Page 35 of Priestly Sins

I breeze up the stairs past him and pose for a “selfie” in front of the entrance. What I’m really doing is taking a snap of the idiot. He never notices and I open the door, chilled at the too-cold air-conditioning while meandering down the hall.

Me:Where are you?

Sirona:Are you following me?

Me:Yes. And I’m not the only one.

Sirona:What?!

Me:Is Clara safe?

Sirona:Yes. I’m in the women’s room. Don’t know where or which one. Hang on.

I meander through the shoulder-to-shoulder masses to the gift shop. I’m really buying time and watching. Goon One is joined by Goons Two, Three, and Four and they are beginning to make their way toward the doors. Fuck!

Me:Is your restroom near one of those family ones? Get to it now and text me when you’re there.

Two excruciating minutes later, I get a reply.

Sirona:Found one by the movie theatre. Not the back wall. The theatre wall.

Me:On my way.

Sirona:What? Why?

I slip into the crowd, yanking off my starched shirt as I go. I thank God I thought to grab it. I push open the first one. Empty! Shit! Flush, run water, and grab a paper towel and move to the second that is locked.

Me:Open up!

The click of the bolt is the first relief I’ve had in almost half an hour. I push in.

“Strip.”

“Father—”

“For the last time, Sirona, it’s Sean.” I grab her shirt from the waistband of her pants to a shrieking noise. I put my hand over her mouth, get close to her ear, and hear her breath catch. “There are four men out there who are looking for you. One followed you in a black Escalade from your shop.”

She goes rigid, so I remove my fingers from her mouth but keep whispering in her ear.

“They’re Calabrese’s enforcers. I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, I have to find a way to get you out of here. Do you have some place to go tonight?” Her temple taps my cheek as she shakes her head. All the while, her breathing speeds.

“We’ll figure that out. Now, I need you to change clothes. Put this on.” I pull back and offer her the shirt, while turning my back to give her privacy.

“Okay,” she finally says, while rolling up the sleeves of my shirt and tying it in a knot at her waist.

What I wouldn’t give to see her in nothing but that! But that’s a fantasy for another day.

“Ready?” I offer my hand and she tentatively slips her small one into mine. I turn the handle, and we walk out into the packed lobby.

I only clock one as we snake our way through the throngs of people. We grab the elevator that takes us to the glass breezeway over the street and to the actual memorial. We’re visible, but so are they. A second surveils from the street as we walk and then talks into his wrist. Fuck!

I drag her with me, winding toward the exhibits. The agent stops us, requesting our tickets, and wants to press the issue, but I explain that my date is being stalked and we’re trying to escape. Her anger and disbelief morph into concern and maybe even fear as someone behind us draws her attention. She assents and grabs her walkie-talkie and we move into and through the German front.

We pop back into the family bathroom — this time there’s no ruse of privacy.

“Switch!” I reach between my shoulder blades and begin pulling my graphic tee over my head. She freezes, staring at my abs. “Not the time, sweetheart, but thanks.” I wink while handing her my shirt. “Sorry for the sweat,” I add since it’s going to suck for her.

She tosses back the blue button-up, which I throw on and button in earnest, while she ties a knot in the back making my tee tighten over her curves and small waist.