Names Have Power: Tim's Magic Voice Makes A Harem (11 page)

We walked out of my office, but then SUV Driver
stopped at Susie’s desk. “Susan Gloria Cooper, I thank you for believing that I
am Timothy’s friend. But
in the future
, it’s helpful to Timothy if you
keep me out here till he’s ready for me.”

Susie smiled big. “No problem, and I’ll treat you
right while you wait.”

The Golden God’s vehicle was the black SUV. Not
only was it now unwrecked, but now it looked like it had less than a thousand
miles on it. It even had a pair of Tim Hanson Ford paper license plates, which
I thought was a nice touch. The Golden God shook my hand, said, “I’ll see you
around,” then he got in the SUV and drove away.

When I came back inside, Susie said, “Your friend
is a nice man.”

I laughed. “Susie, you have
no
idea how nice
he is.”

The rest of Friday and all of Saturday passed
normally—minor crises and customer complaints at work, and fucks and sucks at
home. Then came Sunday morning.

While I’d been driving to Brother Simon’s
mega-church, my cel phone had beeped: I had a text message. When I’d parked
and locked my car in the church parking lot, I read the message—

I M SORRY 4 WHAT I MUST DO. OR ELSE SIMON SAYS I
DIVORCED, A-L STARVE. ASHLEY SUE.

Now I was walking into Divine Blessing Cathedral.

Despite my lack of sleep, I didn’t yawn as I walked
inside—I was too nervous.

Chapter 18
Public Humiliation

Divine Blessing Cathedral had its own band—a
drummer, two electric guitarists, a sax player, an electric fiddle player, and
a trumpet player. The musicians were playing a hand-clapping song during the
Offering.

The church also had two television cameras and a
giant TV mounted on a side wall overhead. At the moment, the TV was switching
between close-ups of one musician or another. Very likely, the overhead TV was
showing us what Channel 6 was live-broadcasting to viewers throughout the
metroplex.

After a while, the music stopped. Then Brother
Simon stepped in front of the congregation—the audience, really—to begin his
sermon. He walked out holding a book with a red-leather cover, and wearing a hands-free
headset.

About this time, the image on the giant TV started
flashing and twisting.

Brother Simon’s amplified voice called out, “Is the
car dealer Tim Hanson here? Please stand up.”

I thought to myself,
Oh shit.
But as requested,
I stood up.

The TV overhead cleared up and showed me in
profile; I had never seen myself on TV without an automobile nearby.

“Thank you, you may sit,” Brother Bob told me. As I
sat down, the TV went back to fritzing up.

Brother Simon continued, “Tim Hanson is my
neighbor. He’s also a heir to a car dealership that he got when his father died
unexpectedly
, at an
unusually
young age.”

I resent your implication!
I wanted to
shout.

Brother Simon continued, “Brethren and sistren,
have you seen his recent commercials with the young and large-breasted women?
What you don’t know is, all these women live with him…”

Except for Susie
, I mentally corrected.

“…And Tim’s house is the site of nonstop orgies.
The racket that these people make, disturbs the neighbors, and the police are called
repeatedly….”

Another lie
, I thought.
No policeman or
neighbor has ever come to my door, and Sarah is quiet when she cums.

“…Which brings me to last Monday. Tim was cutting
his grass, on a day when decent men go off to work, when I made the mistake of
going to his house and inviting him to this church. I say `mistake,’ because I
brought my Christian wife and Christian daughter with me. The whole time that I
was talking to Tim, he was looking at my women like they were slabs of beef.
Isn’t that
right
, Ashley Sue?”

“Yes,” I heard Ashley Sue’s amplified voice say.
Her voice sounded depressed and defeated. “All true.”

The overhead TV cleared up its picture for two
seconds, long enough to show sad Ashley Sue sitting in a pew, holding a
handheld microphone. Ashley Sue’s free hand was being gripped by both of the
hands of a sad-looking Ashley Lynn.

Brother Simon continued, “When I returned to my
house, I noticed that both my women seemed
excited
. Then a few hours
later, my daughter left the house, supposedly to do homework with a girlfriend.
A few minutes after that, Ashley Sue left the house, supposedly to shop. And I
would have believed my wife’s words, but for one thing….”

Uh-oh
, I thought.

“…God has richly blessed me, so that I can afford
a sunken sprinkler system around my house. But I also water my flowers the
old-fashioned way, with a soaker hose. Monday at sunset, I was in my front yard
when I noticed that my wife’s car was parked in front of Tim Hanson’s house….”

Uh-oh
, I thought again.

“…Two hours later, I walked down my street with a
flashlight, and I found that Ashley Sue’s car was still parked in front of Tim
Hanson’s house….”

She and I are so fucked
, I thought.

