Chapter 24 A Throne of Lies
A THRONE OF LIES
MESSAGES
Wes: We’re getting out now. Tell him to drop you off now.
Sasha: Shutup
Wes: Tell him to drop you off NOW
Sasha: STOP EMBARRASSING ME
Wes: Jakub is my boy he’ll pull over if I tell him to and please believe me when I say I’ll make this a thousand times more embarrassing for you TELL HIM TO DROP YOU OFF NOWNOWNOW
Sasha: Who tf is Jakub?
Wes: I DON’T WANT HIM TO SEE WHERE YOU LIVE DO IT NOW
You know what? You can drop me off here. I mean us. Me and . . . Roland. Right here on Flatbush. It’s between both of our houses.”
“Allora. Are you sure? It’s almost ten o’clock. It’s Brooklyn. Is it safe?”
“We’re right at Grand Army Plaza, it’s bougie. See? People are outside, leaving restaurants, the museum. Summer hours in the city, you know. I’m just gonna get Roland some bodega coffee, perk him up a bit. Make sure he’s okay.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I am,” she said quickly. “Thank you for making sure my friend’s okay. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing . . .”
Sasha’s phone started blowing up again, and she turned off the ringer.
“Spam,” she said nonchalantly. “But I really do need to get out here.” Sasha tapped on the partition, and it rolled down. “Here’s fine, sir! Right in front of the library.”
Before Teo had a chance to get out and open her door, she gathered the bottom of her gown in a fist and hopped down from the Escalade.
At the same time, Wes’s door flew open. He whispered something to the driver, gave him a pound, and then joined her on the sidewalk.
The Escalade went speeding down the street with a dramatic, smoky screech.
Sasha and Wes were left in its wake, standing before the majestic tower of the library, the front lights glowing in the night sky.
From an outsider’s perspective, Sasha and Wes looked like a fashion editorial. Glamorous and elegant as hell, moodily illuminated by the glow from entryway lights. But, oh, the reality was different. They stood there, facing each other, a tornado of hectic, frenetic drama.
“You scared the shit out of me, Wes! I have anxiety, you can’t send me texts like that! I almost had a stroke!” Her hand was over her heart. “Jesus, I’m having palpitations.”
“I know! I’m sorry, I didn’t have a choice. I had to get you out of there. Fast.”
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” she yelled. “And when did you sober up? Do you know that driver? What the entire fuck is going on?”
“I had to get you out of there,” he yelled back, pointing uselessly down Flatbush Avenue, in the direction of the long-gone Escalade.
“Why?”
“He’s a fraud. He’s running a grift, Sasha. He’s been lying to you this whole time.”
Sasha stared at him for a split second. Then, she peered up at the moon as if to say, Sis, are you seeing this shit?
The night was humid, hot, and still. Perspiration misted her chest and the nape of her neck.
Her heart was racing. Wes stood in a wide-legged stance, facing her, his arms crossed across his chest. He looked eight feet tall, dead serious, and extremely sober.
And annoyingly handsome. They glared at each other for a few seconds, breathing hard and collecting themselves.
“What ‘whole time’? I’ve spoken to him a total of, maybe, eight hours and thirty minutes. What grift?”
Wes stepped toward her. “I don’t know how to say this. It sounds unbelievable. But trust me, it’s true.”
“Jesus Christ, spit it out! I just jumped out of an Escalade in four-inch heels, Wes. Tell me something.”
“Fine,” he said with a defeated exhale. “He’s a priest.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. A what?”
“A priest.”
Sasha stared at him. “Are you well?”
He scrubbed his face with his hands and began stress-pacing. “I told you it sounded crazy. I couldn’t believe it, either. But I called Imani from the car . . .”
She flinched. “You called Imani?”
“Yeah, it was quick. Like two minutes. She’s working on an exposé about this clergy ring that embezzles money from European churches.
It’s a whole thing, I can’t go into it right now.
But he’s one of them. I called her to ask if this ring is dangerous.
They’re not. No reports of assaults; no one hurt, trafficked, or killed.
Nothing like that. They’re fucking just .
. . robbers. They steal from their churches, run off with the cash, travel and party, and then start over at a new church.
They’re hard to trace, because they change their identities each time. Seat F’s one of them.”
