slow and monotonous, but it beats scrubbing floors, and at least I can do it sitting down. I think of Martina and Ayana downstairs, sterilizing toys and bonding over their shared distrust of me, and I wince. I’d hate me, too, if I were them.
“See you tomorrow,” the Reverend says.
I look up, and he’s standing at the door, his suit coat folded over an arm, his leather wingtips dangling from his fingers. He smiles, and it’s all I can do to return it.
“See you tomorrow.”
* * *
I’m working my way through the piles when Martina sneaks into the Reverend’s conference room without making a sound. I look up and there she is, watching me from the doorway. I smile, but she doesn’t return the greeting.
I ignore the snub, working with the papers in my hand, fastening them with a paper clip. “Don’t tell me. They sent you up here to talk to me, didn’t they?” I picture the cleaning crew cornering her in the break room, demanding she march up here and... Do what? Confront me? Pat me down? I keep my eyes on the papers and Martina in my peripheral vision.
She shuts the door behind her. “Can you blame them? They have pretty much all done business with a guy like Jorge, if you know what I mean. They’re nervous as hell, just like I am. Just like you should be.”
I look up at her with a frown. “Who says I’m not? And if you came up here to lecture or accuse me, you can go ahead and leave now. The church ladies have been giving me the side-eye all afternoon, and I already feel shitty enough.”
“This isn’t some kind of game, Beth. I got you this job. I vouched for you. If the Reverend finds the two thousand dollars in that thing strapped to your waist, what do you think is going to happen to me?”
“So you think I took it, too. Great.” I lift both hands, let them fall to the table with a smack.
“The church ladies had Bible study this morning.”
“So?”
“So the offices would have been empty. You would have had an opportunity. And we both know how you like to hoard money.” Her eyes stray to my waistline. “How much is in there anyway?”
I push to a stand, make myself loose at the knees. One wrong move, and I’ll mow her down on my way to the door. “None of your business, that’s how much. And what about you and Ayana? Y’all were up here, too, bickering about which one of you was the bigger thief. I saw both of you go by Charlene’s desk more than once.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have access to the Reverend’s keys.” She pauses, and I brace for what I know is coming next: “You do.”
I shake my head to hide that I’m squirming inside. “I’m not going to stand here and defend myself when I haven’t done anything wrong. Especially when it sure looks like you’re the one who took Ayana’s money. Well, did you?”
Martina squints. “I already told you. I’m not a thief.”
“Then who took it?”
She tosses up her hands. “Who the hell knows? There were always a million people going in and out of her apartment. And her hiding place wasn’t exactly subtle. If I found it, others would have, too.”
I reach for a stack of envelopes and think about Martina’s answer. Her tone is sincere, but that still doesn’t explain why she was searching behind Ayana’s toilet. Who goes looking for money they’re not planning to steal?
Martina sighs and slumps against the wall, looking around. “What is it you do up here all day, anyway?”
“Die of boredom, mostly.”
“Why does the Reverend want you up here? What made him ask you?”
“I don’t know. The bookshelves, I guess. And you know how the Reverend is. He likes to take care of people.” I think of my sudden tears that first day, the way he told me I was safe here. In the days since, he’s certainly made good on that promise.
“He’s never taken care of me like that.”
A question lingers in the air between us, but I don’t touch it. Martina wants to know what makes me special, and to answer is to acknowledge she’s right. The Reverend has singled me out, and for reasons I don’t understand and would rather not think about. Why me? Why not her?
She pushes off the wall, stalking straight at me. Automatically, my hands move to the belt at my waist. My