Page 73 of Kings Fear No One
It’s Teysha’s golden cross. The chain’s still broken from when Abraham slashed it the night me and the Kings raided the Chosen Saints compound. Teysha’s kept the necklace close at all times even though it’s been broken; she’s been carrying it in her pocket and fiddling with it whenever anxious.
For a brief second, we both look at the coffee table where the cross lays amid a tangled golden chain.
“I would like that,” Teysha says finally, her tone quiet.
The hyperactive energy she had just minutes ago has mellowed out. We sit across from each other sipping our drinks and realizing the silence is a comfortable one.
And when we have something to say, we do.
“You mentioned your mother was religious,” Teysha says.
“Yeah, very. She was a good person. A loyal Christian.”
“Can I ask why you aren’t religious like she was?”
I think about it a second, then shrug. “I’ve got a hard time believing that there’s some guy in the sky that oversees everything. But for some reason he still lets bad things happen to good people. Same question but reversed. Why are you so into it?”
Teysha sets down her glass of whiskey and folds her legs like she had them when I walked through the door. “Because it’s nice to know there’s a higher power greater than myself. That he sees us all and loves us just the same. That he’s there when I need him. Even when times are dark and I have no hope left. He’s always there for me.”
I spent years sighing and rolling my eyes every time Mom dragged Mace and me to church on Sunday. I slouched in the church pew as the pastor rambled through his sermon and my imagination wandered to sports or what girl I liked in school.
The older I got, the more hostile to it I became. It served as nothing but a reminder of Mom, and how God had allowed her to be so senselessly killed in an act of violence. The very last thing I wanted to think about.
I didn’t want to focus on the guilt that I should’ve known how special Sundays were to Mom before she passed away. I should’ve been more open, more present for her.
If I shut it off and viewed it in a hostile lens, then I never had to go there.
But hearing Teysha’s answer to the question pulls at something deep inside me. It’s so earnest and pure, I can only nod in respect. I can’t help wondering if I ever could be that damn trusting and hopeful.
Teysha’s been through hell, yet somehow she manages to…
In its own way, it’s a strength I don’t have. The strength to experience adversity—some of the greatest evils this world has to offer—and still somehow have faith in what’s good.
“Do you believe in the supernatural? Ghosts? Spirits?” she asks after another few beats of silence.
I’m brought out of my runaway thoughts. I nod, polishing off my whiskey. “I do.”
“You? Ghosts?”
“Ghosts are different. You ever see one of those candid ghost hunter videos? That shit is real.”
Teysha’s laugh is so melodic it competes with the music playing from her phone. “Wait a dang second, Logan Cutler. Are you telling me you believe in ghosts but not in God?”
“Not the same. Do I need to pull up YouTube?”
“Ever seen one?” she asks, so amused her eyes sparkle. She reclines on the couch, stretching out those damn shapely legs of hers.
“Why would I tell you? You’ll laugh.”
“And you say I’m shy!” she teases. “Go on. Tell me.”
I blow out a sigh, both irritated but engaged in our conversation. “Alright, fine. If you really wanna know, it happened when I was nine. Mace was seven. We were staying the weekend at our grandparents ranch in West Texas. We loved it ‘cuz we got to feed the horses and fuck around on all that acreage. Used to chase each other for hours. Our grandma warned us about going out at night. We were supposed to be in bed by ten.”
“But…” Teysha prompts, trialing off.
“But,” I continue, “we obviously didn’t listen. A cousin of ours, Jimmy, had told us the old barn that was no longer in use was haunted. We wanted to find out for ourselves. So, Mace and me, we waited ‘til they went to bed. Then we went exploring in the dark. Just me, him and a lantern.”
Her eyes widen. “You went into the old barn?”
