by Ren Hamilton
“Hi, Kelinda.” His eyes flicked to her breasts, plainly visible under the flimsy silk nightgown. In her hand she held a white veil. He forced his eyes to look away, and followed Shep up the bulkhead steps.
He and Shep stepped outside and stood on the driveway beside the garage doors. Patrick took deep breaths, regaining his calm, while Shep paced impatiently, then finally threw his hands up. “What?”
“Just tell me why you wanted me here. And don’t say Joey needs me. Joey hasn’t even noticed I’m here.”
“Fine. I need you to stand guard outside while we do the filming. Make sure nobody comes in.”
“I see. I’m the bouncer at this little circus.”
“Well you can’t be inside because you get all freaked out about the religion thing.”
“Why are you wasting your time with this? Nobody reasonable is gonna fall for it.”
“Who said we were targeting reasonable people? Fraud is easy if you can manipulate the human beings willing to be manipulated. And trust me, that’s my area of expertise.”
“Joey doesn’t even want to do this, I can tell. He’s already annoyed down there, and he’s barely had to do anything yet. And what about the people you want to con with this thing? Old people? Naïve people? You want to take their money; that’s what this is all about, after all. Do you care about anyone but yourself?”
“I care about you and Joey! I love you guys.”
“And I love you, but come on, Shep. Don’t you care about other people at all?”
“Strangers? No. Fuck em if they’re stupid enough to fall for a con. Buyer beware. I’m doing this to make life better for the three of us. You could be getting so much more out of life, you’re just too stupid to realize it.”
Angry blood stung Patrick’s cheeks at the ‘stupid’ comment. It bothered him that Joey and Shep were smarter than he was, and Shep knew it. In college, Patrick had to struggle, studying late into the night just to pull off decent grades. Joey and Shep would smoke pot and watch cartoons all morning, then go ace their chemistry tests in the afternoon.
He almost took the bait, but forced himself to calm. Shep was merely trying to enrage him so they could get off the subject. “That’s crap,” he said. “You’re taking advantage of Joey at a bad time. I think maybe your money is running out. You’re going to put Joey in the public eye like some puppet on your knee while you suck up the proceeds. You’re going to pimp out your best friend, who’s grieving right now.”
“Don’t be jealous. I would have pimped you out, but you’re not as pretty as Joey. Face it, Obrien. I’m the brains, Joey is the beauty, and you’re the brawn.”
Patrick flushed. “You little prick! You think you’re the only one with intelligence around here.”
“No, I’m just the only one with balls enough to use it.”
“You call this balls? I call this cowardice. I call it immaturity. Why don’t you get a job, Shep? You talk about my life? You’re so bored with yours that you have to invent these elaborate schemes to make yourself feel useful.”
Shep’s smirk dropped, and was replaced by something cold. Patrick’s instinct was to take a step back, but he held his ground. “You don’t understand me at all,” Shep said through gritted teeth. “Don’t insult me by presuming you do.”
“Bullshit, I’ve known you for ten years. We see each other almost every day.”
“You don’t understand what I had to overcome long before we met. You couldn’t possibly understand. I need this. You don’t seem to need a damn thing. You’re just happy with your boring life and your boring job and all your…simplicity.”
Patrick felt his anger rising, reaching the point where he should shut his mouth before he said something he regretted. But before he knew it, he was doing just that. “Oh, so sorry to bore you, Shep. Sorry I had a normal childhood, God forbid. Maybe if I’d been abused or if my entire family died I’d be able to relate to you guys. Maybe if my daddy branded me with a horseshoe I’d have earned the right to act like a fucking lunatic all the time!”
As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back. He was about to apologize, but it was too late. Shep came at Patrick like a streak of tie-dyed lightning and shoved him. Patrick flew backward, slamming down hard onto the driveway. Shep jumped on top of him and soon they were rolling around, trying to kill each other. The sound of footsteps clomped on the cellar stairs, and then Joey was there, tearing them off of each other, pleading with them to stop. They disengaged, panting and flushed with blood. “I’m sorry, Shep,” Patrick said first. “I was way out of line. I didn’t mean it.”
