First Daughter - Eric van Lustbader [82]
"I've had enough standin' aside while Andre goes off on ev'rybody," Gus says.
"You just can't abide him taking business from you," Reverend Taske responds.
"Huh! Looka whut he did to you!"
"Occupational hazard," Taske says. "You're not my daddy, Augustus. I can take care of myself."
"By turnin' the other cheek."
"That's how I was taught, Augustus. That's what I believe."
"Whut you believe ain't nuthin' but a jackass's brayin'."
Jack sucks in his breath. He is compelled to get up, creep down the hall, put his eye to the crack between door and jamb he makes by pulling with his fingertips. In his limited line of vision, the Reverend Taske is eclipsed by Gus's planetary shape.
"Because your ire is up, I'm going to ignore your insult to me, Augustus, but I can't overlook your blasphemy toward God. When we're done, I want you to make penance."
"Not today, Reverend. I gots no truck with turnin' the other cheek. Moment I knuckle to that, I'm shit outta business. You-all gonna tell me that if I don't do fo' myself, God will?"
"I am concerned for your immortal soul, Augustus," Taske says slowly and carefully.
"Huh, you best be concerned with things that matter, like whut you gonna do 'bout expenses round here now that yo' famous bank vice president got indicted for embezzlement. Reg'lators gone pulled the plug on all his deals, including the one that's been keeping this place afloat fo' three years."
Jack hears the creak of a chair, figures the reverend has sat heavily down. "You do have a point there, Augustus."
"Now, you know I make a lotta money, Reverend, an' I'll give you as much as I can."
"The church isn't here to drain you of every penny you make."
"Still an' all," Gus perseveres, "whatever I can muster won't be enough. You gotta think long-term."
"If you have a suggestion," Taske says.
It's at that point that Jack knocks on the door. There is a short startled silence, at the end of which Taske's voice bids Jack enter.
Jack stands in the doorway until the reverend beckons him into the room. "What can I do for you, Jack? Having trouble decoding Fitzgerald's prose?"
"It's not that." Jack is for a moment at a loss for words. Taske looks weary, older. Why hasn't he noticed this before? Jack asks himself.
"Augustus and I are in the middle of a discussion, Jack," Taske says kindly.
"I know, that's why I came in."
"Oh?"
"I couldn't help overhearing."
"Huh, you betta close that door good," Gus says, "so you the on'y one."
Jack shuts the door firmly, turns around. "I heard about the money crisis."
"That's none o' yo' business," Gus says darkly.
"I think I have a way out," Jack says.
The two men seem to hang suspended between disbelief and raucous laughter. The thought that a fifteen-year-old has seen a way out of the fiscal quicksand the Renaissance Mission Church has unceremoniously found itself in is, on the face of it, ludicrous. Except, as both men know, each in his own way, this is Jack—and Jack is capable of extraordinary leaps of logic that are beyond either of them.
So Taske says, "Go ahead, Jack. We're listening."
"I was thinking of Senator Edward Carson."
Taske frowns. "What about him, son?"
"He was here last week," Jack says. "I read the papers—you assign me to do that every day, and I do."
Taske smiles. "I know you do."
"I noticed that Senator Carson got a lot of great press out of his visit here. He even spent some time with the parishioners before and after the service. He said he used to sing in his choir back home in Nebraska. I heard him accept your invitation to sing with our choir today."
"All true," Taske agrees. "What exactly is your point, Jack?"
"There's an election coming up this fall. Senator Carson's campaign war chest is big. According to the papers, he's the party's great future hope. The bigwigs are rumored to be grooming him to run for president one day. Him being here last week and this, I think the rumor's true. But to make a successful run, he's going to need every vote he can get. Last time I looked, there weren't too many blacks living in