Forsaken by James David Jordan

was concentrating so hard that I lost track of where I was.”
    “I’m looking for Simon Mason. Do you know where he is?”
    “I’m his executive assistant. May I help you?”
    “I’m Taylor Pasbury. I just got in from Dallas. Simon is expecting me.”
    She looked me up and down. “You’re the security person?”
    “That’s me.” I gave her what I thought was an engaging smile. She did not appear to be engaged.
    “Right about now, he’ll be practicing his Bible talk. He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s doing that.”
    I collapsed the telescoping handle of my suitcase. “How long does it usually take?”
    “That’s hard to say. Sometimes he goes through it once and he’s fine. Sometimes he tweaks it right up until he goes on stage. He gets nervous before he speaks.”
    I laughed. “C’mon. Simon Mason gets nervous about speaking? I have a difficult time believing that.”
    She narrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve worked with him for five years. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as if I were questioning you. It’s just surprising that a man with his experience speaking all over the world would still get nervous about it. I recall, though, once hearing that Bob Hope always got nervous before going on. That was pretty amazing too.”
    “Well, I can tell you for sure that Simon is terrified right about now.”
    “If it bothers him so much, why does he do it?”
    She crossed her arms in front of her. “He was called to do it. He has no choice.”
    “Of course.” I looked away. I had no doubt that some people were called to God’s work: Mother Teresa and Pope John Paul II, for example. I had lots of doubt, though, about whether a single televangelist anywhere fit with that company. I had a strong suspicion that they were called more by their wallets.
    “Why are you in the security business?”
    “My first choice was pool-sitting, but there wasn’t enough money in it.” I chuckled.
    She just stared at me.
    I cleared my throat. “Actually, I used to be a Secret Service agent. Opening a security business seemed the logical thing to do.”
    She looked me over again. “I suppose it would. You mean that you protected a president? Which one?”
    “United States, for the most part. I helped with a few foreign ones when they came to visit.”
    She sighed. “I meant which United States president.”
    I began to hope really hard that she had no vote in the decision to hire me. Fortunately, before I could do any more damage, Simon Mason walked up. I recognized him immediately, although he was taller and more athletic than I recalled from television. He was almost completely bald except for a ring of tightly cropped sandy hair. His scalp glistened in the backstage lighting, and I realized he was sweating. I was surprised at his casual dress: a suede barn jacket over corduroy pants and a denim shirt.
    “Taylor?” he said.
    “That’s me.” I offered my hand.
    He took it firmly and looked me in the eye. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I think you can get a feel this evening for where we are from a security standpoint. Tomorrow morning we can get together for breakfast at the hotel and talk about what you think you can do for us. Did you check in before you came over?”
    “I came straight from the airport. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Reverend Mason.”
    “Simon. We’re all on a first-name basis around here.” He looked over my suit. “And we’re casual too.”
    I must have blushed because he was quick to add, “You look very nice—professional. I should have warned you about the way we dress.”
    “It’s okay. I’ve got years of experience at dressing inappropriately.”
    He laughed and his blue eyes brightened. “You should fit right in.”
    “Who’s in charge of security?”
    He looked at his assistant, whose expression made it clear she wasn’t thrilled at our exchange. “We really haven’t had to provide much in the