The Nothing (12 page)

Ready for a break from the political negotiating, President Moore went to
the wet bar stocked with an assortment of liquors and cigars. “Anyone prefer a drink? Anyone?” The other men remained stubbornly silent. “Well I am going to pour me a good glass of scotch on the rocks. Chivas Regal to be exact. This was the scotch that my Father-in-Law and I would always drink together. Ah what delightful memories I have of my in-laws. It was a way for us to bond. I only drank scotch when I was around him because it wouldn’t feel right or as enjoyable if I had a glass when he wasn’t around. But today Dr. Abernathy, you remind me of my Father-in-Law. Why are we not sharing a bottle of scotch together? He was a brilliant man like you. He had a strong work ethic and steadfast beliefs. If he felt something should work a certain way, he was going to make it work that way no matter what anyone would say. And his way always turned out to be the best in the end. I will sign off on what you need from the committee and I don’t need any data or reason for these additional resources. Because I know your way is going to be the best way and why would anyone scrutinize that? Because you are just like my Father-in-Law, it would give me such great pleasure if you have a glass of scotch with me.”

This is good, he is going to give me what I want and I don’t have to play any games or bargain to get it.
The questions they asked me were questions that were better left unanswered. The reasons I need those men and that space are reasons that they wouldn’t understand. That no one would understand. At least not until August.

“I think I will oblige you Mr. President and have a glass with you.
It will be an honor. Would you do me the pleasure first of signing off on my disclosures and request forms associated with the additional funds? You can read them, but they are long and have a bunch of scientific mumbo jumbo. Too much to make a glass of scotch wait!”

“No problem Doctor, I trust you.
I will get my pen. Oh and make sure my secretary notarizes them on your way out.”

Forty signatures later, t
wo glasses of Chivas Regal Scotch tapped together leaving a beautiful chime. Senator Austin sat on the couch and lit a cigar while the President and Dr. Abernathy toasted their partnership. The President had sped through each page signing his signature as if he was in a race. He gave Dr. Abernathy everything he wanted, and didn’t read any of the disclosure forms attached. These forms would have spelled out the specifics of what was going on at the Endonite Institute for Human Behavior and Practices. If the President had read those forms, all forty of them, he would have had Dr. Abernathy arrested.

A preacher we all know

“My friends, you are going to enjoy this one!
On Wednesday when I was on the 7
th
green with Mayor Sharp, something came to me. Is Jesus really in charge of this man’s life? The man who is going to save our city? He has been a friend of mine ever since our dorm days at UCLA. This man went on to be CEO of Douglas and Bryant Media Inc, while I became CEO for the Lord. Back then we had many conversations about God. I would tell him what I believed; he would tell me what I wanted to hear. Hmmm…tell me what I wanted to hear? Tell me, isn’t it true in politics to say what people want to hear? Say Senator Austin, in the balcony up there! Ha I see you, don’t be shy! Out of twenty thousand friends of Christ spread out in this gargantuan auditorium, I can find anyone! Anyways, Senator Austin, Is that true? That in politics you say what people want to hear? Oh, just kidding! Please don’t stop having Katy and I out to the ranch!!!”

That
motherfucker! Did he really have to do that? I have told him not to call me out in church. I don’t come on Sundays for a political rally or to hear rhetoric that you would hear at the bar. If only Mayor Sharp was here to hear this. Oh wait, Mayor Sharp bends over for Nick and takes it dead on in his colon just for campaign donations! And I can’t think of anyone who has met Nick’s wife Katy. I don’t even have a fucking ranch.

“
What I am trying to get at is this; are we saying what is really in our hearts? Or are we saying things based on other people’s hearts? We all feel the desire to impress; I know I do! But I am going to say this today, I am a sinner, and Lord I am sorry. Don’t say what you feel would make other’s like you. Don’t say what you feel others want to hear. Don’t agree if you have a different opinion. You need to only say what the Lord wants to say through you and for other’s to hear whether they like it or not. Hallelujah!!”

Senator Bob Austin was beyond angry.
He had told Nick to leave him and politics out of his sermons. It was embarrassing for him, as well as Senator Brochard and Councilman Schmitt; who usually sit on the first floor in the front few rows. Except for Bob, he has been trying to distance himself from the church and Nick by sitting further and further back each Sunday. Pastor Nick had claimed to understand him and would refrain from using politics, Mayor Sharp and Bob in his sermons. But Pastor Nick had only been saying what Bob wanted to hear.

Sundays at Houston Baptist
Ministries were hectic. Like the traffic on game days at Reliant Stadium, cops had to direct everyone. Rushing for parking spots could get vicious at times. Streets around the church would clog worse than any rush hour in the city. Thousands of cars would flood to the area. The church is located right off the 610 east loop. The freeway exits would be backed up for hours. It was known that if you wanted to get to the church on time, you had to leave two hours early. If you left three hours early, you could get a closer parking spot and spend a couple of hours in the church coffee shop reading Christian books and hearing the latest Christian pop artist singing on the stereo. Pastor Nick had a way with people. He knew how to pull people in and even get them to do things for him. Volunteers did chores such as lawn maintenance and cleaning. Foremen however were paid positions and would hunt you down if you volunteered and didn’t show up.

