Chapter 23
Clotho saluted me with her spindle, Lachesis winked, and Atropos gave me the side-eye, like, “You asked for it, buddy.” The three sisters then withdrew, first into a flattened single dimension, which became points of starshine, then went black.
The lighting in the cathedral returned, although the acres of glass stayed dark.
Everyone regained mobility as if from an afternoon’s nap, shaking out their legs and clearing their snoozy heads.
Reese turned to me, asking, “What happened?”
“Well,” I began. “All sorts of things. If you’re super busy, I can put together a summary, or we can chat later.”
“Something went on. I just checked my watch and over an hour has passed. Tell me or I start shooting.”
A batch of Reese’s henchmen confronted Reata.
“I met the three Fates, who couldn’t have been nicer, and they helped me figure out my life. They should really have a YouTube channel with a follow-along-at-home workbook. They could make a fortune.”
I was my nana, schmoozing my aunt Libby to get free tennis culottes.
Reese wasn’t having it and he motioned for his assassins to ready their weapons. Reata, fearless as ever, was looking at me with a devouring curiosity: she was way more interested in whatever I’d just gone through than in Reese’s ultimatums.
“I’d be careful, Reese,” said Brock’s voice. “If I were you.”
Brock was standing at the top of the center aisle, flanked by the Tuxes, an especially dazzling lineup, since everyone was in a variation of formal wear, from Brock’s Ralph-supplied custom-fit to Mikaela and Pei-Sze wearing Saint Laurent’s classic, slouchy variation on a women’s tux, called Le Smoking.
Edwin, I noticed, was fetchingly rumpled in a vintage Brideshead double-breasted look with wide lapels and a slightly askew bow tie.
“I’ve just been chatting with your wife,” Brock continued. “The lovely and aptly named Devotion. She adores you, Reese. Or she did.”
“What are you talking about?” Reese demanded. “And who are you?”
“You’ll find out,” said Brock. “Personally, I’m on staff at Ralph Lauren.
So I showed your wife the receipts, going back decades, for every item you’ve purchased for your many girlfriends and mistresses.
Because who doesn’t want something from Ralph?
A cashmere sweater set, a silk negligee, or, when the lady’s either very special or resistant, an art deco diamond necklace in a platinum setting.
Devotion saw that none of these goodies, and hundreds of others, had been intended for her, but she recognized many of the names on the gift cards: At least five members of the Clarion Choir.
A masseuse from Palm Beach and her even younger sister.
Devotion’s dearest friend, who’s a former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, the frighteningly blond Purity Drappler. ”
“I can explain everything! I was showing my appreciation to loyal members of my team!”
“Plenty of whom favor Ralph by Ralph Lauren, his highest-end fragrance, at twelve hundred dollars for a very few ounces. Devotion was blindly in love with you, but she’s not stupid.
Although she did ask me, ‘But how can I leave Reese, with only a month to go before the election?’ I appreciated her quandary, and her fury.
So I proposed, ‘Would a lifetime twenty percent discount at the store make a difference?’ She stopped sobbing instantly and counteroffered, ‘Even on all-weather outdoor chaise cushions from the RL Home Summer Entertaining Collection?’ ”
“Oh my God…,” said Reese.
“She’s done with you,” said Brock. “You’re Satan’s servant. And she’s getting sole custody of your kids.”
“But Ralph’s a good man,” commented Reata, dryly, relishing what the Tuxes were up to.
“And Devotion will be keeping the Atlanta mansion,” said Mikaela.
“I have many other properties,” Reese retorted.
“Not anymore,” said Pei-Sze. “Mikaela and I itemized everything: the London carriage house, the Washington colonial, the co-ops in Chicago and LA. Along with the theme parks, the other cathedrals, the golf courses, and the ranches you’ve opened as conversion therapy lockdowns for gay kids.
Everything was tax-free, since it was all technically owned by Dantine Worldwide Ministries.
Which made it simpler to transfer the consolidated titles to the Tuxedo Society. ”
“The what?” Reese sputtered.
“You don’t need to know,” Pei-Sze outlined, “but our esteemed colleague Marcus arranged the digital swap, right under the nose, and bogus ledgers, of your not-as-sharp-as-he-thinks business manager. And we’ve been busy, contacting our most aggressively high-end buyers and selling everything at off-market pricing, for all-cash deals.
Most of which are pending or have already closed, so your holdings are now in the portfolios of, among others, the royal family of Abu Dhabi and a propane magnate based in St. Petersburg… ”
“Although the Montana spread,” Mikaela mentioned, “has been deeded, for the price of one dollar, as a summer camp for transgender and nonbinary kids to get some fresh air and live in complete and unfettered freedom.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Reese thundered. “And whatever you’ve perpetrated, the money from those sales is mine!”
“Briefly,” said Marcus, whose fashion-forward tux had knee-length shorts, an oversized jacket embroidered with a pattern of his initials in gleaming black silk thread, and high-tops in black kidskin.
“There was quite a bit of cash flow, but since you’re such a modest and generous guy, every penny’s been donated anonymously, to a roster of deserving organizations, including Planned Parenthood, the Black Women’s Health Imperative, the American Red Cross, and so many wonderful LGBTQ+ nonprofits, like Lambda Legal and the Trevor Project, which specifically helps queer kids at risk.
And God bless you for opening centers for homeless gay youth in five major cities.
A crisis I’m sure you understand, since you’re pretty much homeless yourself. ”
“Although don’t worry about your clothes,” Brock said. “Devotion had them dumped in the street just outside the cathedral. At rush hour.”
“But be careful about personal travel,” Edwin brought up.
