The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (39 page)

“What did you do to her?!” Mom yells, trotting up Lance’s driveway. “Give her to me,” she insists, waving her hands.

Charity is mostly asleep with her face buried in Lance’s armpit, otherwise I bet she’d say no to the idea.

“Relax, Mom,” I say. “She’s fine.” I asked Charity on the drive home if Spider Neck or anyone else did anything to her or gave her anything besides alcohol. I’m pretty sure the answer to all of the above was no, but she was so drunk and confused, I’m not entirely sure.

Mom tries to take Charity from Lance, but he won’t let her. He gives me a look that says, “
Should I?
”

I wince and silently mouth, “
I don’t know
.”

Mom turns Charity’s chin side to side. “What did you do to your face, young lady? Where’d you get all this black makeup?” She pushes the hood back.

“Stop, Mom,” Charity mutters, eyes closed, brow wrinkled as she waves her hand weakly.

Mom pushes Charity’s hair back. “Did you get your ears pierced?”

Pierced ears? I missed that part.

“Charity, what did you do to yourself?” Mom grabs Charity’s arm, which dangles over Lance’s shoulder, and shakes it. “Charity? Why are your ears pierced?!”

“I don’t know,” Charity says sleepily. She reaches up to touch her right lobe. “Ow.”

Mom laughs angrily. “Whore’s paint and earrings all in one day. What’s next? Prostitution?”

“Shut up, Mom,” I warn.

She finally acknowledges me and growls, “Don’t you tell me what to do! I’m her mother.” She suddenly grimaces, “What’s that smell? Is that vomit? Charity, are you sick?”

She doesn’t answer.

I sigh, “She’s drunk, Mom.”

She glares at me “Great. Just great. And which one of you got her drunk? Was it you, Lance?”

“Are you kidding?” Lance scoffs.

“Certainly not! Your father is a drunk! I can only imagine how much alcohol you have lying around your house. It probably flows like wine. Charity spends plenty of time in your den of sin. She no doubt learned it from you. How many times has she seen you and your father get drunk?”

“Me get drunk?” Lance chuckles.

“Yes, you,” she spits.

“Gimme a fucking break, Faith. For the last ten years, I’ve been the only thing standing between my dad and the grave. And for your information, your daughter was drunk when we found her. Right now you oughta be asking yourself why.”

“How should I know why? And when did you become so concerned about the well being of my daughter?” It almost sounds like she means Charity
and
me.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Faith. Charity is family.”

“She’s not your family,” Mom spits.

“She will be when I marry your daughter.”

Mom’s eyes bulge. “You would never.” It’s a warning.

My heart swells. Did he just say what I thought he said?

“Get over yourself, Faith. I love Chastity. That means her sister is my sister. Got it? Why else do you think I dropped everything to go look for her? Twice?”

Mom’s face wars with itself.

My heart is ready to burst. He did say it. He wants to marry me. How did this evening go from the worst I’ve had in weeks to the best of my entire life? And how does Lance manage to turn my life upside down over and over and over, in a good way? I have to hide my smile because now is not the time to celebrate.

Mom glares at me. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” I say.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You know, ever since that sorry excuse for a father of yours showed his head around here, things have been a filthy mess.”

Lance shakes his head and snorts. “You’re ridiculous. John Shields is a good guy.”

Mom sneers at him, “What do you know? Oh, I forgot. Now that you’re taking my daughters away from me, you’re the expert on everything, right?”

“John has been staying at my house off and on for the past few months. We’ve talked plenty. And I can tell you he’s got his shit together and he’s a great dad. I see him with Charity and Chastity and they love him. You should consider yourself lucky. There’s a lot worse dads out there than him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a child. John is nothing but a—”

Lance cuts her off. “Open your eyes, Faith. I’m not a kid. I run a business. What do you do besides live off the money your ex-husband gives you every month?”

Mom’s eyes pop.

It’s true. She has never worked since I can remember.

“That’s right, Faith. He told me all about it. The alimony, the child support, everything. When was the last time you worked a job, Faith?”

“I’m a mother! That’s a full time job!”

