The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (37 page)

Big surprise. I roll my eyes, “Do you think she ran away again?”

Mom blasts me with a hateful look. “Don’t you say that!!”

I shrug. “She did it before.”

“How can you be so callous? Charity was supposed to come straight home from school! That was four hours ago!”

“How can
you
be so callous? You’re completely out of touch, Mom. Charity hates you right now.”

She smirks, “Tough love isn’t a picnic. Maybe you’ll figure that out when you’re older.”

I snort, “Is that what this is? Seems more like dumb love to me.”

CRACK!

She slaps me across the face.

I hold my cheek. “What the hell, Mom?!”

Her nostrils flare, ready to hit me again. “You really ought to clean up that foul mouth of yours. Cursing is a sin. Or have you forgotten that?”

WHAM!!

I slam the door in her face.

Bing-Bong!! Bing-Bong!! Bing-Bong!!

I don’t open the door.

I grab my phone and text Charity:
Did you run away again? Mom is looking for you.

Ten minutes later, she responds:
No. But I shoe.

Shoe? It must be auto-correct. I text:
Are you okay?

Her:
I’m drugs.

I really hope that was auto-correct.
Drugs?

Her:
Drunk.

Me:
For real?

Her:
Yeppers
(followed by three drunk emoticons holding foaming glass beer mugs)

Me:
Where are you? Do you want me to come get you?

Her:
No. Mom will kill me.

Me:
Are you alone right now?

Her:
With some boyz.

Drunk with boys? That doesn’t sound good.
Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you. Don’t worry about Mom. I’ll protect you.

While I wait for her to reply, I call Lark.

“What up, bitch?” she answers.

“Can you drive me somewhere?”

“When?”

“Now?”

“I just did my nails,” she groans. “Can it wait an hour?”

“No.”

“I did my toes too.”

“Charity is in trouble. She didn’t come home and she’s drunk with some boys who knows where. I need to go find her.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“I’m at Lance’s.”

“See you in five.”

Ten minutes later, Lark knocks on my door wearing flip-flops, lavender board shorts and a half-zipped hoodie.

“Are you wearing a bra under that?” I ask.

“No. Too much boob?” She zips the hoodie up further, but leaves cleavage. “Are you ready?” Her keys jingle in her hand.

“I’m waiting for Charity to text me where she is.”

“Is Lance here?”

“I just called him and left a voicemail.”

She nods and sighs. “This is all so stupid. You know this is happening because your Mom walked out of mediation.”

“I know. Don’t remind me.”

“Sorry. You know, if your sister needs a place to stay, my mom said she could stay with us. I told her what happened.”

I smile at her. “Tell your mom thanks. But I don’t think my mom would approve.”

Lark sours. “Probably not.”

My phone chimes when a text comes in.

Lark says, “Charity?”

“Yup.”

“Where is she?”

I read the text.
Venison Boardwalk.
I smirk at the autocorrect. “Venice Beach. At the boardwalk.”

“How the fuck did she end up there?”

“I have no idea. Let’s go.” I lock the front door and we jump in Lark’s car. Someone pounds on the passenger window and I nearly hit the roof.

Mom.

“You’re going to look for your sister, aren’t you?!” She is such a snoop.

I crack the window an inch so she can’t hit me again. “Yes.”

“Where is she?!”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Mom scowls, “I did. She wouldn’t tell me.”

I sneer at her, “And what does that tell you?”

Her upper lip starts to quiver angrily.

I roll up the window and mutter, “Let’s go, Lark.”

I watch Mom in the passenger mirror as we drive off. She’s still standing on the sidewalk with her arms folded, holding in her rage.

Let her stew.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

Lark and I crawl through traffic on the 101. It’s rush hour.

I moan and drop my head against the headrest, “We’re going five miles an hour. It’s going to take forever to get to Venice. Charity might be gone by the time we get there.”

“Damn it!” Lark shouts.

“What?”

She slaps the steering wheel. “I knew I should’ve fixed the hover drive when I took this thing in for a tune up.”

“What?!” I snicker.

