"Well Bishop, if you're looking for funding for charity, I have a great idea. What about a new community center, with education and job training programs, a food bank, after school activities, even child care for working single mothers? I mean, a place that could be a real hand up and not a hand out."
"That sounds amazing, Miss Williams. But such programs are very expensive. When I looked into something similar, I was told it would cost nearly five million dollars just to get up and running, after finding a building, renovations and similar issues. I just don't have that amount of funding." He was lying through his teeth, as we'd kept tabs on Traylor's church. His personal finances alone were worth well over ten million dollars, and there was more owned in his church's name that they used, all tax free under their supposed 'ministry programs.'
"Oh, of course we can get it done," I replied, smiling my best smile. "After all, MJT has more than a few buildings it could outright donate to any such program, and the funding for running it, well, that wouldn't be a problem either. I know just where you could get the funding."
"What do you mean?"
"Well Bishop, all it would take would be for you to sell that twenty million dollar penthouse you have in the Park district that your friends in the Confederation got for you, not in your name of course but in your church's, along with the two other condos your mistresses are using, and move into a house more befitting a man of God," I said, keeping the smile on my face. Still, I knew my look had gone from happy to predatory, and the pale expression on the Bishop's face told me I was hitting home with my words.
"After that, you can sell your private jet that is kept out at the airport, the one that you told your audience was too old for you to continue to do your important work with, and that they needed to dig deep to buy you a new Gulfstream. You know the plane I'm talking about don't you? The one that is parked in a hanger that was owned by Taylor Broadwell, the gentleman who got himself assassinated only to have it come out later that not only was he the largest trafficker of illegal items in the city, he was in with both the Confederation and our recently indicted ex-Deputy Mayor Owen Lynch, the same Owen Lynch who I believe you had stand next to you at the pulpit before the last election and stated he was an honest hard-working man of God? Ring any bells, Bishop?"
I didn't give him a chance to answer before continuing. "Here’s the deal, Gerald. You're going to resign as head pastor of your church. Go to Florida, go to Arizona, Texas, hell, go to Fiji for all I fucking care. But you’re leaving this city. As for your charity request, that's already been in the works, has been for over a month. Tonight's news is going to include the announcement by MJT Consolidated Holdings that MJT is partnering with the owners of the Spartans (the local professional football team), Nike, and Google to build a series of four community centers in the city, each of them to have exactly what I just described. The Spartans, Nike and Google will fund the actual running of the centers, while MJT is donating the buildings themselves and the renovations. I expect I'll probably have to do some publicity shots of me in coveralls and a t-shirt hammering wood or laying carpet, but since you've spent most of the time we've been in the same room staring at my tits, I'm sure you won't mind if I make it a tight shirt. You think I'd look good in Spartan colors?"
Traylor recovered from my attack well, or at least tried to. I doubted many people were willing to really stand up to him, not in years at least. After all, he could command the ear and soul of thousands at a whim, who would want to piss him off? Well, that is except a very committed redheaded woman who didn't care if she pissed him off. He leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands in his lap, only the pulse of a vein in his temple exposing how angry he was.
"And if I turn my people against you? It’ll be mighty hard to have a good community center when you have street gangs patrolling outside the doors. Let's drop the facade, Miss Williams. I know who goes to my church. One call and you have the Gangster Disciples tossing bombs through your windows."
"You have powerful friends at the street level, Gerald. On the other hand, I also happen to have friends at the Justice Department and the IRS. Tell me Bishop, are you certain you paid the proper taxes for all that you got last year? Because I'm quite certain the IRS would say differently. Just how is it that a Bishop is able to pay for not only your lifestyle, but that of a wife and two mistresses on just the donations of your parishioners? Oh, by the way, how are Carrie, Pauline and Baby Love doing right now? I know Carrie knows about them, but I don't think Pauline knows about Baby Love."
Traylor swallowed, but recovered well enough. I had dirt on him, and while he could try and go against me, I had a grip on more than a few sensitive areas of his. "I see. Well then, good day Miss Williams. I doubt we’ll speak again."
He got up to leave, buttoning his coat and heading for the door. Reaching for the handle, he stopped when I called his name. "Gerald?"