Gideon - 03 - Religious Conviction Read Online Free

damn it!” Blessing cries, throwing the hairpiece on the corner of my desk where it catches on a two-hole punch I use to make files. The toupee, a rich brown color, looks like some eyeless mutant creature dreamed up by a special effects person for a science fiction movie. I wait for it to begin to move toward me.
    “Not funny at all,” I get out without choking.
    “It must have been terrible.”
    Blessing grabs his hairpiece and crams it back on his head. Amazingly, it fits like a jigsaw puzzle piece onto his own hair, which rims his head like a bad paint job.
    “All of February my sales were down to nothing. I’ve lost all my confidence. Every time someone comes into the store I imagine this thing,” he says, pointing to his head, “slipping down over one eye. After this happened, even the janitors were laughing at me.”
    I lean back against the wall and feel the bare skin of my own bald spot. The poor guy can’t laugh at himself.
    If this had happened to me, I would have spent the rest of my life telling this story. Instead, Blessing wants to sue.
    “Actually,” I say, “it looks incredible. You just popped it into place without a mirror and you can’t even tell you have it on.”
    Blessing winces as he pats his head selfconsciously.
    “It ought to,” he complains, “it cost fifteen hundred dollars.”
    Hell’s bells. No wonder he’s pissed. For that kind of money you’d think they could have thrown in a bottle of Super Glue.
    “Where did you buy it?” I ask, remembering there is a wig shop downtown that caters, judging by its windows to African-Americans. I doubt if Mr. Blessing bought it there.
    “At a place in Memphis called Wiggy’s,” he says, handing me a wad of papers.
    “There was an ad in the Sunday Commercial Appeal which guaranteed you couldn’t tell the difference.”
    I look through the documents, searching for a con tract. All I find are pages of testimonials from satisfied customers. There are pictures of wigs, and, curious, I look for one that covers up a bald spot. Wiggy’s! I don’t blame him for going out of town. It will be hard to keep my mouth shut. Since we are basically salesmen our selves, lawyers love a good story.
    “Did you sign any thing?” I ask.
    “Something, I think,” Blessing says, reaching for the papers on the desk between us.
    “The salesman who sold me mine said his had never slipped even a fraction of an inch in the two years he had worn it.”
    I study Blessing’s hair, marveling at the transformation. He must have felt as if someone had somehow suddenly pulled his pants down. I tell myself I’d never wear a toupee, but if I looked like this guy, I’d think about it, especially if I were in his business. He’s right.
    Appearance is important. You don’t go into a clothing store to discuss the meaning of life.
    “Is there a booklet on how to care for it or some kind of warranty?” For that kind of money, you surely get more than testimonials.
    “I know I got some other stuff,” Blessing says, riffling futilely through the sheaf of advertisements, “but I can’t find it.”
    Clients never bring in the right papers.
    “I want you to look some more at home,” I urge him.
    “They could be important.”
    He assures me that he will, and after I let him wring his hands for a few more minutes, I escort him to the elevators I’m not ready to sign up to argue this case at the U.S. Supreme Court, but I’ll take a look at his papers I’ve had worse cases. I might even get a free wig out of it.
     
    after work I swing by Rainey’s house to eat dinner and get the scoop on Shane Norman and his Christian Life church. Until this past winter, my girlfriend’s religious beliefs were as indecipherable as my own, but after having had a benign lump in her breast removed, Rainey, to my surprise, and not a little to my dismay, has gotten that old-time religion. As I pull up in front of her modest frame house, I try to rein in my feelings on this subject, as