Holy Rollers (17 page)

“It was all right,” said Chase.

“I hated every second,” said Mary Beth. “Close-minded idiots. They hate gays, women…even the
women
hate women.”

Chase cleared his throat. “Some of us maybe had a tougher time adapting than others. But…” He turned and smiled at Constance. “Some are naturals.”

Grant saw a smile playing around the edge of Constance’s face. “Sounds like you had a good day. What happened?”

Her smile broadened. “I met the Rev. Mr. Dennis Merribaugh himself. I really poured it on, and he ate it up.”

“And?”

“Give me a week and I’ll be running the place,” said Constance. “I got it from Merribaugh himself that the office is in shambles. Since he fired Leonard, he’s been trying to run the place with a bunch of blue-haired volunteers. Things keep going from bad to worse, and Hurley is riding his ass about it.”

Grant smiled, which made everyone take a second look since it was one of those rare sights, like seeing a double rainbow.

“So you’re in.”

“Like Flynn, Lambert.” She motioned around the kitchen. “Better not get used to this place, ’cause I don’t think we’re staying long.”

“Congressman Skinner!”

Hurley saw the congressman before the congressman saw Hurley, which gave him an important advantage. Representative Donald Skinner had been hoping to avoid him by slipping out the side entrance of the hotel after his breakfast meeting with the In-Ground Pool Manufacturers Association, never expecting Hurley to use it as a shortcut to the Moral Families Coalition rally in the ballroom.

Skinner had guessed wrong.

Turning to face him, the congressman forced a smile and tried his best to rally. “Dr. Hurley! As always, it’s a pleasure!”

Hurley’s white teeth flashed, and he put a hand on Skinner’s shoulder. “Your words of praise embarrass me, Congressman.” He dropped his voice and his eyes dashed side to side. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Uh…I’m afraid I have a full schedule back at my office, Dr. Hurley.”

Hurley sized him up. “Is there a place we could talk privately for a few minutes?”

There was a small empty room off the hallway into which Skinner led Hurley, and Merribaugh hurried to catch up, reaching them just before the door closed. When the three men were alone, Hurley shot his cuffs and got down to business.

“First, I want to thank you again for your, uh,
insight
into the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Internal Revenue Service. These are difficult, dangerous days to preach the word of God. It’s good to know that we have a friend in our government who is watching out for us.”

Skinner smiled weakly. He hoped this would be brief. “You’re welcome. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Of course not. Although I’m deeply troubled that you won’t be with us at the Moral Families Coalition meeting this morning.” Hurley paused for just a moment, heightening the tension, before asking, “We don’t have a problem, do we?”

Skinner cleared his throat. “Not really, but…”

“But?”

“You’ve been asking for some heavy lifts lately.” Nervousness was apparent in his whispered voice.

Hurley looked at Skinner, shaking his head slightly but not enough to make his silver pompadour move. “I’m asking for no more than the Lord asks, Congressman. To His word be true, and let your faith guide you.
Not
Oscar Hurley.
Not
the Moral Families Coalition.
Not
your constituents. Your
faith
!”

Skinner tried to puff out his chest, to no great effect. “Look, I have a tough re-election campaign coming up, and the anti-gay rhetoric isn’t playing well in my district. Not like it used to. But that seems to be all you and the Moral Families Coalition are talking about these days.”

Hurley pretended to think about that for a few beats, and moved past the pretense.

“Leaders don’t follow polls or trends, Mr. Skinner. Leaders
lead
. But if it helps any, the gay issue polls at…what were those numbers, Mr. Merribaugh?”

“Ninety to ninety-four percent.”

“Ninety to ninety-four percent. That should be one hundred percent, but, in any event, the numbers don’t lie.”

Skinner stared at the floor. “Yes, well, that’s food for thought, but I don’t know that the numbers are the same in my district as they are at the Virginia Cathedral of Love.”

Hurley clapped Skinner on the back. His hand stayed there, threatening to become a permanent appendage.

“Congressman, let me tell you a little story. It’s about a man who came to Washington a few years back with nothing but a single cheap, rumpled suit and an old car, eating at McDonald’s because that’s all he could afford…and because it was the only cuisine his palate was familiar with. Now he’s wearing…what is that, Burberry?” He opened Skinner’s jacket and looked at the label. “Oh,
Calvin Klein
! Nice! Anyway, this man is now well-dressed, driving a big Cadillac, and eating at five-star restaurants.” Hurley dropped the fabric of the suit coat and his hand patted Skinner’s stomach. “Got a taste for fois gras, too, I see. And all because he has been rewarded by the Lord for doing His work on the Hill.”

“Yes, well—”

“Would you like to see that go away, Congressman?”

Skinner was sweating. “Of course not, Dr. Hurley. It’s just that…”

Hurley talked over him. “You have been rewarded—by God; through me, His servant—because although we reject material appearances, often we have to adopt an attractive façade to reach the masses. That’s why God invented cashmere.” He chuckled; Skinner didn’t, and he noticed.

“When you came to Washington, Congressman…oh, you were a sad sight.
That
Donald Skinner, the man in a wrinkled seersucker suit, well…maybe that works in northern New Hampshire. But that Donald Skinner was not going to be seen on CNN. Or even Fox, no matter how sincere and God-like your political positions were. But God told
me
to make you presentable, and now you’re on Fox, CNN, and I even hear rumors that you might be under consideration as a vice-presidential candidate. God’s will has certainly worked out for you, Congressman Skinner. Has it not?”

“Well…yes, but…”

“‘But’? I’m going to pretend I did not hear that. But if I
did
hear that…” Hurley let the pause linger in the air, which seemed to Skinner almost more threatening than whatever words might follow. “Have you practiced for your next career?”

