Friday Knapp's Story

Days had become shorter, night taking more bit by bit. You’d never notice it at first until one day it felt like you just couldn’t escape it. Knox had never been an early riser, much preferring the stolen moments at morning light; face buried in her hair spun of gold, running his fingers over the hills and valleys of her landscape.

Most morning’s he worked started with breakfast at Biscuits with Beau. Their calendar was an innate rhythm between them; second Tuesday of the month was a delivery to Roscoe’s Rodeo, the 15th of every month a check in at the warehouse up north, a meeting with the Ghouls once every six weeks to assure that promises surrounding their alliance were kept.

That tiny Plymouth Road Runner their home away from home. Comedic really, both of them much too tall for it’s compact space. Knox had learned to navigate the space like it was his own, the seat pushed all the way back with his feet hanging out the window. Wasn’t much, but it made sleeping with Mariah wrapped in his arms all the sweeter.

Knox had never been one for Halloween, or any holidays really. His mother would try to get him to dress up as a kid, he’d comply with the promise of candy but his heart was never really in it. Felt silly to pretend to be anyone but himself, but the moment his daughter started dressing in frilly princess dresses he felt his heart melt. He took the day off, unable to face the disappointment if daddy couldn’t make it to trick-or-treating - promising Beau they’d make up for lost time tonight. Her hand was too small to fit in his, sticky from the candy she’d stuck in her mouth when she thought momma and daddy weren’t looking, Knox and Mariah sharing a wink as they looked the other way.

The cacophony of shrieks of delight and racing footsteps was welcomed change to Edenholle, a place too often hushed by the silence of discretion. In between rung bells and knocked doors, Knox pulled Mariah in against him watching as their girl ran back and forth between them and the next candy score. A part of him felt like this was never really his, like he was living someone else’s life; someone who had by some fate scored the dream and Knox was just riding in their skin for these moments.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket, Knox groaning with annoyance. He already knew it was Beau, asking where Knox was so he could swing by and pick him up.

“I think my time’s up,” He said with an sheepish expression, scratching the back of his neck as he sent Beau a pin to his location. There was always guilt when he had to say goodbye, always leaving Mariah for long stretches of time. He wondered how she filled her time, or with who. He slid a hand to cradle her cheek, a his calloused thumb running rough across her silken skin.

“Don’t be too mad at me.” He said, leaning in with a languid smile and low eyes, mouth seeking hers. He savored the taste of her lips between his, lingering that contact as he spoke. “Promise I’ll be back tonight.”

He heard the hum of the approaching engine, the Green Beast approaching. Their daughter recognized the sound, running back to grab ahold of Knox’s leg - too familiar with the sound, knowing daddy was leaving.

“Noo, daddy you said you’d go trick-or-treating with me,” She whined, the wavering in her voice the first signs of a full blown temper tantrum. Knox leaned down to scoop the girl up, holding her between him and Mariah.

“I gotta get going, baby girl. I’m sorry I can’t stay all night, but now you get to have momma all to yourself.” Knox tickled her sides as he spoke, forcing the girl to giggle - the sort of unfiltered infectious joy that only a child was capable of expressing. He could hear the sound of the car slowing to a halt between them, the low idle hum resonating with Beau’s impatience.

“Be good alright, baby.” He said, giving his girls both a kiss - leaning in to whisper in Mariah’s ear, his hand snaking around her to give her ass a quick squeeze. “You too, alright.”

He jogged over to the passenger side of the green beast, giving them both a last look as he slid into the car. Beau didn’t even allow him time to adjust the seat before lurching forward, driving them towards the horizon.

Constance had never celebrated Halloween as a child. Her parent's had thought it a Satanic holiday, it's Pagan origins never without mention. For the Church, however, it had grown to be one of their busiest nights. She expected many would have penance to pay tonight.

"After you've replaced all the sheets, make sure all the rooms are stocked extra with the essentials - and give the surfaces a dusting." Constance dictated over Lila's shoulder, each word articulated with the kind of suppressed rage only god-fearing parents could breed. "I've got to go into town for some supplies but I'll be back within the hour, I expect this place to be sparkling by then."

