The End Is Her

by H. Claire Taylor

  “This idea. We need buy-in right away. We’re generating leads. Anyone who signs up for more information is someone who we could potentially tap for money later.”

  “Now, wait a second—”

  “Being the moochsiah protected you this time, but you can’t live that way forever, and neither can a church. Trust me. Have I ever led you astray?”

  “Probably, but I can’t think of when right now.”

  “No. The answer is no. The only time you get into trouble is when you don’t follow my advice to a T.”

  She was too tired to argue. “What happens when Dolores finds out I have money?”

  Wendy capped the marker and joined them at the table. “I ask you, have you heard anything at all about the lawsuit in the last week?”

  “I saw a story about it on Thornton News.”

  “First of all, you shouldn’t be reading that. But also, we only care about Thornton News if what happens there doesn’t stay there. Let his devoted readers foam at the mouth. We don’t need them. The other stations haven’t picked up the story because they don’t know where their viewers will fall. Will they side with you? Will they take Dolores’s side? You’re in the wrong legally, but she’s in the wrong morally.

  “Meanwhile, how many people have texted you in the last week about the video of you resurrecting a mother and her two children halfway across the country?”

  Okay, she was starting to get the point. “Probably two or three dozen.”

  “Exactly. I think you have the Devil running scared, Jessica. If you start to have your own money and she tries to take it, let her. We’ll make it the top story on every station. Daughter of God Sued for Performing Miracles, Helping Homeless. Can’t you see it? That headline is our ace in the hole!”

  Jessica had always thought Angry Wendy was terrifying, but Excited Wendy was something else entirely. She was dangerous, bloodthirsty.

  “Okay,” Jessica said. “I guess I could accept a little money. But I don’t want to be a cult leader.”

  “Deal. Most of the money will technically be the church’s, anyway, so it’ll be safe from the lawsuit.”

  “I don’t want the church to be rich either.”

  “No problem. You get paid enough to buy your own groceries, Cash and I finally get paid for our time, and then we give the rest to charity.”

  “Um, hello?” Judith raised her hand. “I don’t scribe for free.”

  “Okay, we’ll set aside a little for you.”

  It was really happening. Not just a religion but a church. She would have a church of her own. It gave her a fingerhold in this crazy endeavor, somewhere physical where her teachings (the idea seemed ridiculous) could live. So why did this feel so … icky?

  YOU HAVE NOT HAD GREAT EXPERIENCES IN CHURCHES.

  Am I doing the wrong thing here? It sure feels like it.

  SOMETIMES THE WRONG THING LEADS TO THE RIGHT ONE.

  So, this is the wrong thing? What are you saying?

  I AM SAYING YOU MUST FOLLOW THIS PATH.

  You promise it won’t get me martyred?

  The Lord laughed. I WILL PROMISE NO SUCH THING. BUT THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN BEING MARTYRED.

  Like what?

  BEING WHIPPED AND STARVED AND HAVING YOUR PENIS CHOPPED OFF AND FED TO YOU AND THEN BEING SET ON FIRE AND ALL FOR NO REASON AT ALL.

  Holy fucking shit. What’s wrong with you?

  YOU ASKED.

  “You okay?” Wendy was staring at her with great concern.

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  “Are you okay? It looks like you’re going to be sick.”

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “And the website? Are you good to launch?”

  She inhaled deeply. There were worse things than being martyred. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The waiter made his way around the large, circular table of Rich’s Steakhouse, filling each empty long-stemmed glass with the red wine Jessica had selected based on the fact that she thought she could pronounce all the words in it. She’d been wrong about that.

  Chris would be picking up the tab for her birthday dinner, even though he hadn’t said it outright. He hadn’t needed to. He’d flown to Austin for it and it was on his suggestion that they’d picked this restaurant where none but Jeremy Archer could regularly afford to eat.

