The Trinity Game (24 page)

“What, he wants you to be
Big Time
?
On a roll? Drawing millions?
Well, excuse me while I call bullshit on that.”

“No, no, no, that’s all just the theater of it, you’re missin’ the purpose. And the money’s just a side-effect, I swear.”

“Then what is the purpose?”

“Don’t know.” Trinity put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, just as he’d done at Judas’s backyard funeral. “But I do know He wants
you here with me. Had me a dream last night. God told me He wants you at my right hand.”

“Now He talks to you in dreams?”

“I think He did last night. Maybe He…maybe He wants you here, to keep me on the narrow path.” He let out a wry chuckle, “You, of all people, know that ain’t gonna be easy for a guy like me, and I sure could use your help. And your advice.”

“My first advice is to tell you to stop acting like a carnival barker.”

Trinity shrugged. “Tough habit to break after thirty-nine years. I’m working on it. Like I said, it’s the theater of the thing. But I need advice about the deeper stuff, the stuff I don’t understand. Hell, I got US senators callin’, asking
my
advice. I gotta go in front of the cameras tomorrow and talk to the
whole world
…” he rattled the ice in his glass, “…and I don’t know what to say. I need you, Danny. I need to talk it out with you.”

Daniel put his untouched bourbon on the bar. “I don’t know, Tim.” He headed for the door. “I’m gonna go for a walk, get a chilidog.”

“You’re coming back, though, right?” The fear in his voice was unmistakable, and genuine.

Daniel nodded. “To let you know what I decide, one way or another.”

“T
hen if anyone says to you, ‘Look! Here is the Messiah!’ or ‘There he is!’—do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and produce great signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, even the elect. Take note, I have told you beforehand.”

—M
ATTHEW 24:23–25

D
aniel sat on a red plastic chair in the Varsity Diner, reading his Bible. On the white Formica table, a Heavy Dog, large orange drink, fried apple pie…untouched.

“Hey sailor, come here often?”

Julia.

Daniel looked up. “How’d you find me?”

She sat, plopped a massive purse at her feet. “Your uncle called.”

“But how did he know—” Then he smiled, despite himself. “Chilidog.”

“Chilidog?”

“When I was a kid, he brought me here, probably a half dozen times a year, whenever he worked revivals in the area. Told him I was going for a chilidog.” He glanced down at the food. “You hungry?”

“Starving!” She smiled with her whole face.

He slid his tray across. “Can’t seem to work up an appetite.”

Julia picked up the Heavy Dog and dug in with great gusto, coming away with a red chili moustache. “Such a lady,” she giggled. “Napkin?”

Daniel took the paper napkin, warm from his lap.

Don’t do it…don’t you do it…

He reached across the table.

Do. Not. Do. It.

And wiped the chili off her mouth.

His heart set to racing. Something twinkled in Julia’s eyes, and as she took the napkin, it seemed her hand lingered on his longer than strictly required to make the exchange. His pants got tight. He became aware he wasn’t breathing, forced himself to resume.

“So,” Julia said, “who goes first?” She drank some orange, tore another chunk off the dog with her teeth.

“You’re eating, I’ll go.” He opened his Bible to the page he’d been reading. “
Then if anyone says to you, ‘Look! Here is the Messiah!’ or ‘There he is!’—do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and produce great signs and omens, to lead astray.”

“Lemme guess: Jesus, right?”

“Yes, Jesus. Matthew 24:23.”

Julia chewed, swallowed, sucked orange drink through the straw again. “So?”

“It matches, 24:23. The billboard accident. He said it would come down at exactly twenty-three minutes after midnight, and it did. A day is twenty-four hours. Twenty-three minutes after midnight is 24:23.”

“Oh, sweetie,” her hand came to rest on his, “no, no, no. That way lies madness.” A smile, gentle and kind and perhaps a little worried. “Numerology? Please, I know you’re smarter than that. I mean it with love, but really, you can’t go down that road.”

I mean it with love?
But that’s just a thing people say, and her tone was light.

“Yeah…I know. Just feeling a little desperate for answers, I guess.”

Her hand left his and picked up the fried pie.

“So how was the trip? What did your boss say?” She raised the pie to her lips.

“Careful with the fried pie, they’re blistering hot inside. My boss? Well, if you mean God, I’m still waiting for an answer. But if you mean my boss at the Vatican, I’m not willing to talk about it.”

“I thought we’d crossed that hurdle.”

“Didn’t mean it like that. I’m not willing to talk about it with
anyone
. I’m trying not to even think about it.”

