Chance McCall (21 page)

Victoria blushed and grabbed for her purse. “Here,” she said, thrusting a dollar bill into his hands, “keep the change.”

Chance whistled softly. “Pretty, and a big tipper, too.”

The girls erupted into another fit of giggles as Victoria turned on the ignition and shot out of the driveway.

Chance grinned and hurried back to fixing the flat tire.

The girls laughed and joked with each other all the way back to Midland. But late that night, when she was almost asleep, Victoria remembered the boy at the station and smiled. She was going back, and soon.

“Here boy,” Charlie yelled, as Chance emerged from the washroom. “Payday.”

Chance breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Unlike most boys his age, who had jobs after school and on the weekends for extra spending money, his pay went to cover bills and, if there was enough left over, to buy some extra food. They’d gotten their last cut-off notice this morning. He looked down at his watch. He had just enough time to get to the utility department and pay before they cut the electricity off…again. He hated it when that happened. Then he had to come up with what was owed, plus the late fee. His mother never seemed to be able to come up with the money for either.

“Thanks, Charlie. Gotta run. See you tomorrow.”

He stuffed the money into his pocket, grateful that he’d been paid in cash. He wouldn’t have had time to go to the bank and still make it to the utility department, and he suspected Charlie knew it.

It was late that evening when he started home with what was left of his paycheck in a brown paper sack. His mouth watered as the aroma of lunch meat and fresh bread wafted upward. It had been a long time since morning and breakfast.

His feet turned the last corner of the block as he headed for home. The shabby, two-bedroom house, with peeling paint and cracked windows, came into view. It sat alone on a corner, bounded by empty lots on either side. The old pickup truck he’d bought for a hundred and fifty dollars last year was sitting in the driveway.

That meant his mother was either home, or she was out with one of her “friends.” The grass needed cutting. He’d have to ask that cranky neighbor across the street if he could borrow the lawn mower again. He knew what he’d say. Sure! Only he’d have to mow the neighbor’s yard first. The hinges squeaked in protest as he yanked the screen door open, balancing his sack on one knee as he fumbled for his key.

“Chancey, is that you?”

The shrill, whining voice sent shivers up his backbone. He gritted his teeth, shifted his sack, and slammed the door behind him. She was home…and drunk…again. It was the only time she called him by that stupid name. The rest of the time she didn’t call him anything. She didn’t have time. What with the constant traffic of men coming and going, she didn’t have time to do any talking. She was too busy screwing the town’s male population.

Chance walked through the house, frowned at the assortment of clothing scattered on chairs and couch, tables and lamps, and wondered what the hell she’d been doing today. It was her day off from the job she had shuffling drinks down at Crosby’s. He set the sack down on the kitchen table and was putting the food in the refrigerator when Letty McCall sauntered into the room.

“Honey? Didn’t you hear your momma call?”

“Yes, Mom. I heard you,” he said shortly.

“Well, why didn’t you answer me? You could have frightened me you know. Might have been a stranger coming into my house. A woman can’t be too careful, you know.”

“Hell, Mom, you don’t know any strangers. And if one happened by, you know where he’d be. He wouldn’t be robbing us. He’d be…”

The slap cut across his cheek, stinging his conscience as well as his face. It was nothing more than he deserved. He knew what she was, but she was still his mother. And they were all each other had. He blinked slowly and licked at his lower lip. Those sharp red claws of hers had cut it.

Letty McCall took one look at the blood on his lip and burst into tears. Chance sighed, held out his arms and caught her as she fell forward, sobbing loudly.

“Chancey, please…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt…”

“Hush, Mom,” he said, patting her gently on the back. “I deserved it. It’s been a long day. I guess I was just tired.”

Her sobs quickly escalated into hiccups that gave way to a moan. “I need a drink,” she mumbled, turning away, forgetting everything in the rush of adrenaline that surfaced at the thought of more cheap whiskey sliding down her throat.

“Shit,” Chance said to himself. He slammed the door shut on the meager stash of food, and headed for his room.