“…Fifteen minutes later, both my women returned
to the house—within a minute of each other. Both immediately took showers.
Which then made me suspicious about my daughter, as well as my wife….”

I don’t like where this is going
, I thought.

“…Wednesday morning, I called the house of Ashley
Lynn’s supposed study partner, and talked to that girl’s mother. Ashley Lynn
hadn’t set foot in that house, I was told.”

Poor Ashley Lynn
, I thought.

Then Brother Simon’s voice got cheerful. “
But
,
there is good news in all this….”

I suspected that Brother Simon’s “good news” would
not be good news for
me
.

“…Last night, my sobbing wife made a full
confession, begging forgiveness. I gave that forgiveness, with my own face
tear-streaked. My daughter also confessed, though with brazen pride.”

What he means is: “Hey boys, my daughter is a
cock-crazy slut now. Enjoy!”
Ashley Lynn must have really given shit to
her father.

“Talk to them, Ashley Sue,” Brother Simon
commanded. “Tell the people what you told me.”

I glanced at the TV, and saw flickers of Ashley
Sue, her head hung low, bringing the microphone to her lips. Her voice boomed
from the big room’s speakers: “It’s true, Timothy Hansen seduced my daughter
and myself. But I was weak, and let him use us.”

Then a man’s voice yelled from the back of the
sanctuary, “ASHLEY SUE EFFIB, IF YOU’RE GOING TO SPEAK BADLY ABOUT A MAN, YOU
SHOULD STAND AND FACE HIM, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Where have I heard that voice before?
I
wondered.

Ashley Sue slowly stood up and, with slumped
shoulders, turned to face the congregation. The big television suddenly cleared
up, showing Ashley Sue’s defeated expression. She said, “I have sinned greatly
against my husband…”

Then Ashley Sue’s eyes found mine. Her spoken words
ground to a halt.

Ashley Sue stood straighter, as her expression
changed from misery to anger. “Folks, I can’t lie anymore. Yes, on Monday night
I had sex with Timothy Hanson. Yes, Ashley Lynn did too. But Timothy didn’t
smooth-talk us, he didn’t trick us, he didn’t force us, and
oh god
, the
sex was
great
!”

Throughout the room, women gasped. Brother Simon
made a throat-cut gesture, and the big television screen went black.

I pointed at the television. Ashley Sue turned
around only long enough to note the dead screen, then turned back to the crowd.
Her shrug meant
I’m not surprised.

Ashley Sue continued, “My husband—Did you know `Simon’
isn’t his real name?—My husband has given me only seven orgasms in twenty-two
years of marriage. And five of those seven climaxes were during the first year.”

“You
serpent
!” Brother Simon roared. “Be
quiet with your lies!” He started to rush toward her with his hand
outstretched, ready to grab the hand mike.

Then the television screen came back on, as that
same mysterious male voice yelled, “BALFOUR EBENEZER EFFIB, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

And Brother Simon did exactly that. Oh, he put his
fists on his hips and glared at his wife, but he stood fifteen feet from Ashley
Sue, and now he acted uninterested in coming closer.

I noticed Ashley Sue’s wide-eyed expression and the
audience’s murmurs only in passing. I had turned around to look behind me.

Twenty feet behind me was a television camera.
Talking to that camera’s cameraman was a man in his forties with a receded
hairline, a white shirt, and a blue tie with white polka dots. The SUV Driver
caught my look, gave me a quick thumbs-up, and turned back to talking to the
cameraman.

I turned around forward, made eye contact with
Ashley Sue, and said, “You were saying?”

Ashley Sue gave me (and the TV camera) a bedroom smile.
“Simon over there—I mean,
Balfour
—has given me only seven orgasms in
twenty-two years. But Timothy? You gave me
more
than that, in only
forty-five minutes!”

By now, Ashley Lynn was standing as well. She
leaned toward the hand mike and said, “Well,
I
think I had more orgasms
than Mom did! Tim, you should work as a professional Virginity Taker.”

That Sunday’s broadcast from the Divine Blessing
Cathedral eventually went viral on YouTube. Because Ashley Sue spilled her guts
over the airwaves, then Ashley Lynn came clean as well, and so did Mary Linda
Bell (thanks to encouragement from the Golden God). Mary Bell agreed with
Ashley Sue that, so far as sex went, the woman did all the work, and Brother
Simon got all the glory.

Oddly, it turned out that while Brother Simon’s
nasty words about me were clearly heard within the Cathedral, the
broadcast
audio was completely silent while he was trash-talking me. Combine that with
all the problems with the video picture, and not even lip-readers knew what
Brother Simon had said. Whereas 99 percent of what his wife said, went out over
the air as clear as a bell.