She shrugs. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Thanks.” I heave a sigh. I try calling Charity again. It’s the eighth time since Lark and I left. Maybe she’ll answer this time. I groan when it rings the fourth time. I’m about to end the call when it picks up.

“Chazzy Wazzy,” Charity says in sloppy baby-talk.

“Whoa, Chair, you sound drunk.”

“But I’m happy drunk,” she giggles.

I put the phone on speaker. “Where are you right now?”

“Where are you?” she squeaks.

“On my way to pick you up. But I’m stuck in traffic. It might be a while.”

“Boooooooo.”

Lark winces and whispers, “She sounds loaded.”

“Are you some place public?” I ask.

“There’s publics everywhere.”

“Where are you?”

“At the—” the sound breaks up.

“Where?”

“—the—”

“Shit,” I hiss. “The signal keeps breaking up.”

Lark says, “That sounds like the drum circle. The big one on the beach.”

“You’re right. Chair! Are you at the drum circle?”

“—beach—ocean.”

“That’s definitely the drum circle,” Lark says.

“Chair, stay at the drum circle, okay? We’ll meet you there!”

“—basketball—juggler—”

“Stay at the drum circle!”

The line goes dead.

I groan, “I wish we could get there quicker.”

“Sorry,” Lark says morosely. “I told you the hover drive is busted.”

“I should call Lance.” I speed dial him.

This time he answers immediately. “What’s up, love?”

I never get tired of him calling me that. I smile slightly despite my low grade tension.

Whir.

He says, “I saw you called earlier, but I was in the middle of something.”

I blurt, “Charity is in Venice with some boys and she’s drunk. I’m driving there right now with Lark.”

“Where in Venice?” His tone is immediately intense and focused.

“At the boardwalk. We think she’s at the drum circle. As long as she stays there, she’ll be easy to find. But with all this traffic, it’s going to be at least an hour until we get there.”

“I’m downtown. I can take surface streets on my bike and lane split the shit out of it and be there in thirty.”

“You’re not busy, are you?”

“I was, but this is more important.” Random sounds like he’s moving around flitter through the speaker. “I’m already out the door. I’ll look for her at the drum circle. Text me Charity’s number after we hang up so I can call her. And tell her to watch for me.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I end the call, feeling ten times better than I did before talking to him.

“Lance is awesome,” Lark says thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” I mutter as I send Charity’s number to Lance.

“Does he have an equally hot sexy brother I don’t know about?”

“I don’t think so.” A few minutes later, I say, “Hey, I forgot to ask, whatever happened with you and Beaver? You guys were getting pretty cozy at Lance’s office after he threw that surprise rave.”

She grins coyly.

“What?”

She shrugs, “We’re fucking.”

“What?! You never mentioned that!”

“He has a big dick and knows how to use it. That boy is a human jackhammer. Who would’ve thought?”

I blurt a laugh. “Oh. My. Goodness. Lark, are you serious?”

She smiles slyly, eyes on the road. “Yup.”

“And he doesn’t have a tiny beaver sized dick?”

“Nope.”

“How big is it?”

“We’re talking donkey.”

We stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

++++8++++

CHARITY

Drums.

Flashes of light.

Spinning, spinning.

Dancing on sand.

Can’t stand up.

Legs not working right.

My ears hurt.

Ice picks.

I want to throw up.

The whole beach is going round and round and tilting crazily.

How much did I drink?

I don’t remember.

Tipping, tipping, here comes the sand.

The spider catches me in his arms. All eight.

I think he has eight. I think I have eight too. Four arms and four legs. My four hands have twenty fingers. I smile at the spider and hold all twenty up to him. “Fingers,” I giggle. “So many.”

The spider smiles, “I see that.”

“Where did gold mouth and his friend Joe go?”

“Who? You mean Antwan and José? They took off. You wanna go back to my van and get high?”

“Hi,” I smile at the spider. What’s his name again? He’s cute. Really cute. Mom would hate him. Tattoos and leather. Like Chaz’s boyfriend what’s his name. I want my own bad boy.

“My van’s real close,” the spider says. “We can party there. Just me and you, fly girl.”

At least two hands squeeze my boobs.

