Page 83 of The Friend Game

“Ladies,” Marshall is unperturbed by their ire, “have I mentioned how nice it is to see you both again.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” Brooke seethes. “You skeevy a–”

“Donkey!” Jill cuts in quickly. “You skeevy donkey!”

“Look,” Marshall actually looks bored, “I only came here because this woman here showed up at the gallery saying there was a problem with the Grace Canyon submissions for the Desert Sunrise exhibit. She asked if I could come down and help her fix it, which of course I was happy to do.” His gaze fixes on me. “As I mentioned in my email, I am more than happy to discuss any issues that might arise with you, Hannah. Perhaps over that dinner we discussed in your classroom the other day.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish as I try to get my bearings back. Dinner? I definitely did not agree to go to dinner with him! In fact, I distinctly remember rejecting his invitation. And what email? The only email I got was from the director of the exhibit saying that he was pleased to have received my submissions and I should feel free to follow up with any questions or issues that may arise. Sincerely, M.T.D. —Desert Sunrise Exhibit Director.

The other shoe drops. Marshallisthe director of the exhibit. M.T.D. is him, Marshall Thomas Donovan. Here I thought it was just the exhibit director being quirky, signing only his initials. But of course, it was Marshall all along—luring me in under false pretenses. He knew I’d never be able toresist having my students' art showcased at such a prestigious gallery. Then once I discovered he was to thank for the opportunity I’d feel indebted to him.

It’s the beginning of our relationship all over again. Same dynamics—him using his power and connections to manipulate me into feeling things for him. To control me. Only it won’t work this time.

“Wait, you’ve been emailing Marshall?” Jill is aghast. “You knew it was him running the exhibit and you still did it?”

“You were going to go to dinner with him?” Brooke cries. “Hannah, what were you thinking?”

“What?” I finally find my voice. “No! Of course not!”

But my adamant denial is drowned out by Lexie speaking over me. “Parents and congregation members, I ask you, is this the type of person we want molding the young minds of our precious children? Sure she’s fun, but she’s dating a married man.”

“I am not!” I cry, getting to my feet. “I am not dating Marshall!”

“So you say,” Lexie says flatly. “But you have a track record of lying to keep yourself out of hot water.”

I rear back like I’ve been slapped. “I’m not lying,” I say weakly. “I swear, I’m not dating that man.” I point to Marshall. “I did a long time ago, and yes, he was engaged at the time,” the wholeroom seems to gasp at this, but I continue, desperate to explain, “but I didn't know that he was getting married and as soon as I found out I broke things off with him.”

“A likely story,” Lexie sniffs. “What’s worse is now you’ve sunk your claws into our beloved pastor. Your second illicit affair.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jill re-enters the conversation, coming to my defense, but I barely hear whatever she’s saying. I’m too busy looking back at Luke, my heart sinking as I see the confusion and hurt on his face.

But why? He knew about Marshall. I know how bad this must look to everyone else here, but Luke already knew about what happened with Marshall. So why does he look as if I’ve ripped his heart out?

“Luke?” I whisper his name, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“That’s enough, Lexie,” his voice rings with authority and the whole room goes silent. “I am extremely saddened by the lengths you’re willing to go to to besmirch Miss Garza’s character all because your daughter’s art didn’t get submitted to the category you would have preferred.” I should feel better that he’s coming to my aid, but he sounds so distant and formal. Like he’d say this on anyone’s behalf.

“No, not just saddened,” he amends, “disgusted. This is not the type of behavior I would expect from a parent at this school, let alone from a member of our congregation. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave and we can set up a meeting with Principal Novak to discuss what changes we’ll need to see going forward if your children are going to remain at Grace Canyon.”

Lexie gapes at him, her face pale. I know Luke faces off with her on things from time to time, but I’d hazard a guess that this is the most public rebuke she’s ever received.

I don’t feel any triumph, though. I’m too sickened by what’s just happened, too torn up at the realization that I likely won’t walk out of here with a job tonight. Worse, I think I may have lost Luke.

No, I force that thought away. He’s not going to leave me over this. He said as much earlier today. That I needed to stop worrying about tarnishing his reputation. That’s what he said. I remember.

Only now that he’s having to put his money where his mouth is, it would appear he’s having second thoughts about his grand assurances.

And I don’t blame him.

I blame myself for dragging him into this mess in the first place. I was so selfish. So misguided in my actions since the very first day I first set foot in that art classroom.

“You can’t do that,” Lexie finally says. “I am the lifeblood of this place.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Luke says, “Jesus is the lifeblood of this place.”

His pronouncement is followed by a long silence, but then—

“Here, here!” Someone from the crowd says. “Preach the truth, Pastor.”

---