CHAPTER 1

Johnny woke up with a start, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his arms and yawned, his disheveled brown hair falling in messy locks across his forehead. He looked around the room, the remnants of last night's party strewn across the floor like a chaotic battlefield. Pizza boxes were piled high in one corner of the room, the scent of grease and cheese lingering in the air. Empty beer cans were scattered across the room, clinking together as Johnny shifted his weight.

He dragged himself out of bed, his bare feet sinking into the carpet as he made his way to the bathroom. The tile was cold underfoot, sending shivers up his spine as he turned on the faucet. The sound of rushing water filled the small room as he splashed his face with cool water, the refreshing sensation waking him up further. He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cluttered counter, the minty flavor of the paste mixing with the taste of stale beer in his mouth.

Johnny ran the toothbrush over his teeth, the bristles scrubbing away the grime and plaque that had accumulated overnight. He spit into the sink, the foam swirling down the drain. Next, he reached for his razor and shaving cream, lathering up his face as he began to shave away the scruff that had grown on his chin.

As he worked, his eyes flicked up to the mirror, his own reflection staring back at him. He wasn't a bad-looking guy, with his sharp jawline and clear blue eyes. But there was a hint of weariness there, the lines around his eyes deepening with each passing day. He shrugged off the thought and continued shaving, the sound of the razor scraping against his skin filling the room.

Finally, he was done. He wiped the remaining cream from his face and rinsed off the razor, returning it to its place on the counter. He ran his hands over his smooth skin, feeling the difference that a shave made. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. Today, he would don the black robes of a reverent and head out into the world to… make a quick buck.

He reached for the outfit hanging on the back of the door, pulling the robes over his head. They were heavy and black, the material scratchy against his skin. He cinched the belt around his waist and adjusted the collar around his neck. Looking at himself in the mirror, he smiled smugly. “I look good!”

Johnny headed to the local park, where he knew he'd find a group of concerned mothers chatting among themselves. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the lush greenery of the park. Children laughed and played on the swings and jungle gym, their high-pitched voices filling the air. With a Bible under his arm and a cross around his neck, Johnny confidently approached a group of mothers gathered on a bench, ready to prey on their guilt and take their money.

"Good morning, ladies," Johnny said, flashing his most charming smile. "I'm Reverend Johnson, and I represent the Church of the Holy Spirit. We're here to spread the word of the Lord and help those in need."

The mothers eyed him warily, but Johnny had rehearsed his pitch and knew just how to win them over. "As you may know, our church runs a number of outreach programs for the less fortunate," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. The sound of children playing in the background filled the air, their high-pitched laughter a stark contrast to the serious tone of Johnny's voice. "We provide food and shelter for the homeless, counseling for those in crisis, and even financial support for struggling families. It's a tough world out there, but with the help of God, we can make it a little bit easier."

The mothers nodded in agreement, and Johnny could see the pity in their eyes. He knew he had them hooked. "That's why I'm here today," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a collection envelope. "We're raising funds for a new initiative to support single mothers and their children. It's a cause close to our hearts, and we're hoping to make a real difference in our community. We need your help to make that difference. Every bit helps."

Even though he had their unwavering interest, the mothers did not seem willing to part with their dollars just yet. Johnny understood that if he did not act, his scheme would fail – thankfully, he had memorized a speech for just that possibility. “I have always been reticent about revealing the intimate details of my personal life, but today, I shall make an exception. Not for my own sake, but for the sake of those innocent children who are crying out for our help. You see, when I was but a lad, my father abandoned us, leaving my mother to fend for herself and her young son. It was a cruel twist of fate that left us with no means of sustenance, no roof over our heads, and no hope for the future. My mother, God bless her soul, tried everything in her power to find a steady job, but the cruel hand of destiny seemed to be against us at every turn. It was only through the grace of good Christians that my mother was able to raise me with dignity and love.”

Johnny could see the skepticism in the mothers' eyes begin to fade, replaced by a glimmer of hope. He could see the way that their expressions softened, the way that they began to listen more closely to his words. “Their unwavering support and boundless generosity gave us a ray of hope in an otherwise bleak and desolate world. And now, I implore you to extend that same kindness to those who are in dire need of it. We have the power to change the course of these young lives, to steer them away from the treacherous waters of poverty and despair, and towards the safe harbor of hope and promise. With your unwavering support, we can provide single mothers and their innocent children with the same opportunity that was given to me.”

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The mothers hesitated, but one by one they began to fish out their wallets, eager to do their part. Johnny accepted each donation with a grateful smile, watching his pockets fill up with cash. He thanked them and walked away content. As he approached his old car, he couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment. The car was beaten up, its paint chipped and faded from years of use. It was a far cry from the shiny, new cars that most people drove, but it was all he could afford – his scams barely covered his rent and daily expenses.  

