Birds of a Feather

Swanson

This was a place where the Curse couldn't reach him.

Orville sat at an oak table in a dining room, where the sun streamed in from a large bay window. It wasn't made up. It had been a familiar room once, when he'd had a house. When he'd had a wife, before he discovered he'd been sharing her with someone else.

Even in his dreams he remembered Maggie was gone from him, had abandoned him. Since then, his vices had taken over his life, body and mind.

"Wake up, Reverend."

It was too bright to open his eyes further than a squint, but Orville knew who it was. Arthur. A man who'd time and again proven his goodwill by helping him through his foolishness.

"Get up, Reverend," the gravel-cut voice repeated with more force behind it.

Orville blinked blearily through the fog and found his vision filled with three Arthur Morgans. He knew why this man was sent to fetch him. Fear struck through him like a crack of the whip. "I told Mr. Pearson it wasn't me who took the money. I swore to it!"

Three frowns cut across the Arthurs' mouths. "What money?"

"Nothing, nothing," Orville muttered.

Arthur lifted him up by the armpits and Orville wobbled on his feet, disoriented. "What's going on, Mr. Morgan?"

"Much as I hate to say it, you and I got a job to do, Reverend."

"A job?" His vision cleared, but the explanation boggled his mind as Orville was never involved with any jobs. He couldn't be trusted in the implementation or stay focused enough on the tasks.

Orville opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Jones moved in front of him suddenly, scrubbing at his face with a wet cloth and without mercy. He tried to push her away, but she proved much stronger than him, holding his arms down while she attacked the dirt across his cheeks, forehead, nose and neck.

"This is degrading!" he finally spit out in between her machinations.

"What's degrading is being seen with you when you're like this." Karen called over her shoulder, "Arthur, you sure you need the reverend for this job?"

"If I had the option, I'd choose someone else, but it's slim pickings 'round here who's familiar with the Bible."

Orville's scruples were more compromised as of late, but there were still lines he didn't cross. "Are we robbing a church?"

"We ain't robbin' nothin'." For some reason, frustration coursed through Arthur's answer. Without explaining further, he asked, "Where the hell's Charlotte?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "Calm down. She ain't been gone five minutes. It'll take her longer to get ready than throwing on a robe like you did."

Orville noticed for the first time Arthur was wearing his black robe. His brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's going on here?"

No one answered him and Abigail appeared in his line of sight. Orville wasn't sure if she'd been standing near the whole time or if she'd only walked over. He rubbed his temple for some sense of clarity.

"You can't go out looking like that."

Arthur pulled irritably at his collar. "The whole point is to be disguised as a man of the cloth."

"No, idiot." Karen lit up a cigarette. "She means you need to run a goddamn comb through your hair. The both of you."

"And it wouldn't hurt to shave," Abigail put in.

Orville covered his mustache protectively as Arthur rubbed a hand over his grizzled jaw. "Ain't got time for shavin', but get the reverend a brush at least."