I’m fourteen
, I say. Then I frown because the words didn’t come out of my mouth. I try to say them again.
I’m fourteen
. It doesn’t work. I forgot how to talk. So I try something simple, like friends. “Hi.”

“All right, fly girl. I get you high. Let’s go,” he grins and picks me up with his spider arms.

I’m floating like a fly. The spider stares at me with all eight eyes like he wants to eat me.

“I like you,” someone else says with my mouth.

“I like you too,” he says, hungry.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

Parking in Venice is always terrible.

I have Lark drop me off on Windward Avenue, which is as close as I can get to where the drum circle usually is.

She says, “I’ll go find parking. There’s always spots down in the Venice Canals. You go look for Charity.”

“Okay. Call me if you can’t find me. But you know how loud the drum circle is, so if I don’t answer, look for me there.”

Lark drives off as I sprint down Windward, past all the booths selling cheap sunglasses, past the bike and skate rental shops, and toward the boardwalk.

Despite the cool fall weather and sundown hour, a scattering of street performers are still out juggling and doing magic tricks. A homeless guy with a sign that says “KICK ME $5” is wandering around near the palm trees, looking for customers but no one is buying. Numerous street vendors are still set up on the cement boardwalk, selling their spray-painted planet art or fresh sage or incense or greeting cards or hand-made jewelry. Plenty of tourists and locals are still out crowding the boardwalk, cycling by, rollerblading by, jogging by, strolling by.

Charity could be anywhere.

We’re talking needle in a haystack.

My phone rings. It’s Lance.

“Hey,” I answer.

“I’m at the drum circle now.” The drum sounds are audible over the phone. “You guys here?”

“I’m heading there now. Any sign of her?”

“Not yet. It’s hard to pick her out with the sun already down. Do you have any idea what she’s wearing?”

“No.”

“No worries. I’ll look for her hair.”

I smile, “You can’t miss that golden mop.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” I end the call. Knowing Lance is already there is a huge relief. I try calling Charity again but she doesn’t answer. I hope she’s still at the drum circle.

“Chaz!” Lark shouts behind me, running to catch up.

I spin around. “Did you find a space?”

“Yeah. Some guy pulled out a block away and I snagged it.” She’s breathing hard from running.

“Awesome.” I smile at her, “I’m so glad you’re here, Lark. Seriously.”

“
De nada
, bitch,” she grins.

We hear the booming of the drum circle long before we reach it. It’s on the beach sand out past the Venice Skate Park. When we step onto the sand, Lark kicks off her flip-flops and carries them in her hand. The circle is medium sized tonight. Sometimes the circle of people can grow as large as dozens of drummers and hundreds of spectators. Now it’s definitely less than a hundred total. But in the twilight, and with everyone moving around, it’s more than enough to make it difficult to pick out Charity.

If she’s even here.

I text Lance:
We’re at the circle.

Him:
I’ll look for you

Me:
Have you found her?

Him:
Still looking

It doesn’t take long to pick Lance’s wandering head out of the crowd because he’s so tall. And his black leather racing jacket with the two white stripes running down the left side sticks out against the tourists and skaters, and the hippies and granolas doing the drumming. He waves when he sees us. “Hey, Lark. What up?”

“Hey, Lance,” she smiles.

Lance and I kiss briefly. He says, “I don’t see her. I’ve circled twice.”

“Maybe she has a hoodie covering her hair?” Lark offers, tugging on her own drawstrings.

“Didn’t think of that,” Lance says.

The three of us split up and scour the crowd for another twenty minutes. Some girls are so deep into their dancing it’s hard to see their faces through their whirling hair without looking like creepers, but it’s obvious from their hippie clothes they aren’t Charity. At least, I hope not. For all I know, she bought a belly-dancer costume with her allowance money and is wearing it tonight.

“I don’t see her,” I say to Lance when we meet up.

“Call her.”

I do. No answer. So I text:
I’m at the drum circle with Lance and Lark. Where are you?

She doesn’t reply.

Now I’m starting to worry. She could be anywhere. If she’s still as drunk as she sounded an hour ago, she might not even know where she is. Or what is happening to her. I don’t want to think about what kind of trouble my little sister might be in.