“Because we’re flying first class, mister,” she tells Tommy. “We fly in the front of the plane, where there is more room, and the flight attendants will be a lot nicer to us. Also, we get to board and exit the plane first. And there are snacks!”
“Why do we get those things?”
“Because we paid more money than everyone else.”
“Why?” Tommy says.
“Because my first husband is treating, and also because we’re worth it. You know, I never flew on a plane until I was in my mid-twenties. So you’re already ahead of where I was when I was your age. You’re living the high life.”
Tommy takes in the security scan with wide eyes, and then he gleefully examines every part of the airport, but he loves looking at the planes the most.
He’s not scared at all when we take off. He gazes out his window with a huge smile on his face as clouds pass by like no big deal.
I must admit, I could get used to first class.
The flight attendants call me Mr. Bass and treat me like I’m the president.
There’s a car with tinted windows waiting for us in Tampa Bay, like we’re movie stars, and it takes us directly to Ken Humes’s mansion. That’s exactly what it is too, a mansion. A huge white home with palm trees growing on the front lawn and white columns.
Columns.
“You used to live here?” Tommy asks.
“Unfortunately,” Portia says.
“Why would you ever leave?” Tommy says, and I’m thinking the same thing. I’ve never even been inside a house this nice, and I will never ever own one, no matter how hard I work and how much I save. I could teach for two hundred years and still not be able to put a down payment on this sort of place, let alone afford the mortgage. Hell, I’d never be able to afford the electric bill.
When Ken and Julie answer the door, they are dressed in expensive-looking casual clothes—he’s in boat shoes, khakis, and one of those Cuban-looking cigar maker’s shirts, and she’s wearing this sheer white dress and gold sandals. I can feel Portia bristling and worry that her claws might come out before we even enter.
“Welcome, friends,” Ken says.
“Yes, welcome,” Julie echoes.
The age difference between them is striking, although it’s clear that Ken is the type of man everyone is attracted to. Money and looks. Must be nice.
I can see the muscles in Portia’s body tensing.
“Hello, young man!” Ken says to Tommy.
“Yo,” Tommy says, doing his best Rocky.
“Come inside,” Julie says, and then we are sitting on a huge L-shaped white couch that is softer and more comfortable than anything I have ever slept in, let alone sat on.
“Can I offer anyone any juice, water, seltzer?” Julie says.
“How about some wine?” Portia says.
Julie and Ken look at each other, smile, and then Ken says, “We don’t drink alcohol here.”
“What?” Portia says. “The hell you don’t. You have a fully stocked wine cellar collectively worth more than most men make in ten years.”
I can’t help thinking that I am most men.
“I’ll have juice,” Tommy says.
“What kind?” Julie says. “We have carrot, kiwi, pineapple, coconut-lime, and pomegranate.”
Tommy makes wide eyes at me because he’s never had any of those, and Portia says, “We’ll all have the pineapple.”
“Excellent!” Julie says and then heads for the kitchen.
“You seriously don’t drink anymore?” Portia says to Ken.
“My drinking and smoking days are behind me,” he says.
“You don’t smoke cigars either?”
“Well, someone ruined my supply—destroyed my humidor too.”
“I’m not sorry,” Portia says. “What did you do with the wine collection?”
“Donated it. To the church. They had an auction.”
“St. Mark’s?” Portia says.
“There’s a new priest there. Father Martin. He and I have become good friends. He’s my spiritual adviser. He’s been counseling me on that addiction problem I had.” He raises his hand to his mouth so Tommy won’t see, mouths Sex addiction to me, and then says, “Best to be honest about it with other adults. Honesty is the path to freedom.” To Portia he says, “I’ve been working on myself. I’m serious this time. Julie and I have been working together. When you pointed my own gun at me”—Ken glances over at Tommy here—“and how you left, well, it had a profound impact. It changed my life.”
Julie returns with a silver tray and five highball glasses filled with pineapple juice. “Father Martin calls Ken King David. Says God’s called him to a new life. He says I am Ken’s Bathsheba—that our pairing came of sin, but that we will redeem ourselves. So we will serve in the fields of the Lord. Here, have some juice.”
Tommy is staring hard at his sneakers.
I can tell Portia is baffled.
This is beyond weird for me.
So we all take a glass and sip.
“So you’re a religious man now?” I ask, when the silence gets uncomfortable.
“In some ways, I always was, but that’s exactly what this is all about,” Ken says. “Atoning for our sins. We want to make sure your family is taken care of, finalize the divorce, marry ourselves, and then Julie and I are headed for Honduras, where we will do missionary work. We’re going to build a school for kids who don’t have one. Father Martin set the whole thing up. We’re funding it, but we’re actually going to help build it too.”