falling

Chapter Two

If ever there was a time that I felt like a drink that moment was one. I was able to move past the impulse and close what I figured must be my hanging mouth. “Mike?”

Starbrite sniffled a bit and gave a small laugh. “Yea, he said you two were friends.”

Friends, you could say that. I'd know Mike Regan for most of my adult life. We've been comrades, priests together, friends, enemies, friends...like any relationship over that length of time we've went through many incarnations.

“He said you were one of the only people in the world that he really trusted.” The words stung. I was remembering the last time I had seen Mike. It had been over a year, right after I lost my collar. He tried to offer help, console me with God's will, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I felt betrayed by my church and a little bit by my God at that moment. So he had no chance to reach me with his words.

I never got a chance to apologize to him for my words and actions that day. And now it was too late.

How did you know Father Regan?” I wasn't sure how to take in her words at the moment. I retreated into my best priestly mode to ask questions. If I thought I was at a loss before I was about to really about to be amazed.

“We were, Mike and me, we were lovers.” She was holding my handkerchief in her hands, clasped just below her face, and that sweet, innocent looking face gave me a smile as she said the words that almost, literally, knocked me out of my chair.

We were sitting towards the back of the club, away from the stage. There was no one else around us, everyone else in the club was sitting around the stage and runway. One of the strippers was leading a man towards us and I wondered what they wanted. But it wasn't us they were walking to. The young girl passed us by on the right and I noticed for the first time there were five small rooms behind us with curtains hanging in place of a door. She led the man into one of these rooms and pulled the curtains closed. I watched all this and tried not to think about what Starbrite had just said.

Starbrite saw me watching and thought I was interested. “That's the private rooms, where we can do private dancers to earn a little more money.”

I didn't want to know anymore. Mike had taken the church's side when I had been kicked out. He was my friend but he was a priest of the Catholic Church first he had said. And now I was being told he had broken his vows. I felt betrayed.

“Father Jones, are you okay?” Her nose was running. At the moment she was not in the least attractive. What had Mike seen in her that was worth risking his life's mission for?

I stood up. She started to say something but I held a hand up to stop her from farther words. “Just give me a minute.”

I walked away, leaving her sitting at the table alone. A lone man saw me leave her and started walking back towards her. As he came alongside me I growled at him. “Leave her be.”
I don't know if it was the look on my face or the tone in my voice, but he turned and went back to sit at the side of the stage. I found that I had my fists clenched.

I was standing alongside the bar. This time the bartender did not ignore me. I asked for a beer and he gave it to me. I'd like to say that he gave it with a “on the house” for what I'd already paid him, but I had to peel another ten out of my quickly thinning wallet. I took a deep swallow.

After putting the mug back on the bar I wiped at my eyes. Was I crying? I know I cried the day I heard the news of Mike's death. Even though we parted on terrible terms Mike had, still, meant a lot to me. I didn't like what he told me that day, but I admired him for standing up for his beliefs. Beliefs I now discovered he had being willing to throw aside for a bit of....no, that was crude and beneath him. I'm sure there was more to it than just a roll in the hay.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Starbrite behind me. “Do you want to go somewhere else and talk? I'm sorry, I shouldn't just have laid all that on you like that, but I don't know what to do.”

I gave her a assent to moving our conversation to another location and turned back to my beer while she went to change into something that she could wear legally on the streets. By the time she returned my beer was finished and I was seriously thinking of ordering another one.

She came back out in jeans and a pull over sweater that pretty much covered but did not conceal her assets. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and she wore a baseball cap with a Voodoo Fest logo on it. She was carrying one of those purses that resembles a large suitcase it was so big. She could smuggle small children in that bag.

Before she could say anything I turned and walked out. She started to make a remark but decided against it and just followed me out. Outside the French Quarter was alive like any other night. It didn't matter that it was close to four in the morning. The Quarter never slept.

She followed behind me as I walked. It was a warm evening, the type I normally liked for walking. I put my hands in my pockets as I walked, realizing that they were still clenched in fists. She stayed about a step behind me, not saying a word.

I wasn't sure where I was going. I just needed the night air to breathe in and the repetition of putting one foot in front of another without having to think about what Starbrite had told me. I remember the arguments Mike and I had. At the time he was my best friend and I thought he would side with me, but he said that some arguments transcended friendships. I called him some names that I really didn't want to think about and had not seen him again. I guess part of me always felt that eventually we'd get back together, meet somewhere and some apologizes on both sides would be muttered and we would sit down and talk and realize how important a real friendship is.

And than he was murdered.

About two weeks ago it was the lead item on all the local news. It actually made the national shows. Priest murdered in his church, his body was mutilated in a fashion that was so gruesome that the police were shocked it was said. There were no leads, most talk was that it had to be someone high on drugs to have did the damage that was done to his body.