Brother Simon had warned his wife that if she went
off his Contriteness script, there would be a divorce, and then there would be
starvation. Brother Simon’s prediction came true, but not the way he’d
predicted—

For some reason, Mary Bell got the idea that she
had to show a local newspaper photographer the shredder where Brother Simon
shredded prayer-requests without reading them. Divine Blessings Cathedral got
zero contributions after that, till the elders fired Brother Simon.

Eventually Brother Simon got a job as a gardener in
a retirement home in Boise, Idaho.

Meanwhile, I had discovered that I couldn’t go
anywhere in town without teenage girls—and their mothers!—looking at me with
interest.

Two girls from Ewert Grant High School’s chess club
invited me to speak at their school for Career Day. They both lost their
virginity to me fifth period, on the teacher’s desk in Biology Class.

Chapter 19
The Last Puzzle Piece

My adventure at Divine Blessing Cathedral had
happened on a Sunday. (Duh.) Just under a week later—actually, sometime between
midnight and dawn of the following Sunday—my bedside phone rang.

Sarah was terrified. “Duke is outside the club and
he’s acting crazy! He’s got a baseball bat, and he says he’ll bash my brains
out when I step outside!”

I looked at the bedside clock. It was 2:13.

I said into the phone, “So call the cops, honey.”

“George did. The cops told him, it could take
forty-five minutes or an hour before they get here. Cops get busy when the bars
close on Saturday night.”

“Then lock the doors and stay inside, Sarah.”

“We are, George and I. But I’m so
scared
,
Tim honey.”

I did the math. As far as I could tell, Duke and
his baseball bat couldn’t get into the Nimfo Club building. Meaning, Sarah was
in no danger—
if
she stayed put. But if the cops showed up and Duke didn’t
put down his bat, the cops would have to shoot him like a rabid dog.

What the math also told me was that if Duke died,
it was because of something I’d done: becoming Sarah’s boyfriend through my
Power. Admittedly, I’d done that without meaning to. Still, it meant I had a
responsibility to defuse tonight’s crisis and keep Duke alive, if I could.

“I’m leaving for Nimfo,” I said, and hung up. I
stopped only long enough to scribble a note for Slave Deborah, and to get
dressed. Then I was zooming.

As I was yawning and driving through the blackness,
it occurred to me: Duke likely wouldn’t see me as the man who was going to save
him from death by cop-bullet—nope, he’d see me as the man who stole his
girlfriend. What I was doing was noble, but it sure wasn’t smart.

Still, I kept driving toward the Nimfo Club.

It was easy to figure out that I was seeing Duke.
Tall with a gymnasium build and a blond crew cut, I would have known him even
without his MLB equipment. As I cut the engine, Duke was using his bat to beat
on a reinforced-steel door. When I cut my headlights, Duke glanced in my car’s
direction. Once he figured out that he wasn’t looking at a cop car, his
attention returned to the door.

“SARAH, YOU GET YOUR WHORE ASS OUT HERE
RIGHT
NOW
! THE MORE YOU MAKE ME WAIT, THE WORSE YOU’RE GONNA HURT LATER!”

There was a pause of several seconds, then—

“DON’T GIVE ME THAT SHIT! YOU’RE
MY
GIRL,
GOT IT?”

I hope my Power is up to the challenge!
I
thought. Then I stepped out of my car and walked toward the man who was
swinging his bat like a fire ax.

When I got close to him, I said, “You don’t need to
do that. There are billions of other women in this world.”

He whirled around, surprised. Then he said, “Buddy,
this isn’t your pr—”

Then he
looked
at me, and said, “Ain’t I
lucky, just the man I want to see. You bullshitted my girlfriend, and your dad
sold my grandpa a piece-of-shit Pinto. Now it’s payback time.”

Duke started walking toward me.

As soon as he was moving my way, I said, “Duke,
stop. Calm down.” I tried to keep my own voice calm.

Duke kept coming, and his furious expression didn’t
change. Clearly my on-again, off-again Power hadn’t worked.

“Let’s talk about this, Duke,” I said. It sounded
lame, even to me.

“You’re good at talk. I’m good at muscles. I’m done
talking,” Duke replied.

I stood my ground, even knowing this was perhaps a
fatally stupid choice. But before things could get nasty—the steel-reinforced
door opened. And quickly shut again.

Duke turned his back on me and ran toward the door,
his bat held high. Then he stopped.

“Please don’t hit me, I’m not her!” an alto voice
said.

The red-haired stripper Sunset was staring at Duke
and his bat, utterly terrified.

“Come with me,” Duke said.

“Please, it’s late, I need to go home,” Sunset
said.

“I’m not gonna hurt
you
,” Duke said. “I just
want you to see something.”

“Please let me leave, I won’t tell anyone—”

“Sweetie, you’re beginning to piss me off.”

Her shoulders sagging, Sunset walked with Duke over
to me. I had not moved, except to pick up a two-foot-long two-by-four that had
been laying on the pavement.

