seducing her. Fucking a girl named Chastity—how poetic. It
would probably be good for her, give her a taste for what the
world had to offer outside the walls of her church. Then again,
why set her up for a lifetime of unreasonable expectations? Chastity returned with a sheaf of brochures and a hardcover book.
“I brought this for you,” Chastity said. “Miraculous Womanhood by Lucy Fuller. Wonderful book. Changed my life.
Maybe it’ll help your friend.”
“You can keep it,” Kingsley said. “I’ve already read this
one.”
Out on the street he found another taxi, and once inside he f lipped through the brochures the girl had given him. One detailed the work of the ministry. Reverend Fuller’s church focused on personal sin and accountability. Kingsley took that to mean the church didn’t actually do anything to improve the world. Lots of programs for people to quit adultery, quit drinking, quit smoking even, and programs for girls who were pregnant out of wedlock. He assumed they talked them out of abortions, had them give up their babies for adoption and then promptly forgot the mothers existed. He didn’t see anything about soup kitchens or homeless shelters. S?ren would
likely have something to say about that.
He should call S?ren. He spoke over a dozen languages.
Maybe one of them was fundamentalist Christian. Back at the town house, he found Sam making phone calls
with his red book of names open in front of her.
“We will need vast quantities of alcohol,” Sam said into the
phone. “The good shit.”
Kingsley snapped his fingers to get her attention. “Who’s
coming tonight?”
She held up one finger.
“One person is coming?”
She pointed at him. Of course he was coming tonight.
Several times.
“You should come, too,” he mouthed. She held up a sheet
of names, confirmations for the party. In red she’d circled the
names of half a dozen women. He raised his eyebrow at her
in a question.
“Targets,” she whispered.
Kingsley laughed, and Sam handed him the list of names.
It would be a packed house tonight. Good. For the first time
in a long time he felt like celebrating. On his way out the
door he heard Sam snapping her fingers. She put a hand over
the receiver.
“Your priest called. You’re supposed to call him back,” she
said before returning to her own phone call. As he walked
out of the room he heard her on the phone with the caterer. “We’re having an ‘I Don’t Have AIDS’ party tonight, and
we need food for a hundred people. Caviar? Good call.” In his bedroom he found that Signore Vitale had a suit and
some shirts delivered. Sam had put them on his bed with a note
that said, “Wear the suit and even I might consider spreading
for you. I won’t do it, but I might consider doing it.” She had
underlined consider three times.
Even her considering spreading for him was better than
not considering it. He’d wear whatever Sam liked if it made
her happy.
He sat on his bed and picked up the phone.
“Tell me it’s good news,” S?ren said when Kingsley greeted
him.
“It’s good news,” he said. “All good.”
Kingsley could hear the relief in S?ren’s breath all the way
from Connecticut to Manhattan.
“Gratias tibi, Deus,” S?ren breathed in Latin. “I have been
praying nonstop for two weeks. If you ever scare me like this
again—”
“I won’t,” Kingsley said. “I have to get tested again in six
months. And six months after that.”
“And?” S?ren prompted.
“And I have to use condoms unless I’m monogamous, which
I’m not.” Kingsley sighed heavily.
“Exactly.”
“Anyway, thank you. For making me get tested. And for
being there.”
“It’s always a pleasure forcing you to do things you don’t
want to do.”
“I like it better when you force me to do things I want
to do.”
“Kingsley. You know—”