Deviation (7 page)

“You're welcome. Now why don't you think about
what you want for lunch, or dinner, and I'll go and get my pipe. In
the meantime...” He got up and fetched the bourbon from the
cabinet, setting it on the table in front of her. “Help
yourself.”

An
hour later they had the bourbon down to the dregs and cartons of
Chinese food in front of them, Dianne using a fork and Frank a pair
of chopsticks he'd retrieved from a kitchen drawer. They'd called
and gotten the food delivered, and when someone began pounding on
the door Frank had at first thought it was Lester; he had no idea
when Lester was coming; but it was only the Chinese being delivered,
and they sat at their table and passed the bourbon back and forth,
eating.

Frank was getting worried about Lester. The man was
due to deliver a staggering quantity of drugs to the church at any
time that day, whenever it was convenient for him, and Frank had no
way of paying for them. There was no use telling Lester to wait
until tomorrow, because he wouldn't have the money then, either.
He'd never have the money. He had only $726 dollars in his checking
account and $132 in his wallet. The drugs were going to cost over
$6,000.

There was going to have to be some other way of
dealing with Lester. He knew there was no time to put off thinking
about it, but he was having such a wonderful time with Dianne that
he didn't want to dwell on it any more than he absolutely had to.

“How's that chicken?” she asked, pausing
to take a small sip of bourbon.

“Good.” He held out the carton. “Try
some.”

Dianne leaned forward and stabbed her fork into his
Garlic Chicken. It wasn't something she'd normally have the courage
to do, but she was fairly drunk. She smiled and pulled the fork
out, sitting back in her chair and scarfing down the sample. It had
been almost 24 hours since she'd eaten and she was feeling ravenous.

“Good?” he asked her.

“It's wonderful!”

“See?” He'd already tried some of her
Spicy Shrimp. “They're both good. It was a good idea.”
He rubbed his face and began picking at an imaginary scab, feeling
the need for a hit of meth. Dianne had declined to smoke again and
he felt awkward smoking it in front of her. He thought of asking
again now, but he didn't want to become tedious.

“What do you do when you run out of Wild
Turkey?” she asked, sliding the dead bottle toward him.

“Are you saying you want more to drink?”

She smiled. “Maybe just a little. I know I'll
regret it in the morning, but after what I just went through I think
I kind of deserve it.”

“Maybe you deserve a little taste of meth, as
well.”

She glared at him. It was obvious she didn't like the
idea. “No thank you. I really don't want to try that.”

He picked up the bottle and shook it. Nothing but a
sip of backwash. He returned it to the table and sat up, trying to
think of what else he had tucked away. He got up from his chair and
went to the refrigerator, ducking inside and coming up with two
bottles of Irish Stout. He used a bottle opener from the drawer to
open them and brought them back to the table. “I know St.
Patrick's day is over, but I've still got some good stout here.”

Dianne grabbed a bottle right away. “I love
dark beer! Oh, this is perfect!”

They drank their beer and ate, and Frank spent a few
minutes trying to work out some type of plan for dealing with
Lester. He wanted to ask Dianne for her input, but wasn't sure it
would be a good idea to involve her. It was obvious she had no
interest in drugs, at least not meth.

“What are you thinking about?” she finally
asked him, setting her empty food container aside.

Frank looked over at her. He shrugged. “Problems
of my own.”

“What kind of problems?”

He took a drink of beer. “Oh, I've got quite an
assortment.” He decided to share this particular problem with
her and see what she thought. “I've got a drug dealer
stopping by later today to make a delivery, and I've got no way of
paying him. Not the full amount, anyway.”

Dianne frowned. “More meth?”

“Meth. Weed. Cocaine. I'm attempting to stock
up a bit.”

“Weed?”
She smiled drunkenly at him. “You smoke meth
and
weed? Aren't they practically opposites?”

“Well, maybe. I don't normally use them
together.”

“God, I haven't smoked weed in years.”

Frank perked up at the news. “Would you like
to?”

She took a sip of beer. “I don't know. Kind
of. But... shouldn't we be thinking about how we're going to deal
with our problems? I've still got that dead body...”

“Forget the dead body.” Frank leaned
toward her, setting his food aside. “What do you say we get
stoned? I mean, really fucking blasted? It seems to have a way
of...” He gestured absently. “...helping things come
together in one's mind. Maybe it will help us decide what to do.”

Dianne was grinning. “You don't have to
rationalize on my account. If you really have some weed, sure, I'll
smoke a little.” She laughed quietly “When I first
spoke to you yesterday, I was trying to figure out if you were a
strange priest or not. I honestly couldn't tell, but I was kind of
leaning toward strange. I don't think there's any doubt now. I
can't believe I'm going to smoke dope with a priest.”

Frank nodded. “Yes, I suppose some people might
consider me a bit strange. Imagine doing what you want to do,
rather than what you're expected to do. It may be criminal at
times, despite the fact that god himself --”

“I didn't mean to offend you,” Dianne
interrupted.

“No, no,” Frank said, shaking his head.
“I'm not offended. I suppose I'm simply justifying my
behavior. You have to understand, Dianne, that I take the word of
god very seriously. That is, of course, if there was any word of
god. If he ever speaks to me, I'm all ears. But until then I'm
assuming I'm free to do as I please, and the laws of these
ridiculous pigs in their boyscout uniforms and government issue
badges have absolutely no influence over me whatsoever. If that's
strange, then so be it. But in all honesty, I find it far stranger
to live out your entire life as if it's some sort of act for the
benefit of society. If I'm not doing what I want to do, who am I
living for?”

