel up to a little celebration this evening?”

  Day three and the promotional tour had become exhausting. Where was her stamina? No, Flic didn’t feel up to it. For the past few weeks, she had lived, breathed, and dreamed about her book, the pope, sales figures, marketing, and the media. It hadn’t occurred to her that defending her book and her ideals would be so draining.

  “Can we not? Not tonight.”

  Disappointment briefly flared Anna’s nostrils.

  “I will get better at this stuff, I promise, but just not tonight.” Flic dared to speak her mind. “I was hoping you and I could have dinner. Just the two of us. Do you like Italian?”

  “I don’t know…”

  Distracted by Max’s approach, Flic didn’t catch Anna’s reply. They were standing at the rear door of the premises, bidding farewell to Martha, when Flic froze, aware that this was the junction upon which everything had unraveled Tuesday evening.

  With impeccable manners, Flic let her mouth switch to autopilot and deliver the appropriate gratitude to Martha and her staff, but all the while, her eyes scanned the dingy alleyway where Max stood, one arm outstretched ushering her to the black SUV. Her ears began to ring.

  Every logical cell of her brain told her that there was no need to believe that her previous experience would be repeated. There was nothing stirring to suggest she was in any danger. In fact with Max reassuringly standing directly in front of her, statistically, she was in considerably less danger than Dublin, and the crowd had been confined to the front of the store with all access blocked by the police. Her sense of irrational fear had another name—anxiety.

  Anna wrapped up the pleasantries with Martha, a little disappointed Flic wasn’t keen on socializing, but she understood why. Max appeared to be giving her the eye. She turned toward Flic who was frozen on the spot. She went to her, taking Flic by the shoulder and with Max’s arm firmly holding her waist, they worked as a team to usher her into the backseat of the vehicle.

  Relief spread across Flic’s face, and Anna guessed she had probably been on the verge of another panic attack. Flic closed her eyes, and Anna could tell by the lowering of her shoulders that her fear was subsiding. It was awful to watch. She moved closer to Flic on the backseat, the only gesture she felt comfortable making. It occurred to her that a hug might also be soothing, but that felt like a giant leap she couldn’t make at that time. They remained silent while Max negotiated the traffic. Anna took out her tablet and read an e-mail from Dee.

  Minutes passed before Flic opened her eyes. They were now well away from the store and en route to the hotel.

  Anna was busy typing.

  “E-mail from Dee?” asked Flic.

  Anna nodded. “She’s worried about you.”

  “But you’ve told her today went okay, right?”

  “Of course.” Anna eyed her curiously and paused for a long moment. It was difficult to know how much to tell Flic and how real to make it all sound. She had no idea where Flic’s breaking point was, and if she reached it, to what lengths would she be willing to go to bring her back. “It’s getting big, Flic. We’re continually making news headlines. Sales are through the roof. You’re breaking sales records in just about every country we’ve released in.”

  “And Dee’s worried because on day three I bottled it?”

  “No, she’s pleased you pulled through.”

  “But you told her it was a close call, you know, getting me there.” Flic blushed.

  Anna cleared her throat. “The vodka worries her.”

  “You told her about the vodka?”

  “To be honest, Flic, the vodka worries me.”

  “I can’t believe you told her!”

  “Calm down. She pays me, remember? Not you.” The moment the words came from her mouth, she regretted them.

  “And I’ll be funding your generous Christmas bonus this year, so perhaps afford me a little leeway here.”

  Anna lowered her eyes. “And perhaps afford me a little leeway, too. I don’t hide things from Dee, and I’m not hiding anything from you.”

  Anna counted all the way to thirty-seven before Flic spoke again. “I’m sorry. I know you had to tell her.”

  “I know you might not always see it, but often doing the right thing by Dee actually means I’m doing the right thing by you, too. I am on your side, you know.”

  “I understand that. I’m learning to trust you, I promise.”

  Anna shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Flic’s words stung. She doesn’t trust me. Of course Flic didn’t trust her. Why would she trust the person who so openly dislikes her book, her lifestyle, and who’s accused her of trying to destroy the Catholic Church? Anna liaised with Dee, with Max, and with absolutely everyone else who was involved in publicizing the book. It finally occurred to her that Flic was probably feeling isolated and out of her depth.

  “Would you like to be more involved in the decisions we make about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Anna shifted in the seat to face Flic. “Your anxiety might ease if you feel like you have more control over the things that happen to you.”

  “You should be a politician.”

  “What? Why?”