Breathing heavily, Shep looked at him for a long time. Finally, he walked over and took Patrick’s hand, holding it tight. “Yes, you were out of line. But I was baiting you, and I’m sorry too.” Shep backed away and cocked his head, looking serious. “I know what I’m doing here. I do. You have to trust me. Okay?”
It was not okay, but Patrick nodded anyway. He was still feeling bad about the horseshoe comment.
Shep gave him a simple set of instructions. Guard the door, and don’t let anyone into the basement. Patrick asked if there were any exceptions, like if Robin stopped by, for instance. “Robin is not involved,” Shep said. “It’s nothing personal. The fewer people that know about this, the better, that’s all. Kelinda has been sworn to secrecy, and I trust the twins. Nobody gets to that cellar door. Okay?”
Patrick agreed, and Shep sprinted off to finish his project. When he was gone, Joey turned to Patrick. “Are you okay, Obrien? I don’t want to do this if it bothers you that much.”
He looked into Joey’s wolfen eyes, seeing sincerity in them. Joey seemed genuinely concerned about Patrick’s feelings, so maybe this was the moment to get through to him, while Shep wasn’t around to jump in and control the conversation. Patrick wondered if Joey was seeing things straight right now or if his mind was mixed up by grief. Despite a few eccentricities, Joey had always had a fairly rational outlook. Of course, Joey had exhibited evidence that he’d become a bit unhinged lately.
“Joey, do you want to be known as some religious con? Because if this gets public attention, that’s what you’ll be known as. Forever.”
Joey looked down at his feet. “What have I got to lose? My reputation? That went out the door at Monty’s when I attacked my boss, and it’ll come up any time I try to get a job reference. Plus, I hate my profession. I hated working at Parker Investments. Sorry, I know you like it, but I don’t. Problem is I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You can do anything you want, Joey.”
Joey looked up at him and smiled. “So you keep telling me. I only wish I had the same faith in myself that you have.”
Patrick stepped forward. “Promise me you won’t go through with it.”
Joey blinked. “What do you mean? The twins are already here. And you saw Shep. He’s wild.”
“I don’t mean today. Finish this fiasco if you must. I mean when the time comes, if the time comes, to actually use this apparition thing. To put you in the spotlight. Tell Shep you won’t do it. Let him do it himself if he’s so gung-ho to start a church. You don’t need to be his front man.”
Joey looked down and sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t like to disappoint Shep. I know how that sounds. But you don’t understand. Shep would give his life for me. As twisted as this is, he really thinks he’s helping me. If I shoot him down, he’ll be crushed.”
“Joey, listen to me. I know you’ve lost a lot. I can’t imagine what that’s been like. But if you hand over your dignity, then you’ve truly lost everything.”
It was a tad dramatic, but at the moment it seemed the right thing to say. If he had to go a little overboard to sway Joey’s logic, so be it. It seemed to have the desired effect, as Joey looked conflicted by the statement. He chewed on his lower lip, kicking the ground. “Okay. When it comes time to stage the miracle, I won’t go through with it. I’ll tell Shep no.”
Patrick let out a si
gh of relief. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Joey laughed. “Shep’s gonna be pretty pissed off.”
“He’ll get over it,” Patrick said.
“Yes, I suppose he will. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch the making of a miracle.”
Patrick relaxed outside, leaning against the garage while the others were doing God knew what in the basement. He hadn’t been filled in, but assumed they were making a holographic image of Kelinda. Where and how Shep planned to use the image, Patrick didn’t know. If Joey kept his word, they wouldn’t be using it at all.
He reminded himself that he’d sworn not to be involved in this. Yet here he was, standing guard like some hired gorilla. He recalled the words he’d spoken to Shep less than two weeks ago, just before the blood-sharing pact. This is absolutely the last stupid thing I’ll do in the name of friendship. Or so he kept telling himself.
As if in response to his thoughts, the little scar above his wrist tingled.
