Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [131]
He had to be well groomed, dress appropriately, maintain eye contact, smile, listen, not talk too much, be open and honest . . . the list went on and on. It had been almost comical to see tattooed Bill with his goatee and long, curly hair talking about how to present oneself in a corporate setting. “Rule number one,” Bill had said, “you definitely don’t want to look like me.”
Most intriguing to Brady was Bill’s counsel on being straightforward. “I would tell the interviewer, ‘Look, I no longer have anything to hide. I’m an ex-con, and I served this many years for this crime. I have no excuses and no one to blame but myself, but I’m a new man, and I’m eager for a chance to prove it. If you give me this opportunity, I will accept any safeguards or restrictions that make you feel comfortable until I earn your trust. I successfully completed the intense rehabilitation program at Serenity Halfway House, and here are my certificate and my references, whom I encourage you to call personally.’
“See?” Bill said. “Everything on the table. No surprises. The first time they suspect you’ve left something out or are trying to pull something, they move to the next candidate.”
Brady felt as if he was really digesting this stuff. He couldn’t imagine himself sitting across from a hiring agent without making up some shiny history and ignoring the fact that he was a career criminal, but it was a concept.
“Brady Darby?” It sounded like Jan calling from the bottom of the stairs.
Brady rushed to the landing. “Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s a Carl and Lois here to see you.”
Brady bounded down the stairs. He embraced his aunt and vigorously pumped his uncle’s hand. He couldn’t quit smiling or telling them how great it was to see them and what a surprise it was. “I thought you’d make me come your way again,” he said, laughing and leading them to a front room where they sat on couches to talk privately.
“Well, I would have, Brady,” Lois said, “but we kept checking on you and heard good things. We had to see for ourselves, and I gotta tell you, you look great.”
“You do,” Carl said.
“Do I really? I feel good. I’m learning a lot. I don’t know where I was when I was younger, but I sure hated sitting in classes. Now I’m soaking up everything these people have to offer.”
“We’re trying to see if we can come get you some Saturday night and have you at our home overnight so you can come to church with us.”
Brady’s smile froze. It was always about church. “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be cool. What’d they say?”
“There’s all kinds of hoops we’ve got to jump through. We have to prove we’re blood relatives, sign our lives away promising to not let you out of our sight, report any suspicious activity, have you back here by a certain time, all that.”
“That’s way too much hassle, Aunt Lois. It’s all right. I’ll be out of here in a few months, and I can come then.”
“Nonsense, Brady. You need to start gradually seeing what the real world is like again. Anyway, you want to meet some nice girls, don’t you?”
“You have no idea. ’Course, whether they want to meet me is another thing.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. If they know you’ve served your time and are on the straight and narrow again, loving Jesus, going to church, all that . . .”
“Yeah, well . . .”
“Where do you go around here?”
“They’ve got a list we can choose from, but you have to arrange for somebody to go with you. I just join the—what do they call it?—interfaith deal they have right here.”
“What’s that?”
“Some guy from a local seminary comes in and gives a thing he calls a homily, kinda like a sermon. Just as boring but a little shorter, know what I mean? Doesn’t say much. Then he tells us to have a quiet time and pray to whoever we want to however we want to. It’s all right, I guess.”
“It most certainly is not, Brady. He doesn’t even