In the classroom of the Methodist Association's training center, Elena flipped through the training materials handed out by the instructor. She could recognize individual letters, and most words too, but when they formed sentences, the meaning escaped her entirely.
The teacher on the podium was explaining how to operate computer software, but to Elena, it may as well have been an ancient script.
This was a free skills training program offered in collaboration between the Methodists and the Wesleyan Association to aid their followers.
Because free food was distributed at the end of the session, Elena, though barely able to keep her eyes open, stayed put.
The food would be enough for tomorrow’s breakfast. Considering that idiot Martin, it could save her at least six dollars.
Harris wanted to apply to college, and even at a cheap public school, the costs were substantial.
All these troublesome thoughts made Elena’s head throb.
At long last, the session ended. Juliet, seated at the next table, turned to her and asked, "Are you coming to tomorrow's mutual aid meeting in the afternoon?"
“I haven’t decided yet,” Elena replied, even she felt the absurdity of it all.
Juliet was insistent, “Come on, let’s go together. Mrs. Jennifer will be hosting tomorrow afternoon, and she’s bringing gifts.”
Upon hearing about the gifts, Elena swallowed the string of curses that threatened to escape her lips. “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
The Methodist Association hosted these mutual aid meetings every week.
After picking up her food, Elena left the training center. The headlights of a Ford flashed in the dark, and she hurried to the passenger seat.
Martin glanced over as she got in, “Not a bad haul.”
“Of course!” Elena said, placing the two large paper bags in the back seat. “If they didn’t hand out freebies, no one would sit through these idiotic classes.”
Martin remarked from the side, “You should learn a skill or two, find a stable job.”
“I just want to make money,” Elena responded flatly.
Martin, familiar with her situation, offered, “I picked up a job from the boss that needs extra hands. If you do well, you’ll make at least $500.”
This was part of a separate budget allocated by the club.
Elena recalled the last time, “You want that moron Harris to break another arm? I’m fine with it.”
“No need for such brutality,” Martin said vaguely, “You familiar with anyone from the Methodist Association?”
Elena shrugged, “Enough to make small talk. Most of them are extreme conservatives.”
She remembered what Juliet had mentioned, “The Methodists are holding a mutual aid meeting tomorrow. A woman named Jennifer will be running it, and she’s supposed to bring gifts. Hopefully, it’s not those cursed paper cranes or lucky stars.”
Martin thought for a moment, “Will you take the job? If so, go to the meeting tomorrow.”
Elena raised an eyebrow, “You want me to attend that event?”
Martin chuckled, “Go, do me a favor. Get close to some of them, and invite them to the club for free drinks and a good time…”
Elena replied, “I’ll call Monica. With free food and drinks, there’s no need to persuade anyone.”
The Ford pulled into the Clayton community, and Martin drove into the backyard, parking over the spot where they had buried James.
The tires pressed the earth firmly.
James had no objections, which meant they had done the right thing.
…
Nearing noon, Bruce parked the pickup truck, carrying a large stack of newspapers and documents into the Beast’s Den.
Aside from the idiot Ivan standing guard at the porch, the only person inside the club was that fool Martin.
Bruce dumped everything on the circular stage and asked, “Why is it you get to boss me around?”
Martin tossed him a can of beer, opening one for himself, “That’s the difference between a smart man and a civilized one.”
Bruce sat on the stage, “Everyone’s betting on how long before you end up dancing on this stage.”
Martin boasted, “My dancing is terrifying. One backflip and the Earth will explode, wiping out humanity.”
Bruce downed his beer and tossed the empty can into the trash with perfect accuracy. “It’s the first time I’ve realized someone can be as shameless as you.”
“That’s because your worldview is too narrow.” Martin tossed his can too, then handed Bruce a notebook and pen. “Less talk, more work. The boss has given orders.”
He spread out a stack of newspapers and magazines, “Atlanta’s major newspapers, radio stations, and TV networks all have news hotlines with rewards for stories. Write down the numbers; the boss is about to make us all rich.”
“No breaking the law, we’re civilized men!” Bruce grumbled, though his hands were already busy.
…
In the northwestern part of the Atlanta metropolitan area, near the Marietta border, Elena met up with Juliet and entered the Methodist Church branch.
They arrived at the large conference room, where seven or eight people were already seated in a circle.
Jennifer, conservatively dressed, waved them over to sit.
A few minutes later, five more people joined the meeting.
Jennifer, leading the chastity support group, began, “You are all here because you seek to purify your hearts and souls, to become the pride and honor of your families. I am proud of you!”
She looked around the room. “Now, who would like to start?”
A girl, around twenty years old, stood up first, recounting her story.
Juliet followed, giving Elena a pointed look as she sat down.
Elena, steeling herself to avoid her usual string of expletives, slowly stood up. Under the encouraging gazes of the group, she began, “I want to share a painful experience. It haunts me like a nightmare, and I hope that with your help, I can cleanse myself of this unclean memory.”
Jennifer’s smile was warm, “My child, speak freely.”
Doing her best to mimic what she and Martin had rehearsed, Elena widened her eyes, feigning horror, “Last weekend, I accidentally wandered into a bar called Beast’s Den on West Street with some friends. The things I saw there were… wild…”
She strained to describe the depravity of the Beast’s Den and the negative influence it had on those around her.
At some point, Jennifer pulled out a notepad, writing something down. “West Street? Beast’s Den?”
“Yes,” Elena confirmed.
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