Holy Rollers (23 page)

If televisions in any of the dozens of gay neighborhoods around the world where Jared Parsells was well-known had been tuned into
Live from the Virginia Cathedral of Love
that morning, a collective
“What the fuck?”
would have been heard. But, of course, that didn’t happen, because Dr. Oscar Hurley and Jared Parsells had quite different demographics.

$ $ $

After the service, safely hidden away in his spacious office in Cathedral House, Hurley looked at Merribaugh from across the Desk of Christ.

“Sister Constance seems to be a true asset to our mission. I know I’m hard on you sometimes, Dennis, but you did a good job bringing her into the fold. Not only is she doing a fantastic job with the books, but bringing us young Jerry Stanley was a stroke of brilliance. He’s perfect…
exactly
what we need.”

“He
is
perfect,” Merribaugh agreed, and his mind drifted for a moment before focusing again on Hurley. “And when he becomes a spokesman for the cause…”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Dennis. First, he has to change.”

“He will, Oscar.” Merribaugh smiled. “Oh, he will…”

$ $ $

Jared was gushing. “And then Hurley said I was going to be the new poster boy for the ex-gay movement!”

Grant thought maybe he needed his hearing checked. He looked over to Constance, and Chase, but they met his eyes with affirming nods.

“You’re certainly gonna present him with, uh, a
unique
challenge,” said Grant. “That’s for sure.”

“So, Jared,” said Mary Beth from across the kitchen table, “when you become straight what are you gonna do with your manscara and guyliner?”

Under the table, Lisa gently kicked her, a signal to knock it off.

Besides, she’d stolen Lisa’s line.

At the end of the week the neighborhood was abuzz. Literally. From every direction came the sound of lawnmowers and weed-whackers and hedge trimmers. Because everyone had received a fluorescent yellow invitation to Old Stone Fence Post Estates Day, and no one wanted to incur the wrath of Tish Fielding.

Grant and Chase stood on the small front porch in front of their house and watched the employees from their lawn service do their work for them.

“We would have gotten better at it,” said Grant.

“I know,” Chase agreed. “But isn’t it better watching other people do it?”

“Yeah. Less itchy, too.”

Jared joined them, conservatively dressed in brown cargo shorts and a pink polo shirt. Between Grant’s firm parental skills and almost a week with the congregation at the Virginia Cathedral of Love, he was starting to fit in.

He spotted Malcolm Fielding across the street watering his lawn and waved. Malcolm returned the wave, then refocused his attention on the grass.

“C
lllll
oset case,” Jared drawled.

“Who?” Grant looked back across the street. “Fielding?”

Jared nodded. “I can spot one a mile away.”

Grant looked at Malcolm again and shook his head in disagreement. “Nah. Henpecked, maybe, but not a closet case. I figure him for one of those guys that puts up with his wife’s crap at home because he’s having an affair at work.”

Jared licked his lips but his eyes never left Malcolm. “Want me to prove it?”

“No. I want you to behave yourself. And I want you to remember that you’re about to go to ex-gay camp.”

Jared sighed. The nearer the date of the conference, the more he dreaded it. “Do I have to?”

“Yeah,” Grant said. “I thought you were looking forward to a lot of sex there.”

Jared licked his lips again. “Why, when I can get it right in the neighborhood?”

That was when Grant and Chase both decided three was a crowd on the tiny porch.

“Think we can convince ’em to start ex-gay camp this afternoon?” Grant asked when they were back in the kitchen.

“Technically,” Chase said, expanding on a point Grant had no interest in, “it’s not really a camp. More like a heavily supervised week in a hotel.”

“I’ll pay for the extra night. Two, if I have to. Couldn’t cost more than the damn toaster, could it?”

Chase laughed. “Maybe a little bit more. It’s a nice hotel. Expensive. It might even be the one where Eliot Spitzer met that hooker.”

Grant took a glance out the window. “Speaking of hookers…”

“What?”

“It’s our fault. We never should’ve left Jared alone. Now he’s across the street talking to Fielding.”

With that, Chase was at Grant’s side to see for himself. “I’d better break that up.”

Grant stared at him. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. It’s just not acceptable behavior.”

“I think you’re jealous.”

Chase pulled himself away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay. Just asking.” Grant took another look out the window. “Now what…? Why are Jared’s shirt and shorts wet? Looks like he must’ve accidentally gotten sprayed by the hose.”

“What?”

“
Annnnd
…now the shirt comes off!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hmm. Maybe Jared was onto something. Fielding ain’t exactly looking away.”

Grant continued to watch the scene unfold. First Chase rushed across the street, then tried to pretend he wasn’t rushing, and then half dragged Jared back home.

“I’m not jealous,” said Chase, when he was back in the kitchen. “But I’ve been watching the clock, and it’s almost time for Jared to get to the cathedral.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Grant, with a tiny smile on his lips.

$ $ $

A short time later, Jared—now in dry clothes—and Constance waited for Farraday, who was on his way back down the block from where he’d been repotting Ms. Jarvis’s pansies. Grant waited, too, along with Chase, who was still definitely, absolutely, unquestionably not jealous.

They’d decided that Chase would be going to church that day. Not to ensure Jared didn’t fall into the baptismal font and be forced to strip off his wet clothes, but to case the finance office with Constance and figure out if there was a way to get around the cameras.

Because they’d now been in Nash Bog for a few weeks, and that was a few weeks too long.

No sooner did Farraday walk through the front door than Grant handed him the car keys and made him turn right around. Constance and Chase followed, with Jared trailing and tossing a wave to Malcolm Fielding as they approached the car.

In Jared’s wake, the front door remained wide open.