“Because we’ve allowed you to retain your fleet of limousines, minivans, and town cars, where you love to rehearse your sermons and campaign speeches, when you’re not singing along to your own baritone recordings of sacred music, which you’ve had auto-tuned.
But here’s the rub: I’ve had every last vehicle rewired, to explode at the sound of your voice.
But you may still sit quietly, reflecting on your newfound philanthropy. ”
“You are disgusting.” Reese seethed. “This is diabolical.”
“Thank you,” said Edwin. “I’m truly fiendish. Because I’m not just gay. I’m English.”
Like Reese, I was nearly exploding, but from the most unrestrained delight. I had no idea if the Fates had lent a hand in the Tuxes’ well-thought-out machinations, but I didn’t care. If anything, maybe the Fates had become Honorary Tuxes.
“And Fleming,” said Timothy, “don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten about you. You’ve been such a help to Reese, in everything he’s done. So here’s your reward: Remember how last month, you bought that pair of my underwear which I’d peed and farted in?”
“I did no such thing!” Fleming protested. “And I resent your vile insinuation!”
“Okay, but you signed for the FedEx package, because you went for expedited overnight delivery. And Marcus was able to reverse the video camera on your laptop, so there’s super-clear footage of you sitting in your car in that 7-Eleven parking lot, jerking off with my Calvins over your head, except people can totally tell it’s you, because your nose is sticking out of the fly and you keep moaning, ‘Saints alive!’ and ‘Land o’ Goshen! ’ ”
“What do you mean, people can tell it’s me? That’s a private video, which I’m sure doesn’t even exist! This is slander!”
“And it’s gone viral,” said Timothy, as an image appeared on the Jumbotron screen above the altar, of Fleming bleating and squealing, with Timothy’s stained, fragrant briefs covering his face like a homemade superhero mask, if that superhero yelled, “I am entering the kingdom of desire!” with his hand inside his pants.
From the on-screen crawl, there were already over 15 million views and counting, with the headlines “FLEMING FAIRMONT, THE ALABAMA TOILET” and “SENATOR SNIFFY.”
Fleming was staring at the screen, his mouth open, and for the first time in his loquacious life, he was speechless, as Reese regarded him with horror.
“But Reese,” said Reggie, despite the fact that he and I were seriously underdressed, “we’re not asking you to withdraw from the presidential race.
What we’ve done is eliminated your felonies and chicanery, to level the playing field.
That’s all we’re after—a fair fight. And to make sure everything stays on the up and up, you’re invited to provide all the poll watchers you’d like. And so will we. Let me introduce them.”
Standing beside the Tuxes, and filling the aisles, were what can only be called a flotilla of drag queens, glamorously gowned, with towering hair and makeup that began with airbrushed perfection and accelerated into cubist delirium.
Many of these queens had been banned from reading children’s books aloud during story hours at local public libraries, thanks to one of Reese’s many save-our-families diatribes.
“This is the most unholy vindictiveness and illicit political warfare!” Reese spouted.
“You’re trying to destroy me, and everything I’ve built!
My vision for America! Which is something none of you people can understand, because of your…
Fine, I’ll just say it, because you’ve left me no choice.
In fact, your actions confirm my beliefs.
You’re smearing me and clawing at my dreams of decency and wholesome American values, thanks to your perversion! ”
The phrase “you people” is never a great designation, under any circumstances.
“You’re mistaken,” said Reggie, at the forefront of a colorful ground force of outfits and personalities. “Because Reese, you and I have much more in common than you might imagine.”
“I have nothing in common with you, or any of your pathetic minions.”
Of course I pictured thousands of burbling yellow minions, from the Despicable Me franchise, bouncing into the cathedral.
“We’re about the same age,” Reggie went on, implacably. “And we both served in the military. In fact, we were stationed in Afghanistan together, in the same base camp.”
Reese was staring at Reggie, with dawning unease.
“This was almost thirty years ago, when you were using the name—what was it? Ron Danville? And if I recall, you were dealing uncut heroin from the local poppy fields to your fellow recruits, but shipping most of it back to the States, sometimes concealed in coffins. You were also trafficking underage girls and running who knows how many other scams. You were developing your gifts for raking in huge amounts of untraceable profits. Until you got just a touch too greedy, after the wrong customs agent, one of the few you hadn’t bribed, opened a footlocker at JFK, and the contents were traced back to you.
And just before you were about to be court-martialed, you made a deal.
You outed me and Chet Walker, the guy I was involved with, in exchange for probation.
You were willing to ruin Chet’s life and mine, to save your own sorry ass. ”
“Everyone knew you were gay!” Reese protested. “You didn’t even hide it!”
“Which the rest of our unit was fine with, until you went over their heads and testified to what I think you called our ‘depravity.’ And back then, that did the trick. Chet and I were kicked out, you were honorably discharged, and a few years later, Reese Dantine pops up, at a storefront church in Alabama. After the tribunal records had been sealed.”
I wasn’t sure when Reggie had pieced this history together, but he’d been speaking precisely, with an undercurrent of rage.
Reggie was a proponent of always heading forward and never dwelling on the past; he’d only shared his life story while we’d been together in that flimsy raft in mid-ocean, an expansive yet private locale.
Reese had stopped interrupting, once Reggie’s information had condemned him.
I took off the Diadem and, using a tool from the jeweler’s kit, clipped the zip ties on Reata’s wrists.
I handed her the crown. She became a combination of birthday girl and Pulitzer laureate, contemplating her prize.
She couldn’t speak, less from being rescued than from the historical impact of the find.
She was already updating her doctoral dissertation, maybe on the Diadem of Birnbaum.