His death was bad enough. Now I had to realize that he wasn't as perfect as I thought. Like those that he abandoned he had fallen also.

Abandoned? I shouldn't feel like that. He took his stand and I took mine and we just couldn't agree on a middle ground.

“Father Jones?” Starbrite was still about a step behind me. I stopped and turned to look at her.

“Where are we going?”

I didn't know. I looked about. We were a few doors down from a small hole in the wall eatery called The Voodoo Shop. It served a simple meal done New Orleans style, which meant they covered everything in hot sauce or pepper.

“There.” I was still talking like a caveman. I pointed and we walked over and entered. It was a small place, about a dozen tables spaced apart. It was about half full when we entered and took a table towards the back. It was in an old building, probably built around the 1700s. The walls were plaster and covered with old newspaper clippings from different events in New Orlean's history. Most of the clippings were yellow and curling at the edges. When they got too bad looking Frankie, the owner, took them down and put another one up. He said it was cheaper than wall paper.

I ordered an iced tea and Starbrite a coke. The waitress walked off and we sat there staring at each other and not talking. She must have washed her face when she changed clothes, all her make up was gone and she gave off a healthy farm girl type glow.

“So how long were you and Mike....” I stopped. I didn't know where to go next. Were lovers is what I wanted to say but the words didn't seem to want to come out of my mouth.

Starbrite seemed to think about my question like it was a science quiz and she wanted to make sure she got the right answer. She rubbed her nose with her index finger and thought. “Hmmmm, I guess it's been about a year now, but I met him almost two years before that, when I was seventeen.”

Sweet Lord. I didn't know what to say to that. At least nothing happened until she was of age.
“How did, I mean, how did you and he, did he, jeez....”

She didn't smile at my confusion and I liked her a little bit for that. “I'm sorry, I know you're probably wondering how such a great priest like Father Mike could fall for someone like me. I don't know how it happened either. He's such a great person.”

“Or was such a great person.”

The waitress took that moment to bring us our drinks. We declined to order food and she left us alone as we decided if we wanted to talk or just cry with our memories of Mike.

“My name isn't really Starbrite.” She gave me a smile like she was revealing state secrets. I would never have guessed. “That's just my stage name. I'm really Kelly Joe Mason. I met Father Mike about a year after I had been on the street.”

She called him Father Mike. I didn't want to think too much about that.

“I left home when I was 15.”

“Troubles at home?” When I was a priest I had seen many girls like here. Abused sexually or emotionally at home she leaves thinking there's a better world out there and ends up stripping with a name like Starbrite.

“I got my stage name from my favorite My Little Pony. I thought it was cute.” I took the hint and didn't ask her anymore about her home life.

“Father Mike really loved me. He was talking about leaving the priesthood and becoming a normal man so he could live with me.”

“Being normal isn't all that it's cracked up to be.” I smiled at her and she gave me another one in return.

“Father Mike used to talk about you all the time. He was so sorry that he didn't take your side he used to tell me. Now he knew some of what you went through. Did you leave cause of a girl too? He said you used to be a priest and than weren't but now you were again. I never really understood it all.”

“That's all right, I don't understand it either and I'm living it.” I took a sip from my drink. “I didn't quite leave as get kicked out. But I figured out that if I wanted to be a priest there wasn't a lot they could do to stop me. Being a priest is more than just being part of a church.”
I stopped my spiel because I could see I was losing her.

She finished her coke and looked around. She really did look like a little girl lost. “So what did you call me for? Did you need some help? Some money? I don't have a lot but I can help you out a bit.”

She tilted the cup back and let some ice fall in her mouth which she preceded to chew on. “No, no, it's not that. I need to be able to make it on my own. That's one thing I've learned since...”
She continued after a brief hesitation. “I know who killed Father Mike.”

What do you say to that? “Did you tell the police?”

“Yeah, they thought I was crazy. But I'm not!”

Okay I thought. Maybe not crazy but I was wondering quite how sane. “So who did it than?”
She swallowed and chewed on some more ice.

“It was an angel."

falling

This is my most recent attempt at fiction. So far everything I've post on here before has been past attempts. This is posted just a few minutes after typing the last words. This is just the first chapter in what I see as a longer work, dare I say it, novel length work.

This is something that I've been working on in my head and on paper for awhile now. I've had the first paragraph in my head for at least six months, but I could never get it to work right. And than I switched the scene around that I was going to start the story off with and things started to click in place. This story has went through some changes from what I first started it off as. The main character, Leviticus Jones, has stayed the same essentially.

It's set up as a detetive story, but will have some fantasy/horror segments in it before it's over.