  He was just her friend, though. They’d made that clear, or at least clear-ish, in Philadelphia. Sometimes one friend would fly across the country to celebrate the twenty-third birthday of another friend and pick up the astronomical tab for all of it. No big deal. It didn’t have to mean anything. And it definitely didn’t have to make the friend whose birthday it was inexplicably nervous. It definitely didn’t need to make her mind spin and cause indigestion.

  Jessica drank down half her wine then stared at her glass. Was this what good wine tasted like? It was like all the wines she’d had before except she liked it. Noted.

  Joining her for the celebration were the usuals: Destinee, Rex, Quentin, Judith, Brian, Jeremy, and Jesus. But at Chris’s suggestion, she’d also invited Wendy, Cash, Maria, and Gabrielle. The latter hadn’t been able to make it, citing a family event, but Jessica thought the woman might just be smart about not mixing work and play.

  As the wine kicked in, her inner turmoil diminished, and she felt a dopey smile taking residence on her face. It was her birthday, after all. Lots of people enjoyed their birthday each year, and while hers hadn’t always been joyous occasions, it looked like, at twenty-three, her luck was finally changing.

  The waiter came back to take appetizer orders, and Jessica leaned forward and addressed her guests. “Remember, nothing with pork. We can’t be seen eating that right now.”

  Wendy nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly right. Looks like you’re learning something.”

  Destinee’s shoulders drooped. “So that means bacon-wrapped scallops are out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, damn, baby! I really wanted to taste my first scallop. It ain’t like I’m gonna screw the bacon, I’m just gonna eat it.”

  Jessica looked up at the waiter, who seemed rightfully perplexed. “Can we get that appetizer without bacon?”

  “So … scallops?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I just need one,” Destinee interjected.

  So Jessica amended with, “Just one scallop. Can we get just one scallop for her?”

  It was no surprise that Chris was flanked by Quentin and Rex, both of whom were ravenous for his latest off-season training stories. He was happy to indulge them.

  Meanwhile, Brian listened politely as Jeremy explained in detail how Florida didn’t really exist—“Fiction!” Jesus cried in delight, playing his favorite game with his best friend—and Judith leaned close to Cash to gawk at something amusing on their phone. Cash scrolled, Judith laughed. Wendy and Maria, who Jessica suspected went back further than she even knew, whispered conspiratorially to each other before erupting here and there in peals of laughter.

  And that left Destinee and Jessica.

  “This is a good turnout, baby.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “I got you a little something.”

  “Huh?”

  Destinee pulled out a small present from beneath the tablecloth. “It’s not much.”

  A lump formed in Jessica’s throat as she took the stuffed lioness from her mother. It had a red bow around its neck.

  “I just remember you saying your spirit animal when you took those drugs was a lioness, and I thought that was pretty cool. It ain’t much, but I’ve never been good at thinking up gifts for you, have I?”

  “It’s great, Mom.”

  Despite all of her favorite people being here, Jessica had the urge to sprint back to her apartment, slip under the covers, and cuddle the animal for the rest of the night.

  “I think this is your year, baby. I just got a feeling about it. You been through a helluva lot, but you’re stepping up, an
d that can only lead to good things.”

  “Do you remember that day when you had to pick me up at the zoo?”

  “You bet I do.”

  Jessica looked down at the lioness. “That was a good day.”

  Destinee grinned. “You got to see the lions.”

  “In action.”

  The waiter interrupted their moment by setting a single wobbly scallop in front of Destinee. “Your appetizer, madam.”

  Jessica already knew this wouldn’t meet her mother’s expectations.

  Destinee jabbed at it with a fork. “So… is it like flan or something?”

  “No, Mom. It’s from the sea.”

  “It is?”

  “You didn’t know what a scallop was before you ordered it?”

  Jeremy’s phone went off, blasting AC/DC. “Pardon me,” he said, excusing himself from the conversation with Jesus and Brian. “I’d better take this.” He got up from the table and stepped out.

  A few seconds later, both Maria and Wendy were looking down at their phones, too. They shared a glance then excused themselves as well. Cash was the next and last to go and pulled their phone away from Judith to begin texting frantically as they stood and left without saying a word.

