Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) (7 page)

Tony swiveled his head back toward Wesley, scowled, and gave him a regimental “c’mon!” with the jerk of his arm.
Uh-oh.
Tony was mad because Wesley didn’t leave the car smack-dab in the middle of the street.

Weirdo.
Wesley hated it when Tony got angry, because when he did, he got crazy angry.

The manger scene, still about fifty feet in front of Tony, was lit by a single floodlight. Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus appeared to be made of wood. The figures cast long shadows onto the snowy lawn and up against the stately white house.

Hands in the pockets of his army jacket, Wesley trotted toward Tony with his eyes glued to the lit rooms in the house. This was getting close—too close. Although he was amped with a ten-million-watt buzz, the people inside the house were not.

“What’re you doin’?” Wesley caught up with Tony, attempting to defuse the time bomb.

“Why’d you move it, Lester?”

“I’m not gonna leave a truck in the middle of the road.”

“You’re gonna need to learn to do what I say, or we ain’t gonna have a future.” With both hands on one of the manger figures, Tony rocked it, front to back, then side to side.

Wesley kept his eyes on the house.

“Here.” Tony grunted, finally loosening the figure from the frigid terrain and hoisting it at Wesley. “Run this to the car. We’re takin’ it.”

Wesley checked the house, then the street, and made a run for the Yukon, banging the heavy figure against his legs and cursing as he ran. Stealing a religious figure—especially Jesus—spooked him. The more he dwelled on it, he nearly convinced himself he’d be cursed by God for the crime.

Once it was in the rear hatch, he stood there a moment, actually contemplating dumping the figure and taking off in the SUV. But he didn’t dare. Badino was such a mental case, who knew how he would retaliate? Wesley dashed back toward the house.

“Good job.” With the gray ski cap pulled well below his ears, Tony bent over and started running toward the big house, black trench coat flapping behind him.

Nutcase.

Wesley darted behind Tony all the way to a clearing at the side of the house where they glided to a stop, side by side, backs to the wall, puffing steam into the night.

“The shutters are open at that window.” Tony nodded. “Let’s take a look-see.”

Without waiting for a response, Tony quick-stepped it along the side of the house, then slid to his knees, crawling beneath the glowing window, then stood. Wesley took the same path, stopping on the opposite side of the window.

Easing his head about an inch in front of the window, Tony stared at the interior of the house. Following Tony’s lead, Wesley did the same.

It looked like a Hallmark card—warm and cozy. Like make-believe. There was a large family room with shimmering wood floors, big rugs, expensive furniture, a baby grand piano, and a Christmas tree with colored lights—and gifts beneath. In the distance were a carpeted dining room and several cabinets with glass doors, filled with silver and china.

Wesley would always be an outsider to such an idealistic world, a world where family members interacted in harmony and love flowed from the foundation. He strained to hear but couldn’t make out any voices—just the snow crunching beneath his feet.

Ducking underneath the window, Tony patted Wesley on the back as he walked past him. “Follow me,” he whispered and dashed along the side of the house.

Wesley glanced back at the street and was startled to notice how clearly he could see the upper half of the Yukon from his vantage point. He could actually hear his heart:
th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump
. The chill disappeared, and he found himself almost sweating.

He looked back and forth, listening intently for anything—anyone.

SMAAAAACK!

His head snapped forward. The back of his neck stung from the impact of Tony’s ice ball then went numb as snow trickled beneath his shirt and ran down his skinny back. Along the side of the house, Tony motioned for Wesley to get over there.

Wesley got his bearings and made a dash for him.

“What the heck are you thinkin’?” Tony grabbed Wesley by the lapels of his baggy coat. “Are you with me or not, you moron? What are you, scared?”

“I can see the SUV clear as day!” Wesley squealed, looking back at it again. “I’m ready to get outta here. Why’d you hit me?”

“No you’re not!” Tony bent him to the ground. “Get down on all fours. I’m gonna hop on your back and look inside.”

“This is it.” The icy wetness seeped through the knees of Wesley’s baggy cargo pants, and he wanted to be back in his apartment. “We’re going after this. Hurry up.”

“I’ll tell you when we’re going.” Tony hiked up onto Wesley’s back with his left foot, then the rest of his weight with the right.