“I said I'm sorry!” She was still
smiling.

Frank took a long drink of beer. “Accepted.”

“You've really got a problem with authority,
don't you?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem to denounce all rules and
laws, no matter why they exist. Like they were put in place with
the sole intention of pissing you off.”

“Yes. I fully admit, I detest authority. I
don't believe anyone has the so-called right to force anyone else to
live by rules that they themselves invented. It goes completely
against nature.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“It is true. It's why so many sociopaths hold
positions of power. Like I told you before, it's all a game. If
everyone stopped playing, the sociopaths at the top would cease to
have control. Society is nothing but a house of cards, and I refuse
to allow everyone else's delusions to shape my reality.”

Dianne tried to stop grinning and found she couldn't.
“I like you, Frank.”

“I like you too. I'll go and get my weed.
Would you like to use my pipe, or would you prefer a joint?”

She giggled and drank from her bottle. “Why
don't I come with you? We can smoke it in your room.”

Looking suddenly nervous, Frank nodded. “If
you'd like. Are you sure you wouldn't rather smoke it here?”

“I don't know.” She looked around the
little room. “We're inside this huge, beautiful old church
and all I ever really see is this modern break-room. I'd kind of
like to see something else.”

“Alright. Perhaps the sanctuary...”

Dianne laughed again. “What's the matter,
Father? Aren't you allowed to have a girl in your room?”

He settled back in his chair. “Absolutely. I'm
just not sure why you'd want to go there.”

“I'm not sure, either. It was just an idea.”

“Are you interested in seeing the architecture,
or do you have an affinity toward middle-aged priests?”

“You really don't seem like a priest to me.”

“Oh? What do I seem like?”

“Actually, you remind me of a guy I dated in
college. He was a doper, always worrying about his next score. He
hated cops, too. He carried a little pipe in his pocket, like you
do. He could make one out of anything. Once I saw him make one out
of a pen.”

“Oh, that's easy,” Frank assured her.
“Once I made one out of an acorn.”

She was grinning happily. “I doubt he could
have done that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, thinking things
over. There were the beginnings of a sexual tension hanging in the
air between them and they were both fully aware of it.

Dianne drank some more stout. “So do you want
to smoke some weed with me?”

“Of course. It was my idea.” Frank
drained his beer and stood up. “Let's go to my room. I think
you'll like it.”

* * *

Dianne did like the room. She walked through it,
smiling, touching things and asking questions. Frank tolerated it
and even found it amusing. It had been years since he'd had a woman
in his room.

“Where are we going to sit?” she asked,
glancing over at the single chair in front of Frank's desk.

He gestured to the bed. “I always smoke
cannabis in bed. I'm not sure why that is.”

Dianne laughed. “You think I'm going to climb
into your bed that easily?”

“Oh, no. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
proposition you. I really do smoke it in bed. Just sitting on the
bed would do. Unless you'd like to smoke in one of the classrooms?”

“No, this is fine.” She walked over and
took a seat on the bed. She'd left her purse in the kitchen but she
brought along her bottle of beer.

“I'm glad you like it.”

“I love it. I've never been in a place like
this before. It's kind of like an efficiency in an old run-down
building, but it's better than that because it's actually a church.”

“Yes. My thoughts exactly.” He sat down
beside her on the bed and lifted his bible from the bedside table.

Dianne watched him, taking a sip of beer. “Are
you going to read me a sermon before we smoke?”

Frank opened the book and removed his baggie and pipe.
“Not at all.” He still had a lighter in his pocket
from earlier. He shook open the bag and proceeded to pack a small
bowl.

Dianne was gaping at the hollowed-out bible, not sure
she was comprehending what she saw. She reached out and ran one
finger along the shredded edges of the butchered pages. “Did
you... do this?”

“Of course. Who else would have?”

She stared at him with growing unease. “Isn't
that... sacrilegious?”

“Why would you say that?”

“It's a bible! The word of god! I thought you
held it sacred.” She looked almost shocked.

Frank tore up a small bud and pressed it into the
pipe, shaking his head. “God didn't write the bible, Dianne.
God didn't write anything, to the best of my knowledge.”

“But... then... who wrote it?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? It was written by
people who lied about their identities. It's a book of lies written
by people who lied about who they were.”

She watched him press another small clump into the
pipe. “How do you know? I always thought...”

“It's relatively common knowledge. Scholars
even have a word for it. Pseudepigrapha. If you take a college
course in bible study, you'll learn this term. It means 'writing
inscribed with lies.'”

“But... the bible!”

“Yes, the bible.” Frank rolled up the
baggie and stuffed it back into the book. Then he closed it and set
it aside. “It would be virtually impossible for anyone with
common sense to mistake the bible for truth. Everything in it
contradicts everything else. I hope god is punishing those who
wrote it. I certainly would.” He handed Dianne the pipe and
the lighter. “Would you like to do the honors?”

She nodded, her expression still stark. “I had
no idea.”

“You'll get over it. It must have occurred to
you that there are countless religions and that they each have their
own holy book. All the books are different. Were they written by
an assortment of gods? Of course not. They were written by man,
and as I've already told you, I don't take the word of man
seriously. Man is a shit beetle, and his words have no value to
me.”

Dianne finally tore her eyes away from the bible and
put the stem of the pipe in her mouth. She sparked the lighter and
took an enormous hit, almost too much to hold. She coughed
slightly, smoke coming out her nostrils, and then got herself under
control, holding her breath and passing the pipe to Frank.