Page 64 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

“I love a good snoop. Especially in attics. People hide the strangest things up there, don’t they? Old clothes. Forgotten tchotchkes. Planning an assault on a minor with your pastor and the demon you called a best friend.” He lifts the book, but he doesn’t read the pages. Thank God. Whatever’s in her journal would probably send me into catatonia. I can barely breathe as it is. “April Third. That’s the day you destroyed a man’s life. You are a monster, and as God is my fucking witness, I’m coming for you.”

She swallows, her breath coming out in these quick little bursts. “It wasn’t an assault. They were leading him—”

“Don’t. Don’t even think of justifying your actions. Sit your ass down. I’m done with you again.” As she scurries back to her usual seat, I’m the only one left standing. He’s standing over me, staring down like he’s God, and I’m his precious child. I don’t have a reason for it, but I kneel before him, the way he usually kneels for me during our altar calls. He always looks so relieved when I tell him to go forth and sin no more. Maybe I’m hoping by kneeling for him, I can find some of that relief too.

“God sees your tears, Miles Brooks,” he says, his voice comforting. “And he walks with you.”

They’re words I’ve said thousands of times. Often to him. Saying them has always made me feel closer to God, like I’m His right-hand man. Hearing them makes me feel safe. Cared for. Maybe even treasured. I look up at the man I love with awestruck eyes, because with the way the light is beaming through the stained-glass window, silhouetting around him, healmost looks like Jesus. Fractals of reds and blues and exquisite whites sparkle around him. A miracle come to life.

It feels like I’ve been reborn.

“Darren,” I breathe as the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders.

“They don’t get to win. Not this time. Not in this story.” He looks across the chapel, lifting the file folder and shaking it furiously. “This is only the tip of the iceberg. The things I have on you would make your stomach churn. The good news is, I’m not a hateful man. You guys won’t be either, by the time I’m done with you.” He points at Meadows. “You all know Brother Meadows. The thing is, he’s more of a brother in arms than a brother in Christ.”

Meadows pulls out a long, wooden tube and aims it at Sister Andrews. Wrapping his lips around the end of the tube, he blows, and a dart soars across the room, piercing her throat. Her eyes go wide, and she reaches up, touching the dart.

“What was that?” she asks, eyes wide as the moon.

Meadows places the DIY dart gun in his pocket and smiles at Sister Andrews. “Just a mild tranquilizer.” He waves kindly at her. “Enjoy your nap.” Moments later, her head slumps to the side, eyes closed. The rest of the church looks horrified, save for Darren’s strange friend group.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells the church. “Miles isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I. Starting today, church will last two additional hours.” There are groans from the crowd, but Darren shakes the file folder for all he’s worth. “Absolutely not. No backtalk. Going forward, this church, much like not-my-President Flump’s America, is a dictatorship.” The creature inside the large body bag Meadows dragged in earlier squirms and wriggles around frantically, but Meadows just loads his dart gun and fires a round into the bag.

“Shut the fuck up. The church’s First Lady is speaking.”

“First Gentleman,” Darren corrects. “I think Mal should still be First Lady. She’s earned it.”

“Damn straight,” she agrees.

Darren shakes his head. “Damn gay. Regardless, we’re a package deal, and we’re going to lead these hillbillies into the light.” He folds his arms in front of him, leaning against the lectern. “One thing I hated about my ridiculous conversion therapy journey was the proudly condescending smiles you all gave me at church, telling me the Lord’s will was being done. We’ve had enough of His will. It’s time for mine.” Gosh. Okay, well that’s just straight-up blasphemy. “I’m going to educate you all. Every service, I’m going to do a little conversion therapy of my own. By the time I’m done, you’ll all be card-carrying liberals.” Every eye shoots wide open, and their heads shake back and forth.

Meadows fires another dart into the crowd, this time taking out Brother Bishop. As he falls asleep in his pew, his body slumping and crumpling on the floor, Dare’s eyes meet mine and he gives me a smile that shakes me to my core.

“I think we’ll start tomorrow. How does drag queen story hour sound?” He turns and winks at me, and I know everything is going to be okay.

Meadows stands and smiles. “You want me to get the bonfire ready?”

Darren nods. “There’s gas by the bonfire Scotty and Tatum built earlier.”

Scotty lifts his finger, displaying a fresh Band-Aid. “I got a splinter, Meadows. Daddy’s gonna kill you dead.”

Meadows shrugs. “Probably.” He kicks the flailing bag, and a muffled cry comes from beneath the cloth. “Come on, douchebag.” Grabbing the side of the bag, he drags the hefty man inside toward the rear entrance leading out into the rarely used playground out back.

I look up at Dare, my eyes bulging. “Please tell me that’s not a person . . .”

“Okay.” Darren nods. “I won’t.”

“Do I know this person?”

Darren shrugs. “A lot of people know him. A lot of people hate him. That’s all there is to be said on the matter. I refuse to end up in an El Salvadorian concentration camp.”

I give him a shrug. “I don’t understand what the heck that means.”

He playfully taps the tip of my nose. “I know. And that’s what I love about you. Now, be a lamb and take a seat beside Mal. I’m going to give my first sermon. I don’t have anything planned, so I’ll probably look like a fool, but who cares? This is hardly the Academy Awards.” He arches an eyebrow and glares at Sister Andrews sleeping face. “Though she seems hellbent on giving Meryl Streep a run for her money today. Can we excommunicate her?” His eyes widen and he turns to me, grinning like a maniac. “Can I have her killed?”

“Absolutely not,” I hiss, popping his butt. “Have you lost your dang mind? You and I are going to have a long, hard talk about your behavior recently. I love you for loving me enough to kill and maim people on my behalf, but you’re out of control, baby. You’re unhinged.”

He scowls at me. “Fine. Rude, but fine.” Darren flicks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the platform. “Gonna go give my sermon now.”

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