The Trick in the Saturday
by Sebastian Blade
all rights reserved
August smiled at the pretty red head. They were at a very lovely Halloween party at one of the biggest supporters of his father, the senator. The red head wasn't his red head, but he'd had several rums, wore a mask, and his difficult priest seemed far away. "Why yes, I am August Richards V. I do think it's a myth that if you just love enough that happily ever after always happens, why do you ask?"
The red head smiled back, pretty green eyes sparkling playfully. "Sometimes you just need to move on and I was hoping you might want to spend some time with me."
Laughing, August caught the red headed cupid's hand and drew it his lips. "In my booze addled mind, I know that I have faith in my Corey. He just needed some time. He's going to come back to me. We're going to get married in the back, by the gazebo, where my parents got married, then we're going to settle down and raise half a dozen kids, found a church, and I'm going to be a small town little lawyer somewhere."
"It'll be happily ever after," the red head purred, a hand against August's chest, pushing him slowly back towards the door. "Are you sure that happily ever after isn't a myth? Small town lawyers deal with a lot of divorce. Auggie, come sit with me for a moment," the red head licked his upper lip, a move that mimicked Corey's unconscious arousal signals. "I should be here with you, isn't that right?"
August's lips tingled where he'd pressed the red headed stranger's fingers to his lips. He blinked, but couldn't stop himself from being backed up. The Halloween party sounded distant, ghostly almost, something that didn't involve him at all. All that mattered was the pretty red head herding him out of the main ballroom. "Corey," August asked, confused. He reached up to pull away his mask, to try to get some clarity. "Did you come? I invited you, right?"
"That's right," the red head said, "You invited me and I'm here with you. You had faith in me, didn't you?"
August grabbed hold of the doorframe. His ears rang, the room spun a little. "Did you drug me?"
"With the power of my love," the red head purred, pressing his body up next to August's. He folded his hand over August's and subtly peeled his fingers free. "You have too much money, Auggie."
"I'm sorry," August gasped. A small group of party goers passed by them in the door and he reached out to grab at one of them men's arms, "Did I invite Corey? Did Father Anderson RSVP?"
The man shrugged August's grip from his arm, smirking, "How should I know? Maybe you'll remember when you sober up, jerk."
"I'm not drunk," August moaned, "I'm not. Help me."
The red head smiled, rocked his hips against August's, sending the brunette lawyer scrambling back away from the doorway into the less populated hallway. "I've got him. I'm going to take care of him," the red head said with a genuinely indulgent smile. "I'm going to take really good care of him. Don't worry."
"Good man," a slightly tipsy woman said, reaching out to pat the red head's arm, "Such a cute couple. You record everything for me," the woman said, smirking salaciously.
"Oh, I intend to," Red Head said, giving a wink. "Youtube." He started moving then, winking over his shoulder.
The exchange had taken only a moment. August had gotten a few steps away from the door, holding himself up with a small little table, as he reached out to another woman. She side stepped him, holding her hands up defensively. Red smiled at August, who went even paler. He pushed himself away from the table, staggering towards the stairs.
A waiter descended the stairs carrying a tray, looking very elegant. August reached out to him, just a couple of steps up the stairs. "Corey!"
Red grabbed a hold of August's belt, a hand coming out of his jacket pocket with a small black rectangle. The waiter hurried down towards them, using the tray as an impromptu screen as Red pressed the miniature taser against August's side. August convulsed, a hand doubling into a fist. "Fuck you," he hissed.
"No," Red purred lovingly against August's ear, "Fuck you."
Between the two of them, they got him on his feet, his arms over their shoulders. It took only moments to get him into the servant area. A maid moved towards them, pushing a large laundry bin. She reached in with practiced ease, lifting a fake layer of clothes up. Red and the waiter shifted, grabbing August under his arms and by his feet, lifting him into the bin. He growled, clawing at them, but the waiter who had his shoulders reached up, covered his mouth and closed off his nose until August stopped his ineffective drugged struggles. Red pulled on a vinyl glove, then quickly peeled open a drug patch, which he pressed to August's pulse point on his throat. August glared through half open eyes for another moment, before his eyes rolled back and he went completely limp.
Red pulled off a very realistic red wig, revealing long blond hair. He peeled off his coat, the poet shirt he'd been wearing, revealing a pretty blue satin evening gown. The transformation happened in under a minute, from a pretty lithe red headed man, to a sexy blond woman. The maid pulled a matching clutch from the laundry bin. The new blond pulled a lipstick out, checked her lips with the compact mirror. A similar transformation had been happening with the waiter. He was now an elegant and slightly infamous male escort, his waiter clothes piled on August's unconscious body.