“You’re the mother of an eighteen year old who works for me and lives in my house and—”

“Your house? I thought—”

“Yes, Faith. I pay the rent. You think my dad can cover twenty-four hundred a month?”

Mom doesn’t answer.

“I mean, fuck, Faith. Can you?”

She scoffs haughtily, “Well, I…” she trails off.

“Thought so. And Charity isn’t exactly tied to your apron strings. She already ran away once. Maybe if you weren’t such a controlling cunt—” Mom’s face freezes “—you’d realize that you need to stop wasting John’s money and blowing your daughter’s college fund on all this court bullshit and do what’s in Charity’s best interests. Not yours. Don’t you recognize a cry for help when you see it? Charity wants to live with her dad and she’ll do anything she can to get away from you. Or kill herself trying.”

Mom’s face wrinkles with hate. “I don’t have to listen to you! I don’t have to listen to any of this!” Her eyes ping-pong between me and Lance.

“Instead of being a bitch about it and putting your daughter at risk, maybe you should help her. She’s going to run away again and you know it. The question is whether or not she ever comes back. So you have to ask yourself: would you rather see Charity every now and then or never again? Think about what you’re doing, Faith. You only get one chance to fuck everything up. Or make it right. Let Charity go live with her dad, Faith. If you love her, let her go. If she really loves you, she’ll come back to you when she’s ready.”

Mom stares at him, her eyes jittering. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You’re just a no good punk!”

Lance scowls half-heartedly. “Keep telling yourself that, Faith. But when you see Charity’s face on the back of a milk carton, ask yourself if getting your way was worth it.”

Touchdown! I want to jump for joy. Inside my head and heart, I do. But I remain silent so Mom can think this through. Is there any chance she was listening? Or will she block it all out and stick her head back in the sand?

“The Lord would never let that happen to my daughter!”

Sand, meet Mom’s head. I sigh.

Lance smirks, “Are you sure? I’ve seen bad things happen to good people, Faith. It happens all the time. And if you hadn’t noticed,
good
things happen to
bad
people. That makes zero sense. It makes me wonder if God is listening to you or anybody else or if he just doesn’t give a shit.”

“Blasphemy!” Mom shakes her head, astonished. “God has a plan for all of us! Even you! He will make things right! He will stop John from taking my daughter away from me!”

Lance shakes his head. “Stop worrying about what God is going to do, Faith. What are you going to do?”

Mom’s chest is heaving like she just ran a marathon. Then it suddenly stops. She stares at Lance for several moments, confused. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You’re just a child! You… you…”

Lance turns away, Charity still in his arms, and heads toward his front door. Over his shoulder, he says, “Think about what I said, Faith. Better yet, pray on it.”

When Lance is halfway to the door, Mom screams. A shrill, loud, pained, blood-curdling wail:

“
NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
”

++++8++++

LANCE

I can’t believe I ever thought that Faith Shields was in any way attractive.

Dicks and balls are really fucking dumb.

Chapter 29

CHASTITY

“Are you going to fly out to Illinois for Thanksgiving so you can spend it with me and Dad?” Charity asks while packing up stuff in her bedroom. She’s all smiles.

“I hope so.”

“You can bring Lance.”

I chuckle, “Thanks for permission. Did you mention it to Dad?”

“Yeah. He thinks Lance is awesome.”

I smile, “Me too.”

For the first time in months, I feel relaxed in my house. The one I lived in until Mom freaked out. I guess I still think of it as mine. My room still has most of my stuff. I only took what I needed to get by. It would be nice to chuck what I don’t need and forget about it. Then again, why? Don’t most kids leave stuff at their parents’ houses after they turn eighteen? I mean, Lark still lives at home with her mom and they’re pretty much besties. If only I were so lucky.

Charity zips up her knapsack, which is stuffed to bursting, and sets it on the floor next to her two suitcases. “Dad says you should buy your tickets now to save money.”

“Good idea,” I say. The question is, does Lance have money to spare? I have enough in savings to cover tickets for both of us, and I’ll totally pay for Lance’s ticket if he can’t afford it. I’m not exactly sure what his financial situation is right now, but I can’t ask him to spend money on a four day weekend trip when he has to worry about making rent so he and his dad can keep a roof over their heads.

