The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (14 page)

“Panty Shields was totally into you. But you fucked it up. In one damn night.”

“Who?”

“Faith? Chastity’s Mom? Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about?”

“Oh.”

“Are you ever gonna stop drinking?”

“I don’t know.”

Same fucking answer every time. “You’re gonna kill somebody sooner or later. I was hoping it would be you, but you almost killed Charity tonight. And you weren’t even driving,” I snort.

“Yeah,” he sighs, his brow tightening with what looks like regret, but could merely be the onset of whiskey farts.

He’s already been in jail twice for DUIs and his license is suspended for another year. If he keeps at it, it’ll probably get revoked for good. The court would’ve made him use one of those Ignition Interlock Devices you have to breathe into to start your car, but he wrecked it. Beautiful 1971 Chevy GTO. It took him years to restore that thing to cherry and one night of drinking to demolish it. What a waste. The court did make him put an IID on his Harley back in Nevada. He looks like a dumbass when he blows on it. I always ask him if he likes sucking dick to get a ride. He always ignores the question or says at least he still gets to. I ask him how much he likes having to blow into it every 45 minutes to keep going. Same thing: at least he’s still riding. I haven’t broken the news to him that he can’t use it in California. They don’t allow them on bikes yet. Which means Dad’s walking, riding a bicycle, or taking the bus.

Either way, I know he’ll keep drinking.

Sometimes I want to ask him if he’d suck dick for real to get his next drink, but sadly I already know the answer is yes. Not that he ever has, to my knowledge, nor would he admit to it if he had.

It’s so pathetic it makes me want to puke.

My old man is nothing but a washed up useless drunk.

“I miss your mom,” Dad slurs, all weepy.

I scowl, “Shut the fuck up.”

“I miss her so much.”

I ignore him and dig a blanket out of a box and throw it in his face. It lands on his head like a little tent. He just leaves it there. I yank it off him and whip it open until it billows down on him. His boots poke out the bottom.

I shake my head and squat at his feet and yank them off. Each one thuds when it hits the floor.

I hit the lights on the way out. “Sweet fucking dreams, dumbshit.”

He’s snoring before I close the door.

++++8++++

LANCE

Age 8.

“Daddy?” I shake his arm. It’s night time. He sits in his big chair in front of the TV. The TV is really loud. “Daddy? Wake up. I can’t find Mommy.” I feel dumb calling him Daddy. If I call him Daddy, he yells at me for being a baby and tells me to call him Dad because I’m a big kid. I’m scared, so I forget. “Daddy? Where’s Mommy?” I turn off the TV sound so it’s quiet. “Daddy? Wake up.”

He doesn’t.

He likes to sleep in his chair with his beer cans.

He doesn’t sleep in bed with Mommy anymore.

Not since I was seven. But they still yell at each other every single day.

I shake his arm again. “Daddy?”

“Get offa me, God damn it!” He throws his arms around like tree trunks. He’s still asleep.

I jump back and fall down hard on my butt. “You hurt my ear, Daddy.” I rub it. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Daddy?”

He snores loud.

I cross my legs and stare at him.

Maybe Mommy will come home if I think about it really hard for a long, long time.

She doesn’t.

“Daddy, wake up!” I whisper loud but it’s not yelling because it’s whispering. “Daddy?”

After forever, he opens one eye. “Go to bed, Lance.”

“Mommy’s gone.”

His other eye opens.

“She’s gone, Daddy.”

Both his eyes open real big. “What?”

“Mommy isn’t in her bed. I had a nightmare. I was scared so I wanted to talk to her. She isn’t in the house anywhere.”

He sits up in his chair like it’s really hard to do, like he weighs a million pounds. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared, Daddy.” I’m afraid he’ll yell at me for not calling him Dad or hurt my ear again. He’s always hurting my ears.

He doesn’t. He stands up like he’s dizzy and walks to Mommy’s bedroom.

I follow him.

He stands in her doorway. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.” I’m whispering because it’s night time.

He turns on the light and walks into her room and looks in the closet. “Her clothes are gone. Where are her clothes?!” He stares at me.

“I don’t know!” I didn’t take them but his angry face doesn’t believe me.

