Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) (23 page)

Alexis pushed on the door just as her brother pulled on it. Sammy’s mouth stretched as wide as her arms, the hands of which had flown up to grab the sides of the door frame to prevent her from falling on top of him. “Good morning, Sissy!”

“You got up on your own and you’re smiling,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you and what have you done with my baby brother?”

Sammy laughed as he hurried by, brushing against her. Alexis blinked, only then noticing the physical changes in him. “You’ve been feeding,” she said, sweeping her gaze over the muscles below the sleeves of his black T-shirt. “And well, from the looks of things.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he rushed down the hall, ice-blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Every day,” he stated proudly. “At least four pints before school and after.”

“What the hell happened while I was gone?” she asked, running after him. 

Sammy shrugged as he raced down the stairs. He jumped when he reached the third from the last step, spun around as soon as his feet hit the floor. “I got over it,” he replied.

“You look like The Joker grinning like that.”

“You know, I didn’t realize how quiet it’s been here until just now.”

“Well then maybe I should just go back to California and leave you to fend for yourself,” she snapped, giving chase once again as Sammy took off.

“Do what you want,” he said cheerfully. “It’s your life. And besides, I can take care of myself now.”

“Is that right? Then why is The Room almost empty?”

“Zane’s taking care of it,” Sammy said, yanking open the basement door.

“He’s shopping? During the day?”

“Of course not. He’s gonna pick up supplies tonight after he leaves Roxy’s.” Sammy came to an abrupt stop halfway down the basement stairs. “Or was that Jasmine’s? No—Ginger’s. Yeah, he’s gonna pick up supplies after he leaves Ginger’s.” He chuckled as he continued down the stairs. “I don’t know how he keeps them all straight.”

“Which one is the whore the two of you are fighting over?”

Sammy glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“Blodbad told me that you’re in love with the same woman.”

Sammy’s eyes and mouth widened as he whirled around to face her. “Blodbad told you that?”

“Yes,” Alexis answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well then He’s full of shit.”

“And why would He lie?”

“Don’t know and don’t care, but He is because I’m not in love with anyone,” Sammy said and then snorted. “And I’m shocked you would think that Zane’s capable of such a thing.”

Alexis released all the air inside her lungs in one long, slow exhale. Feeling light on her toes once again—as if she’d lost a hundred pounds with that single breath—she bounced over to the bar, hurdling the counter to land behind it. “Breakfast is coming right up, baby brother,” she sang.

“I take mine fresh now,” Sammy said, strolling toward The Room.

The glass pitcher slipped from Alexis’ hands, sounding like a gun going off when it hit the floor and burst apart. “You mean I don’t have to play bartender anymore?”

Sammy glanced over his shoulder, The Joker grin back in place. When he nodded, Alexis squealed with glee and ran over to throw her arms around him. Laughing, Sammy returned her hug and then stepped back. “Don’t get too excited,” he said, his smile turning into a frown. “I haven’t progressed to the hunting for myself phase yet.” 

“But you will,” she said, and then winked. “Now, let’s go have breakfast.”

Willie came to—minutes? Hours? Days?—later with a pounding head that felt as heavy as a bowling ball. It rolled forward on a neck that seemed boneless, his queasy stomach feeling like a washing machine on its spin cycle. 

The bitch cunt drugged me.

With slow blinks he tried to make sense of what his blurry eyes were showing him. He was naked as the day he was born. Thick leather straps, which dug into his wrists and ankles, bound him to a steel chair that was bolted to the cement floor of a windowless, cement block room approximately eight feet in width and length.

Willie shifted with a wince, the hole in the seat of the chair having made the sections of his ass hanging through it go numb. Leaning over the side as far as he was able to, he could see a large, round metal pot directly under the hole. 

This ain’t good, he thought, feeling like he was trying to swallow a mouthful of baby powder.
Ain’t good at all.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed another steel chair behind him, facing the opposite direction.

It was empty.

So was the third one he then noticed was next to him.

Craning his neck so he could peer over the high back of his chair, he discovered a fourth and final steel chair diagonal from him. 

It was not empty.

“Hey!” The head attached to the fuzzy black hair Willie could see poking up from behind the chair did not move.  “Hey, you!”

The steel door suddenly opened and Willie’s heart damn near punched through his chest. The woman, dressed in a red satin robe that was so short it barely covered her ass, sauntered inside. 

She was not alone.

Willie’s stomach made a squishy, rumbling sound. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, clenching his ass cheeks as tight as he could. “You fucking cunt bitch.”

The woman winked at him. “So what’s it going to be this morning, baby brother?” she cooed as she slid an arm around the boy’s waist. “White meat or dark?”

Willie’s bowels opened up faster than if he’d drank a gallon of castor oil. The boy standing next to the woman wrinkled his nose as the foul-smelling waste plopped into the bucket underneath Willie. “I think dark,” he replied, giving Willie a wide berth as he walked to the chair behind and diagonal to him. Willie heard a soft gasp and then the boy whisper, “Sorry.”

