Page 1 of Preacher Man

CHAPTER ONE

“The only good advice my mama gave to me was never eating mayo with fries, and stay away from a man who treats his bike better than you." - Ruby Steele.

"Hey, God. It's me, Ruby Steele. I know, it's been a minute since we last talked, no excuses, I avoided coming back. You got time to chat?" Sitting in the fourth pew from the front of the Gospel Baptist Church in the heart of Armado Springs the dark-haired woman sighed like she had the weight of the world on her slim shoulders. Ruby might as well have for all the good her choices were right now. She had diddly and squat to choose between.

Turning to God in times of need was for the stupid and the desperadoes, both of which she was, but she was out of options and what could it hurt, she'd thought, as she'd turned into the parking lot on a whim. The church was a beacon in the early morning skyline and she’d headed towards it before reasoning had sunk in. Sins clung to her like a rosary bead necklace trapped around her neck.

Sins she could deal with, it was every other problem that weighed her down.

Thanks to the state of the economy Ruby found herself up that proverbial shit creek without a paddle. Not that she minded so much being poor, she could eat ramen morning noon and night, and she wasn't a MAC freak, didn't want designer clothes, okay, shedid, but was fine living with knockoffs, but no health insurance, for fuck's sake,thank you, America.

The money she was sending to her sister was drastically going to have to be cut somewhere unless she could find a second job in the next minute that worked around her bar hours.

Praying to God might not be the best solution for time management when she could be home filling out job applications, or better; winning the lotto. But that would mean buying a ticket and really when it came down to it, ramen won out, she was overly fond of eating every day.

Ugh, she hated that despondent feeling that festered in her belly day and night, it was never ending and altogether annoying at the same time, not having a solution plucked from thin air was quickly becoming her least favorite foe.

Now she was turning to Him like the hypocrite Christian she and most of the population was. He only became relevant when people needed something. Healing, wealth, a nice pretty face. She'd make do with the elusive happiness.

Ruby sighed until her lungs were full to the brim of old stale musty church air, a touch of candle wax, incense and pure despair. Sitting back in the pew, the harsh wood bench biting into her butt, she gazed up at the front of the church with the epic sized stained-glass window depicting the last feast, and in front, a wooden statue of the man himself on the cross.

Rather than bringing her any comfort, her belly tightened. Anxiety in 3..2..1.

This was what her life was coming to, expecting miracles in a fucking church.

"I'm not asking for anything for me," she said finally, looking directly at cedar oak Jesus. Was He listening? Was He even there? Her faith had waned so much, all mixed up in her mind for a long time, but if she didn't put her problems into the ether so she could focus on what needed to be done then she might go insane.

Not literally insane, because she didn't have the damn medical cover for that.

Go fricking figure, you even had to have a fat bank account for a six-week stay at the funny farm.

Those celebs with their vacations at rehab didn't know how good they had it.

Ruby's desperate plea was made worse by the fact she hadn't missed going to church. Sure, it was something to do on a Sunday, and she always enjoyed Pastor Danny's sermons, he was never a fire and brimstone man of God, rather, he spoke of kindness and love to one's fellow neighbor. But even that was not enough to have her rolling out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn on a Sunday to listen to him, not when she'd worked until four AM. And not when she'd had an existential crisis and lost her faith.

For that reason, He should probably kick her out of His house.

After a long silence staring up at the statue, serene and terrifying, she supposed she best get on with it if she was to use some of her day off to look for second employment. She could hear a vacuum somewhere in the back rooms. But other than that, she was blissfully alone.

"If you have time, do you think you can look in on Sebastian? He's not having a good time lately and I..." She inhaled, wishing some of the tension on her shoulders would dissipate as easily. "He means everything to me. If you can do something to make it better for him, I'd be grateful and do my best to not be a bad Christian as I have been." Understatement. Sebastian was her life. God knows what would have happened to her these past six months if she didn't have him to get out of bed for.

It might be May, but some days it was November again and she was up at that cabin with a psychopath for five long days.

Kyle. She shuddered with revulsion.

What a piece of shit that lunatic had been.

And better off not in her mind. Ruby popped up from her seat, made her way down the pew, only to come face to face with the pastor carrying a stack of bibles in his arms.

Daniel Murphy -- Yes,thoseMurphy's. Which Murphy's Ruby was yet to know but it seemed to be a running joke for the Irish-born pastor -- was the reverse of what you expect from a man of faith when he looked like Tom Hardy and Chris Hemsworth, on an ugly day, had a very good time together and spawned something very Irish and steeped in religion.

She smiled, hoping to slip out without much conversation because if she knew anything the pastor would use his skilful charm and godly guilt for her to return to church this coming Sunday.

"Can't stop, pastor Danny. It's good to see you."

"That is a shame. It's been but a minute since we last saw you, Ruby. You are well?"

Internally sighing, she smiled. Caught in the Irish gaze. Who could tell God’s bestie she had things to do without being a rude bitch?