Chapter 11
Two full weeks go by before I see him again. In those two weeks, I get zero information from Johnny. There’s been no updates on the whereabouts of my father.
The only information I have about the Bonetti Family is rumored areas they have businesses. It’s not like I’d be able to convince anyone with power to talk to me—a random citizen without any obvious ties to another family.
So when I see him sitting in the back of the church toward the end of my sermon, my pulse spikes. I hope he stays because it’s not like I can stop and chase him out of the church if he decides to get up and leave.
He’s in his typical garb when he comes here—a black hoodie with a cap and dark sunglasses. Considering the type of guy he is, I doubt he cares about church etiquette.
“So, we need to look past our own needs,” I continue.
“We shouldn’t focus on only our own comfort.
We need to reach out to family and friends who are struggling.
Even strangers. Sometimes it’s just a kind gesture, a prayer, or a shoulder to lean on.
Listen to their struggles. Offer a helping hand.
As God has compassion, we too must show our own.
Let us leave here today with a renewed commitment to helping someone else.
Now, more than ever, our world needs love and compassion.
Echo God’s love with your actions. Now, we’ll pray. ”
Before I begin the prayer, my eyes find him still sitting in the pew, and I hope that when I open my eyes he’ll still be there.
When I’m done, I invoke the Trinity and dismiss everyone. My eyes travel to his seat and relief floods me as I realize he hasn’t left.
While most people quickly make their way to the exit as the recessional hymn plays, there are some people who linger to talk. I tell Deacon Erick that I have something to address, and I quickly make my way toward the last pew.
“Hello,” I greet.
“Father,” he says, taking his glasses off just long enough for me to see his eyes rake over my garments.
“Can I speak with you please?” I ask, glancing around.
He doesn’t move. “Is this gonna be some sort of kinky Catholic discipline?”
“What?” My brows knit together as I look down at him. “Why—never mind. Could you please join me?” I nod and smile at people walking by. “Why are you here anyway?”
“Learning about Jesus, obviously,” he says with a smirk on his lips.
“Follow me.”
I walk off and hope he’s not being stubborn. I calmly make my way to the side aisle that takes us out of the nave and leads to a hall that will take us to the sacristy. This is where we prepare for Mass and store our vestments and furniture, but nobody should be coming back here anytime soon.
“I’ve done some research,” he says before I can even fully step inside the sacristy. “Self-flagellation. You guys still do that?”
I close and lock the door once he’s inside, turning to face him. “No.”
“It’s kinky, don’t you think? I know what they say it’s for…but, the scourge is nothing but a flogger. You think it was the priests that discovered pleasure in pain?”
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, my brows furrowed as I cross my arms in front of my chest.
He finally takes his glasses off. “Plenty. You know that, though.”
“Did you come here for any particular reason?”
“Did you invite me back here for any particular reason?” he questions, his expression lascivious—eyes drinking me in.
“Yes.”
His brows lift and his lips curl into a smirk. “Oh? And which one of us is getting on our knees?”
I cut him a look. “You’re clearly into…illegal things.” His eyes quickly flicker around the room. “There’s no cameras in here,” I tell him.
He leans on the vesting table, casually crossing one foot over the other. “What are you about to ask me, Father?” he questions with a slight grin.
I clear my throat. “Do you know the Bonetti Family?”
He stands up straight, his face losing his previous playful expression, turning dark and serious. “I suggest you get to your point. And quick.”
“What if I needed your help?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “My help with what?”
My confidence wanes and I’m suddenly doubting myself. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to him about this.
“Never mind,” I say quickly, heading toward the door.
He reaches out and stops me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. “I know that family.”
My eyes meet his.
“Do you work for that family?”
His expression barely changes, but I see a twitch of his brows, and I don’t know what that means.
He lets go of my wrist. “Are you in trouble with them?”
I shake my head. “Just forget it.”
“If you get on their radar,” he says, hesitating briefly. “Well, you don’t want to be. They’re one of the most ruthless families out there. Even I try to avoid them.”
I nod once, slightly relieved to know he doesn’t work for them. “A parishioner mentioned them to me,” I lie. “He might be in trouble. I’ll counsel him. Anyway, did you come see me for a reason?” I ask, getting off the subject.
He studies me for a few seconds before answering. “I wanted to thank you for helping me.”
“That’s what I do.”
He grins. “And I just wanted to see you again.”
I cock my head. “Why?”
His shoulders lift and fall. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He pauses for a few seconds. “Do you want to see me again?”
I study him—my complete opposite. He’s a criminal, violent, vulgar, and likely a sinner beyond saving.
I’m a priest who strives to live my life with obedience, and in a way that Christ would.
But I’m also a priest with secrets and demons, just like anyone else.
I know I should say no. But I don’t want to.
I tell myself it’s because I need more information. I want to know why he came to me in the first place. I want to know more about what he does. I want to see if maybe he can help me with my father.
I ignore the thoughts that say I want to see him again because I’m attracted to him—to the lifestyle he has that could’ve been mine.
“Where?” I ask.
His smile grows. “I got the perfect place.”