The Furies Read Free Page A

the marks, he guessed it had happened a long time ago, when she was very young.
    He was studying her so carefully he almost forgot to answer her question. “No, I’m from Philly,” he said. “I came to New York just for the day.”
    â€œWhat part of Philadelphia? I have some friends there.”
    â€œThey probably don’t live where I do. It’s a rough neighborhood.”
    â€œWhat, North Philly?”
    â€œYeah, Kensington.”
    She nodded. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard of it. Lots of drugs and gangs, right?”
    He wasn’t surprised that Ariel knew about the place. Kensington was such a notorious slum, it was mentioned in most of the social-work textbooks. John had seen some of those books himself, back when he was taking classes at the community college, and when he read the descriptions of Kensington he wanted to tear out the pages. They weren’t even close to the truth. The neighborhood was a hundred times worse.
    But he didn’t want to talk about Kensington or its gangs right now. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Ariel away by telling her he was once a soldier with the Somerset Street Disciples. He tried to change the subject. “Yeah, there’s gangs, but there’s good people, too. And if you stick with the good people, you can stay out of trouble.”
    She cupped her chin in her palm as she stared at him. Her index finger stroked the faint scar below her ear. “So who kept you out of trouble?”
    There was that directness again. She didn’t waste any time. He couldn’t think of a way to dodge the question, so instead he was honest with her. “Well, first it was the army, but that didn’t last long. I didn’t take well to the discipline, so they kicked me out. And then I got some help from a priest, believe it or not. Father Reginald Murphy of Saint Anne’s Church. He was the oldest, toughest priest in Philadelphia. All the gangs were terrified of him.”
    â€œYou belonged to his church?”
    â€œNah, I’m not even Catholic. But he saw me running around the neighborhood with all the other thugs, and for some reason he made it his business to save me. I’m still not sure why. He never told me.” John winced. It still hurt to think about the old man. “And now I’m just trying to return the favor, you know? Trying to get a job where I can do something good. Maybe point a few kids in the right direction. Do the same thing for them that Father Murphy did for me.”
    â€œYou’re talking about him in the past tense. Is he dead?”
    John nodded. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Ariel that Father Murphy had died in his sleep. But that was a lie, and after a moment John realized he couldn’t tell it. He couldn’t tell her the truth either, so he just sat there with his mouth open, trying to think of something to say.
    Then Ariel surprised him. She leaned closer and rested her right hand on his forearm. “Let me ask you something, John. Do you believe in God?”
    He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. Oh, shit. Is this gorgeous girl a Jesus freak? His heart sank as he considered the possibility. Maybe she was trying to proselytize him. But a bar was an odd place to look for converts.
    â€œNo, I don’t believe.” He frowned. “Do you?”
    She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThe world’s a mess.” She lifted her hand from his forearm and waved it in a circle. “I mean, look around. There’s no way that a loving God would create such a screwed-up world. God and heaven, it’s all just a fairy tale. It’s amazing that anyone still believes it.”
    Now John was even more surprised. The girl wasn’t a Jesus freak—she was a philosopher. He stopped frowning. This was the kind of conversation he enjoyed. “You know what else