“Gabriel!”
I frown, and I pretend I don’t hear it, until I hear the footsteps behind me, and the voice call my name again.
“Wait, Gabriel!”
Shit. I turn, and sure enough, it’s Paul Somerset. I force a smile to my face.
“Hey, Paul, how are you?”
“Great, Gabriel, great. How’s your day?”
Amazing. Your sister swallowed my cum after I made her orgasm all over my mouth, three times.
“Fantastic,” I smile. “Just fantastic.”
He nods. “That’s great. Well, hey, could…” he frowns. “Could I follow up with you on that church idea?”
Right. Shit.
I sigh. “Paul, you know what, I need to—”
“Could we sit?”
“Uhhh, sure?” I wince. Fuck, I do not need to get pulled into this shit right now. Or, you know, ever.
“But Paul, I really do need to—”
“Just one minute of your time, sir, I promise. I know this could be good.”
“Yeah, um, one minute.”
He grins. “Fantastic. Here, over here.”
I groan inwardly as he drags me over to the Morning Glory Cafe and sits at one of their outdoor tables before gesturing to the chair next to him. Begrudgingly, I sit as Paul whips out a laptop. He opens it up, and my eyes almost bug out of my head. His background is a photo of him hugging a woman in a sundress, who’s kissing his cheek lovingly.
The woman is Lizzie Purcell, aka, my persistant midnight visitor out at the Winnebago a few nights ago.
What the fuck?
“Uh, Paul, who…”
He turns and grins at me. “Oh, Lizzie?” his smile widens. “That’s my fiancée, Mr. Marsden.”
I smile thinly at him. “Fantastic, Paul. That’s fantastic for you.”
Poor fucking bastard, I groan inside, but I keep my mouth fucking shut.
“Okay, so, this is my spreadsheet of donations so far, along with our goals and benchmarks.”
Paul opens up an Excel file, and I blink in shock as my jaw about hits the table. For one, because the sheet is meticulous, and highly detailed. But for two, and more importantly, because Paul has somehow managed to crowdsource almost two million dollars for his church. I mean forget this con man shit, I should go out and fundraise for an actual church. I mean, shit.
“Jes—” I catch myself. “Wow, Paul, that’s really impressive.”
He smiles at me. “Thank you, sir. It’s not just from Canaan, though, a few other local communities and churches have pitched in.” He beams. “The Lord has called me to His service, and I’ll do what I must to honor His name with a church worthy of Him. And I think if you felt the call too, as another man of God, I know we’d surely be appreciative of anything you could give for the cause.”
Yeaaah, no fucking way.
I clear my throat and smile at him. “Look, Paul—”