Making a tsking sound, the woman moved to stand in front of Willie as his anal contractions finally stopped. When she grinned, revealing two very long, very pointy looking teeth, they started again. She arched a brow. “Can’t hold your liquor or your shit,  can you, Super Trucker?”

Fear stormed in to crush the rage he’d felt only moments ago. I’m gonna die here, Willie thought, and then screamed as the woman lunged.

Standing outside the cafeteria doors, Lacey gave everyone who wasn’t a jock or cheerleader a once over as they walked in. 

Sammy strolled over with a lopsided grin. “Waiting for me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Help me pick out a few others.” 

“Few other what?”

“People, what do you think?”

Without asking why, Sammy moved to stand beside her. 

Within a few minutes they had added three more to their group:  Jeremiah was as round as he was tall and always had a book in his hands (today’s selection was The Google Story);  Kathy had so many freckles one couldn’t look at her without playing a mental game of connect-the-dots; and Matt, who resembled Ralph Macchio so much that Lacey had to stifle the urge to ask him where Mr. Miyagi was.

“Night Elf,” he said as he looked Lacey up and down. “Druid, most definitely.”

Lacey raised an eyebrow at him. “Should I know what that means?”

Matt’s mouth went slack. He looked expectantly at Sammy who shook his head, and then at Kathy who smiled proudly.

“I’m a Blood Elf Warlock!”

Matt thrust his arm into the air. “For the Horde!” 

“World of Warcraft,” Jeremiah volunteered from behind his book. “It’s a MMORPG—massively multi-player online role playing game. An estimated twelve million subscribers.”

“As fascinating as that is, we have more important things to discuss.” Lacey cleared her throat. “Who wants to eat on the inside today?”

Jeremiah lowered his book to reveal furrowed brows. “I don’t think so.”

“Not a good idea,” Kathy said, shaking her head.

Matt held up his hands. “I prefer virtual fighting.”

When Lacey looked at Sammy, he shrugged. “Why the heck not?”

“Um, because they’ll tear us apart?” Kathy offered.

“Look—if we band together, we can show them that they do not rule the school,” she said.

Jeremiah snapped his book shut. “Thanks, but no thanks.” 

He walked away. 

Kathy gave Lacey an apologetic look before scurrying off in the opposite direction. Taking off after her, Matt yelled, “Hey, Blood Elf—you in a guild?”

“I think you made a love connection,” Sammy told Lacey as Matt caught up with Kathy and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Those kids are gonna be World of Warcrafting all night.”

“So instead of making a stand they’re going to make more cowards,” Lacey grumbled.

Sammy hissed as he raked the air with his hands. “Meow!”

Lacey exhaled sharply. She couldn’t care less if Jeremiah, Kathy and Matt chose to be doormats for the rest of their life, so why the hell was she so damn pissed off? PMS? The ravenous hunger from not eating since lunch yesterday? The fatigue from spending the night tossing and turning because of The Dream Invader? Having to resort to socializing so she would stop thinking about the jackass?

“I need food,” Lacey grumbled, heading into the cafeteria.

Sammy eagerly followed her inside but seemed reluctant to join her at the end of the lunch line. Figuring she may not be the only one in the world that was short on cash, Lacey said, “My treat.”

“Oh that’s okay—I got plenty of money.”

Must be nice, she thought, and then said, “I insist.”

Sammy crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t eat unless you let me buy.”

“That’s a little childish, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Whatever works.”

Less than a minute later, trays in hand, they sat down opposite each other at the last table on the right side of the room. Grinning, Lacey waved at the group of jocks and cheerleaders jammed together at the front of the cafeteria, who couldn’t have looked more disgusted if they’d discovered cockroaches floating in their broccoli soup.

Sammy chuckled as Lacey’s gaze drifted to the table next to them. Clark was in the same spot as the day before, in the same slumped position, once again staring at his red cell phone. “Still pining over Heather I see,” she mumbled, then popped a tater tot into her mouth. 

Sammy stabbed a peach wedge, sniffed it, wrinkled his nose. “Why? Did they break up or something?”

“You haven’t heard? Heather moved to California.”

Sammy’s hand jerked. The peach wedge hit his tray with a squishy plop. “California? When?”

Looking at Clark, Lacey whispered, “Six days ago.”

The clang of a fork hitting the table made her snap her gaze back to Sammy, whose eyes were wide and bulging. “Why did her family move?”

“They didn’t.”

“But you just said—”

“I said
Heather
moved,” Lacey interrupted.

“By herself?”

Lacey nodded, then slurped up a couple spoonfuls of soup.

“Why?”

“The rumor is...” Lacey’s voice trailed off into a sigh as she dropped her head and closed her eyes.
As if socializing isn’t bad enough, I’m also gossiping.

“What?” Sammy asked, leaning forward. “The rumor is what?”