  “What you really just said was that we’ll still do what we like with you, but we’ll tell you about it sooner and then you might feel better because you’re under the impression you have some say in it, some control.”

  Before Anna really felt like the lowlife Flic was implying she was, Flic
smiled. Anna did too. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was saying.”

  “I thought so.”

  “So would you like to be involved more?”

  “Involved but actually have no real say in my own life?”

  “Exactly.”

  Flic grinned. “Yes, please.”

  Anna winked. “Good. Then I’ll keep you informed.”

  “So what do you say to dinner?”

  Anna hesitated.

  “How about we agree now to not mention the book, religion, vodka, or anything to do with our work if we go out?”

  “What would we talk about?”

  Flic pounced on the opening. “Anything. Just not those things. Come on. If nothing else, it’ll be a good exercise in human behavior.”

  “You want to experiment and use us as guinea pigs?”

  “Yep. Food, wine, and not one mention of Holy Father, Holy Secret. Actually, every time we slip up we take a shot of Pernod, and the person who shoots the most foots the bill.”

  “Dee always foots the bill.”

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “Half a shot, not a full one.”

  After due consideration, Flic nodded. “You’re on.”

  *

  It might have been the fact that Dee would ultimately foot the bill that encouraged Flic to persuade Anna to buy a bottle of Pernod and have the waitress leave it on the table with two small glasses. Dessert was being served, and the bottle was half empty.

  “It’s not as easy as it sounds to avoid talking about work, is it?” Anna spooned sticky toffee pudding and cream into her mouth. She’d recently been to the bathroom and had reapplied a pale plumb lipstick, her moist lips causing Flic to shudder slightly. The fact that Anna had bothered made her all the more curious.

  “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but did you just mention work?”

  “Steady on. I mentioned it in the context of this experiment, not actual work.”

  “I’ve had a great night.” Flic smiled.

  “Me too.” Anna sounded surprised. “Your work—your real job—sounds very interesting.”

  “As does yours. I can see why you’ve succeeded so early in your career.”

  “You’re only hot when you’re hot,” said Anna. “It just takes a couple of rubbish decisions and you can come crashing down. I’ve been lucky.”

  “I guess there’s no loyalty in marketing.”

  “No. You’re an expensive liability if you lose your mojo, and there’s always someone younger with fresh ideas ready to take your job.”

  “Well, now you can add babysitting authors to your CV if you ever find yourself out of a job.”

  Anna smiled. “So what exactly is the expected outcome of our little experiment?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “An experiment is usually conducted to find something out, test a theory, you know? What’s your theory?”

  Flic hadn’t the faintest clue. She only came up with the hook line to entice Anna to dinner. Something sprang to mind. “Very few people can spend little time one-on-one without talking about their job. I was interested to see if we could spend considerable time and do the same.” It sounded plausible, even intelligent. “Have you ever seen people out to dinner or in cafes staring out the window and generally looking anywhere other than at the person they’re with, let alone actually conversing with them?”

  Anna laughed. “I see it all the time. I love to people watch.”

  “Well, under altered conditions, we managed not to have a single pause in the conversation. Pretty good considering our work is what ties us to each other.”

  It was true. They’d maintained conversation, interesting conversation, without one awkward silent moment.

  “So, Professor Smarty-Pants, you’re avoiding the question. What’s the outcome of your little experiment?”

  “Sound relationships are based on the foundation of good communication and respect for the opinion of others.”

  “Are we in a relationship now?” Anna’s tone suggested she was teasing, but her eyes conveyed panic.

  “No, I meant friendship.”

  “So we’re friends?”

  Flic wanted to remove her smarty-pants; they no longer worked. She took a gamble. “Yes, I think we are, and we have the foundation to be very good friends. I don’t know if I could sit and talk to some of my oldest friends for as long as we have tonight.”

  Anna nodded, staring at her napkin as she placed it on the table. “You’re right. It’s been remarkably easy.”

  “So, friends it is then?” Flic prodded, seeking clarification. “No more of this professional courtesy stuff? Actual friends?”

  Anna smiled. She beamed and it caused the muscles in Flic’s pelvis to contract. “Yes, you’re on my Christmas card list.”

  The waitress had placed the bottle of Pernod into a gift bag, and they shrugged on their jackets to leave. “What about birthdays? I’ll get a present, right?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  As if their agreement on friendship had provided a newly found sense of relief, they chatted incessantly on the journey back to the hotel. Perhaps realizing it was fruitless to even try to fit a word in, Max remained quiet and concentrated on driving.