Membership in the Houston Baptist Ministries church stands at 56,000
, which doesn’t include visitors who pass through or stick around anonymously. Four services are held each Sunday as well as several others throughout the week. Celebrities and famous politicians have also passed through seeking Pastor Nick’s support, endorsement or cash. In return, Houston Baptist Ministries would get free publicity from these guests who would plug Pastor Nick and his church on their own shows, speeches, websites and Facebook pages. If Madonna were in town for a concert, Nick would find a way to get her to Sunday services. It was also rumored that he paid celebrities to be in attendance. When former President Clinton was in town for a fundraiser, he was seen seated on the front row the following Sunday. Even Kanye West and Kim Kardashian showed up once. Almost every Sunday there was somebody famous at the Houston Baptist Ministries. There was even a V.I.P. entrance for Limousines and complimentary bodyguards on staff. Plus it helped that it was always broadcasted on the News when a special guest would be in attendance.

Pastor Nick also has a group of advisors that guide
d him and watched his back. These advisors aren’t disclosed in church documents and no one outside of Pastor Nick’s inner circle knows anything about them or what they do for the church. Inner workings and practices have been strategically kept from the membership. Yet sometimes information leaks out.

Senator Bob Austin
had heard of the payments to celebrities from a deacon named Ed. “I tell you Bob, I don’t like what this has become. The money coming into this place is unreal! This is super prime real estate with so much revenue coming in. I estimate that if we weren’t tax exempt, we would be paying $2,000,000 in taxes each year. I haven’t been sitting well with that for a while now because of the backroom dealings and secrets going on. We also adopted a sister church, Pastor Ben’s House of Worship and paid for a new roof. In return, Pastor Ben has to endorse Houston Baptist Ministries in his circulars and have ‘Sponsored by Houston Baptist Ministries’ on their signs. I imagine it to be humiliating for Pastor Ben. I have actually considered going and joining Ben’s church. There’s a good feeling from being there. So what if it’s in the ghetto and they don’t have much money. This guy Ben is so genuine and doesn’t complain or even ask for the weekly tithing. There is a box off to the side for that. No pressure what so ever. Nick just bullies him and every other church he wants to take over. But here is the worrisome part. More often than not, these so called sister churches, get torn down and become businesses. And the business owners are usually friends of Nick.” Though shocking to anyone else that would hear it, Bob wasn’t surprised and had figured out long ago, some of the tactics and practices used by the church to make a profit. But he had to appear concerned.

“Man
Ed, that is a lot to take in. Sounds like some mafia stuff. So this Pastor Ben is just another preacher from a small church that Nick is bullying? I haven’t seen any of this though.” Ed wasn’t paying attention. He was rambling while looking at the floor as if he was just venting or releasing a long held secret.

“
Pastor Ben didn’t want Nick to pay for the roof because he knew Nick would eventually use it against him. But He allowed his church members to vote and they approved while not knowing what was really at stake. Ben signed a long piece of paper with many complicated terms that he didn’t understand. Hence the new sign out front with both names on it!”

Bob had
initially gone to Ed’s house to offer him a job on his campaign. But the offer never came up. Only a conversation about Houston Baptist Ministries, which made Bob forgot that he was there to hire Ed. “Ed, how much money does Nick make? They don’t make the budget public, which I thought they were supposed to. There is the coffee shop owned by the church and the bookshop. Plus the dome concert stadium where the tickets are more than a Brittney Spears concert.“

“
I have no idea. Nick has control of the finances through four accountants. I think they get kickbacks. He has a system set up that is complicated and tough to dissect for someone not connected to his inner circle. That is how he was able to afford the $250,000 Kanye West demanded to show up that Sunday. Pastor Nick has direct access to the church bank accounts and wrote the check himself.” Bob would have never guessed that it would be that much. But then again, he was not surprised. “Man are you kidding me? Is there any way to verify that?”

“
I think so. It would be tough to get access to the church bank accounts. But it can be done. But hey Bob, Nick was rockin’ the television on behalf of your last campaign. You would definitely alienate him if you were to ask him about this. Would you have gotten elected if you didn’t have him?”

I raped that bitch.
Damn right. I cut off her baby daddy’s head with a butter knife. Damn right. Was it right? No way, it was very wrong. Was it justified? Damn right.

