Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

108 :: JOHN R. MABRY
:: 23 ::
Astrid had sounded groggy when Richard had called. And,
indeed, she had been taking a nap. He had apologized profusely,
and she had called him a cunt. Still, after he explained
what they were up against, she agreed to come right over. “I
can’t stay long, though,” she had said. “I have a date at six.”
Richard said that was fine, but it really wasn’t. He had had
a crush on her from the moment they had met at one of the
socials hosted by the Center for Gay and Lesbian Studies at
the Graduate Theological Union. Astrid had been Andrew at
the time, and Richard’s interest had not been swayed by her
transexuality. He had never betrayed his feelings, but he was
certain that his mooning over her could not possibly go
unnoticed. He just hoped it also did not go completely unappreciated.
In the kitchen, Kat found Susan and the friars gathered
around a steaming French press of enormous dimensions.
She took a place at the table and soon Susan was sliding a
large mug of steaming Italian roast under her nose. “Oh, my,
that’s decadent,” she said, waving the fragrant steam into her
face.
She looked up to see Richard come in, an oddly mesmerized
look on his face.
“What’s the scoop, dude?” asked Dylan. “Was Astrid
home?”
“Yeah, she’s on her way over,” Richard said.
“Who is this chick?” asked Kat, a little absently as she was
really debating whether or not to add half-and-half to what
was already such a wondrous treat.
“Well, she used to be a dude,” Dylan answered. “Ah guess
technically she still is. Dicky’s got a thing for her.”
“I do not—”