Skinner swallowed hard. “Next career?”

“Have you practiced asking, ‘Would you like fries with that?’”

Congressman Donald Skinner’s face turned red. This, he thought, was over the line, although he doubted he had the courage to say that to Hurley. Still… “Are you threatening me, Dr. Hurley? Are you blackmailing me?”

He tried to sound like the CNN and Fox regular he was. He tried to sound vice-presidential.

He failed on both counts, and Hurley’s unworried smile was the evidence.

“No, sir. I would never threaten you. Nor would I blackmail you. But…” He took the lapel of Skinner’s Calvin Klein suit and ran it through his fingers. “The Lord giveth…and the Lord taketh away. If necessary.”

“Dr. Hurley…”

“Let me put this in earthier, less God-like vernacular.” Hurley leaned close to the congressman’s ear, so close even Merribaugh couldn’t hear him.

“Don’t fuck with me, Don.”

$ $ $

A half hour later, fifty-seven members of the United States Congress—senators and representatives; men and women; Republicans and Democrats; even one or two Jews with re-election constantly on their minds and a hope of maybe becoming president one day—sat in the audience as Dr. Oscar Hurley commanded the stage above them. And fifty-seven heads turned to follow as he paced the floorboards, the conclusion of his speech reaching a crescendo.

“You
cannot
claim to represent people of faith if you
do not
vote consistent with Biblical teachings. And when I use the word ‘consistent,’ I do not mean ‘mostly.’ It’s like that old joke about being pregnant. You can’t be just a little bit pregnant, and you can’t be just a little bit Biblical. You either
are
Biblical, or you are not.”

A murmur of assent rose from the assembled officials. A freshman congressman from Colorado even added an “Amen!” into the mix.

Hurley continued to roar. “Item number one—the most important thing you can do as our elected representatives—is to stop the pernicious spread of homosexuality in this society and protect our nation’s moral fiber.
No
homosexual marriage!
No
homosexuals in the military!
No
special rights and protections for homosexuals!”

A four-term congresswoman from Minnesota jumped to her feet and led the applause. Hurley paused for a moment, affecting thoughtfulness, before continuing.

His voice was reassuring now; almost gentle. “If you love your children, you set rules. If those rules are violated, your children are punished. This is how we teach children right from wrong. Well, we need to apply those same rules to our society. If you love homosexuals, teach them the same way you would teach your children. Help them come out of homosexuality, don’t make it easier! Don’t strive for acceptance. Strive to enforce societal and Biblical standards of decency and holiness.”

Another round of applause. Hurley used it as an opportunity to check his watch, and saw that he was almost out of time.

“One final thing,” he said, feet now firmly planted dead center on the stage. “I know that many of you are already planning to visit us next week for the first Beyond Sin conference right here in Washington, DC. This is the first conference sponsored by Project Rectitude and the Moral Families Coalition, and we expect to use this opportunity to bring over two hundred people
out
of homosexuality! For those of you who have already offered to take part in this event, I thank you. For the rest of you…I expect to see you there!”

And he knew they would be there. They didn’t have a choice in the matter. To confirm, he found the face of Congressman Donald Skinner in the crowd, and saw Skinner nodding. Yes, he
would
be there. He belonged to Hurley, not New Hampshire.

“Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America!”

He stepped off the stage, offering only the most perfunctory of greetings to the elected officials as he made a beeline to the spot where Merribaugh stood at the side of the room. Merribaugh didn’t even warrant a perfunctory greeting.

“So how’d I do?” Hurley asked.

“It was great,” Merribaugh said. “They ate it up.”

Hurley sighed. “That was really a rhetorical question, Dennis.
Of course
it was great, and
of course
they ate it up. I could read the phone book and they’d eat it up. They’d have to.” He glanced around the room. “Skinner stayed, meaning he must have at least half a brain. But I didn’t see that other problem child, Gordon Cobey. Did you?”

“No, Oscar. He definitely wasn’t here.”

Hurley frowned. “We should pay him a visit. I think the good senator needs some encouragement…”

$ $ $

They reached the suite assigned to Senator Gordon Cobey, Republican of Ohio, and let themselves in, not pausing long enough to give their names to the senator’s assistant as they walked through the anteroom and let themselves into Cobey’s private office.

The senator looked up and smiled when he saw them. He didn’t seem surprised.

“I love the way you make an entrance, Dr. Hurley,” Cobey said, rising in shirtsleeves from his chair and offering his hand, which Hurley took for only the briefest of moments before dropping it.

“We missed you at the breakfast this morning, Senator,” said Hurley, taking a seat without being invited.

Cobey smoothed his tie. “Sorry I had to miss it. Unfortunately, I was overbooked.”

“Hmm.” Hurley’s eyes darted around the office, taking in the array of Ohio memorabilia. “Many of your constituents are members of the Moral Families Coalition.” The senator nodded. “It would be a shame if you were voted out of the senate and had to live full-time in Toledo again. Where you’d have no need for all this memorabilia, since you’d already be surrounded by, well,
Ohio
.”

Cobey—a bit too aware of his smile, since he’d had his teeth bleached the week before—nevertheless offered him one. It wasn’t returned.

“Now, Dr. Hurley. You know I’m with you and the Moral Families Coalition on ninety percent of your issues.”

“Just ninety?”

“Isn’t ninety percent considered pretty friendly?”

Hurley laughed, but it was for himself, not Cobey. “Senator, I have neighbors who are liberals. I think they’re going to hell, but I’m certainly friendly with them.” Cobey’s smile vanished. “Before I start sounding too cryptic, let me spell things out for you. I’ve been getting reports back from our affiliates in Ohio that you’ve… Well, people tell me you’ve been buying into the radical gay agenda lately.”

“Oh, that.”

“That.”