"Hey!" Another woman snapped. "What are you doing?" The senior catering manager strode towards them, a cell phone in one hand. She closed too quickly on them, seeing a man in the bin, she screamed. The fake maid turned, smiled reassuringly, a defensive spray can in her hand. She sprayed. The manager gagged, hands up, backing away, eyes tearing. The escort stepped toward her, hand moving to either side of her head as he gave a hard twist. She dropped without any further sound.
New blond pulled a note from her clutch, written in a child's hand, in black crayon on pink paper, it read, "We're serious. We'll be calling."
The maid covered August over with the fake layer of laundry. New blond finished slipping on a satin covered high heel, then stepped over the dead woman.
Deep in his dream, August sat at Corey's desk, writing his lover a letter, asking him to please come home.
Father Corey Anderson sat in a mended armchair that had been through so many hands it had found it's way to a curb in front of a frat house before it had come home to his small room in the church. He had half a stack of fifth grade essays on kindness yet to grade and a mug of pumpkin pie flavored tea. He knew for a fact that children did not have greater wisdom than adults, but adults could often find greater clarity for adult concerns.
August was going to feel like crap tomorrow. Corey sipped his tea. He could play the scene out in his head, a hung over and miserable August, dark hair tousled, clothes possibly unchanged from the day before, and Corey wanted, greedily, to see that dark lack of energy change.
He had so much to apologize for. He wasn't sure when he'd become a coward. Maybe it was that he'd never had anything he couldn't bare to lose until August. As their relationship had grown, it had evolved from a fling to love to forever and Corey just hadn't been able to accept that August could love a miserable and penniless orphan who really only wanted to be a teacher and a social worker. That August had bought his transfer back into Detroit and shown up every Saturday since, accepted however grudgingly, that Corey won't leave the work he needed to do, Corey came to understand that August really did love him.
He thumbed through the stack of graded papers and pulled out a single paper. One line in the middle was marked in blue highlighter with a note that read, "Excellent." The line read, "God made love so we could talk care of each other."
In the light of that idea, being unwilling to wear a tuxedo seemed pretty shallow. If God gave him love to share with August, love to share with his parishioners, his students, then he had love to share with the kind of persons who would come to a posh office on the twentieth floor. He'd just had this plan for his life for years, then he'd met August and everything had gone off his plan. Leaving August had seemed like getting back on God's plan, but in hind sight it was leaving the life God had given him.
Talks with his superior had given him peace. He would keep his teaching job, be able to start an outreach to persons of non-traditional gender orientation, have time to see traditional psychiatric patients in the evening, and have weekends for his own family, his lover. He would take his collar off tomorrow, beg August's forgiveness, and hope his fiancee would take him back.
A tentative knock on his door brought him upright so quickly he almost spilled his tea. He set the mug down, straightened his black shirt and crossed to the door. Sister Meg had been with the church as long as he could remember and he'd come to Sister Sarah's when he was five. Her approval of his desire to return to August had made his decision so much easier. "Sister," he said, smiling as he opened the door.
Fingers laced together, she stared up at Corey. "August has been kidnapped."
"What?" Corey said, hand tightening on the doorknob. He looked up then and found two police officers standing behind the gentle nun. "Come in, please. Sister, sit down, let me get you some tea."
The police officers entered as they drew out their badges.
"I'm Lt. M. Drake," the woman said. "We need to talk to you. Where were you between the hours of 8pm and 10pm this evening?"
She grabbed Corey's hands, looking up into his eyes as if he could decree that everything was safe and fine, good and normal. "I told them you were here all evening. You came home from school and hadn't left the church."
"Of course, of course," he said, drawing her in and towards his chair. "Everything will be fine, Sister. You know I've been here all evening. Sit down now, try to be calm. Do you have your heart medicine?"
She nodded, patting down her sleeve to show him and confirm for herself that she had her medicine.
He patted her hand again and smiled at the two police officers, a man and a woman. "Please, have a seat. I just want to get Sister a cup of tea. Please, tell me what happened?"
The woman, face impassive held up her pda, comparing a picture with Corey. "Father Anderson, were you angry at August Richards V?"
"No, of course not," Corey snapped. He didn't have a kitchen in his room, just a hot and cold water heater, several cups, and a few different kinds of teas. He set a chamomile tea bag into her cup. "Why would you think I'd be angry at August? Is he okay?"
"We'd like you to come down to the station with us," Lt. Drake said, putting her pda back into her inside jacket pocket.
"Are you arresting Father Anderson," Sister Meg whispered.
"They're not arresting me," he insisted, putting the cup into her hands. "Now drink your tea, please. I am not angry at August. It was my plan to leave to leave the priesthood and return to my relationship with August Richards." He held onto the back of his chair. "Is he okay?"
"We're doing our best to make sure that Mr. Richards is well," Detective Scott said. "A forensic team is on the way, Father Anderson. We've got a warrant to search your room and the church."
"How can you think Corey had anything to do with this?" Sister Meg growled, one hand on her tea cup, one hand on her chest. "He's a priest!"