Chapter Six
The blue and white striped shirt made Patrick look like a sailor on steroids, so he took it off. He stood in front of the closet trying to decide on an outfit, telling himself that a real man wouldn’t fret about what to wear on a date. He snatched up a black ribbed shirt from his dresser drawer and pulled it over his head. It accentuated his large shoulders, well-muscled chest, and smaller waist. It made his body look great. Perhaps too much so. He didn’t want Kelinda to think he was narcissistically showing off his physique. He frowned at his reflection and tore the black shirt off, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
He was about to dump the entire drawer onto the bed when his phone rang. He ran shirtless into the kitchen where he’d left it on the table, his insecurities assuring him it was Kelinda calling to cancel the date. It was not Kelinda on the phone, however. It was Shep, and he sounded hysterical.
“Obrien. Please. You’ve gotta help me.”
Patrick stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Joey. He took off. I wanted to stage the miracle, and he told me he didn’t want to do it anymore. I started screaming at him. Obrien…I lost my temper. Really lost it. I said awful…awful things, and now…” Shep paused, letting out a shivering breath.
So Joey had kept his word. Patrick was relieved, and more than a little surprised. He knew how hard it was to say no to Shep. “Calm down, Shep. Just tell me what happened.”
“You know how I am when I lose my temper. I didn’t mean it! I didn’t.”
“I know, and so does Joey. Whatever you said, he’ll forgive you. Just tell me what happened.”
“You were right. Joey’s still too vulnerable for the shit I was laying on him. He flipped out. Said he was going to be with his family and not to bother looking for him.”
“Going to be with his family? His family’s dead.”
“I know his fucking family’s dead! I’m just telling you what he said!”
Patrick had to pull the phone away from his head to avoid an eardrum puncture from Shep’s voice. His heart thudded, prepping for panic. “Maybe he meant Robin, or one of the aunts.”
“I checked. I even called Aunt Betsy, who hates me. They haven’t seen him. They’re not the family he meant. He meant his dead family. Fuck!”
“You’re not saying he’s going to do something stupid. You don’t think he meant suicide?”
He heard sniffing sounds, like Shep might be crying. “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment but he’s not there. I’m freaked, Obrien. I don’t know what to do.”
Patrick’s mind churned, then an idea surfaced. “Wait a minute. Going to be with his family? Maybe he meant he was going down to the cemetery.”
Shep sniffed. “Do you think so? You think that’s where he went?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Patrick said. “I’m closer to the Lady of Grace cemetery, so I’ll take a ride down there. You don’t sound too calm right now, so you stay put. I’ll have my phone with me. Call me if you hear from him first.”
“Okay. Thanks, Obrien.”
After pulling on a dingy gray tee shirt, he called Kelinda and explained the situation. He was thankful that Kelinda knew Joey. Any other girl wouldn’t have bought the old ‘My friend is really upset and I have to go save him’ excuse. He promised to call her later with an update on the ongoing saga of Joey losing his mind.
****
The sun had set, but the sky maintained a dampened twilight. Patrick tugged on the cemetery gates and found them locked. Determining that the falling darkness was on his side, he glanced around, then hoisted himself up over the gate, landing with a thud on the gravel path inside. There was an instant where he pondered the spookiness of being in a graveyard after dark, but he brushed the thought away. It was corpses he was afraid of, not tombstones. As long as the bodies were covered with six feet of dirt and a big rock, he was okay.
He walked among the rows of stones, disoriented and having trouble locating the Duvaine grave, which was pathetic since he’d been to it three times in under a year. Using Saint Mary’s church next door as a landmark, he faced the road and got his bearings, then headed down an aisle that felt familiar.
Using his phone’s flashlight, he dropped to one knee and read one of the headstones. It was not the Duvaine grave. Then something caught his eye in the next row over, a splash of red at the base of a stone. He scrambled over and picked up Joey’s red windbreaker, left lying at the head of the Duvaine grave. Decaying flowers littered the grass, and the scent of freshly dug earth still lingered in the cool night air.
