Mahalia balked at that. “Well, I’m not so sure there’d be a need for a martial—”
“That’d be so cool!” raved Dingo, executing a few poses that probably vaguely approximated some martial arts stances. Or at least ones they showed on Star Trek. “I know all kinds of guys from my computer school who’d want to attend that.”
Mahalia shrugged, indulgent of her Prospect. “Well. You men can discuss that in more detail. I don’t get involved with the business side of the club. Meanwhile, you said there are at least four men who’d like an exam, whether or not they want to come to Avalanche?”
Levon was just opening his mouth to answer when an abrasive, loud young man yelled from the sidelines, scaring all of us. “Jonah! Jonah Garff!” The kid with a rich, soft crewcut came bounding out from the living room area like a gymnast. This kid infused the area with a fresh energy, and boy, was he sprightly. He even had a sleeveless sports jersey on like some kind of springy cheerleader, he was that full of enthusiasm.
He took Dingo by the hands, his eyes shining as though he gazed on the Ghost of Christmas. “Jonah Garff! We were ordained deacons together!”
Boys aged twelve to fourteen were ordained deacons into the Aaronic Priesthood. Boys fourteen through sixteen were teachers, and if a boy inside Cornucopia was lucky enough to make it to a priesthood, well, he probably had it made for life. I wasn’t sure about the twisted vagaries of how they warped Mormonism inside those terrifying walls, but some of it seemed to approximate the regulations on the outside. Not that I was the most shining example. I was pretty much a non-practicing Saint.
“Indeed we were!” trilled Dingo, wringing his friend’s hands. “You vanished before I did.”
“And wound up here after a couple of filthy, frightening years on the streets!” cried the crewcut boy.
Dingo turned to us excitedly. “Guys, this is Deloy Pingree. Or do you have a different name?”
Some of the shine went out of Deloy’s eyes. “I’m still Deloy Pingree because I’m not ashamed of my family. They didn’t do this to me. Allred Chiles did.”
“But he’s gone now,” intoned Dingo with round eyes.
There. The cheer was back, and Deloy jumped up and down wringing Dingo’s hands. “Yes, yes! So I heard! What a wonderful day in the neighborhood it was when I heard that!”
Did my ears deceive me? Deloy Pingree equated the murder of a cult sect leader with a walk through Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood? Besides, since I knew Gideon Fortunati had something to do with that event, I wasn’t eager to talk about it.
“Deloy, I’m the nurse your boss called in for the exams. Would you like to start first?”
Deloy held a hand to his chest as though being informed he’d won a beauty pageant. He seemed so innocent, even more na?ve and unsophisticated than Dingo. “Me? Your first? Why, certainly. I aim to please. Is that all right, Levon?”
Levon waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure. Go, go. You don’t have an appointment until seven tonight.”
It surprised me when Deloy rolled his eyes. “Oh, that Mr. Rice fellow. He’s the sort that every escort dreads.”
“Why’s that?” I dared to ask as we headed back toward the house.
Deloy wrinkled his nose. “Always wanting to, you know, ride the Hershey Highway. He always wants to make pound cake. Raw dogging it, too, without a rubber.”
Although the reality was horrifying, I had to giggle at Deloy’s terminology. He was old enough to do those things, but not old enough to speak of them without using metaphors. My heart went out to him. “Well, that’s why I’m here. If you’re doing things without rubbers, you need me.”
“Oh, I don’t let him ride bareback. No siree, Bob. That’s one of the house rules. Here, I think Levon set up a table in here.”
“In here” turned out to be the book-lined office I’d seen earlier. Someone had rolled out a massage table and covered it with a sheet and given me a clip-on draftsman’s lamp I could move around on an arm. It was okay. Most of the tests were blood or a swab from inside the penis, but I wanted to check for sores.
“Can you undress completely? I’m sorry I don’t have any gowns.” Out of my medical bag I took my tray, gloves, swabs, syringes.
“That’s okay,” Deloy said good-naturedly, stripping off his sports jersey. “I’m used to being naked. It’s the nature of the beast around here.”
I asked, “Do you like…working for Mr. Rockwell?”
To my surprise, he shrugged. I expected the enthusiastic kid to rave about Levon. “It’s all right. It’s a living, as they say. Before I was led by Lucifer to turn traitor to the priesthood, I actually dreamed of becoming a dentist. Don’t laugh!”
“I’m not laughing.”