  “One more?” Flic held the Pernod aloft in the hotel hallway.

  “We have a big day tomorrow.” Anna hovered on the threshold of her room. “Paris will be big; you know how the French like to protest.”

  Flic didn’t want their fun to end. “Just one?”

  Standing her ground, Anna smiled but shook her head. “I have work to do before I turn in. And you could use a restful sleep. I doubt you’ve had enough the last couple of nights.”

  It was no use. Anna had made up her mind. “Okay, you win.” Flic advanced with outstretched arms.

  Suddenly, it all began to go wrong.

  Anna advanced in the same manner, but their arms became entangled and Flic accidentally brushed Anna’s breast.

  “Sorry.” Flic worried it might be the shortest friendship ever.

  Finally, with arms securely embracing each other in the appropriate places, Flic gave a gentle squeeze. It was her usual routine. Laura once told her she was the best hugger this side of her lovers, but on this occasion, the squeeze prompted Anna to emulate the move, bringing them closer. Anna released an audible, contented sigh.

  In that split second, Flic somehow transitioned into a completely alternative reality. In her arms, Anna was soft and fragile, yet strong and reassuring. Her right arm encompassed Anna, her hand resting on her side, directly on her ribs, and because her frame was slight, her hand held this area firmly, as if ownership was her right. Flic’s lower abdomen tingled for a long moment.

  Anna continued the embrace.

  Flic felt the juices flow in her most sensitive place. The Pernod left her feeling deliciously pickled and happy.

  Anna’s hand moved to gently stroke the hair that sat above Flic’s collar. Just once, but it felt divine, and it certainly wasn’t anything Laura had ever done during their extensive friendship hugs.

  Instinct took over, and Flic pulled away, just far enough for her eyes to lock on Anna’s lips. She edged closer. The touch was electrifying. It was clichéd, but beyond the first kiss she’d had with a girl in year nine, Flic had never felt that earth-moving feeling again. Until now.

  Anna pushed her away. “No.”

  Flic’s transition back to real time was far less rewarding than her digression. Realizing exactly what she had done, she watched helplessly as Anna backed out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

  “Go to bed, Felicity.” Anna swiped her room door and pushed it open.

  Hearing Anna use her full name stung. “I didn’t mean it.”

  Anna glared at her.

  “No, that’s wrong. I meant it, I just didn’t plan it. I didn’t know I was going to do that. You held me and sighed—”

  “Now it’s my fault?”

  “No, o
f course not, but—”

  Anna grasped a handful of Flic’s top and dragged her through the door. “Get in here. You’ll wake the entire hotel.”

  The touch, as rough as it was, turned Flic on even more.

  She gathered herself. “I don’t know how to explain this to you. Look, I know it was wrong, but it felt right—”

  “Is that what a pedophile says in defense of raping a child?”

  Whoa. Flic raised her arms in surrender. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m not a pervert and your implication that I’m somehow on the same level as a child rapist is just fucking insulting.” Flic paced the room, riled and distressed. “I happen to like you. A lot. And trust me; it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. It was an innocent display of affection, and while we’re laying our cards on the table, I’ll admit there was a hint of passion in the mix, but I’m not a perverted freak.” Flic fought her emotions. Anger and guilt didn’t mix well in the bowl. “How the hell did I even fathom hoping for a friendship with someone who barely thinks I’m one step up from a pedophile?”

  “You kissed me. You were out of line.”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry. God, you freak out because a lesbian kisses you, but I bet if I were a man you’d be flattered. A greater percentage of men rape and fiddle with kids than women—gay or straight—and you’ve got the gall to suggest I’m as wretched as a filthy fucking pedophile. Fuck you and fuck your twisted, suppressive religion.”

  “I knew it would come to this.”

  “Yeah, well here this is.” Flic shook her head, advancing toward the door. “I apologize. I displayed affection you hadn’t asked for. I apologize because I read the situation wrong.”

  Flic marched from the room, but before the door slammed behind her, she was able to shout, “But what I really feel sorry for is pathetic little you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Picture perfect, Paris looked glamorous and cultured, exactly like it looked in every National Geographic Flic had ever read. She wasn’t fooled, though. She’d seen Paris plenty of times in winter, and it was bloody freezing. On this occasion, however, the sun was hot and high in the sky. Even her olive skin was burning as she lounged, dozing on the balcony of the hotel on Rue Benjamin Franklin. Just above the building opposite, she could see the Eiffel Tower barely five minutes’ walk through a park and over the River Seine.