Patrick unzipped the front pocket and found Joey’s keys and wallet. He’d been here. He had to still be here somewhere. “Joey!” he called out, but only crickets answered. He replaced the wallet and keys, and ran down the aisle of stones with Joey’s jacket in hand.
“Joey! This isn’t funny. Call out if you hear me!”
He headed for the gate, intending to search the nearby road for Joey’s car. As he swung his body over the top of the gate, he caught sight of something on top of Saint Mary’s church next door. It was Joey. He was sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling over. Patrick gasped and landed off balance on the other side of the fence. “Shit!”
He broke into a sprint. The new moon cast a soft glow on Joey’s silhouette. As Patrick reached the church lawn, he saw a small huddle of spectators. They craned their necks upward. “Is he going to jump?” he heard one of them say. The words sent Patrick into an adrenaline-driven frenzy, and he raced for the front doors.
“Don’t move, Joey!” he screamed. “I’m coming to get you!”
Joey didn’t seem to hear him. His head hung limp on his neck. Only his feet moved, dangling gently in the open air. Patrick tried the front doors and found them locked. He ran to check the other doors, guessing that Joey had gotten up there from somewhere inside the church. The side doors were locked as well, so he moved around to the rear of the building. He tugged on the locked back door, growling in frustration. Behind him was a tiny house connected to the church by an awning, but its windows were dark and lifeless. Patrick ran back and pounded on the little door anyway. “Help me!” he yelled. “I need to get inside the church!”
Getting no response, he ran back around front to make sure Joey hadn’t gone plummeting to his death. Joey hadn’t moved, but the crowd on the lawn was gaining in size. Patrick examined the front of the building, where statues of angels and saints and olive leaves interrupted the thick gray stones. The decorative architecture stretched upward to the roof, where a band of cherubs blew horns across the front. Patrick grabbed onto an olive branch and began to climb.
He stepped on the cherubs’ heads, clung to their horns, pulling himself upward toward the waiting rooftop. He said a prayer that the flimsy architecture would be good enough to hold his weight. The voices of the crowd below escalated, thrilled anew by Patrick’s daring climb. He was barely aware of them. His only focus was on saving Joey. He felt no fear, which was
odd since he was usually terrified of heights.
Finally reaching the top, he rolled himself onto the roof. Joey sat on the ledge a few yards away, gazing trance-like at the ground below. “Joey?” he said softly, wary of startling him. Joey didn’t move. Patrick hunched down on all fours and crawled toward him, figuring he could sneak up behind and pull him to safety. He’d worry about Joey’s mental state later. It was his physical state that was in danger at the moment.
A flash of white light exploded onto the roof, momentarily blinding him. Patrick’s first thought was that it must be a spotlight from a police helicopter. But no sound accompanied the brightness. He shielded his eyes and tried to focus. When his vision cleared, he saw Joey standing safely inside the ledge, one arm thrown somewhat dramatically over his eyes. The light was concentrated in a beam at the corner of the roof, and there was something visible within the beam. To his horror, Patrick realized what he was seeing.
There was a woman in that beam of light, three-dimensional yet transparent. Light shot out of her as if she’d swallowed the sun. The flowing gown and veil disappeared into a shimmering haze at her waist. And her face. Her sweet face was Kelinda’s. It was Shep’s miracle, projected onto the rooftop somehow.
“Son of a bitch!” Patrick gaped at the luminous being. Then the apparition was gone, disappeared, as though it had never been. He heard a unified “ooh!” from the crowd below.
Joey collapsed onto the rooftop.
* * * *
Copie couldn’t believe his luck when he saw the guy sitting on the roof of the church. He’d been wandering the streets all day with two cameras, snapping photos of bullshit because he couldn’t find anything decent. His photography teacher had given them the mundane assignment of finding something “real” to take pictures of. Copie already knew what his creatively challenged colleagues would come back with. There would be elderly couples feeding pigeons in the park, mothers pushing strollers, and of course a few shots from the hood.