Julia abandoned the fried pie, picked up the drink. “Take a walk with me?”

They strolled along North Avenue, past Grant Field, and up Cherry Street, into the Georgia Tech campus, all lush green trees and stately brick buildings, a world apart from the insanity taking place only blocks away.

“Been playing phone-footsie with Liz Doherty—Trinity’s gatekeeper—for the last couple days,” said Julia. “You know, laying out all the reasons I should be the one to interview him: I broke the story, my coverage has been fair, I’m a hometown gal…have to admit, I was tempted to tell her I was a friend of yours, but I couldn’t allow myself to play that card without talking to you first. Anyway, my phone rings an hour ago, and it’s him. Not his people, Trinity himself. Wouldn’t agree to a sit-down, not yet, but said you were at the Varsity, and he was worried about you.”

“How’d he know you even knew me?”

“No idea.”

Daniel took off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to him, get you inside for a meeting.”

Julia stopped walking. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to. I will. He can’t hide forever, and you’ll be fair.”

“Thanks,” her smile like an embrace. “How’s he doing with all this? He sounded a little rattled on the phone.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” said Daniel, “but I don’t like what I see.” He cleared his throat. “I came back here against orders, burning bridges, and what did I find? A world gone mad, a million worshipers outside Trinity’s door, and Trinity playing it for all it’s worth, raking the money in and bragging about it. He
says
he now believes, and he seems to mean it, but his actions betray him. I don’t know what the hell to do.”

“People don’t change overnight. He says he’s changing, maybe he is. Maybe it’s another con. You can deal with that disappointment—you’ve done it before—but how would you deal with having walked away, never knowing for sure?”

They continued up Cherry, turned right onto the redbrick path to Tech Tower. Young men and women sat on the grass, in the shade of old oaks, alone and in groups, with backpacks and laptops and cell phones, studying, joking, flirting.

Another life. A youth he could’ve had, had he made a different choice.

“There’s a bench,” said Julia, “let’s sit.”

He kissed her. Just grabbed her shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth. She tightened at first, but then softened into him, and their mouths opened and he pulled her closer, pulling their bodies tight.

It was heaven.

And heaven tasted like chilidog.

Julia jerked her head away. “Stop!” She shoved him back, hard. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I—uh, I…You kissed me back.” A lame defense, but it was all he had.

“
I’m
not a priest! I’m allowed.” She hooked a few long strands of hair with her little finger, moved them out of her eyes and behind her ear. “I refuse to be the reason you break your vows or quit the priesthood or whatever the hell it is you’re thinking of doing.”

“Yeah, the thing is…I may have already quit the priesthood.”

“What?”

He held up a hand. “Not because of you. At least, mostly not. Well, it’s complicated.” Daniel let out a rueful chuckle. “I seem to be saying that a lot these days.” His face grew hot and his throat tightened. His eyes began to well, but he fought it back in time. He blew out a long breath.

“Talk to me, Danny.”

“God, I’m…confused. I don’t know where to begin.”

“Begin anywhere. Just begin.”

“Know what I wish? I wish we could stop time, just you and me, just for a day…step out of our lives, away from this madness, spend a whole day talking, you know, like we used to.”

“Time marches on,” she said quietly, mostly to herself. She took his hands in hers. “I care about you, but…if you decide to quit the priesthood, it can’t be
mostly
not about me. It can’t be about me at all.”

“OK, but you do care about me.” It was all he’d heard.

“As a
friend
.” Julia drew a sharp breath. “Danny, it was over for us a long time ago. And it’s going to stay over, even if you quit the priesthood. Don’t have any illusions about that.”

She turned and walked away from him. She didn’t look back.

D
aniel sat alone, on top of Stone Mountain, wondering how the world could’ve changed so quickly. He sat for a long time, watching the sun set the sky ablaze. Atlanta in silhouette, skyscraper monoliths left behind by a civilization no longer in existence.

How could he have been so stupid? All those little signs—the secret smile in her eyes, the lingering of her hand on his, the casual throwaway lines—could they all have just been his projection of his own feelings?

No. Not after that kiss. OK, so it was the first time he’d kissed any woman since the last time he’d kissed the same woman, fourteen years ago.

Fourteen years. God, fourteen years. How do fourteen years pass so quickly?

Anyway. Maybe he wasn’t the most qualified man to judge a kiss, but he was a man, and there was a moment—just as she relaxed, until she broke contact—when the kiss went both ways. In that moment, Julia’s passion was real.