"Yeah, yeah - save the whip cracking for tonight, Constance." Lila huffed under her breath, audible but still a sound of defeat. She could hear the sound of Constance's heels clicking away, followed by the sound of the door behind her.

Lila waited a beat to make sure Constance wouldn't come back, pretending to forget her keys or wallet to make sure Lila was still working. When she was certain the Mother Superior was gone for good, Lila threw herself across the freshly made bed to roll over onto her back and watch the ceiling fan. The days had been bleeding into one another lately, Lila felt the weight of the monotony.

Lila had settled in the church because it was easy, but she’d grown complacent. Never really wanted anything except tomorrow but now it was the very thing she dreaded. Lately she’d felt like she was outside her own body, watching herself as she went through the motions. She’d save enough to leave, but - where would she go? After a few moments she got up with a huff, deciding she’d skip the grunt work and take Constance’s wrath later. Affixing her habit, Lila gave herself a quick check in the mirror before heading upstairs and joining the festival.

They hosted a festival for the families of the congregation during the day with face painting, hay rides, games. It wasn't that large of a production but the kids loved it, and the parents appreciated having somewhere to let their kids run wild that didn't cost nothin'. No, tonight would be when the church really made it's money - when the fest closed and the basement door was open.

Constance had been helping Father Friday with Halloween since he’d first taken over the church. Each year the after-hour celebrations became grander and more explicit, she wondered if this was how it felt to be in the cities of Sodom and Gamorrah. To live a life of such hedonism and feel the wrath of god ready to descend on you at any moment.

Her parents still worked shifts behind the counter of their general store, the bell above the door giving a hollow ring as she entered. Her mom was stocking cigarettes when Constance walked in, looking over for only a moment then quickly away. It had been the same ever since they left the church, certain Father Friday was Lucifer himself. Constance had grown used to her parent’s feigned ambivalence. That was the beauty of faith, when you let it lead you it didn’t matter what others thought about you.

“Good afternoon to ya, momma.” Constance greeted, tipping her head graciously - because her parents might not be talking to her but they damn sure raised her well enough to respect her elders. She gave a little smile as she walked past towards the back of the store where hardware was kept, returning a moment later with her arms filled with bundles of rope. “Just these, please.”

Her mom rang up the rope wordlessly, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“I took all that was left back there, so you might need to reorder more.” Constance added, not because she expected her mom to acknowledge it but because she knew it was something her mom would want to know. It used to be part of her after-school job to help her parents do inventory to see what they needed to order, but now they had some grandkid of one of their friends doing that.

“That’ll be $46.23.” Her mother said flatly, with all the warmth you reserved for a stranger. Constance pulled out a crisp hundred dollar bill from her bag, sliding it across the counter to her mother. “Keep the change, have a blessed day momma.”

It was the only way Constance could give her parent’s money. She knew they were struggling. Folks were depending on the local mom and pop shop less and less these days, evident by the expired tinned brown gravy on the shelves. Constance was gone before her mom could say anything, that bell ringing behind her.

Cradling her paper bag, she decided to take the scenic route back to the church to invite some of the families that were out trick or treating back to the church for the festival - giving those she was certain to see in the basement after a wink as she walked by.

“Brother, Sisters.” She’d say, because whether or not they were members of the congregation they were all brothers and sisters of the Lord and Saviour.

“Brother Gem,” Constance called out from the end of the driveway. “Hope we’ll be seeing you in church tonight.”

The light coming in through the open window bathes two bodies in a golden shadow that is muted enough to tell Friday he’s late. Halloween brings with it the need for the church to be open all day - from morning services for the uptight bible thumpers, to midday festivities for the younger children who have early bedtimes, to right around now when the majority of the town will be looking for a less pagan way to celebrate. And then, of course, past midnight when folks will embrace the amenity of costumes as if that will keep Satan from knowing they belong to him. He’s not late for that, yet, of course, but Father Friday has an image to maintain.