Dad sticks his head in the door of Charity’s bedroom. “We need to get to the airport if we’re gonna make our flight.”

“All packed,” Charity smiles.

“You should say goodbye to your mother,” Dad says, grabbing Charity’s two suitcases.

Charity groans, “Do I have to?”

“You’ll hurt her feelings if you don’t.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long. Chaz, are you gonna come with?”

I wince, “I wish I could. But I don’t have a way to get home. Lance is working and so is Lark.”

“Maybe your mother can follow and take you home?”

“Ummmm, she’s too busy gardening in the backyard.”

Dad nods knowingly. “Right.”

The whole time Dad has been inside helping Charity pack what she needs for the move, Mom has been out back. It’s like she’s in denial that this is happening or wants to avoid Dad. I would’ve expected her to be inside overseeing the entire process so Charity wouldn’t forget anything. That’s how she always was in the past when she sent me or Charity off to church camp. I think she’s licking her wounds because Dad won. Whatever.

Dad holds up a suitcase, “Help me with these?”

“Oh, right.” I grab Charity’s knapsack off her bed and we head outside.

Dad pops the trunk on the cheap Nissan he rented this time and puts the luggage inside. “Did your sister ask you about Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to have you and Lance come out.”

“Yeah.” I don’t want to explain the financial thing to Dad.

“You know, I haven’t had Thanksgiving with you and your sister in four years. I miss you guys.” His eyes shimmer.

“I miss you too, Dad.” I’m going to cry, but I try to hold it in.

“There’s room for you too.”

“What, you mean to live with you and Chair?”

Dad nods. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

I don’t want to disappoint him but I can’t say yes. “I don’t know, Dad.”

“I can get a bigger apartment, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I grin, “Big enough for me and Lance?”

Dad is about to say something but he doesn’t. He just sighs hard. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up. My little girl. Just yesterday you were begging me for ballet classes. You cried when I said we didn’t have the money.” He scowls at himself and looks away. “I could’ve found the money somewhere.” His eyes water. “I’ve been a terrible father, sweetheart. I want to make it up to you.”

A tear drips down my cheek. “Oh, Dad.” I reach out for a hug and he squeezes me. “You’re the awesomest father ever.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He breaks the hug, but holds my arms. “You’ll come out for Thanksgiving?”

I smear my wet cheek. “Promise.”

“And bring Lance. He’s a good man.”

“I know.”

Chapter 30

CHASTITY

BANG!!

A gunshots goes off in Lance’s garage and I jump out of the folding chair I’m sitting on in Lance’s bedroom. My heart races and I trot through the house into the kitchen right as another gunshot rattles the windows.

BANG!!

I vaguely recall Mr. McKnight passing by the bedroom door earlier and telling me he would be out in the garage. Then I suddenly remember that cryptic conversation Mr. McKnight had with Lance the night Charity ran away, the one about some guy in Vegas named Kane who might come looking for him. I forgot all about it until just now. When I reach the door between the kitchen and the garage, I freeze. Gunshots. Not the sound of another one, but the idea of one. Did someone just shoot Mr. McKnight? If I open this door, will there be some scary guy in a trench coat on the other side, pointing a gun at Mr. McKnight, who will be lying on the cement floor of the garage in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying?

My heart literally stops. So does my breathing.

I’m scared out of my mind.

What do I do?

If Mr. McKnight is laying out there dying, I can’t leave him to bleed to death. But I don’t want to get killed either.

BANG!!

That’s when I realize it doesn’t quite sound right for a gunshot. It sounds kind of like…

I slowly open the door to the garage, wincing, convinced I’m about to be shot in the face or the chest by whoever Kane is any second.

BANG!!

It takes a second for me to make sense of what I’m looking at.

Mr. McKnight stands beside his Harley with a smile on his face and his hand on the throttle. Sun pours through the open garage door, bouncing diamonds off the motorcycle chrome. It looks so clean, like he just washed and waxed it. The engine of the motorcycle is idling, but it leans on its kickstand. He thumbs a button on the handlebars and the engine rumbles to a stop. “Backfire. My bad. I think one of the O-rings on the fuel injector is shot.”