The Next Queen of Heaven-SA by Gregory Maguire Read Free Book Online

hadn’t come out to his family and he was still living with them, so his reticence was second nature by now. But really. With HIV and AIDS incubating right there in the booth with them, like holy ghosts—well, that kind of timidity just wasn’t on any more. There was no time.

    “You were going to look into the meeting room in the rectory, weren’t you?” said Marty.
    “Weren’t you going to ask your priest today?”

    “I got sidetracked. Some woman from Cliffs of Zion fell down the stairs or something. I never got to see Father Mike.”

    “Suicide attempt? ’Fess up. Show and tell.”

    “Pretty much a non-story. Somebody named Scales.”

    “I know them,” said Sean, who had grown up in Thebes. “I mean I know who they are.
    You mean the Scales family on Papermill Road? There’s a mother with three kids, ages sort of straddling late-high school and early-career-in-fast-food?”

    “Sounds like the one. Mrs. Scales came into Our Lady’s and a statue fell on her head.
    There was a lot of to-do so I never got to see Father Mike.”

    “Well, let’s keep looking,” said Sean, “because I’d curl up my little leprechaun feet and wither if ever I set one of my ruby slippers in a Catholic church again.”

    “Oh come on. We’re only talking the rectory. The church building isn’t heated during the week and it’s too cold at this time of year to practice there. Your T-cell count being what it is.
    No, I’m still waiting to hear from Father Mike about the rectory. I talked to Sister Alice, his staff assistant.”

    “The privacy of the confessional still applies, I hope.” Sean’s parents were staunch churchgoers.

    “I wasn’t confessing anything,” said Jeremy. “Anyway, until Vatican III happens, you don’t confess to nuns. It really has been a long time since you’ve made your Easter duty, Sean.”

    “When I’m on my deathbed I’ll have Father Mike in for a highball and a Gitane. I’ll renounce the world and transfer my assets into the heavenly portfolio. No need to rush things, though.”

    Sean drew heavily on the coffee stirrer. It was amazing he still needed his fix, since his lung lining had been described as quilted. How did his system process the smoke?

    “Anyway, Sister Alice is nice enough. So is Father Mike. They’ll help if they can. I was sort of hoping that we’d have some choices. Didn’t anyone else come up with anything?”

    “I do remember the Scales family.” Sean sat up a little straighter. “Kirk Scales. He was in my brother’s school play last year. He was the dead kid in Our Town. What a little godsend that one is!”

    “Do tell,” said Marty. “Start with his toes and work up.”

    “Guys,” said Jeremy. “We’ve got a problem to solve here. We haven’t found any other available piano? It’s hard to believe.”

    “Look,” said Sean. “Let’s take care of business and get out of here, okay? I don’t like the clientele tonight. Sitting across from the walking dead. They don’t like sitting across from us either, by the look of things. Call me superstitious, but it creeps me out.”

    “I think you’ll have to come back,” said Jeremy in a softer voice. “Svetty Boyle can’t slip away unnoticed. This place isn’t going to get busy enough for Bozo Joe to shift his behind away from his throne back there and help her.”

    “Fuck,” said Sean.

    “Hey, leave it to me.” Marty zipped up his jacket with a flourish and arranged the collar to stand at attention, emphasizing his strong chin. Jeremy gritted his teeth. “If I can get Bozo to come over, you skedaddle back to the bathroom hall. Svetty Boyle will see you. You have the cash, Sean?”

    “Actually I’m a little short. I need to borrow twenty.”

    Marty shrugged. Jeremy shook his head and handed over his last twenty. “You’re not going to—I hope you don’t—” he said.

    “Get moving,” said Marty. Sean stood, caught Svetlana’s eye, and began to meander toward the