talking about is you. Just because a kid gets healed, you’re suddenly wanting to be Pastor Joe-Bob and start preaching to the world.”
“Hello?” Corin knocked on his skull. “Anyone home? What’s wrong with you? I’m not wanting anything but to know what this thing is and what I should do. Doesn’t it freak you out at all that I might have a miracle chair sitting in my basement? Wouldn’t you want to find out more about it?”
Tori let loose with a double shot to the bag with her fists. “Sorry, I’m just getting tired of all this God talk.”
“It’s not God talk.” Corin popped the bag so hard his fist stung. “It’s chair talk. Why are you stonewalling me on this?”
“I’m not stonewalling; I’m just not into talking about religion. I told you that.”
“This isn’t religion. It’s a chair. That might be doing bizarre things. I’d like some answers.”
“Call James Randi.”
“Who?”
“Founder of J.R.E.F. The James Randi Educational Foundation. He has a standing offer of a million bucks to anyone who can demonstrate any psychic, supernatural, or paranormal ability of any kind. I bet he’d be able to prove your chair isn’t anything more than a nice-looking piece of wood.”
“I’m not calling some celebrity.”
“Fine.” She gave her bag three sharp kicks. “But can we be done talking about it now?”
They stopped talking and Corin pounded away, hoping to take out his frustration on the bag. She’d locked him out. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep trying to pick the lock.
“I don’t want to talk about the chair anymore.”
“Good.” Tori pounded her bag.
“I want to talk about who made it.”
“C’mon, Corin.” Another three kicks.
“It’s one question.”
She whirled to face him. “One? Only one?”
“Yes.”
“After this can we be done talking about your chair?”
Corin delivered three kicks of his own. “I don’t understand why this is such a sore spot for you.”
“It’s not; it’s just boring talking about it all the time.”
“Last question.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because I’ll probably have one more question after this one.” He grinned. “But at least not today. I promise. Guaranteed no more religious questions until at least twenty-five hours have passed.”
Tori rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Is it possible Jesus was who He said He was? That He really was the Son of God?”
“He never said that. He didn’t ever say He was the Son of God.”
“What?”
“He said he was the Son of Man, that ‘I AM,’ that ‘I and the Father are One,’ but He never said I am the Son of God.”
“What’s your point?”
“That maybe He was just a man who got really close to God, so people started saying He was God.” Tori snatched her sweat towel off the top of her workout bag and turned toward the back of the dojo. “Are we done?”
“That wasn’t all of the question. There’s a second part.”
“Sorry, that’s the only one you get today.”
“But—”
“Fine!” Tori tossed her towel to the ground.
“What burned you so deeply about Christianity?”
“That’s off-limits.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Drop it, Corin. I’m serious.”
“So am I. The preachers who rail against gay people the hardest are the ones who are meeting other guys behind locked closet doors. The ones always talking about staying away from porn are the guys racking up hefty Internet bills.”
“What’s your point?”
“I think you see my point.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” Tori kicked her towel into the air and grabbed it as she strode toward the locker room. “See you at your place in thirty-five.”
CORIN’S DOORBELL RANG thirty-four minutes after he’d left Tori’s dojo and he smiled. She was always on time.
“Come in, Queen of Precision.” He opened the door.
“Are we okay?” Tori hugged him. “Sorry I got so riled up.”
“We’re good.”
Tori gave him a
“Hello?” Corin knocked on his skull. “Anyone home? What’s wrong with you? I’m not wanting anything but to know what this thing is and what I should do. Doesn’t it freak you out at all that I might have a miracle chair sitting in my basement? Wouldn’t you want to find out more about it?”
Tori let loose with a double shot to the bag with her fists. “Sorry, I’m just getting tired of all this God talk.”
“It’s not God talk.” Corin popped the bag so hard his fist stung. “It’s chair talk. Why are you stonewalling me on this?”
“I’m not stonewalling; I’m just not into talking about religion. I told you that.”
“This isn’t religion. It’s a chair. That might be doing bizarre things. I’d like some answers.”
“Call James Randi.”
“Who?”
“Founder of J.R.E.F. The James Randi Educational Foundation. He has a standing offer of a million bucks to anyone who can demonstrate any psychic, supernatural, or paranormal ability of any kind. I bet he’d be able to prove your chair isn’t anything more than a nice-looking piece of wood.”
“I’m not calling some celebrity.”
“Fine.” She gave her bag three sharp kicks. “But can we be done talking about it now?”
They stopped talking and Corin pounded away, hoping to take out his frustration on the bag. She’d locked him out. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep trying to pick the lock.
“I don’t want to talk about the chair anymore.”
“Good.” Tori pounded her bag.
“I want to talk about who made it.”
“C’mon, Corin.” Another three kicks.
“It’s one question.”
She whirled to face him. “One? Only one?”
“Yes.”
“After this can we be done talking about your chair?”
Corin delivered three kicks of his own. “I don’t understand why this is such a sore spot for you.”
“It’s not; it’s just boring talking about it all the time.”
“Last question.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because I’ll probably have one more question after this one.” He grinned. “But at least not today. I promise. Guaranteed no more religious questions until at least twenty-five hours have passed.”
Tori rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Is it possible Jesus was who He said He was? That He really was the Son of God?”
“He never said that. He didn’t ever say He was the Son of God.”
“What?”
“He said he was the Son of Man, that ‘I AM,’ that ‘I and the Father are One,’ but He never said I am the Son of God.”
“What’s your point?”
“That maybe He was just a man who got really close to God, so people started saying He was God.” Tori snatched her sweat towel off the top of her workout bag and turned toward the back of the dojo. “Are we done?”
“That wasn’t all of the question. There’s a second part.”
“Sorry, that’s the only one you get today.”
“But—”
“Fine!” Tori tossed her towel to the ground.
“What burned you so deeply about Christianity?”
“That’s off-limits.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Drop it, Corin. I’m serious.”
“So am I. The preachers who rail against gay people the hardest are the ones who are meeting other guys behind locked closet doors. The ones always talking about staying away from porn are the guys racking up hefty Internet bills.”
“What’s your point?”
“I think you see my point.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” Tori kicked her towel into the air and grabbed it as she strode toward the locker room. “See you at your place in thirty-five.”
CORIN’S DOORBELL RANG thirty-four minutes after he’d left Tori’s dojo and he smiled. She was always on time.
“Come in, Queen of Precision.” He opened the door.
“Are we okay?” Tori hugged him. “Sorry I got so riled up.”
“We’re good.”
Tori gave him a
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