Page 12 of Sinner (Priest 2)
“You heard me,” he rumbles. “The PR is the real problem, not the deal, so you fix the PR.”
“I—” I actually don’t know what to say. “Sir, I don’t know shit about PR.”
“No, but you inked the deal, so it’s best if you’re the one the press sees. Plus you aren’t half bad-looking, kid. Makes the rest of us look good.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Sir, please—”
“It’s done, Sean. I’ve already had Trent reach out to the nuns—”
“You what?”
“And they were going to send their boss or whatever to meet you, but I guess one of the sisters is sick, so they’re sending a nun intern to meet with you.”
“A nun intern?”
Valdman looks impatient. “You know, like she’s not a nun yet, but she’s a nun-in-training or something. I don’t know—you’re the one with the priest brother, right?”
“Postulant,” I say, surprised I still know the word. “She must be a postulant.” And then I add, “And he’s not a priest anymore.”
His brow furrows. “But that must mean your whole family is Catholic, right? That you’re Catholic?”
“They used to be, and I haven’t been Catholic since college,” I say, and something in the tone of my voice makes Valdman shut up about it.
“Ah, okay. Well, anyway, the training nun offered to come here, but I think you better go to her. Makes for a better first impression. She’s expecting you around ten at the shelter.”
I glance at the clock. Thirty minutes from now I’m going to be shaking hands with a nun. What the fuck happened to my day? “What’s the postulant’s name?” I ask as I stand. Might as well go in having as much information as possible.
Valdman glances at his computer screen. “Um, it’s Iverson.”
My blood jumps up a degree in temperature.
Chill out, Sean. There’s probably lots of Catholics with the last name Iverson in Kansas City.
Valdman squints at whatever notes Trent the Secretary left him in the call memo. “Zenobia,” he pronounces. “Zenobia Iverson.”
“Zenny,” I correct automatically.
Valdman looks up at me. “Pardon?”
I smooth down my jacket and grab my briefcase. My blood is hot with something between anxiety and relief. “It’s Zenny. She hates the name Zenobia.”
“Do you…do you know this training nun?”
“Postulant. And yes, I do.”
“Well, I don’t know how wel
l she knows you. She was the one who leaked the story to the press yesterday—with your name attached.”
This does nothing to settle my pulse. “Oh.”
Valdman tilts his head at me. “How do you know her again?”
I answer as I’m walking out of the door. “She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
“Careful, son,” he calls after me. “Remember the deal comes first.”
As if I’d have any trouble remembering that. I give him a wave as I round the corner into the hall, check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed any calls from the hospital, and then head down to meet Elijah’s little sister and cajole her into calling off the press dogs.
