Page 20 of Devil's Advocate
We sat at one of the long tables.Silence settled between us, thick and loaded.Jimmy fidgeted with his water bottle, fingers twisting the cap over and over.
I watched him.Couldn’t stop myself.
The way the light caught his hair, and the quick, nervous glances he kept sneaking my way.The rise and fall of his chest, it was too fast.
He was terrified, yet turned on.
God help me, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“You’re quiet,” I breathed.
He glanced up.“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
His jaw worked.“About everything.”He gave a small laugh, self-conscious.“About what my daddy would say if he saw me here.He, well, wouldn’t approve.”
Jimmy’s words hung between us, the air thick enough to chew.
“Serving food to the hungry?Why?”I asked, tilting my head.
Jimmy blushed, then stammered out, “Not the hungry part.”He paused for a second.“He’s um, very religious and…”
“Your daddy a preacher or something?”I interrupted him.If he were, that would explain a lot.
He nodded, eyes darting down to his hands.“Yeah.He’s got a church back home in North Carolina.”
Something flickered on his face when he said it—pride and fear tangled up like a knot.
“That so?”I leaned back a little, watching him squirm.“And you decided to study alternative faiths?”
Jimmy gave a nervous little laugh, his fingers fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle.“Guess I just… wanted to understand more.About people and God.About how others see Him.”
He blushed then—deep, all the way up to his ears—and I swear it hit me like a punch.That kind of innocence could kill a man.
“So you grew up in the church,” I said.“Sunday services, youth choir, all that?”
He nodded again, a small, almost shy smile curving his lips.“Yeah.I play, well, I mean I used to play guitar with the worship band.My daddy said it was the one thing I did that made the Lord proud.”
“That sounds… nice,” I said, though I could feel something tight twisting in my chest.The way he said it—it wasn’t nostalgia.It was guilt.Like he’d left something burning behind him and didn’t know how to face it.
He hesitated before adding, “I guess I just wanted to learn for myself, you know?Not just believe what someone else told me was true.”
I studied him for a long moment.He couldn’t meet my eyes, and I wondered if he was being completely honest.Whatever reason he had for being here, it went deeper than curiosity.
But I let it go.For now.
Mama Jo appeared then, breaking the silence with two plates balanced in her hands.“Alright, y’all quit lookin’ at each other like it’s Judgment Day.Eat, damn it.”
She set down the food—catfish, collard greens, mashed potatoes, cornbread still steaming—and slid into a chair.
“Now that’s better,” she said, eyeing us both.“You know, this reminds me of when I met my Leroy.Lord, that man was fine.Walked into my cousin’s cookout wearin’ a shirt so tight I almost forgot to breathe.And right then and there I said to myself, ‘That fool’s gonna be my husband.’”
Jimmy froze mid-bite, wide-eyed.
“You just knew?”I asked, wondering why she was telling us this story.
She chuckled, low and throaty.“Oh, honey.When it’s right, you feel it.You just know it in your bones.”
