Page 7 of Sin

As my mouth chokes on the question, my body answers it by silently straining toward him.

A loud thump hits the hood of the car. I jump at the sound and look up to see a big, frizzy-haired biker glaring down at us over the windshield. “Can’t park here,” he growls, pointing his finger at Sin. “Move it.”

Within a microsecond, Sin has pulled away from me and is out the door of the Audi. Not sure how he’ll react, I scramble out after him.

“If you don’t like it where it is, park it somewhere else,” Sin calls back, throwing the leather-wearing biker his keys. “Feel free to bring it back washed and detailed.”

The huge, dangerous-looking biker automatically catches the keys and just stares at them, getting red-faced as his anger builds.

“I don’t think you should have done that,” I hiss at Sin as he places his hand on my back to usher me inside.

“He’s just a bully dressed in leather, and trust me, I know how to handle bullies.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s my property. I’ll park wherever the fuck I want to.”

As we enter the large building, I notice it’s changed. “It’s been expanded since the last time I was here and redecorated,” I remark as my head swivels around trying to catalogue all the changes.

Sin guides me around the crowds, his hand warm and comforting on my back. “My father’s construction habit grows with his ego. Which means it will never be big enough.” He rolls his eyes. “This place looks more like a fucking Vegas casino every renovation.” He leans down and lowers his voice. “I half expect him to install a row of slot machines and a craps table with a neon sign above it saying ‘Roll for Jesus.’”

I start giggling at the spot-on description. At the sound, Sin looks down at me, breaks into a grin, and starts laughing too. In that second, the distracting, bright, flashing lights seem to dim. The crowd’s loud chatter quiets. The only thing I’m aware of is the sound of our shared laughter and the sight of Sin’s handsome face, for once relaxed and looking almost happy. Even after our laughter dies out, both of us seem not to want to let the moment go. We just stand there grinning at each other.

“I expected you two here earlier,” a voice booms between us. Startled, I look up to find a stormy-faced Gideon bearing down on us with my mother and a cameraman both trailing behind him.

“I want to get the greeting,” the camera man calls, and instantly, Gideon’s face changes to a practiced smile. He opens his arms wide and envelops me in a hug. Automatically, I hug him back, but feel uncomfortable at the empty ritual.

Next, Gideon moves in to hug Sin, who smoothly steps away and offers his hand out as an alternative. Obviously not happy with the change, Gideon takes his hand in a punishing grip. “You should have worn a suit,” he says through clenched teeth, nodding judgmentally at the dress shirt and chinos Sin is wearing.

Sin returns the iron grip, maybe too firm from the wince on Gideon’s face. “Only at your funeral, old man.”

Gideon’s face turns red. Sin leans around him and calls out to the camera man. “Hey, Ricky?”

Ricky tilts his head to the side of the camera.” Yeah, man?”

“Make sure to send me a copy of that one.” He grins cheekily. “It’s a keeper.”

I have to stifle a smile at Sin’s antics, and I must not do a very good job, because my mom stomps over in her designer three-inch heels. “You’re encouraging him,” she huffs. “You’re being an ungrateful brat for taking his side.”

I can’t help it. My mom’s words hurt me to the bone. Today is the first time I’ve seen her since last summer, and she doesn’t even hug me or tell me she missed me. I’m such a fool. Every time she hurts me, I’m surprised, like it hasn’t happened countless times before.

Suddenly, I feel Sin’s hand on my shoulder. I look up at him, and his jaw is rigid, and his eyes are blazing. “Sheila,” he says in a quiet, eerily calm voice I’m unused to hearing from him. “I’d think about howungratefulyou’re being if you don’t want my father to find out about the fat check I wrote to get you out of that situation you begged me to help you with.”

My mom’s face goes white. She looks over at Gideon who is busy talking to the camera man about the angles he wants to be shot from. “You wouldn’t do that!”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Maybe not. Best way to be sure of my continued silence is to start treating your son with some respect.”

It’s like Sin pushed a button because suddenly the pouty scowl on her face vanishes. “I’m sorry, honey,” my mom says in a little girl’s voice as she tilts her head and gives me a huge, watery-eyed smile. “You know how much pressure I’m under helping Gideon with the church. Sometimes it makes me the tiniest bit grumpy.” She leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then, with a quick, fearful look at Sin, she hurries off to go stand by Gideon.

Sin scans my face as if checking to see I’m all right.

Surprisingly, I am. I know how forced and empty my mother’s apology was, but the fact that Sin stood up for me goes a long way in taking the sting of her indifference away. I reach out and place my hand on the hand he still has on my shoulder. “Thanks for that.”

He grips my hand back tight, but then, as if burned, he jerks his hand away. “It was nothing,” he says in a gruff voice, as he quickly steps away from me. “Come on, let’s go sit down so we can get this shit show over.” He takes off like he can’t get away from me fast enough, and when we reach the pews, he makes sure he sits so my mother and one of her friends are between us.

Chapter 4

Cassidy

Gideon’s service is finally over, and I sneak off to make my escape. I’m worn out and feel the need for a shower to wash away the last two hours of Gideon’s rantings. I’m not sure I can do this every Sunday.

I’m not officially out yet, but this isn’t a safe space for me or anyone else who wants to live their truth. Sin somehow manages to flaunt Gideon’s rules and embody everything he preaches against, but he’s bold, rich, and can leave any time he wants.

---