Page 2 of Give It a Day
I shudder. My family and I are certainly not deserving of any mercy after what we’ve done to worsen the streets of Darkhaven, but that doesn’t mean I want to meet that fate anytime soon.
I still have so much to live for, don’t I?
But I’m ripped out from my thoughts as I read a new message, in myfamily’s enciphered group chat, from my mother.
“Come home, Kayla. Meet us in the limo.”
They must know I’ll text back “Why?” because before I do, my father messages as well.
“We’re going to church.”
1
Kayla
Inexplicably nervous—maybe because when the hell has our family ever gone to church?—I step out of the limo we came in. My parents pretty much forced me to, rushing me when I’vebeenin dire need of washing up and getting dressed properly.
In any case, I don’t know why we’re at a church. I protest as much, but my parents coax me out of the car and lead me up the church steps.
I haven’t seen a church since…ever.
Darkhaven doesn’t even have a church, and the one we’ve traveled to is miles and miles away. For hours—after taking a private jet and then taking another limo to get here—I’ve been sitting with my parents, hoping they wouldn’t smell the cheap motel’s residual cigarette smoke on me, or see the sticky gunk that might be at the bottom of my heels.
Even though I wish I was closer to my family, or that we talked to each other because this lifestyle is so lonely and cruel, I’m glad they didn’t ask me where I’d just gotten from, because I’m not really willing to tell them that I may or may not have slept with one of the bikers from a neighboring town whose guts we hate. But that’s beside the point…
My parents rarely talk to me anyway, unless it’s to ask me to get them out of yet another sticky situation. I wonder if this is another one.
I have to carefully analyze the situation I’m in.
While I approach the wide doors, I can see a few people by the marble altar. One of them is standing right by the clothed table, which is decorated with golden and jeweled ornaments, and from where I’m at—walking up the church steps—the standing, tall figure looks to be a man around my age, who’s on his phone.This generation.
As if sensing my eyes on him, his piercing gaze locks onto mine.
His dark hair is in a neatly styled short cut, framing the sharp lines of his chiseled face. The dark colors of his suit really…suithim. Then he catches me staring for far too long, so he puts his phone down, and shoots a brow at me.
Okay, handsome, relax. I’ll keep looking at you later.
There are two other people near him, seated on the front pew, who are giving each other quite curious glances.I’mcurious as well, looking around the otherwise empty church. Or maybe, it’s more fitting to call it a cathedral? It’s a very grand place with old brick walls that look like they’ve been repaired again and again over the years. The bright sunlight coming from the stained-glass windows cast darker colors like blue and purple across the floor. Quite pretty…
It’s definitely a beautiful place, even if it’s a bit creepy. But I still don’t know why I’m here. From a seedy motel to a luxurious church-slash-cathedral, I’m practically getting whiplash.
There’s a pit forming in my stomach because of all this, but I’m going to stay in denial about it until I hear someone confirm what I’m afraid is about to take place. AndifI get that confirmation, then Iwillflee.
“What are we doing here…?” I whisper to my parents, who are striding down the aisle, much faster than my feet want to take me. Mom and Dad sure look gorgeous from head-to-toe, decked out in the most expensive brands with matching expensive accessories. And I’ll always idolize my extravagant parents despite the sticky situations they put me through, because for fuck’s sake, they have to love me, right? They must. But right now, I can’t afford to be distracted over my mommy and daddy issues. I need to keep analyzing the situation, so I can assess if it’s a problem I have to solve.
As I walk even closer toward the altar, I can see that man in a suit clearer. He’s now put his phone away in his pocket. He’s quite a tall drink of water—at least six feet, broad shoulders, and dressed to the nines. With his short jet black hair, really pretty eyes, straight nose, and sharp jawline, he looks like he came straight out of a photoshoot and waltzed in here for a little breather. Seated in a pew beside him are the two other people who look like they’re six-foot supermodel’s parents. His similar features to theirs are really telling. The dad has the same nose and jawline. The mom has the same hair color and stunning eyes.
When I jog up to my parents, I ask again, with more urgency, or rather,desperation, “What are we doing here?”
But in usual fashion, my parents are ignoring me, aside from my mother patting my arm, as if to comfort me. But for what? Please don’t tell me what I think this is.
Man in a suit. Church. Altar.The only thing subduing my panic is there’s thankfully no sign of a church leader person—what are they called again? They wear a white scarf thing over all black with a white collar, you know, for matching fashionably.
I make a face as I hide behind my parents, who are now standing still and facing the other three people in this godforsaken place.
Come on, what’s the word for those creepy men.Really, Kaye?It’s been that long since I’ve thought of religion that I don’t even know what they’re called. Oh, a puh-something. Punisher?Priest!Duh.
Maybe I should go to church more often, if it weren’t for the confessionals tempting me to spill all of the secrets of our very legal, very non-violent family business. Not that I would spill all our family secrets, all at once at least, but it sure would be nice to have someone to talk to about all the terrible things I’ve had to do to keep our familyafloat.
