Every weekend, one of the faculty members from the parish’s school, Our Lady of Grace Academy, helps run the church Bingo fundraiser.
Usually, it's a pretty easy assignment.
Set up tables.
Help sell cards.
Keep track of winners.
Make sure nobody tries to claim Bingo when they only have four numbers in a row.
You'd be surprised how often that happens.
This week just happens to be my turn.
Kai volunteered to be our caller because apparently God enjoys irony, and our regular caller, Mr. Giancarlo, is home sick with a sore throat.
The man has been calling Bingo for over thirty years and never called out.
Thirty.
Years.
Which means every single person in town knows his voice.
And tonight they're getting Kai Montego instead.
Lord, help us all.
I stand near the stage area, nervously tapping my foot as volunteers finish arranging tables and folding chairs.
The parish hall is already filling up.
Retirees.
Parents.
Business owners.
School alumni.
A few town council members.
Church ladies.
One of the editors from our local paper, the Verona Patch.
Half of Verona, New Jersey.
Exactly the kind of crowd I’m beginning to think Kai wants.
Which is probably why I'm nervous.
Okay.
Not probably.
Definitely.