BAM!!

He punches a hole in Mommy’s closet door. “Where the fuck did she go?!” He’s yelling at me with his beer words. “Where did she go, Lance? God damn it, where is she?!” He stares at me like I’m invisible.

I
feel
invisible right now. Like I disappeared like Mommy. Oh, no. Did I make her leave? Or is it because she hates Daddy? I don’t know. Does she hate me too? I don’t know.

I start to cry.

Daddy is crying too. “She’s gone, isn’t she? Why did you let her leave?
God damn it, answer me! Why did you let her go?!
”

“I didn’t!” I run to my room and close the door and crawl under my Batman blankets, all the way until I disappear.

I cry and cry.

Daddy cries too. In the hallway.

We both cry until forever.

Chapter 10

CHASTITY

Moonlight shines through my bedroom window.

I lie in silence under the covers. Tears streak my face. I sniffle and wipe my cheek. Tonight was a disaster.

We took Charity to the ER. Lark came along for the ride. The doctors said Charity was fine, but we should bring her in if anything strange happens in the next week or two. In other words, she’s fine. But we didn’t get home until 4:00am. Lark offered to sleep on the couch. Mom asked her to leave. She did.

Now I want to forget about everything.

Except Lance.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

I stare at my mirrored closet doors, imagining Lance’s mirrored bedroom next door. If they were magic like I wanted, I’d walk through right now and apologize to Lance for everything Mom said. She definitely over-reacted about him. But I’m not sure how I feel about Mr. McKnight. Some day I’ll forgive him. But Lance? He’s not a devil. He’s a saint. He wouldn’t even have sex with me. We sure came close, and we both came, but that was it. No penetration. I’m still technically a virgin.

I wish I was in his arms right now.

I wonder if he’s asleep in his bedroom? Or is he awake thinking about me?

I crawl out of bed and place my palm against the glass. It’s cool to the touch. I press my weight against it.

For a second, I swear to God, my hand moves a millimeter through the glass like it’s liquid. When I push harder, nothing happens.

It must’ve been the moonlight playing tricks on my eyes.

I climb back into bed.

Maybe I should just climb out my window like a regular girl.

But Mom would totally wake up and grab me by the ankles when I was halfway out the window and pull me back into the room and cook me in her Gingerbread Oven like the witch that she is.

Sigh.

I can’t wait to escape the religious cocoon that is life with Mom.

Maybe when I wake up in the morning, the zombie apocalypse will have happened and Lance and I will be the last two humans on planet earth. Then we’ll have no choice but to start repopulating immediately. Charity can survive too, but she’ll need to bring her own boyfriend.

What am I thinking? That’ll
never
happen.

So what?

I’m eighteen.

I can do whatever I want.

I don’t need a zombie apocalypse. I can start my own lifestyle apocalypse first thing tomorrow.

The idea puts a smile on my face.

After I drift off to sleep, I dream about Lance. Oddly, he has a sexy Southern accent like Daryl Dixon on the Walking Dead. He even has the shaggy hair and scruffy goatee.

++++8++++

LANCE

I am a fucking idiot.

Her pussy was right there! My cock was on top of it!

Why didn’t I fuck her?

I yank on my hair and bash the back of my head against my pillow.

I’ve been tossing and turning on my bare-ass mattress since I put Dad to bed. I’m bare-ass naked and my rock hard dick points at the ceiling.

It’s after four and there’s no way I’m getting to sleep.

Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is Chastity’s soaking wet pussy with my dick on top. I’ve jerked off twice thinking about it. Coming in my hand did nothing to relieve the need.

I need to fuck her.

If I
don’t
fuck her, I’m not gonna be able to think about anything else until I do. And I have a lot of shit to get done tomorrow.

I need a release.

I grab my phone and scroll through my list of five-star LA booty calls. Eight gorgeous faces flash by:

Brooke.

Gia.

Jess.

Naomi.

Prue, who is kinky as fuck.

Raya.

Trysta, who would sneak out on her boyfriend to fuck me because she has before.

Yaz, best head I’ve ever had.

They’re all nines and tens. Model hot. And all of them seriously know how to fuck. The kind of sex that is so over the top, it finishes you for days.