Sasha poked out her lips, nodding. “I see. How’d you come to this conclusion?”
“I figured it out in the car.”
She realized she’d been clutching the hem of her gown so tightly, her knuckles were aching. She dropped it. “How?”
“I wiretapped the partition.”
“You wiretapped us? That’s a real thing? Like in John le Carré novels?”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Wait,” she said, the weight of this sinking in, “you really spied on me? That’s such a violation!”
“You know a better way to listen through sealed glass?” he shouted.
Then, he stopped pacing and stood in front of her, looking tortured and impassioned.
“He gave himself away. Those names he told you? The aliases? They’re all Catholic anagrams. Two Tunics is his charity, under the name Sam Canter. Which is an anagram for Sacrament.”
Sasha stared at him, incredulously. “Putting those Wordle skills to use, I see.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“How can I? You’re saying Teo is a part-time holy man? Please be for real.”
“He is! Sasha, he’s sitting on a throne of lies!”
“A throne of lies, huh? And you expect me to take you seriously?”
“This isn’t a joke,” he said. “Teo D. Scera is an alias, too. He didn’t tell you his name on purpose. Because you’d search it, and you’d see he had zero digital footprint. And it’d look suspicious. It’s all a twisted game.”
“If it’s a twisted game, then why was he looking for me, too? Why would he do that, if he didn’t want to be found?”
Wes emitted a frustrated sigh. “That I don’t know. Maybe that part was real, I don’t know. He’s had relationships before. I spoke to an ex of his. Said he was cool, but always traveling for work. He’d always bring her postcards when he returned.”
“I don’t want to know this. Why are you telling me this?”
“He didn’t mail them, Sasha. He physically handed them to her, to avoid a return address. To keep his whereabouts unknown.” He paused, for emphasis. “A lot’s unclear, but I’m sure of one thing. He’s a liar. And I don’t want him near you.”
“As if you have a say.” A hot breeze blew through them, rustling her hair, sending it frizzing into oblivion.
And then, something snapped inside her. She was immediately, unassailably, irreversibly enraged.
Taking two steps toward him, she slammed her palms into his shoulders and shoved him, hard.
Caught off guard, he stumbled back a step.
“How dare you,” she seethed. “How could you do this to me. A priest? That’s the best you could do? This is demented.”
“That guy being a priest is demented. As if God would fuck with him in the slightest.”
“You’ve gone to great lengths to get me away from him. Point taken.”
“This isn’t about us. It’s about keeping you safe. You wanted me to investigate. I did that. You don’t like what I found? That’s on you.” Wes’s face was a furious storm.
“You don’t want to be with me. But you don’t want me to be with anyone else.” Her voice wavered with emotional exhaustion. “This isn’t about my safety; it’s about your ego. You hate not getting the girl.”
Wes made a gruff noise that sounded like an audible eye roll.
“What ego? After dealing with you, I don’t have one.”
“Neither do I!” she exploded. “You fuck me senseless, in the most passionate and soul-shattering way, and before I can catch my breath, you’re all, ‘we can’t be together, I’m not good for you, don’t forget our boundaries.
’ I’ve been in a permanent state of confusion since you came back into my life. It’s hell.”
At that, Wes moved closer, into her space. She backed against the stairs’ railing. With the crook of his index finger, he tilted her chin upward to face him. The abrupt motion—and his closeness—sent a wave of heat surging through her, leaving her throbbing.
“Confusion?” he raged. “You fucking melt when I touch you, like you’re doing right now, and I never felt anything like it.
It rips me to pieces, Sasha. Because it’s too close to the real thing.
The way you look at me? It’s like you want me to devour you, like you crave it, like it’s a need that never even existed before me.
And I lose myself, every time. Because I can’t resist you.
I never could. But when it comes down to it, you’d choose this fake elite Euro fuck who’s running the world’s most unnecessarily sacrilegious grift.
” He let his hand drop. “You don’t know confusion. ”
“You never told me you felt like this,” she breathed, her voice cracking.
“What would be the point? You chose someone else.”
“I didn’t know I had a choice, Wes.”
He stepped away from her. Thrusting his hands in his pants pockets, he looked down the street at nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was careful. Like he was trying to keep steady on a rocking boat.
“I have something to tell you.”
Sasha was still trying to catch her breath. Calm her pulse. “What is it?”