I'm curious to see what everyone thinks, so if you read the following post please leave a comment. Like I said this is my most recent work and I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of it.

falling

Chapter One

There are many places where a priest's collar will open doors with an astounding speed, but a strip club is not one of them. I left the collar back at home and was wearing a button downed shirt. It was strange that I felt like I had left part of me home, such a small thing as that collar had come to identify me. The Church can take my parish and my job but as long as I wore that collar I identified myself as a priest.

Tonight I was hoping no one would identify me as such. I doubt a man of the cloth was welcomed between these dark and musty walls. Actually to be honest they probably didn't care who entered these doors as long as they had ready cash at hand. I'm not exactly a connoisseur of strip clubs, but from what I could see as I made my way farther into the darkness I doubted that this one would rank towards the higher end. My shoes stuck to the spilled beer as I walked and the stale cigarette smoke was enough to choke even the heaviest smoker. Most of the men evaded looking anywhere but towards the stage or one of the scantily clad women that served the drinks. If I glanced their way and happened to catch an eye they were quick to look away. I wouldn't say with shame, but there was a bit of that in their evasiveness.

Over the years I have spent some amount of time in bars so I was not a complete stranger to this environs. I headed towards the bar. An older man dressed in a suit and tie that had seen better days was leaning against the bar while a woman that could have been his grand daughter tried to help him lift a glass of beer to his mouth so he could drink more of what he definitely did not need. She was not dressed like he would wish his grand daughter to dress, she wore a top that barely covered her and her skirt was so short that there was no way she could sit comfortably. The liquid spilled down from his mouth, while a small bit managed to find its way into his mouth and down his throat. She laughed as if his swallowing was the biggest joke in the world.

The bartender put another glass down in front of him. The woman pulled a twenty from the man's front pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to the bartender. He took it without giving any change back. The man was too far gone to notice or care.

I leaned across the bar. It wasn't my concern, but I couldn't help myself. “Pretty expensive drinks here.”

The bartender looked at me with a look that I could safely file away as not friendly. He looked back towards the older man and the young girl. She looked at me with a look that was not far from the same look the bartender gave me. He pulled a ten out of his pocket and slid it towards the man. “I was just about to get his change for him, bud. If it's any of your bizness.”

It wasn't and I don't know why I was concerned, he was going to lose that ten and a lot more before this night was over. I pulled a ten out of my pocket and pushed it across the bar towards him. “Here's the difference.”

He took the ten without a smile, like it was his birthright. He walked down to the other end of the bar where the situation next to me was being played out with other men that should know better.

Ok, I was off to a good start I told myself. Why not just wear the collar and announce to everyone that I was a priest.

As punishment the bartender made me stand by myself and be ignored. He served a few more beers down at the other end of the bar and than stayed there, making it a point not to come back towards where I stood waiting for him. The man in the suit and tie was lead off by the young woman through the smoke and haze towards the back of the room.

I pulled another ten from my wallet and suddenly the bartender was there. He still wasn't smiling at me, I had definitely not made any friends here tonight, but at least he was here for me to talk to. He asked what I wanted.

“Nothing to drink.” If his scowl could have gotten worse it would have.

“You're not a cop or something, are you?” I figured to leave the or something alone for now. I'm not sure if he would have wanted confession right at the moment.

“No, I'm not a cop.” I held the ten between my fingers and moved my hand towards him. He watched the money with a hunger in his eyes that made me wary of pulling back a stump. “Starbrite asked me to meet her here.”

I'm not even going to think about what type of name Starbrite is. That was the name the young, scarred sounding voice used on my answering machine earlier that afternoon. That was all I knew of this Starbrite, so I had no idea what she looked like. I had a pretty good guess that she worked here. And it was not probably behind the bar.

Moving quicker than he had so far this evening the bartender snatched the ten from my fingers and gestured at the stage. “That's her going on now. When her act is over she usually mingles and for a few more dollars she'll probably mingle a little more.”

The stage was the equal of the rest of this club. It wasn't very large, about twenty feet long and another thirty feet runway for the girls to dance out into the audience. Chairs flanked both sides of the runway. The stage wasn't that high off the floor, from the chairs the men would be able to reach up and touch the girls. At the moment all the chairs were taken, so I decided to keep my place at the bar and wait for Starbrite to finish her work.

From where I stood Starbrite appeared to be an attractive young woman, probably in her mid twenties, with light blonde hair and a body that was apparently designed for stripping. She came out on the stage wearing very little and within a small amount of time was wearing even less. In New Orleans strippers can strip completely, there are no pasties or other strategically placed clothing to cover certain body parts. She did keep on two garters, but she needed those so the men could stuff dollar bills in them.