It was his sanctuary, the only place in this house that was off limits to the men who came and went. And they knew it.

He’d claimed his territory the hard way after one of Letty’s “friends” had wandered into it instead of the bathroom. It had amounted to one hell of a fight and the neighbors calling the police. Luckily for him, the patrolman who answered the call grasped the situation and simply hauled the drunk to jail to let him sleep it off. After that, word got around. Letty McCall’s boy was to be left alone. Unfortunately, that rule did not apply to Letty.

It was getting dark outside. He knew that when the sun went down, another breed of people came alive in this town.

His belly grumbled, reminding him that it was empty. But his appetite had just vanished. He grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and headed for the bathroom. He didn’t have long to clean up from the grease and grime of the station and get out before someone would be knocking on the door. If he had to see the men who came knocking, then he’d have to fight. And he knew that it was futile.

A familiar glint of candy-apple red caught his eye. Chance turned away from the car he was servicing and stared. It
was
the same car. He hadn’t been mistaken. But this time, only the driver was inside. He watched her park at the pumps and get out, stretch, and look around as if she couldn’t see him servicing the other car. Her nonchalance was obviously an act, though. Tension radiated from every muscle in her body and she’d looked everywhere but at him. Eventually she’d have to. He was the only one on duty.

“You lost?” he called softly, and watched, fascinated by the way her long honey-blond hair fanned out as she turned. She smiled.

“No.”

Her honesty surprised him. He’d expected more of the same giggling and simpering as before. And then he remembered. She hadn’t been the one doing all the giggling. It had been her friends. She’d blushed. And she had exactly four freckles. At least that’s all he’d been able to see.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, as he handed the credit card back to his other customer and walked toward her.

Victoria caught her breath. It was like watching a cougar approaching and not being afraid. He moved slowly and steadily, his eyes fixed on his prey, with a fluidity of muscle and bone in perfect synchronization.

“Then, if you’re not lost, you must need gas.”

She smiled, and he forgot what he’d been about to say next.

“Yes, please. And I promise, this time, I really do need gas.”

Shared laughter rang out in the empty driveway of the station.

“My name is Victoria Henry,” she said softly, watching with renewed fascination as he filled her car’s tank and cleaned the windshield.

He stopped as the sound of her voice flowed over him like hot molasses. He turned and, for a long moment, just watched the play of emotions running across her face. He’d been right. She was more than naive. She was greener than new grass, and he had no business even contemplating what had just crossed his mind.

“Hello, Victoria Henry,” he said quietly. “I’m Chance McCall.”

It was all the opening she needed. By the time Charlie got back from lunch, Victoria had wheedled out of him the fact that he, too, was graduating from high school in a few short weeks. That he lived alone with him mother. That he didn’t know his father and never had. And that he’d worked for Charlie since he was thirteen years old.

Chance was stunned. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but he’d just told her more about himself in a few minutes than he’d told any of his classmates the entire four years they’d attended Odessa High School together.

He supposed it was because she was so different. She had no secrets. She had nothing of which she should be ashamed. She was who she appeared to be: a beautiful girl on the verge of womanhood.

Charlie pulled into the driveway and grinned. He tooted his horn at the pair who were leaning side-by-side against the shiny red Mustang. He honked again when they jumped apart in startled guilt.

“I know what you had for lunch,” Chance drawled, as Charlie came barreling across the driveway with a big smile on his face. “You’re supposed to eat your Wheaties at breakfast, not lunch. You don’t need all that pent-up energy this late in the day.”

Charlie hooted. “That’s not what I had, boy. And you know it.” He grinned and leered.

When Chance almost blushed Charlie knew it was because of the girl standing beside him. He relented. The boy was obviously smitten and he’d teased him enough. “Go on with you,” he said. “Go to lunch.”

“Oh good. If you don’t have plans, we can go together,” Victoria said.

A panicked expression froze Chance in place. If she went with him, then he’d have to offer to pay for her lunch and he didn’t even have enough money to buy his own. He’d planned on carrying out the garbage over at the Dairy Freeze in return for a burger and shake.

