I hated paperwork.
Which was unfortunate, considering I apparently led two organizations that produced mountains of it.
I leaned back in my chair, balancing it on two legs while Alexandria sat across from me, surrounded by enough folders to bury a small child.
"Membership is up eight percent."
"Wonderful..." I hum, my interest lacking.
"The donation fund increased by fourteen."
"Even more wonderful."
"We're over budget."
I opened one eye.
"Less wonderful, but more interesting." I spoke a smirk creeping onto the corner of my lips.
Alexandria scribbled something onto her clipboard.
"We also have a problem."
I sat up.
"Only one?"
She slid a folder toward me.
I looked at it.
Then at her.
Then back at it.
"I'm not opening that."
"Why?"
"Because I trust you."
"That's not trust. That's laziness."
"Tomato, tomato."
"Those are the same words."
"Then my point still stands."
She sighed the sigh of a woman who regretted every life decision that had led her here.
I gave a closed-eye smile. I knew she was going to tell me what it is I needed to know. After all, I was very persuasive sometimes.
She ignored it.
"The cult needs new property."
"We have plenty of property."
"We need more."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You say that like an addict."
"I need control, Joe. Not intervention, and that's funning coming from a cult-leading alcoholic." She said with some venom in her voice.
"Fair enough." I shrug, because, hey, she was right here with me.
She handed me another folder.
I didn't touch it.
She didn't bother commenting this time.
"There's an old retreat center outside the city. Large grounds. Suitable location. Plenty of space."
"Wonderful. Buy it."
"The owner refuses to sell."
"Oh."
I sat there for a moment, pondering, twirling my wineglass in hand.
Then smiled.
"Oh."
Alexandria's expression became concerned.
That was never a good sign.
"You have an idea."
"I have several."
"That worries me."
"It very much should, dear."
---
Three hours later, I was sitting across from a tired-looking man in a small office.
His name was Daniel Carter.
Forty-seven.
Divorced.
Owned thirty acres of land and a retreat center.
Also looked like he hadn't slept in days.
Perfect person to extort easily.
I could already see it.
The moment his shoulders would sag.
The moment gratitude would replace suspicion.
People always looked the same right before they trusted you.
"So you're the famous Pastor Bishop."
"Famous feels excessive."
"People keep talking about you."
"Then perhaps infamous."
He almost smiled.
Good. A sense of humor, people liked humor.
I glanced around the office.
Family pictures.
Certificates.
A small stuffed rabbit sitting on the desk.
Interesting.
"You're not here for a sermon, are you?"
"No."
"Good."
I liked him already.
"I want to buy your retreat center."
"There it is."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"No."
He folded his hands.
"You people have already offered twice."
"We're persistent."
"You're annoying."
I laughed.
He didn't.
I respected that.
"I'm not selling."
"May I ask why?"
"You may."
"..."
"..."
"...You're not going to answer?"
"No."
I leaned back.
This was fun.
Most people talk too much.
This man talked too little.
That usually meant there was something worth hiding.
People like him were the most fun to persuade and manipulate. He is just another bastard. A stubborn one who will be under my hand soon. Like the palm of the Buddha.
I looked around the room again.
The pictures.
The rabbit.
Then a photograph, half-hidden beneath a stack of papers.
A little girl.
Hospital bracelet.
Bingo.
"Your daughter?"
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
"That's none of your business."
"No."
I nodded.
"It isn't."
Silence.
Then I pointed at the photo.
"But she's the reason you won't sell, isn't it?"
His jaw tightened.
I was right, of course.
"You're paying for treatment." I leaned forward, clasping my hands together and putting on my best sympathetic expression.
Silence.
"The retreat center is all you have left."
More silence.
Cmon I practiced this look too much for it to fail.
"Am I close?"
He looked exhausted.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Just tired.
"Who told you?"
"No one."
I smiled a sorrowful smile.
"You have a stuffed rabbit on your desk."
He blinked.
"What?"
"You don't seem like the stuffed animal type."
"I—"
"The photo is worn from being handled."
I pointed again.
"And the hospital bracelet."
Silence.
I unfold my hands.
"You love your daughter."
His eyes narrowed.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't turn this into a sales pitch."
I stared at him.
Then sighed.
"That hurts."
"You came here to buy my property."
"I did."
"Then buy it."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you need it."
The room became quiet.
I leaned forward.
"How much is the treatment?"
He didn't answer, but I see the soul in his eyes. Cracking and ready to bear itself.
"How much?"
"...More than I can afford."
"That's unfortunate."
I reached into my jacket and pulled out a checkbook.
He stared.
I wrote a number.
Tore the page out.
And slid it across the desk.
He looked down.
Then back at me.
Then down again.
"You can't be serious."
"I usually am."
"This is enough for everything."
"I know."
"Why?"
I smiled.
Because there were many answers.
Because I wanted the land.
Because gratitude made loyal people.
Because helping people was occasionally useful.
But most of all because this is just so damn fun.
But instead, I said:
"Because no father should have to choose between his child and his livelihood."
The man looked like he might cry.
I almost felt bad.
Almost.
So bad, I almost smiled.
"I can't accept this."
"Of course you can."
"No, I—"
"You can."
Silence.
"I don't even know you."
"Then let's fix that."
I stood and held out my hand.
"Joseph Bishop."
He stared at it.
Then slowly shook it.
"...Daniel Carter."
I smiled.
"Pleasure to meet you."
---
An hour later, I sat in the passenger seat of my car.
Alexandria drove.
She always drove.
Apparently I was "a menace to traffic laws."
I disagreed, and of course she disagreed with me.
"That was manipulative."
"No, it wasn't."
"You manipulated him."
"I helped him."
"You helped yourself."
"Both can be true."
She hated when I was right.
I enjoyed when I was right.
Which was fortunate.
Because I usually was.
"He'll join us, you know."
"I know."
"You planned that."
"I know."
She sighed.
"You scare me sometimes."
I looked out the window.
"Me too, Queen. Me too..."
We drove in silence for several minutes.
Then I spoke.
"You know what people really want?"
"No."
"They want to matter."
She didn't answer.
"They want to be seen. To belong to something bigger."
I smiled.
"If I give them purpose, they'll give me everything else."
I could practically hear Alexandria rolling her eyes.
"You make people sound simple."
"They are."
"No."
She glanced at me.
"They're complicated."
I smiled.
"Only until you figure out what hurts."
Silence.
I'll give the people something bigger. A grand party that will make everyone drop dead.
The car continued down the dark road.
Then Alexandria's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
And immediately frowned.
I recognized that look.
I didn't like that look.
Or maybe I did it usually meant more fun was to be had.
She ended the call.
"We have a problem."
I perk up a bit
"Another one?"
"One of our members left."
That wasn't unusual.
People left all the time.
Then she handed me her phone.
I read the message.
My smile slowly disappeared.
"Oh."
"What?"
I handed the phone back.
"That's... unfortunate."
Alexandria blinked.
"You're taking this seriously?"
"He was one of the accountants."
She nodded.
"He knows everything."
She nodded again.
"He also took documents."
"Yes."
I stared out the window.
The city lights passed by.
Then I laughed.
Alexandria looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"You're laughing?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
I give an almost humanly wide grin.
Because I finally had something I hadn't had in a very long time.
A larger challenge.
I looked at the night sky.
"Because the part is finally getting started."