“No I wouldn’t have
been elected without Nick. But this all does smell of illegal activity. Unfortunately Nick and I are bonded to each other. I have to stay by his side. Besides, he is a winner. In a dog eat dog world, he is the dog eating. Pastor Nick Simmons has been wonderful to me and I am with him through thick and thin. But I can definitely see your points Ed. And these are things that will be addressed. Maybe as his friend, I can be more persuasive than a deacon. Forget Pastor Nick. Listen to me. Time will take care of it. I know you voted for me. And for that vote, I promise to fix this.” Bob knows the way Pastor Nick is and how he isn’t the purest of souls. But Bob has always found himself in situations where he is torn between two sides; one good and one bad. And being a politician, especially one with ambition, doesn’t allow the luxury of a good conscience. Bob learned long ago that you couldn’t make decisions based on moral turpitude. Though for a short time, he has been trying to do more right by the people. He was worried about atoning for past sins. In Washington D.C., decisions are made based on how it will affect your next campaign. And how good you are at telling people what they want to hear.

Nick told the cops that I was in Kenya with him on a mission trip.
Even made the fake passport stamp, tickets, and manifests. He saved my life. I was wrong and he gave me a second chance at life. He would get me the best lawyer. My wife would get nothing. Plus he knows several women that would help me forget her.

Bob
took out his phone and saw the time. “Oops, I better get going! Running late. A friend of mine has a piece of art for me to look at. I’d skip it but he is a good friend of mine, and Pastor Nick’s. Usually when he calls and says he has something special, I had better go check it out. Too many people have gone out on a limb for me to not be there for them. Don’t worry Ed, I’ll call you after I get the chance to talk to him.”

He raped the corpse.
I couldn’t watch. I was full of rage. He was full of something else.

Ed
felt skeptical but had no choice to trust and hope that Senator Bob Austin will look into it. “Bob, I have a bad feeling that something is up. That they are going to mess with Ben. And what if they find out that I have been talking? You have my back right Senator?” Bob smiled and started towards the door. “Got to go. Keep the faith Ed!”

Never a good idea to be the whistleblower; it is never an easy road.
To Bob it is like playing God. When you squash one wrong doer, there is always another one to take their place. Bob felt that Ed should not concern himself with matters that are above his pay grade. Whistleblowers do what they do out of ego and from a desire for power or Jealousy. What Ed was pursuing was a stupid endeavor that could bring great harm to himself and his family.
Dumbass needs to take care of his own house and leave these matters alone. Corruption, greed, and abuse are the way of the human race. It will never change. Oh Dr. Cando! Would love to see you again. This time without some fat loser banging on the door!

***

Bob didn’t want to buy the painting. Unfortunately though, Max had kept the gallery open two hours late just for him. The painting was of an old colonial house that had belonged to Thomas Jefferson. It had been a Jefferson Family heirloom that had been lost, sold and eventually up for sale again at Foley’s Fine Antiquities. Max Foley had made the piece of art sound like a lavish and prestigious piece of décor perfect for a Senator’s office. Yet when Bob laid eyes on it, he was quite disappointed. Sure it may have been an authentic piece of history. Sure, the artist may have painted it many years ago in front of Thomas Jefferson’s house with Jefferson himself looking over his shoulder. But it was dirty, worn, faded and would not fit with the Brazilian leather and mahogany wood décor of Bob’s office. And it wasn’t the $73,000 price tag that was causing him any hesitation. He could afford more. The main issue was that Bob wanted a classy flow in his office. The atmosphere of his office is a key element in swaying fellow Senators and associates to his desires and agendas. As Max gave his pitch on having authentic history on the wall, Bob thought of the new Maserati coupe that recently came on the market. For one thing, Bob didn’t buy a house with the five-car garage only to have it half full. He had wanted another exotic European sports car for a while. He needed it. That is what would make him happy. Yes, his Porsche and BMW were important to him. But Bob believed the Maserati would complete him in an emotional kind of way. It would be a way to reward himself for all the struggles he has survived. It wasn’t easy getting his bachelors while serving on the Democratic Party campaign staff.
That was some hardcore shit.

Bob viewed himself as a survivor and someone who worked harder than most people. But ever since a group of janitors were protesting their new contracts through their union with a rally where Bob was the keynote speaker, he has known to keep certain thoughts to himself. He made the mistake of saying he has been in their shoes and has worked as hard as they have, if not harder. He told them to be grateful for the work. And if they want to make more money, they should get off their butts and go back to school. The crowd erupted angrily. He was led off stage and scolded by his campaign manager. “Stupid move Bob. You think you can talk to poor people like that? You have to make them believe you are on their side. That you fight for them. Instead, you judged them. Acting like you know what they are going through and how hard they work each day. These people don’t do the college thing. All anyone has to do is look at your soft hands and out of shape body to know that you have never had a hard day’s work in your life. Even I know that if someone put a broom in your hand and made you sweat, you would cry for your Momma. Remember; say only what we have rehearsed. You say stupid shit again, I will resign.”