Charlie silently cursed himself for being unforgivably stupid. He knew what shape Chance’s world was in. He’d helped the boy bail his mother out of the drunk tank more than once.

“Say boy,” he said, before things got worse, “if you’ll do me a favor on your lunch hour, I’ll pick up the tab for you two at Henderson’s Drug. They’ve got a special this week on burgers. I forgot to get the parts for Mabel Geraldine’s car down at the auto supply. They know what I want. I called them earlier.”

Chance stared at the innocent look on Charlie’s face as relief overwhelmed him. The man was making up an excuse, and for the life of him, Chance couldn’t be mad. If it weren’t for Charlie, he’d have gone under years ago.

“No problem,” Victoria said. “We’ll take my car.” And then she looked at the hesitant, almost wary expression beginning to spread to Chance’s eyes. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d drive, Chance. I don’t know Odessa well enough to find the place you’ll need to go. Do you mind?” She held out the keys.

It was to his credit that his hands didn’t shake as he took the keys she dropped in his palm. Mind? He’d dreamed of owning a car like this one day. Driving it was just one step away from perfect.

“Here,” Charlie said, holding out a ten-dollar bill. “When you eat this up, you’ll have to quit. And as for the parts, just tell Pete to charge them like always.”

Chance took the money and tried not to let it show how much the gesture meant to him. He’d make it up later, when Victoria was gone. “Thanks, Charlie. We’ll be back later.”

“You’d better,” he teased, and watched Chance blush as Victoria slid beneath the steering wheel and then stopped about halfway across the seat. “I want you to close for me tonight.”

And so it began. The routine varied, but at least twice a week, Victoria Henry made her way to Odessa, to Charlie’s Gas and Guzzle, to see Chance. He knew one day that their relationship would end. That she would never…could never…live in the world in which he belonged. But for now, this taste of normalcy was sinfully addictive.

“Where you been keepin’ yourself, Chancey?” Letty asked, her voice already slurred from liquor.

“Busy,” he answered. He had no intention of going into details about his personal life with his mother.

“Don’t be smart with me, boy.” Her eyes watered as she tossed back a double shot of bourbon and she sighed as it burned all the way down.

The booze kicked in just about the same time Chance slammed the door shut behind him. She didn’t ask where he was going, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. He wouldn’t have told her.

He was almost thirty minutes late. What if she didn’t wait? What if…? He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned the corner and saw the shiny red car parked in front of the theater. She was there!

Victoria bit her lower lip as she saw him coming around the corner. He was almost running. Obviously the pickup was on the fritz again. It was a constant problem.

“Hi,” she said softly as she stepped out to greet him. He smelled so good she wanted to taste him, but kissing in public wasn’t something she’d been raised to do, so she simply stared instead.

He was wearing nearly new blue jeans, a snow white T-shirt, and the same old, curled-up at the toes, black boots. His hair was still damp from his shower, but barely combed, and it hung just above the neckline of his shirt in dark rebellion.

His glance grazed her face, slid down, and lingered at the generous curves below her collar. He resisted the urge to run his fingers down the slender legs emerging beneath her shorts, just to see if they were as silky as they looked.

“You ready?” she asked, tucking her arm beneath his elbow, and starting toward the theater.

“I’m always ready for you,” he teased, delighting in the blush he knew would sweep across her face and neck. He wasn’t disappointed.

The movie was all they’d expected. It provided everything they’d come to experience. Darkness and anonymity. A proving ground for the touches she needed, and the kisses he hoped to secure. A place where whispers and private moments remained just that. It was with no small amount of regret that they realized the show was over, and the theater was emptying.

Chance slipped his hand in hers as they exited the building, and started walking her toward her car. It was late, almost midnight. He knew she had a curfew. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone care where he was, or who he was with. He also knew that her parents didn’t have the faintest idea in hell that their daughter was out with a boy from the wrong side of town.

“I guess you’d better be going,” he said, as they lingered beside her car, each reluctant to be the one to break the closeness of the evening. “I don’t want you driving too fast on your way home, just to meet your curfew.”