Which is kind of how MJT (I'm the T, duh) was born. The rest is history, including how Mark and Sophie took down the two largest criminal networks in town. After doing so, Mark needed to disappear. On the other hand, in order to keep our city from falling into chaos, his money and the influence he wanted to use, couldn't. Taking on the identity of Matt Bylur, he and Sophie (now Joanna) got married in Las Vegas and moved back into town as my housekeeper and groundskeeper. I was jealous that they didn't have me at their wedding, but I understood, and they had videotaped it for me. So I had my boss, best friend, and whatever you wanted to call them as my house staff. At least, that was their so-called day job. I still have to shake my head about it, and I lived through it all.
This all brings me back to Vanessa, knocking on the door frame of my office with a professionally exasperated look in her eye while I stared at her, totally lost. You see, Sophie had gotten pregnant right before becoming Joanna, and I was nervously awaiting news on her most recent prenatal exam. I couldn't even go with her, as much as I wanted. I mean, seriously, what CEO goes to the doctor with their maid? On reflection, don't answer that, we might know what kind, usually older males with a maid who is either scared out of her mind or already counting the money from child support payments.
"Who with?" I asked, blinking and drawing a total blank at Vanessa's comment. I knew I was gathering wool, I wanted to hear from Sophie. Still, Vanessa didn't know about Matt and Joanna, other than that they were my domestic help, and I had to appear professional.
"The Padre," Vanessa replied. While she was never one to be as outwardly emotional as I am, she showed her feelings in other ways, usually though the use of nicknames. The Right Bishop Gerald Traylor was one of the people she detested most, and in my opinion, with good reason. The leader of one of the most influential churches in the city, Bishop Traylor's Holy Assembly of the Ever Loving God could brag about holding three services a Sunday, each of them packing in over a thousand people. With services broadcast on a locally owned channel, he swung a lot of weight, especially among the Evangelical population of the city. His fiery preaching, blend of gospel, Christian funk music, and a bit of other popular music styles made a good show, if that was the particular brand of Christianity that spoke to you. Considering who I am, and the opposition I had to a lot of his preaching, I couldn't say I was a fan of his.
I would’ve overlooked all of my issues with Traylor and his preaching if he'd been even halfway as honest as the figure he portrayed on screen and in public. The problem was, he was as corrupt as a preacher could be. For years, carefully hidden of course, he’d taken money from the members of the Confederation, one of the two criminal empires that Mark had smashed just months prior. A man who preached humility and the Bible, Traylor lived in a penthouse that was just over four thousand square feet in a high-rise that commanded top dollar per square foot. Hell, the HOA fees alone were nearly twenty thousand dollars a year. On top of that, Traylor owned abut a half dozen other properties around the city, two of which he kept his mistresses in while his wife played her role in public. Knowing what I did about his private life would lead anyone doubting in the existence of God to wonder how the man didn't burst into flames every time he touched the Bible.
And of course, I detested the man for his ministry as well. Hell fire and brimstone, he'd more than once called for people like me to burn in hell because of my sexual appetite. It was kind of the personal cherry on top for making what I was about to do just a little more fun than my average work, which usually consisted of doing a lot of business investing. Turn on the TV show Shark Tank, and you get the idea, minus the reality show dramatics.
"Miss Williams," Traylor said in his broad, well practiced tones as he entered the office. I had to admit, the man could speak well. He toned down his inflection in private, but still had the sonorous, rumbling sounds that led gravitas to his voice. It wasn't quite at the level of James Earl Jones, but he could certainly make reading your grocery list interesting. "Thank you for meeting with me so quickly after my church's request."
"When one of the leading members of the community makes a request, I do my best to accommodate them as quickly as possible," I said, standing up from my desk and coming around to shake his hand. I didn't want to, in fact I had to resist the urge to turn around and immediately squirt about three dollops of anti-bacterial gel onto my hand, but I still felt dirty just with that light amount of contact.