Page 38 of The Main Event

Her mood had been legitimately fine when I talked to her earlier. That meant something had happened between now and then. “If someone upset you?—”

“I’m not upset. Who said I was upset? If Levi said something, I’m going to crush his testicles like walnuts.”

Well,thatwas a lovely visual. “Levi didn’t say anything. I haven’t even seen him.” Part of me wanted to go looking for him, though. “I was just checking on my most valuable employee.” The statement came out a little more sarcastic than I was expecting, but the way her eyes fired only emboldened me. “Sorry for being a gentleman.”

“A gentleman, huh?” Her voice was low and full of warning. “Well, you don’t have to waste your gentlemanly behavior on me. You should save it for your date tonight.”

Date? I was confused … right up until I remembered I was going out to dinner with Tammy. Had Tammy told her it was a date? More importantly, was Daisy angry because she thought it was a date? What did that mean?

I responded without giving it enough thought. “Are you jealous?”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”

“It was just a question.”

“Yeah, I’m not jealous. Have fun with Tammy the Terrible. I’m sure it will be a fan-freaking-tastic outing.” She turned to leave again, but apparently, she wasn’t done. “Also, when she volunteers to tell you the church camp story, don’t engage. Trust me. You’ll regret it.”

I didn’t want to give her a win. Not even a little one. “I happen to love church camp stories,” I lied. I didn’t even know anyone who had ever gone to church camp. How bad could the story possibly be, though?

She snorted. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Have fun with your pickle martini.”

“Oh, I will. They’re delightful.”

“They sound gross.”

“You’re gross,” she shot back. She seemed to catch herself before I could offer another pithy—and immature—retort. “Have a nice night.”

“Right back at you.”

BECAUSE SALEM WAS SO SMALL, TAMMYsuggested we walk to the restaurant. I would’ve preferred driving—a two-minute drive was preferable to a ten-minute walk—but I didn’twant to mess with parking. And, truth be told, I had a feeling there were some drinks in my future. If I had more than two, I would have to leave my car behind and retrieve it the following day. That seemed like an unnecessary annoyance.

So, we walked, and we were barely past the Salem Witch Museum when Tammy asked if I wanted to hear about her “amazing” church camp experience.

“Um … sure.” I felt like a bear with a leg caught in a trap. Would I have to gnaw off my own paw to escape? There was no way Daisy warned me about the story simply because she was looking for a few laughs. That meant it had to be bad.

The story started out frothy enough. Tammy wasn’t even a member of the church. Her friends were all going to camp for the summer, though, and she wanted to be part of the “cool” crowd. I nodded as we walked, feigning interest.

The first snag in the narrative occurred when she explained the church camp had a rustic view of the sanitation plant. I figured there had to be something else of interest close by, but apparently, it was still a hike to the water. Tammy thought it was fine because they were walking through God’s country, though.

The next part of the story sounded normal enough. They played volleyball (she got hit in the head with a ball so hard her ears rang for three days), and they went kayaking (hers tipped over, and she almost drowned, but it was okay because she saw Jesus beneath the surface), and they had a special dance (nobody asked her to dance though, so she just watched).

Then the story took a turn for the weird. Apparently, the pastor was in the midst of a divorce—were pastors allowed to divorce?—and he’d decided that women were evil. He went on long diatribes about how women were responsible for all the evils of the world and should learn their place. What was truly outrageous about Tammy’s story was that she seemed to agree with him.

Then the story took a turn for the absurd. “Pastor Gideon decided to reenact the crucifixion—he even got Tommy Jarvis to volunteer for the main part—but somebody freaked out and called the police and he was taken into custody before he could place the first nail.”

“Are you kidding me?” I couldn’t believe this story. “Was he off his meds or something?”

Tammy made a strange face. “No. He was moved by the power of our Lord. He was unfairly locked away. They haven’t released him yet. Now we have to do our ministries via Zoom when he gets computer time every fourth Sunday of the month.”

I stared at her, hard, and then looked around to see if I could find a camera filming us. Nobody was paying us any attention, though. “Why is it that you seem upset that he didn’t manage to crucify a little boy?”

“God spoke to him,” Tammy insisted. “Do you know what happened to Tommy Jarvis?”

“I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.”

“He held up Bunghole Liquor Store five years ago, and he’s in the cell next to Pastor Gideon.” Tammy leaned closer to whisper the next part. “They both agree, if the crucifixion had been allowed to happen, that Tommy wouldn’t have ended up where he did.”

---