Page 73 of Absolution

“Either bedroom is open to you. They’re both similar in size and layout, though this has the nicer view of the neighborhood. The other is just the backside of the church.”

In all my years as a priest, I’ve never stayed in anything more than what the church was able to afford, which in all cases, didn’t come close to this.

“I’m speechless. You must get rather large donations.”

“We do. Our older, retired members, in particular, insist on taking care of their priest. I have to admit, it’s what has kept me here. Not the money, of course, but the loyalty and generosity are unlike anything I’ve seen anywhere else.”

“Likewise.” I stare out the window, where the kid from earlier, the one who flipped me off, sits smoking on the curb across the street. “You said old, retired members, correct?”

“Yes. They make up the majority of the congregation.”

“Any gang members?”

“A few. Some of them have oddly skewed views on what is considered sin, but either way, we don’t discriminate, so long as they don’t bring trouble into the church. So far, that hasn’t been an issue.”

“I’ve heard rumors of one. He goes by the nameEl Cabro Blanco.”

“Ah, yes. The fabled white goat of the south.” There’s an air of amusement on his voice, in spite of the man’s austere demeanor.

“Fabled?”

“I’m afraid his stories are a bit taller than his actual accomplishments.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him, just as you. If you stay long enough, you’ll find he’s not the threat everyone makes him out to be.”

“I think you’re the first to tell me that.”

He chuckles, crossing the room to stand beside me, where he looks down toward the kid still sitting on the curb. “Pajaros.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

With a nod toward the kid, he doesn’t bother to break his stare. “They work for him. The Goat. He calls them his little birds. Supposedly. They keep an eye on things. You’ll be fresh news.” Stepping away from the window, he shuffles back toward the door. “Get settled. I’ll have you perform Reconciliation tonight. This Sunday, I expect a large turn out for Mass, and I’ll be sure to introduce you then. Our secretary, Ramira, took the liberty of stocking the fridge in case you get hungry.”

“Thank you.”

“Buena suerte,” he says, before exiting the room.

Seconds later, the click of the door on the lower level tells me he’s left.

When I look out the window again, the boy is gone.

29

Ivy

My room smells like chlorine from the pool at the back of the building, and the throbbing ache in my skull tells me I need some fresh air. Rubbing my temple, I step out onto the balcony of my room, two stories up from the sidewalk, and light up a smoke. Okay, not quite fresh air, but it’ll do. While El Centro is one of the bigger cities this far south, it’s certainly not as overwhelming and smoggy as Los Angeles.

“¿Como te llamas, Mami?”

The shout comes from below, and I look down to see a young kid, maybe eighteen, holding his junk as he kisses two fingers and points toward me.

With a frown, I ignore him, and his request to know my name, and take a drag of my cigarette.

“S’like that, huh?”

I don’t even spare him the glance this time. Reason number two I’ll be swapping rooms. Preferably one too high to hear his catcalls.

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