Fuck it, Lacey thought, taking a deep breath. “That she took off to Los Angeles to become an actress slash model.”

Sammy swallowed so hard his throat clicked. “Who told you this?”

“Brooke and Kimberly. They tag teamed me, claiming to want to be friends.” Lacey snorted. “I thought it was a set-up—still kind of do, actually. They’ve avoided me ever since, which I find really suspicious.”

“A set-up? Why would they do that?”

“The night Heather left town, she ran into me—and I mean that literally, damn near knocked my shoulder out of its socket—at Burger King. We had some words and then she left with...”

Son. Of. A. Bitch. Now I’m back to thinking about him again.

Sammy rapped his knuckles against the table. “Who? She left with who?”

“Some guy.”

“What did he look like?”

“Hell if I know! I barely got a look at him, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Sammy said, placing his hand on the back of hers. “I’m sorry—”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be if you don’t stop touching me right fucking now,” she snarled.

Sammy’s hands flew up as if she was pointing a gun at him. “S-Sorry! Sorry...it won’t happen again!”

“See that it doesn’t.”

“I will! I promise!”

Lacey speared a peach wedge with her fork. Jammed the juicy piece of fruit into her mouth. Chewed hard and fast as she returned her gaze to Clark just as he picked up his cell. His fingers flew over the keypad as he text messaged someone. When he finished he tossed the phone on the table and then leaned back with a grunt.

A couple seconds later the screen lit up. He grabbed it, read what was on it, scowled. Muttering something under his breath, he stood up, kicking the chair with the heel of his foot and sending it flying across the room before storming out of the cafeteria.

Christ, just give up already, Lacey thought, stabbing a tater tot.
She doesn’t want you anymore.

Men were so damn stupid.

Lacey looked up to find Sammy using his knife like a pool stick to shoot a pea from one end of the tray to the other. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to play with your food?” she grumbled.

Sammy’s face looked like it was melting as the corners of his eyes and mouth turned down. “My mom died when I was seven and my dad left right after so they didn’t get to teach me much of anything.”

Lacey couldn’t have felt smaller if she’d been alone in a room full of giants.  “Oh, hell—I’m sorry.”    

Sammy shrugged, but his glistening gaze and trembling bottom lip told her he felt anything but indifferent. Looking down at the table, he quickly swiped the backs of his hands over his eyes.

Way to go, dumb ass.
 

“My mother hauled ass right before my thirteenth birthday because she couldn’t stand to be with my dad and me,” she blurted out of guilt, and then gasped in horror.

No. No, no, no!

Lacey sprang out of the chair, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it hurt. She bolted toward the cafeteria door like a racehorse upon the raising of its gate, not stopping until she’d reached her locker and only then long enough to grab her purse from it.

She was half-way home when the sky, which was the color of a Great White shark, opened up, and by the time she stepped into the foyer there wasn’t a dry spot on her.

Lacey stripped off her clothes as sheets of rain and gusts of wind pummeled the dark, musty house. She stuffed them into the beat-up yellow washing machine in the small enclosed porch turned laundry room located at the back of the house, then ran upstairs to grab a towel from the bathroom. 

Once dry and dressed in her flannel pajamas, Lacey picked up Casper and then returned to the kitchen to make the chicken and macaroni and cheese Clint had brought home several days ago. Out of anger she’d refused to touch them, but after what had happened at school she needed comfort food more than her stinkin’ pride.

“I like him,” she whispered, the dam holding back the tears she’d been fighting ever since she left the cafeteria breaking as she snuggled the kitten’s fuzzy head. “I fucking like him.”

With a loud sniffle, Lacey put Casper down on the floor. “We’re gonna have a yummy dinner,” she said as the kitten took off to explore. “Just the two of us.”

After putting the frozen chicken into the oven and making a pot of coffee,  Lacey sat down at the table and sipped the hot beverage to take the edge off the damp chill in the house.

The world beyond the rain splattered window was soggy, dark and dreary. The thunder and lightening sounded like a bowling ball rolling down the aisle and then crashing into pins. Around the trees hung a smoky white mist, which made her think of the boy who’d somehow managed to creep past her defenses.

Lacey was pulling the chicken out of the oven when the lights flickered. She managed to set the baking pan on the counter before the electricity went out
.
“Guess we’ll have the Velveeta another night,” she told Casper as the kitten weaved in and out of her legs. “Smells pretty good, huh?” 

Squinting, Lacey shuffled through the fuzzy grayness to grab two plates and a fork. She tore the meat off one chicken leg, put it on the small plate, then cut off a large section of breast meat and put it on the large plate. She carried both to the table and then sat Casper in front of his.

They gobbled up the surprisingly moist chicken—she wasn’t Betty Crocker by a long shot—in record time.

After they each had two more helpings and Lacey stuffed the leftovers into a plastic container, they retired to her room. With the electricity still out and nothing else to do they curled up in bed, eventually being lulled to sleep by the steady pelting of rain against the roof.