  “It tastes like shrimp Jell-O,” Destinee said around a mouthful. “Now I see why they add bacon to it.”

  Meanwhile, the remaining guests shared uncertain glances regarding the sudden departures.

  Maybe there’s been a massive terrorist attack, she thought hopefully. Maybe this has nothing to do with me.

  But she knew. It was her birthday, after all, and things were going too well. She clutched the lioness close.

  Jeremy was the first to return, and he offered no information, only took his seat and addressed Brian with, “Where were we? Ah yes, arctic Illuminati.” (“Fact!” proclaimed Jesus.)

  Jessica was torn—did she demand to know what his call had been all about or did she enjoy a few more moments of blissful ignorance.

  She chose ignorance.

  But when Wendy and Maria returned, she knew it was time for the bad news.

  “I’m sorry,” said the reporter. “I really hate to leave, and I do appreciate the invitation, but I have to run and handle some … work stuff.”

  Jessica nodded and tried to act like it was no big deal, and Chris thanked her for coming with an overlong hug. Once she departed, Wendy, still standing, said, “Jessica, can I have a word?”

  She swilled a fresh pour of red wine in her tall glass because she assumed that was how it was done, and then she took a long drink from it before saying, “Just say whatever it is here. I assume the party is ruined, so you might as well come out with it. I’ll tell everyone here eventually.”

  Wendy’s eyes roamed the rest of the guests, then she said, “Your call,” and took a seat. “Jimmy Dean has just announced the end of the world.”

  Jessica closed her eyes to collect herself as the brunt of the news traveled through her.

  Of course he had. Of course Jimmy fucking Dean had declared another Doomsday on today of all days. It was her birthday, after all. Why wouldn’t he announce the end of the world? It was essentially his way of buying her a birthday card.

  “That rat bastard!” Destinee spat as Rex nodded along supportively.

  Quentin was the first to ask the most obvious question: “When does the clock run out?”

  Wendy gazed mournfully at him. “July seventh of next year.”

  Jessica squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

  There was silence at the table as the restaurant clatter took on the feel of protective armor. There was the outside world, and then there was Rich’s Steakhouse. She didn’t have to leave where she was just yet, but she knew what was waiting for her out there. Maybe that’s why the wealthy visited places like this so often. It felt nice to step outside of the real world with all its messiness once in a while. Or maybe even frequently. As much as possible.

  Then Chris said, “But it’s not … he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, right?”

  Jessica opened her eyes. Everyone was looking at her. “Um … God hasn’t mentioned anything about that, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  THE LORD DIDN’T MENTION IT BECAUSE IT IS NOT TRUE. THE EARTH IS GOING TO CONTINUE FOR AN EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG AMOUNT OF TIME. YOUR KIND WILL HAVE KILLED ITSELF OFF IN THE MOST SPECTACULARLY UNNECESSARY AND AVOIDABLE WAY BY THEN.

  “God just confirmed. The world will go on and, well, it’s not going to have a happy ending, but that’s a long ways off. Not our most immediate problem.”

  Chris appeared incredibly relieved, but Wendy didn’t find it so comforting, which made sense. The prospect of only having to spend another year working for Jessica definitely had its appeal.

  “I knew he was far too quiet,” Wendy said. “He’s been plotting. So now the question becomes what is he really up to? Is this just a way to distract from the church’s scandal, or is there some other move he’s making? If I know Jimmy, he doesn’t stay on the defensive for long. He’s the epitome of the adage ‘a good defense is a strong offense,’ so we need to figure it out.”

  “Well,” Chris said hopefully, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “We have a whole year to do that, don’t we?” He nodded, looking around the table for agreement.

  “There’s something else.” And now Wendy cringed, and that was a bad sign.

  Jessica motioned for her to come out with it.

  “He’s forecasted that the end of the world will be brought upon by … you, Jessica.”

  Jessica nodded. “Naturally. But I’ve done the Antichrist thing before. I know the game.”

