Jane Doe(20)

I may not feel bad for women who work full-time and still can’t afford to feed their kids, but I can see what’s being done to them. I can see that the sociopaths heading up huge corporations take as much money as they can, and our tax money pays for their employees’ food stamps. We subsidize the corporate profits. It’s genius, really. A fabulous con. And all of these smug parishioners think they’re the smart ones. I’d fleece them too given the chance.

The lecture goes on and on, and I’m thoroughly bored by the end of it and mystified by the women nodding along to all the scolding.

In my experience, men try to talk women into opening their legs from the moment girls can walk on them. Men stand in for the Lord in this scenario. Always testing us to see if we choose right or wrong. But it’s a trick. There is no right. You’re a tease or a whore. A heartless denier or a Jezebel. Their penises are God’s divining rods, searching out evil.

I smile at this, and the pastor’s eyes light on me. I have no idea what he’s said that he thinks I’m responding to, but I’m definitely not supposed to be smiling. I press my lips tight together and bite them to stop my giggles. He watches me for a moment, trying to suss me out.

He’s intrigued.

I’m intrigued as well. Pastor Hepsworth has some intense thoughts about fornication. He thinks about it a lot. He likely has a secret I could use against him.

It would be a decent revenge. Painful and sordid.

Decent but not perfect, because Steven would just blame it on women being whores and he’d forgive his father and learn nothing from it. The wound wouldn’t be fatal, maybe not even disabling.

Still, it’s a fun idea. I’ll keep it in mind as a sort of . . . appetizer. Something to accentuate the main dish.

There are two more uplifting songs to help end the judgment and hypocrisy on a positive note. Baskets make their way around during the music, and I could easily slip a few hundred dollars out as I pass them along. I don’t need the money, but I love a good thrill. I mentally slap my sticky fingers and smile benignly at my neighbor as I hand over the basket. Patience is a virtue.

When the service ends, the place erupts into a low roar of conversation as parishioners stand and make their way to friends. Steven is in a scrum of people near the lectern, shaking hands and slapping backs. He’s a minor celebrity here. Son of the chief. He catches my eye and waves. I wave frantically back, thrilled that he’s bothered to notice me. He doesn’t call me over, so I hang back and try to look uncertain about all these strangers.

His father is in an even larger group of worshippers, but I notice that the woman I’ve pegged as Steven’s stepmother is only talking to a few women. I move closer.

She has a lot of makeup on, but I try to look past it to the woman beneath. Steven’s father looks about sixty, but his wife looks younger than forty. No big surprise, as I already know it’s a second marriage.

The women begin to drift off and I make my move. Keeping my hands clasped uncertainly together, I sidle over. “Hi! I’m Jane. I work with Steven.”

“Hello. I’m Rhonda Hepsworth.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hepsworth. Steven invited me to attend the service, since I’m new in town. It was lovely.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” The bright words and big smile don’t match the coolness in her eyes.

“You must be so proud of this church,” I say. “Your husband is a great man.”

Her stiff smile doesn’t budge. “Thank you.”

“And your stepchildren. Well, I only know Steven, but I’ve heard all about his brother and sister.”

She clears her throat, and I wonder if she’s uncomfortable with the stepmother title. She’s only a few years older than Steven, after all.

After glancing around as if she’d like to escape, she clears her throat again. “Are you . . . ah, are you and Steven dating?”

I drop my head in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say that. We’re just friends.”

“Well, it was really sweet of you to come to the service. I’d better go check on—”

She’s cut off when Steven approaches. “Jane! Hi!”

“Hi!”

He looks from me to Rhonda but doesn’t introduce us. “What do you think of the church?”

“It’s beautiful! And everyone’s been so nice.”

“I was just saying I’d better go . . .” Rhonda lifts both hands to show that she’s helpless. “But it was lovely meeting you, Jane.”

Once she’s out of earshot, I turn to Steven. “She’s really nice.”

He shrugs.

“What? You don’t like her? She seems like such a great lady.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s great.” That’s all he says. His lips twist a little. Boy, am I intrigued. Does he think she’s a gold digger? A social climber? I hope I’ll see her interact with her husband, so I can figure out these dynamics.

“Steven!” the pastor booms from behind us. We both swing around and Steven greets his father warmly, hugging him with a few loud claps on the back as if they haven’t seen each other in weeks.

“Great sermon, Dad.” A little father-son bonding over the failings of women. Touching.

The pastor’s eyes slide to me and widen with curiosity.