"For a few more hours," Lt. Drake pointed out. "As of midnight tomorrow he's just a scorned lover who used to be a priest, but was having an illicit affair with a senator's son. Humiliated lovers have been known to commit some very memorable crimes."
"I would never hurt August."
"I understand he went through a severe depression after you left him two years ago. That could be hard to forgive," Det. Scott pointed out. "Maybe you let him know that you were interested in restarting the relationship, but he was happier keeping you as a mistress?"
Sister Meg's hand fisted in her habit. Corey went to one knee, trying to calm her. "They're just doing their job, Sister. If I were guilty of something, I'd want them to do everything they could to find a way to help August. I'm going to call Mrs. Johnson and ask her to come sit with you. I don't want you to worry about anything. Pray with me," he said with authority, reaching to take her hands in his. Their prayer was short, simple, asked for guidance, August's well being and the well being of anyone who might be making poor choices this evening.
"You go and help them, Corey. You were always my favorite student." She cupped his face with time bent fingers.
"Thank you, Sister," Corey said, laying his hand over hers. "I'll always take good care of you. You know that, right?"
"Of course, Father," she allowed. "Where is August? Does August know that you're coming back to him?"
"Not yet, Sister. I'm going to go help find him, as soon as Mrs. Johnson gets here."
"The forensic team is here. We can have an officer sit with her until Mrs. Johnson gets here," Det. Scott said.
Corey got back to his feet, nodding as he moved to the telephone to dial Mrs. Johnson, whose number was on a photocopied sheet. "Mrs. Johnson, this is Father Anderson. I know it's getting to be a little late, but I have an emergency to attend to, will you be able to sit with Sister Meg for a few hours?" Phone tucked between his shoulder and reached for his jacket. "It's on the news? Murdered?" He dropped his coat and made the sign of the cross.
Another knock on the door, but now it was Det. Scott that opened the door. A uniformed woman stepped in, tipped her head head towards the detectives. "There is a crowd of reporters down there and some demonstrators as well."
"Demonstrators," Corey asked.
"Gay priest accused of abducting senator's son," she said, arching an eyebrow.
"I would never hurt August," Corey insisted, voice raising. A hand up, gesturing angrily, "I didn't have anything to what happened to August! Why are you here focusing on me? You need to find out what happened to August and help him!"
Lt. Drake picked up Corey's jacket and handed it to him. "We are trying to find him. Put your coat on. We need to get you out the back and away from the media. We know how to do our job."
"I don't want to stay here with her," Sister Meg said accusingly, fingers pointing at the uniformed officer.
"Sister," Corey said gently, "be gentle with her. She's doing the best she can."
Sister Meg sipped her tea, eyes glaring unforgivingly.
Lt. Drake took hold of Corey's arm. "We need to go."
Corey shook his finger at the uniformed officer, "Be kind to Sister Meg. She's taken good care of this community for a very long time."
He didn't see a response though as the detectives guided him out of his room and into the hallway. Another uniformed officer raced up the stairs to meet them. "Media people are blocking the back door!"
"Let me speak to them," Corey said, "Let the people know I didn't have anything to do with this and we need to find August!"
"I don't think their real interested in talking to you, Father," Lt. Drake said, holding tight to his arm, in case he tried to make a break for it. "Mitchell, get me a car right by the front door!"
She half dragged him to the front door. There was a reporter right on the steps. "Witnesses say that the victim of abduction, the son of Senator Richards, has been seen right here at this church every Saturday for almost two years. It is beyond question that he was having an affair with the local parish priest here, who used to be his fiance. A woman was found dead at the scene of the crime, but even if he is a homosexual it is a hard call to say that he is also a murderer."
Corey's heart about stopped, his fists doubled and he lunged for the doors. This church had been his home long before August had become his family. The detective's grip slipped over his jacket. He jerked the doors open. Light shone in his face, making his blush even worse. He froze for a moment, then stepped towards the reporter. She shrank back from him. He pressed his palms together, composed himself for a second. She composed herself, held the microphone out to him. "Are you a homosexual?"
"Are you a murderer?"
"Of course not! I am a follower of Christ and I would never harm anyway! August Richards is a good man! We need to make sure he's safe!"
"Did you have anything to do with his kidnapping? How much ransom are you asking for?" She asked and thrust the microphone back in his face.
"Ransom? If a ransom has to be raised, I will count on the good will of the people of Detroit to save his life!"
"So his life is at risk? Are you trying to shake down the people of Detroit? Is August Richards part of this plan?"
"May God show you mercy!"
The whole exchange had taken only moments. The car pulled up, a door popped open. Drake and Scott* swarmed him, one on each side to get him into the car. With all three of them in the back seat, Corey held his breath until the car pulled slowly away. Intense emotions swallowed him and he leaned forward, head between his knees, sobbing. "Dear God, dear Lord, dear God!"