  “Not like this,” Wendy said. “Not with the clock ticking down toward the end of the world.”

  “You’re right,” she conceded. “But I’m a little drunk, so I’m going to pretend it’s not a big deal.”

  “Right, right.” Wendy forced a minute smile and flattened the cloth napkin on her lap. “As long as you know that it’s happening and you can manage until we figure something out, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get to enjoy your birthday. The next one will be … Well, we’ll deal with it.”

  “Perfect.” Jessica raised her glass. “I’m a pro at dealing with things. Now, if you’d said we’ll enjoy it, that would be a problem. But dealing I can do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  361:11:45:12 until Doomsday

  The reality of Jimmy’s stunt had sunk in quite sufficiently over the last few days. But now it was time for Jessica to make a move, and, boy, would she rather be doing anything else.

  She stretched out on her couch, wondering if it was too early for a beer, and addressed the face staring back from the laptop perched on her thighs.

  “I don’t know, Wendy. Is this absolutely necessary?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. Quentin, will you please remind her that this is necessary?”

  Quentin, who had stopped by on his lunch break and was now scrolling on his phone screen from the chair opposite the couch said, “I’m just the moral support. I don’t make the arguments.”

  Her across-the-hall neighbors had spotted Quentin on his way in and had invited themselves to the party. She didn’t particularly mind, though she did wish Jeremy would stop wearing his new 5G protective gear—a hockey mask and thermal blanket cape—every time he stepped outside his condo. The crinkling sounds whenever he moved were grating on her nerves. “I think if anyone’s going to be the moral support,” he said, “it’s that one.” He nodded at Jesus, who snapped, “You’re not still mad about that, are you? I already apologized for judging you.”

  “Too little, too late,” Jeremy replied, his words muffled by the plastic face covering.

  “You promoted a pharmaceutical that is known to cause testicular cancer!”

  He tilted up his mask. “Everything causes testicular cancer! Carrying your cell phone in your front pocket, eating legumes, masturbating with your non-dominant hand. Everything!” />
  Wendy said, “Anyway, it’s going live. That’s just the way it is. It needs to happen, you already agreed to it, and it’s time. We’ve wasted days after Jimmy’s announcement. We need to ride the wave of his nonsense!”

  “Fine,” Jessica said. “Do it.”

  On her screen, Cash, whose pale face blended into their white-wall background, glanced up from their phone and said, “Oh, are we finally ready? Great. There it is. All live. Now hit refresh.”

  Jessica did, and the landing page that had previously only held a picture of her, her five commandments, and a sign-up form now, at the top, had a gigantic PLEDGE button.

  A taste like toxic waste crept into her mouth, and she fetched a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge before returning to the laptop.

  “And I just sent out the email about pledges to all your subscribers,” Cash added. “Once the IRS approves our new status, we’ll notify the list and all the pledges will be charged to the cards on file.”

  “Oh crap,” she groaned. “I just asked thousands of people to give me money.” Her mouth went dry and she treated it with the coke. How many donations would she get from thousands of subscribers? Was she comfortable receiving that much money from strangers?

  “Not thousands,” Cash replied. “One point eight million.”

  The bubbles from the coke choked her, and she struggled not to dribble down herself. “Shut up.”

  “No, you shut up, bitch.”

  She looked at Quentin for backup. He flashed her two thumbs up and a cheesy grin. Worst moral support ever.

  “Okay, I gotta … do other stuff. I’ll talk to you two later.”

  Wendy and Cash had hardly said goodbye before she slammed the laptop shut.

  “I guess I run a church now. Shit.”

  Jeremy and Jesus were still bickering about cancer, but when she spoke, they called a timeout to stare at her. Jesus walked over, set a hand on her shoulder, and said, “Bless you, sister.”

  She flicked it off her. “I didn’t sneeze. Save it.”

  “You are concerned about how this will play out. I understand. But I have faith in you and your ability to handle even the darkest of situations. I truly believe you will find a way to spread your sacred message.”