Grant yelled across the lawn. “I’m not paying to air-condition the entire neighborhood, y’know!”

In the living room, Lisa looked up from her book. “We really have to find out what’s in those lawn chemicals.”

$ $ $

“Afternoon, Miss Brown,” said the elderly security guard sitting at his post in the lobby of Cathedral House.

Constance offered him a friendly smile and said, “Good afternoon. Are Dr. Hurley or Mr. Merribaugh in today?”

“Not today. I think I heard they were going to Washington.” The guard took a look at the man accompanying her. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Mr. Hudson. He’s offered to assist me in getting the books in shape.”

The security guard waved them on.

It was hot in the finance office, so Chase opened a window. “Nice view,” he said. “Private.”

“You’re probably gonna want to close that window,” said Constance.

“I just want to get some air circulating. It’s stuffy in here. Why not keep it open?”

“Be quiet and listen. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

It took a while, but soon he heard music from the seemingly endless rehearsal taking place in the auditorium. Roughly three minutes after that, “The Lonely Goatherd” had wormed its way into his ear.

He closed the window and said, “Let’s get down to business. Where’s the camera?”

“It’s mounted on the wall opposite the closet door.” He picked up some papers from her desk and pretended to look at them while checking the camera out of the corner of his eye. From the way it was angled, he figured it captured most of the office.

“Is there anything we can use to block the camera for few minutes?” he asked. “Something that won’t be obvious?”

Their eyes glanced around the room, until Constance spotted a large foam core panel half-tucked behind a cabinet. She pulled it out and said, “How about this?”

The image on the panel was a rendering of the Great Cross, with a note on the bottom indicating it predated construction. It might have been a cathedral artifact except someone over the years had defaced it, drawing spirals through the vertical section that blossomed into the horizontal section. Chase hated people who defaced property; it was the only type of crime short of physical harm he’d never participate in.

But for now, the defaced drawing would do. He held it up and stood behind it. “Think this will provide enough cover?”

“Maybe,” said Constance. “Of course, people are gonna wonder why you’re standing in the middle of the office holding that dusty old thing.”

“Then you hold it.”

“Uh-uh.” She pulled over a metal chair and motioned for Chase to use it as a prop, but the board slid off. “There’s gotta be something around here…”

“Just hold it. This isn’t gonna take that long.”

But she saw what she needed so didn’t bother answering him. In a corner of the office, next to an unused coat rack, stood a folded easel. Constance retrieved it, opened the legs, and helped Chase guide the foam core board into place.

“I feel like MacGyver,” she said, when the obstruction was between them and the security camera.

Chase took another glance to make sure he wasn’t being watched, then inspected the closet door.

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting in the closet. The safe is another thing.” He looked at her. “You didn’t happen to notice what kind it was, did you?”

“Sorry. Safes aren’t my thing.”

Chase shook his head. “I’m gonna assume the safe is nothing special. Still, we’ll need a pro to get into it. And if we can’t do that, we’re going to have to steal it.” He licked his lips. “I’ll bet Grant could get in with no problem.”

“
Our
Grant?” She thought about that. “I knew he had his talents, but I didn’t know they included safe-cracking.”

Chase shrugged. “Oh, yeah. He’s great on safes. All kinds of locks. That’s how we met.” She stared at him, not saying anything, and he took that as a sign to continue. “It had to be…well, we’ve been together for seventeen years, so seventeen years ago. I was pissed off at my dead-end job at Groc-O-Rama…”

“The one you still have?”

“Well…yeah.
Anyway
, I decided to rob the safe. Turns out, Grant was planning to rob the safe the very same night.”

“Hmm…”

“Right? But it worked out, and the rest is history.”

She shook her head. “Burglary…breaking and entering…safe-cracking…That might be one of the most romantic love-at-first-sight stories I’ve ever heard.”

He blushed and looked away. “Yeah.” Then he remembered their job at hand and returned his attention to the locked closet door. “We just have to get Grant into Cathedral House. After that, we’re golden.”

Constance was by nature an optimist, but she was also a realist. “Long as nothing goes wrong.”

Chase shook his head. “I’ve been on capers where things have gone wrong, but this one? You got a job here and they love you. Jared will be the perfect gay bait. Everything on this job is going right.”

Which was the moment a knock on the door threatened to change that.

Without making a sound, Chase grabbed the foam core panel and tucked it back behind the cabinet, while Constance folded the easel and set it aside. Then she smoothed her skirt, put a pleasant smile on her face, and answered the knock.

“Sister Constance!” said Merribaugh, greeting her. “Working on a Saturday?” He turned and saw Chase, and a quizzical expression crossed his face. “And…Mr. Hudson?”

“Charlie offered to help me get organized,” she said. “The books are a mess.” Then she thought to add, “Praise the Lord.”

Merribaugh cringed at that, but accepted the rest of her words at face value. He knew what a mess the books had become since Leonard Platt was discharged. “Mr. Hudson, I didn’t realize you knew finance.”

“A little,” he said. “Just a little. But I wanted to help out the Cathedral, so…”

“Well, thank you! I’ll make sure Dr. Hurley knows what a wonderful volunteer you’ve been.”

Merribaugh fully entered the room, and for the first time they realized he was wheeling a small suitcase.

“The guard downstairs said you were in Washington, DC, today.”

“Not yet.” He parked the suitcase next to her desk. “Dr. Hurley and I are leaving in an hour. But first I wanted to get something out of the…” He didn’t want to say too much in front of Charlie Hudson, so, to Constance, he motioned his head toward the closet door. “Now if you’ll be kind enough to excuse me for a moment, I need a little privacy.”