Chapter Six
Plum hadn’t been to church in… Well, a very long time. And she hadn’t decided that she absolutelywasgoing to go until a few minutes before the last Sunday service started.
So, yes, she had showered and gotten dressed and done her makeup and her hair so she could go if she wanted to, but she hadn’t been sure she wanted to.
She wanted to see Gideon, yes. But she could do that every Thursday morning. Or she could call him. Email him. Poke her head in the church some other time and see if he was hanging around, praying or polishing candle sticks or whatever else priests did when they weren’t preaching.
But there was something tempting about seeing the man speak.
Yes, she heard his voice every Thursday, but that was to order breakfast. And while she hoped he enjoyed his meals—surely he must or he wouldn’t have been coming to Caffeinatrix for years?—she couldn’t imagine that his various breakfast choices roused the same level of passion in him as Jesus did. Given that he was a priest and Jesus was, like, histhing, she hoped not.
She wanted to see Gideon Davies be passionate. See him be passionate again, actually, because he had definitely not been the staid, polite priest he usually was when he’d stopped by the other night and issued this invitation. Maybe if she accepted, she’d get to see him be passionate yet again. Perhaps as he was fucking her. Or she was sucking him off. Yes, she’d like to see him lose his precious control.
So a few minutes before ten, she hustled down the stairs, her skirts swirling around her knees, and skittered across the wide boulevard and down a block to All Saints Episcopal Church.
She’d passed by it a million times, the large grey stone structure with its stained glass and heavy wooden doors. The sign out front with the pride flag attached that announced the times for services, the immaculately maintained flower beds and the modest stone cottage on the far side of the parking lot. She’d wondered before if Gideon lived there. Now she wondered what he might do there since it seemed he was far more interesting than she’d assumed.
When she entered the vestibule, there was a middle-aged woman handing out programs. She smiled at Plum as she handed over one of the folded pastel yellow pieces of paper, and while her smile didn’t disappear—it actually seemed frozen in place—the woman did look her up and down.
Look lady, Plum wanted to say.I did the best I could. Church isn’t really my scene.
“Welcome, dear. You’re just in time. There are still some seats in the back.”
The woman gestured to an archway behind her and Plum nodded, said “thank you,” and headed toward the empty pews.
There was something peaceful about being here even as her insides twisted in anticipation. Maybe it was the organ music or the high ceilings or the fact that it was a little cold. Caffeinatrix was never cold, not with the ovens running much of the time.
Also, this was primetime people-watching. People of all ages, in families, in couples, in singles. They were all here for him. Gideon. Well, probably not. Probably a lot of them were here for worshiping God and all the usual church-y stuff she had no clue about.
It was a good thing they handed out programs so she’d at least have some idea of what was going on. She was glad to be sitting in the back where no one would be able to see what a fucking heathen she was. Was this one of those sitting and standing churches?
There was a pause in the pretty organ music followed by a shift in the air as people stopped talking to their neighbors, shushed children, and faced toward the front of the church. Apparently it was showtime.