The car smelled of old leather and dust, and as he opened the door, the hinges squeaked loudly. He winced, hoping that no one had heard the noise. The interior of the car was cluttered, with papers and books strewn about on the seats and floor. The air inside was musty, and he could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Johnny climbed into the driver's seat, and as he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. He took a deep breath, reveling in the familiar sound of the car. The steering wheel was worn, its leather cracked and faded from years of use. The car rattled as he shifted gears, the engine straining as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed into the busy highway.

The sounds of traffic filled the air, the constant hum of engines and horns and tires on pavement. The smell of exhaust fumes mixed with the scent of fresh spring air. Johnny sighed in frustration, wondering how much longer he would have to endure the relentless noise. He shook his head and reached for the radio. He adjusted the dial, searching for a station that might ease his troubled mind. The crackling hiss of the radio continued until suddenly, a melodic guitar riff burst forth from the speakers, followed by the soulful crooning of Adam Jones. The soothing timbre of Jones' voice calmed his nerves. He closed his eyes, the music enveloping him, and was lost in the beauty of the moment. The steady beat of the drums and the lilting melody of the guitar created a mesmerizing rhythm that pulsed through his veins.

Relaxing, Johnny couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction in himself. He had done it again. It wasn’t for no reason that he was called ‘Tricky Johnny’. With his newly-acquired dollars, he would head to his favorite place; Mark’s bar. He parked outside the old place and walked inside, the familiar scent of beer and cigarette smoke filling his nose.

The bar was dimly lit, the walls covered in old baseball memorabilia. Mark was behind the bar, polishing glasses with a rag. He was a ruggedly handsome man in his early forties, and a former baseball star. He had a strong, chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with mischief. His short, sandy blonde hair was neatly styled, and his face was clean-shaven. He had a lean, athletic build, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Mark's attire was casual, but stylish. He wore a tight-fitting black t-shirt that accentuated his muscular chest and arms, and a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged his long, lean legs. On his feet were a pair of well-worn cowboy boots, their scuffed leather bearing the marks of many nights on the dance floor.

"Hey there, Father Johnny!" Mark said with a smirk. "What brings you here today? Looking to bless some sinners?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Mark. I just wanted a beer and some good company."

Mark chuckled. "You came to the right place for the beer, but I don't know about the company. You know I don't have much use for scammers like you."

"Come on, Mark, don't be like that," Johnny said, taking a seat at the bar. "I'm doing good work. I just convinced a group of mothers at the park to donate to the church charity. We're going to make a real difference in people's lives." He devilishly smirked.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? What kind a difference? Buying yourself a new car?"

Johnny sighed. “I wish. It’s enough to cover my rent for the next month though – and to pay for my beers.” Johnny took a long sip of his beer, relishing the cold, bitter taste as it slid down his throat. He breathed in the familiar scent of the bar - a mixture of stale smoke, spilled alcohol, and roasted peanuts - and felt a sense of comfort wash over him.

Mark leaned against the bar, his arms crossed, and gave Johnny a critical look. "You know, Johnny, maybe it's time you got yourself an honest job," he said.

Johnny laughed, a bitter edge to his voice. "And what would I do? Flip burgers? Clean toilets? That's not the life for me."

Mark shrugged. "It's better than pretending to be a reverend and scamming people out of their hard-earned cash." An awkward silence followed. “So… how are you taking the news about Emily?”

“What news?” Johnny hadn’t heard from his ex-girlfriend since they broke up six months ago. She had grown tired of his antics and had ended their relationship. Johnny still couldn’t get her out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried with partying and one-night stands.

“She’s getting married.”

Johnny felt as if he had been punched in the gut. "Married? To who?"

"A young lawyer, apparently. He's got money and connections - everything you don't have."

Johnny took another long sip of his beer, feeling the bitterness wash over him. "I didn't even know," he said, his voice hollow.

Mark gave him a sympathetic look. "You should tell her how you feel, Johnny. Maybe she'll change her mind."

Johnny scoffed. "And what? Beg her to come back to me? She's moved on, Mark. She's happy without me."

Mark leaned in closer. "But are you happy without her? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone?"

Johnny didn't have an answer. He knew that Mark was right - he was miserable and stuck in a cycle of self-destruction. But he didn't know how to change. As he finished his beer, Johnny made a decision. He would go to Emily's wedding and tell her how he felt, even if it meant risking rejection and humiliation. He knew that he couldn't go on living like this, and maybe, just maybe, Emily would give him a second chance.