Duke said, “Aw look, the boy’s got a board.
Sweetie, I want you to tell Sarah what you see and what you hear. In a minute,
he’s gonna start begging.”

Then Duke turned to me and stepped forward. I
retreated. While stepping back, I planted my foot on a beer bottle. The bottle
rolled, my foot rolled with it, and I lost my balance—just as Duke swung for my
head. I got hit, and it was no picnic, but it wasn’t the concussion (or worse)
that Duke had intended. But when I fell down, the two-by-four went flying.

Duke moved up to my body that was flat on the
ground; he brandished the bat. But he didn’t swing it down—I guess he wanted to
savor the moment. Maybe he really was hoping that I’d beg for my life.

No way. I called out, “Sunset, pick up the board,
and throw it to me!”

She looked panicked at my words. And when Duke
turned around, looked into her eyes, and shook his head, she looked ready to
wet herself.

“Tsk,” he said to me, “asking a cunt for help. Not
manly at all.”

My next words slipped out: “Robert, hit him with
the board! ROBERT!”

Duke didn’t even bother to look around. “The
bouncer’s name is
George
. There’s no `Robert’ out here, just a couple of
pussies
.”

That’s when Sunset smacked him upside the head.
Hard. He instantly went to sleep.

She dropped the board, looking panicky again. “Oh
my god, why did I hit him? And how did you know that I was, that I was—
Who
told you?
”

I didn’t tell Sunset why she’d hit him. But at
last, I myself knew why she’d done it, because at last I figured out what my
gift was.

`Susan’, `Sarah’, `Ashley’, and `Robert’—those were
the real names of people. `Susie’, `Platinuma’, `Gothika’, and `Sunset’—those
were false names. When I spoke to someone by a false name, nothing special
happened. But when I spoke to someone—including myself—by their real name, they
believed my statements, answered my questions, and obeyed my commands.

`Duke’ was also a false name. Which meant—

I knelt down next to unconscious Duke and began
fishing for his wallet. Sunset, meanwhile, was still looking at me, needing
answers to her questions.

I said, “Robert, be calm. Sarah told me about your
surgery, and that you can’t yet afford to go to name-change court. But believe
me, Robert, nobody who looks at you can tell that you used to be a guy. Trust
me with your secrets, Robert.”

Sunset actually smiled at that. Meanwhile, I had
just opened Duke’s wallet.

“Francois Duquesne”? Duke’s real name is “Francois
Duquesne”? No wonder he uses an alias!

“So what happens now?” Sunset asked calmly. “The
police supposedly will be here soon.”

“That’s a good question,” I said. Then I looked
into Duke’s face and said, “Francois Duquesne, wake up.”

Duke’s eyes opened. “What happened?”

“Tell me the last things you remember, Francois.”

“I was gonna hit you with my bat, then you told the
cunt to throw you the board, but I set her straight. Then you told `Robert’ to
hit me, and wham! So who’s Robert?”

“Oh,
shit
!” Sunset said.

I said, “Francois, forget all about Robert, forget
any mention of Robert. Francois Duquesne, here’s what happened: I was lying on
the ground after you hit me. I’d dropped the two-by-four. She”—I gestured at
Sunset—“said that she was going back inside and give the police another call.
You turned around and walked after her, intending to hit her. Doing that, you
turned you back on me and the two-by-four, and then you got hit.”

“Damn,
that
was stupid of me.” He started to
get up. “This time, I’ll be smarter.”

A police car drove up.

To Duke I said, “There won’t be a `this time.’” To
Sunset I said, “Go tell the cops that Duke and I had a fight. Then go tell
George and Sarah to come outside.” Then I said to Sunset very quietly, “Robert,
do
not
mention that it was you who hit Duke. Trust me to handle this.”

Sunset in her purple stilettos walked over to the
police car.

Thirty minutes later, Duke was handcuffed and in
the back seat of that police car, which was driving away.

The two arresting officers had a firm belief that
Sunset was involved only as a witness. (I
know
they had an undoubting
belief in Sunset’s innocence, because I put that belief into their heads.)

Meanwhile, George the bouncer was pumping my hand,
and had just given me a hard slap on the back. Sarah was crying, and was
waiting for George to let go of me, so that she could throw her arms around me.

And Sunset? She was looking at me in wonder:
How
did you keep me out of jail?

I was feeling wonder myself.
I’ve been given
Power to control minds, and now I know how the Power works.

Something caught my eye. Standing in a corner of
Nimfo Club’s parking lot was a bald-headed man wearing a white shirt and blue
tie. He was too far away, and that part of the parking lot was so dark, that I
couldn’t tell if his blue tie had white polka dots.

When he saw me looking at him, the man smiled, gave
me two thumbs up, then vanished.

THE END