I wasn't naive about strippers and truth be told I've been in a few strip clubs over the years. I may be a priest but I'm a man also, included with all the imperfections that goes with that. I've not always served my church the best I could, all I've ever tried to do was serve my God the best I could.

Her act took no longer than the length of time it took the song that boomed out of the speakers to finish. Call me old school, give me a Dylan or even James Brown, I had no idea who or what was the music she danced to. All I know is that it was loud with a thumping beat and the words made absolutely no sense.

She scooped up any bills that had landed on the stage and exited stage left.

I guessed there must have passed some sort of secret signal between the bartender and Starbrite before she left the stage. About ten minutes after her dance she emerged from the back of the club. She was not wearing much more than she had before she did her strip. Her garters were still in place and joining them was a skirt about the same size as the girl that had made friends with the older gentleman in the suit earlier and a top that barely contained her feature attractions. She was headed in my direction and I could see her gaze was firmly on me. Of all the vices that I could confess to vanity was not one of them so I knew it wasn't my good looks that was drawing her towards me.

A man in the state of most of the men in the club put a hand out to her as she passed by his table. She paused and leaned over to talk to him. His eyes ventured towards her low top and I seriously doubt he heard a word she said to him. She patted him on the hand and resumed her march towards me.

When she reached the bar the bartender miraculously appeared for her drink order which he assumed I was paying for. I would say for once he assumed correctly, but any gentleman that was here to meet one of these women was paying for their drinks without a question.

He handed her a glass filled with whatever she was drinking without having to order and looked my way. “That'll be seven dollars.”

I peeled a ten from a roll that was not much to begin with and quickly becoming even less. That was pretty expensive ginger ale I figured. Even though Starbrite had asked me here she was so used to the con game that she made no effort to change it as the bartender took the bill and moved off.

“Hi, are you Father Jones?” The voice did not go with the body. She sounded like a little girl and it jarred with the image standing in front of me. She was about six inches shorter than my six foot and probably close to a hundred pounds less than my two twenty. She had long blond hair that up close was not as blond as it first appeared. I could see the black roots and the bad dye job. She was skinny to the point of almost being emaciated. But to the patrons of this club their eyes would only be on the one attribute of hers that was larger than life, her breasts. For a girl so skinny and small they looked even larger than they were. Her top barely covered them and when she leaned over to touch my shoulder she gave a good view of them.

Her touching was part of her act. The girls were taught to touch the guy to an extent, let your hand linger on his shoulder, give his hand a quick squeeze, let them think you're willing to touch more. I knew it wasn't anything personal as she laid her hand on my shoulder and moved in closer to me. I knew it with my mind, but still the rest of my body doesn't always agree with my mind and when a young woman emitting sexual energy gets all up close and personal it's hard not to feel...something. Like I said I might have been a priest, maybe a priest still in some people's eyes, but I was first and foremost a man.

She titled her face up towards mine and this is where she was supposed to smile. It would have been a nice smile. She had a beautiful face. The rest of her may have been getting worn down by this stripper life, but her face was still full of a youthful zest that was only partly covered by the fear I could see in her eyes.

I realized that this was not part of any act. Her hand on my shoulder slid farther towards my neck but it wasn't because she wanted a hug. She was about to pass out. I put my hand around her waist and suddenly the bartender was there. “Hey, bud, don't get too friendly there.”

She managed to wave at him. “It's ok, Joey.”

Joey the bartender gave me one last scowl for the night and moved off. I held her up. “Are you okay?”

“I'm sorry,” her voice cracked with what I knew would be tears soon. “Can we go sit down?”

“Of course.” I kept my arm around her waist and she held on to my shoulder as if it was a life preserver and she had just won a maiden voyage on the Titantic. I could feel more of her than I wanted to as she leaned against me as we made our way to a small table towards the back of the club and away from the stage.

I placed her in the chair and worried that she might not be able to sit upright. “Are you going to be allright?”

“Yes, I'm sorry,” she sat and let go of my shoulder. Her top billowed open more than it should have as she sat down and my eyes were drawn to places I would rather not have them go. “It's just been so much lately and when I saw you it made me think of him.”

This time the voice did more than crack and she let out a sob. Her mascara was starting to run down her face marking the path of her tears.

“Remind you of who?” I was completely lost. I had come here because she had sounded like a girl in trouble on the phone and I just can't ignore a lost soul.

“Mike.” That was the only word she could get out for a few minutes. I waited as she cried and than handed a handkerchief to wipe at the mess her eyes were. She stared at me with eyes that were smudged and black marks still evident down here cheeks no matter how hard she wiped at them.

“Father Regan. Mike.”

“Oh.” I'm known for my famous comebacks.