The Preachers Daughter

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[SEVEN]

•Luna P.O.V•

Waking up Monday morning feeling hungover has got to be the worst feeling in the world. I didn’t even drink to deserve this physical pain. Hopeful that a warm shower eases my aches and pains, I grab my clothes for the day and head into the shower.

For as long as I have ever known, mom and dad were everything to the church. The preacher, the accountant, the secretary, the janitors, contractors who fix things structurally, event coordinators, everything. Once I became more active in the roles of the day to day needs is when really I noticed my parents become more affectionate towards one another.

In typical Monday fashion, the first order of business is to document the tithings. We do it all together as a family to triple check the numbers. This week brought in more than we do in a few weeks. Confused, we count the money again. The three crisp one hundred dollar bills stare back at us- and the money was loose. Normally our members use their tithing envelopes. We provide them to each member so it helps with tithing anonymity. This money came from a visitor of the church and of course I wasn’t able to greet, let alone thank them for worshiping with us.

“Hey dad?” I say quietly breaking the silence.

“Yes?”

Finding the best way to approach my questions I ask, “who took care of the doors before the service began and who took care of the doors afterwards?”

“I don’t think anyone did my dear. Our typical routine got a bit off track yesterday, wouldn’t you agree?”

Nodding, “mmhmm. I suppose it did. I just feel awful that we had guests during our service and they weren’t properly greeted.”

Thinking nothing of it, dad nodded and grabbed a bank deposit slip to fill out to get the deposits for the week so mom can run to the bank and make the bank deposits.

Dad seemed to feel much better. The local town doctor gave dad some Mucinex and told to him drink more water. The man lives off of coffee and teaching the Bible, I swear.

Reeling my mind over what to do next with my life, I head up to my room and without thinking I log into my phones. Right away I take a call and get into the mind of Desiree and play my part. Five men pulled their ropes in my ear and tipped me well. All asked me for my premium line but I lied and said I didn’t have one. The money is great. I just don’t think I have it in me to really get to know more men over the phone.

Marcus, Daniel, Nicholas, Jason, and Johnny. My regulars. I know I shouldn’t hold affection in my heart for them but I do. All of the men with exception to Johnny have all spoke to me about their relationship problems. They don’t call me to talk dirty with them, they call for non-judgmental conversations. That I can give. I really am considering counseling. Unfortunately for me, no premium calls tonight and I still haven’t heard from Johnny.

•Johnny P.O.V.•

This week is gong to drag on. I can feel it already. I don’t think I have ever admitted this before, but I am looking forward to church on Sunday.

I really wanted to call her premium line last night and see if she was on. Instead I drank some Japanese Whiskey I had ordered in and took another cold shower. During my drunken slumber last night, I did find clarity.

Friday night I will call her. I will make up some grand excuse as to why I haven’t called her if she asks. That will lead into our conversation that I will have to cut bitterly short because I already know, a cold shower will be necessary as soon as I am done hearing her voice. When we are ready to end our phone call, I will think of how to say goodbye to her, but also that I will see her Sunday.

On Sunday, I will make sure to bring a stack with me for the tithings basket. I know how much that church needs their members donations. All around the foyer you see the work their missionaries do. It’s truly admirable.

On my to-do list for the week is to find a florist. I remember she mentioned her favorite flowers are white lilies. On Saturday I will have a bouquet of white lilies delivered to her, anonymously.

When I am not planning on how I am going to sweep Desiree off her feet with my charms, errr, Luna off her feet, I will be working be working on not popping a raging boner thinking of her.

Off to another cold shower I go. Sunday cannot come soon enough.
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