He looked down on the congregation from his vantage above them. They were all listening intently to pastor Rob. He seemed to have their attention, but Mike found he tuned out as soon as he heard the voice. Organized religion just didn't do it for him.
He could make out Carol's profile from here, her rapt expression told him that she was buying whatever Rob was selling. The guy was young and energetic, but that did nothing to sway Mike's stance on religion, no matter how much Carol insisted it could, if only he would listen. But, he loved Carol, and marriage is about compromise, so he attend church with her because it made her happy.
He could see his daughter, Sara, sitting with the choir. She seemed to be listening too. Thank God Tobey was such a little shit. It gave Mike an excuse to take his screaming son out of the church and to the outside annex where they kept the kids under 10 occupied with Sunday school.
Tobey had seemed quite happy there. They were letting them kick soccer balls and eat cookies. The lady in charge there had taken Mike's number and told him to go back in for the service, "We find it better if the parents don't hang around. The kids act up less."
That was beyond fine for Mike and, best of all he did not have to go back in and listen to pastor Rob drone on for another, he looked at his watch. Shit, there was still an hour to go.
After leaving Tobey he had wandered around outside for a while, before coming across a small outside staircase that led up to the organ balcony at the back of the church. Curious, and not finding any signs or locked doors to bar his progress, he wandered up. From up there he could look down on the whole congregation. There were enough recesses and dark shadows that he knew he could stay up there completely unseen.
He sniffed the musty air. Since pastor Rob had come along this part of the church was hardly used any more. Rob had brought in a band. He also sang and played lead guitar and everyone sang soft rock Christian songs instead of traditional hymns. So there was hardly a need for the old organ. Carol called Rob 'progressive'. Mike, having heard the band, called him a talentless wannabe who now had a captive audience.
Mike had enjoyed the choir, at least. That was one concession to tradition Rob allowed. And watching Sara's face light up when she sang was thrilling. Their soloist, too, was a pleasure to watch.
Becca? Was that her name? She was gorgeous and, if Sara was to be believed, a genius too.
Mike sniffed again. That was not the musty smell of old church. That was something he remembered all too well from his college days.
Who was smoking weed in a church?
It took him a while to trace it but, eventually, he spotted a small door that lead out onto a balcony on the outside of the church.
There was a girl out there, dressed in choir robes. She was sitting, back to the wall, staring through the balcony bars at a small courtyard Mike had not been aware was even there. Her robe was pulled up to her thighs, revealing long, pale legs. He saw then the casual flick of a thumbnail to dislodge the ash from her spliff.
Mike wasn't sure why he did it. He had been feeling belligerent all morning since being dragged to church, when he could have been at home watching the game. He slid through the partially open glass door and asked, "Nice spot you have here. Mind if I take a hit?"
The girl looked up, clearly surprised. He had not seen her face, a curtain of dark brown hair had hid the side closest to him. But, as she turned, Mike winced when he recognized Becca. Her face was flushed red with embarrassment.
Mike gave his best 'I'm not here to bust you' smile. Becca seemed to calm when he she realized he was not shouting at her.
Becca was not a friend of Sara's, precisely. Becca was two years older for one thing. But, she was something of a mentor to Sara at school and a youth leader in the church. She was that kid everyone always compared their own kids to. Beautiful, straight A's, always busy doing community service and already accepted into half a dozen top colleges.
Mike was shocked to see her smoking weed, in church no less. In a weird way he felt like she had caught him doing something bad.
He sighed and dropped his head. "Relax, I am not going to say anything. Shit, I was going to ask you for some until I saw who you were."
She looked up at him warily, "you're Sara's dad, right?"
"Guilty," he answered.
"She's a sweet kid. I like her."
Mike laughed, "Kid? You're hardly older than her."
Becca shrugged, "I feel a lot older." Without looking at him she held up the spliff, "Here, still want some?"
"Fuck, yes," Mike answered. "It's the only way I'll make it through this." He took it from her and inhaled, tentatively, not wanting to make an ass of himself and cough everywhere.
Becca laughed, it was a beautiful thing to watch. Her grey eyes danced with amusement, "You're a pretty cool guy, Sara's dad."
Smoke escaped his mouth and nose, in what was meant to be scoffing laugh, but sounded more like a splutter, "Try telling my teenager daughter that." He fought back the tickling cough, trying to maintain any semblance of coolness he could. "Call, me Mike, by the way."
"Becca."
"Yeah, I know. I saw your solo today. You have a beautiful voice."
"Thank you." Her young eyes crinkled with genuine appreciation for the compliment.
Mike recalled how she had looked, standing at the front of the choir, her pure, clear voice resonating through the church. He was glad his wife couldn't read his thoughts, because he had been secretly been fantasizing about pushing his cock between those pouty pink lips. She looked so innocent in her full choir vestment, he ached to rip it off her. Somehow, being in church only made his dark fantasies even darker. He had to remind himself that she was little older than his daughter.
"Mike," Becca suddenly addressed him, as if she had come to some sort of conclusion, "You can't really say anything about me smoking weed out here, can you? Seeing as you did it too, right?"
