"Venicia." The firm words fell from Charlie's lips as his hand shook my own, his grip warm, inviting. Almost like a devoted promise. It didn't feel just like a handshake — it was as if he was marking some unspoken connection between us, lead me not into temptation, my lord.
I mean, who wouldn't want to be touched by someone so saintly? so impossibly charismatic? Anyone would kill for even a mere second of Charlie Mayhew's attention, let alone a lingering shake of the hand. It wasn't just the fact that Charlie spoke on behalf of the Lord, or that his every gesture felt blessed with some divine purpose, but that he was genuinely beautiful — like someone carved by the hands of god and placed in the middle of a shitty town too small for him to even stand out in.
I will probably repent for my thoughts later, but then again, I don't have time for guilt. Not in this, small fucking town.
As I pulled my hand away, my parents waved from across the room — already exiting the church. They were always leaving, always in a rush. Two self-absorbed, self-important professionals who thought their world was the one that mattered. A perfect image they'd handcrafted for themselves, untouched by the grime that coated everything else here.
But the truth? They were terrified of the things this town held, and more importantly, terrified of the people that led it.
A serial killer, or whatever they were calling him now: Grotesquerie, and suddenly, their perfect routines had been torn to bloody shreds. So they all of a sudden signed me up as another journalist for the local Catholic press, thinking it would keep me 'away from trouble' and out of their way.
_________
Now, seated in Father Charlie's office, the deafening silence around us heavy and palpable. The low hum of the computer screen felt like an intrusion, inbetween us. I leaned forward, gently shutting it as my dark hazel eyes softly flickered back up to the Father.
"They're great papers Miss Monroe, it's just, do you wanna talk about these over lunch or?"
He added casually, setting down the ten-page report back on his desk. Oddly enough it felt like a soft slam that left ringing in my ears, although it didn't.
Of course I would, who wouldn't say no? Right.
"Sure I will." I added softly as Charlie stood from his chair across, so I quickly followed in suit, slinging my purse over my shoulder as he shrugged off the dark robes from his shoulders: revealing the broad arms that had his usual button up clinging against him. A roman tie with slacks and those god awful dark cherry red boots.
Ahh.
"Can you drop me off home later?" I spoke softly, leaning forward as I grasped the papers he set down on his desk — no way in hell are we going out to eat, to talk over the catholic paper and he's gonna leave them here; on his desk.
"Sure, are you trying to leave already?" He lowly responded, flicking his car keys around his pointer finger as he casually cocked his head into a tilt to try and one up me. That usual annoying smirk on his lips. "Did I say that?" I responded rather dryly, before pushing open office door and stepping out into the church entrance.
~
"You did say that though." Charlie softly spoke, taking the other seat opposite me in the diner booth. His arms folded over his chest, leaning against the edge of the 80s' marbled table in-front of the both of us.
"I did not. Anyways, the paper, Father."
I proceeded, throwing them lightly in his direction as it made a soft landing on the hard surface — to which, an obnoxious yet enticing laugh escaped from Charlie's mouth: one that showed his perfectly straight teeth and the warm smile lines on his cheeks. His head lightly shaking as if I was the joke, or at least the 'humorous' words that escaped from my mouth.
The dark brunette slicked his hands back through his curls, always giving him that mature look. But when it came to Charlie Mayhew, one stray curl always fell from the rest, sitting on his forehead like it just had now.
"Your papers were already approved, i'm just taking you to lunch Venicia." He added casually, that signature smirk tugging the corners of his mouth again as I nodded, I felt obligated to say yes. But it also felt wrong in a sense to be out with a priest; especially my priest.
"Don't call me 'father' either .. we're not in the walls of a church. It's Charlie to you." He remarked, those dark brown eyes re-focusing back on me as I quickly nodded in agreement.
~
The soft clink of silverware and the hum of quiet chatter filled the diner, music that created a peaceful atmosphere but the voice of the waitress cut through it all, harsh and bitchy.
"What can I get you both today?" Her tone was casual, but there was something in the way she said it that seemed like she didn't want to acknowledge me at all. Her focus was entirely on him, her piercing baby blue eyes stuck to him like she was waiting for some kind of signal or perhaps a confirmation from him first.
It was subtle but painfully obvious.
Charlie, ever the easygoing one, leaned back in the booth, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he met my gaze briefly. "I'll get a burger and fries," he said, his voice light. "Oh, and a Coke."
He glanced down at the menu for a second, but his eyes never fully left mine.
"And you?" she added, referring to me.
Instead, I on the other hand, was indecisive.
The menu still laid open in-front of me, but my thoughts drifted. What could I possibly want? What could I even care about? Maybe the same. No, a water. It's not like i'm hungry anyway — although I'll probably stuff my face soon enough.
"The same .. with a water, please."
The waitress didn't react, only scribbling the order down on a small notepad that she had tucked into the waistband of her musky navy coloured jeans. The ink of her tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves of her shirt. Piercings covering her face, her ears, that just aligned with that shitty red coloured hair. Awesome.
She walked away from the both of us, clearly annoyed for some reason as I turned my head back in his direction.
"You're different from when we went to St. Matthew's." Charlie added, his eyes still burning in my direction as I practically forced myself to glance back at him.
"I'm assuming that's a bad thing?" I added again, dryly. His darker chocolate eyes on mine, contrasted against my hazel pupils.
"No, it's a good thing. I just barely know you. To be honest I was scared of you as a kid because of your reputation, how perfect you were. Everyone used you as the example."
It was weird, hearing it come from a priest's mouth. Yet somehow rewarding that a man of this 'rank' could even think of me in this way —
I softly laughed, leaning back on the table.
"Well i'm not the example anymore." I rasped.
"Clearly."
__________________________________
⇢ ˗ˏˋ moaaaa songs ࿐ྂ
Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey
Wish I didn't miss you - Angie Stone
Eight days a week - The Beatles
At last - Etta James
Uptown Girl - Billy Joel
Nothing's gonna hurt you baby - Cigarettes after sex
Rose blood - Mazzy Star ⭐️
Twilight- Bôa
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AN: FLEABAGGGG UGH! Re-watched it and still trying to gaslight myself into believing that she got her happy ending! Anyways. Love y'all or whomever is reading this bullshit of a mess? X
