Page 4 of Devil's Advocate
I managed a nod.“Thank you, ma’am.”
Her eyes lingered on me, warm and worshipful, and my stomach turned.She was lovely in her own way—gentle, pure, everything Daddy said a woman should be.
Lorraine dabbed at her mouth with her napkin.“You know, Reverend,” she said sweetly, “perhaps when Jimmy returns, he and Sheila might spend a little time together.The Lord’s work is important, but even Paul took comfort among the faithful, didn’t he?”
Daddy chuckled, pleased.“That’s true, Sister Wiggins.Maybe the Lord will bless him with a godly woman in His own time.”
My face burned.“Daddy, I—”
He turned to me, expectant.“What is it, son?”
I froze.My mind went blank, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out: “Just nervous, I guess.About meeting those demon worshippers.”
Lorraine reached across the table and patted my hand.Her fingers were warm and dry as parchment.“Bless your heart, Jimmy.You just pray to Jesus for strength, and He’ll be by your side the whole time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered.
Sheila smiled, eyes shining with admiration.“The Lord’s sending you into the battle, Jimmy.He must think you’re very special.”
I tried to smile back, but my throat tightened.The praise felt heavier than the calling itself.
Dinner went on, talk of casseroles, and prayer circles filling the space where my silence sat.I chewed the food without tasting it, my mind caught between guilt and dread.
Later, as we stood on the porch saying our goodbyes, Lorraine took my hand in both of hers.“You be careful, you hear?The Devil’s cunning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said again, and her grip lingered too long.
As Daddy and I walked down the steps to the car, cicadas shrilling in the trees, I glanced back at Sheila framed in the porch light, her eyes still fixed on me like I was something holy.
I turned away quickly, swallowing hard.
What would she think—what would any of them think—if they ever saw the truth inside me?
ChapterTwo
Lucien
The keys jangled in my hand as I fit the right one into the lock.The heavy door gave its usual groan before swinging open, releasing a breath of air that smelled like dust, incense, and ancient glitter.
“Home sweet heathen home,” I said, pushing the door wide for Sarah.
She stepped in first, her boots clicking against the worn parquet.“It’s so creepy when it’s empty,” she said, shivering theatrically.“Like the ghosts of disco past are judging us for not having a fog machine.”
“Please.The ghosts here are having the time of their afterlives.”I flicked the light switches behind the bar, one by one, until the place glowed a warm amber.“If I died in this place in the ’80s, I wouldn’t go quietly either.”
Scandals.That’s what it used to be called.Richmond’s most infamous gay bar—part nightclub, part confessional.The Chapel of Reason still wore its bones proudly: mirrored columns, a stage where drag queens once lip-synced for their lives, and the ghost of a disco ball that still hung, fractured and dulled, over the main floor.
Sometimes, late at night, I swore I could still hear it all—the laughter, the bass line of “Do You Wanna Funk”shaking the walls, the soft moans from the dark corners where freedom came with a growl and a heartbeat.
I didn’t believe in hauntings, but this place had a soul.You could feel it in the walls.
Sarah hopped onto a barstool and twirled, her red hair catching the light.Tattoos climbed her arms in vivid vines, winding around script and sacred geometry.“You ready for tonight?I think it’s going to be a good one.”
“It’s always a good one when we’ve got a crowd.”I walked behind the bar, pulling bottles into neat rows.“But I’m glad to see people waking up again.The last few months have been wild.”
“Wild good,” she corrected, grinning.“We’ve got fresh new faces every week.I got an email this morning from a guy in Charlottesville—says he’s bringing a whole carload tonight.Their first time.”
I couldn’t help but smile.“First-timers always keep things interesting.You can feel their energy before the ceremony even starts.Half fear, half curiosity.”