Still, in the comfort of his own bed, with tanned legs draped on either side of his thighs, colorful tattoos etched in the outline of sunlight that catches just right, Friday finds it hard to move. Finds it hard to convince himself that spending the evening preaching about someone elses god is more pressing than being his God. Thinks maybe instead he should pull his silver cross necklace off of Jack’s tongue and replace it with something heavier and needier.

Jack could have stayed this way for the rest of eternity, serving his God, festivals be damned. He needed this, ached for this, and though he knew that there would always be time for more worship there was still a distinct thread of annoyance at the thought of letting go. He knew though that Friday had things to do. Preparations for the coming onslaught of the flock. He himself had fulfillments to meet for tonight's extracurricular festivities. Excitement made him feel as if he were strung tight, ready to burst at any moment.

Though, what was a few more minutes?

A smile pulled at the sides of Friday’s mouth, one meant only for his most devotional of parishioners. He tugged at the chain and Jack came, easy like water, pliant and eager for anything his God may have asked from him. Friday would never admit it, but this was his favorite version of Jack, lost in the heaven they created between the two of them behind closed doors. Oh sure, they got up to plenty doors be damned, but this was different. This was reverence.

“Don’t you have to get ready for work?” he whispered in Jack’s ear, as if he didn’t already know the answer, as if Jack didn’t work for him. As if Jack’s whole world didn’t revolve around him.

"Fuck," Jack couldn't help the whispered groan from slipping out. He tightened his mouth around the metal cross, the sharp edges biting into the soft flesh of his mouth. He leaned into Friday, writhing against him, shivering from each point of contact.

"I'd rather stay here, with you," Jack mumbled around the cross, face pressed to the crook of Fridays neck, mouthing at the skin there. Tasting Friday, his sweat. He was overwhelmed by him, his everything. Did they really have to get out of bed? It already felt like tonight would last forever. A fun forever perhaps, but still forever.

It was no secret that Friday would rather stay too. That, if given the option, he would leave the church in Costance’s hands and lock himself away to die in his own temple. Years later their bones would be found by archaeologists who would name them the new Lovers of Modena.

Jack’s mouth on him was a temptation he could give into, it was well practiced in the places that could bring Friday down to a level closer to Man than Holy Spirit. He slides a hand up Jack’s back, slow, then tangles his fingers into thick dark curls and pulls. It’s a miracle, really, that he manages to touch Jack like that and not fuck him again, even as his tongue draws a path across the brown skin of Jack’s arched neck. When their mouths meet, it’s in a heated, dirty, open mouthed kiss, with tongues that work around the edges of a cross before Friday pulls back, stealing the silver with his teeth and letting it drop against his chest.

“I’ll wear you out,” he says, and takes Jack’s left hand in his to pull the ring from his finger. It, and his matching one, drop on a bible sitting on their bedside table. He can’t be a Soto, tonight. The church demands a Knapp.

“Never,” Jack replies with a soft grin, but he reluctantly relents, they would have plenty of time after tonight anyways - they would always have time. Jack leaned in for a last kiss, nipping at Friday’s lower lip before finally pulling away. There was work to be done after all, and Jack had no intentions of disappointing anyone tonight. He rolled to one side of the bed, stretching out as he went. Relaxing only for a moment into a sprawl before he gathered himself enough to get up.

“I’ve got big plans for tonight,” Jack commented offhandedly as he went, lightly teasing ”It’ll be quite the view.” Halloween would always be his favorite holiday, if only because he could wear the least amount of clothes in public. Nobody blinked an eye when Jack went out half undressed, costume often so skimpy that it left him at the mercy of a potential flashing incident.

Friday grinned, sharp. Plenty of people would pass through Jack’s arms that night, and by the time he was Friday’s again, there would likely be nothing left of his costume. That was fine though, work was work, and Friday had no doubt in his mind just who Jack had given his soul to. Who he shared his body with was of little worth, in comparison. They got ready separately; Jack showering although Friday didn’t bother. If the smell of sex lingered, the only members of his flock that would dare bring it up smelled the same.

He gathered up the last few things he would need for the evening, double checked to make sure his collar was straight, and circled by Jack once more just to say he was leaving. He leaned close to his husband, pressing their foreheads together in their typical separation before saying, “See you later, Jack Rabbit.”