I drop my phone on the floor.

I don’t give a shit about any of them.

I need to fuck Chastity. Until I come inside her, I’m not going to be able to think about anyone else. It
has
to be her.

The scary thing is my balls keep saying over and over,
Get her pregnant, Lance. Pregnant. Come inside her without a condom. As many times as you can. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.

What the fuck? I’ve
never
wanted to get any chick pregnant. It’s not worth it.

The good news is, condoms. And the pill. I’ll just have to get Chastity on it quick.

Because balls be in control, yo.

I grab them and squeeze hard. I whisper out loud, “Why the fuck did you guys have to pick the god damn virgin?”

I chuckle to myself and drop my head on my pillow.

I roll on my side and stare at my reflection in the mirrored closet door.

Fucking Chastity Shields.

She’s fucked my shit up but
good
.

I wonder if she’s thinking about me right now?

Probably.

Wait a second.

What was I thinking?

I snicker to myself.

All the chicks in my phone are chicks I’ve fucked
before
.

I grab my balls again. “You want some strange? Is that it? Will that shut you the fuck up so I can get some sleep?”

They don’t answer, but I know from experience.

It’s all about the strange.

I need to go find me some.

Thank fuck for downtown raves. The after hours house party scene in LA is off the hook. Lucky for me I know where the best ones are at. I’m grinning as I stuff my legs into my jeans and get dressed.

I throw the garage door open and wheel my bike halfway down the driveway. I stop and stare at Chastity’s house.

What the fuck am I thinking?

This is never gonna work.

I circle the GSXR-1000 around and roll it back into the garage.

God damn balls think they can tell
me
what to do?

Yeah, pretty much.

Fucking balls.

I punch the garage door button and trudge inside the house.

So much for sleeping.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“Lance!” I scream. “Gimme your crossbow!”

He tosses it to me and I shoot a zombie right between the eyes.

“We gotta git outta here!” He yells it with a Southern accent and pushes me through a doorway in a random abandoned hospital, slamming the door behind us.

There’s just enough light coming through the small window in the door to reveal a cramped broom closet full of dusty cleaning supplies.

Outside, hundreds of zombies lurch through the hospital hallway. We’ve been on the run through the vast maze of the building for hours. It’s so big, I don’t know if we’ll ever escape.

Sometimes Charity is with us, sometimes she’s not. But she always has an assault rifle and is always shooting from the hip at the hordes of zombies and yelling, “Eat lead, bitches!” I tell myself it’s okay for her to curse since it’s the apocalypse.

In the dark broom closet, I’m very aware of Lance’s body pressed up against my back. Despite the chaos outside, this feels like the perfect intimate location for procreating. Since there’s no one left alive to perform a wedding ceremony, not even a justice of the peace, I think it’s safe to assume it’s okay for us to have sex out of wedlock. I don’t think God will mind because
someone
has to repopulate the planet

I turn around to face Lance.

The muscles of his bare arms ripple hypnotically. His devilish eyes flame as his mouth crashes into mine.

The sound of swelling violins stirs our emotions, fueling our desire. It’s the passionate big screen kiss every girl dreams of.

Until one of the zombies claws at the window behind my head and gasps in a raspy zombie voice, “Chaz! Ti! Tee!” The sound is strangled and gurgly.

Torn from my moment with Lance, I twist around, prepared to put a crossbow arrow through the eyes of the zombie.

It’s my mom.

She’s
the zombie.

A mombie.

I always knew she was undead. It explains everything.

I lift the crossbow, preparing to put her out of her misery. It’ll do us both some good.

“Chazzzztiiiiiiiiiteeeeee.” She claws savagely at the glass.

“Do it!” Lance shouts.

I can’t do it.

I lower the crossbow.

“Do it, Chastity! Kill your mom!”

I can’t.

Mombie’s withered face explodes with rage and she punches through the glass, grabbing me by the throat.

I scream.

She starts choking me, her grip impossibly strong.

I panic.

“Let her fucking go!” Lance growls, trying to break Mombie’s grip, but it’s too strong.

I start to black out.

I’m going to die.