Wesley groaned and bowed, letting his shaved head rest on the surface of the snow. Tony continued to reposition his boots on Wesley’s back, but he became indifferent to the weight.
This is about what I’m good for.
He shivered again, anguish creeping up on him. What was it, guilt for being here? Condemnation about taking the Jesus figure?

“We need to do some more of that cristy.” Wesley turned his head sideways. “You hear me?”

When no reply came, Wesley craned his neck just enough to see the light from inside the house reflecting in Tony’s little black eyes as they invaded the privacy of his uncle’s home.

“No way… You ain’t gonna believe this.”

“What?”

“Your old man’s in there with Lester and the wife. Looks like he got the crap beat out of him.”

“Who?”

“Your old man.”

“Lemme see.” Wesley squirmed and Tony jumped down, landing with a thud on both feet. He hit the ground and squared his back so Wesley could hop up.

Everett and Karen were seated next to each other, holding hands on a flowered loveseat. His dad was on the edge of a chair next to them, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

Although he tried, Wesley couldn’t make out a word of what looked like an intense conversation.

Suddenly, Karen rose and leaned over to say something to Everett, her long, shiny blond hair brushing against his shoulder. Then she left the room and the collies eased up from the floor to follow her.

When Karen was gone, his dad raised his head toward Everett. There were bandages on Dad’s forehead and cheek. His eyes were bloodshot. He squinted and pleaded urgently with his hands.

What’s he doing here?

Both Tony and Wesley’s heads spun as a bolt lock clicked and a door opened on the front porch just around the corner. Then a bunch of light footsteps. Claws clicking on wood. And jingling.

Tony began to rise from the ground, Wesley jumped from his back into the snow, and they froze like plastic soldiers.

“Brrr. Go on, go potty, girls,” Karen yelled from what must have been just forty feet from them.
Can she see the Yukon?

After shooting a worried glance at Tony, Wesley’s eyes became transfixed on the dogs, whose name tags clinked at their collars as they moseyed and sniffed a little ways out from the house.

“C’mon, girls, hurry up, do your business! It’s freezing out here. Let’s go!”

Everything appeared as if it was going to be okay until, virtually at the same time, the dogs picked up their scent and started barking.

Taking off like trained security hounds, the collies darted through the snow, as they seemed to fly five feet with each stride. Coming to within a few feet of Wesley and Tony, the dogs ducked, jumped, barked, and growled—baring big white teeth and severely testing Wesley’s bladder.

The knocker from the front door rattled. Karen must have gone inside. Then, floodlights bathed the yard with light.

Wesley looked frantically at the lit-up ground then at himself. He and Tony were still in the dark, where they stood frozen, pressed against the house.

The door burst open again, and footsteps could be heard up on the porch.

This is it… Uncle Everett and I are finally gonna have our showdown.

Karen leaned out around the corner of the house and peered down into the yard.

In the white of the floodlights near the side of the house, the dogs barked and growled at something in the shadow. It was probably just a rabbit or stray cat the girls had cornered.

To be on the safe side, Karen hurried back into the house, glancing behind her as she did, and bolt-locked the door once inside.

“Ev…Everett.”

Her husband was just starting to stand when she got to the doorway of the family room. “The dogs are barking at something right outside there.” She pointed to the window near Eddie.

“I heard ’em.” Everett went to the window and cupped both hands around his eyes to cut the glare as he peered outside.

“It’s probably just some critter.” He turned to Eddie. “You wouldn’t believe the animals we see out here.”

“Would you take a look?”

“Yeah, hon. I’ll go.” Everett squeezed Karen’s arm, smiled at his brother, and moved toward the door. “You guys sit tight.”

“I’ll come, too.” Eddie began to follow.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Everett called as he reached the side porch door. “The last thing you need is to fall on some ice. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you guys make us some cocoa or decaf or something.”

“Sounds good.” Karen thanked God she was preparing coffee for Eddie rather than helping plan his funeral. She tried to rest in the moment, doing her best to mask the mounting frustration of having to postpone her discussion with Everett.

“Eddie, have a seat in the kitchen. I’m going to make sure you have everything you need for bed. I’ll be right back.”

Eddie limped slightly as he made his way to the kitchen.

Karen focused on putting one foot in front of the other on her way to the guest bedroom. “Just keep going. You’ll get through this,” she mumbled. “Get your eyes off yourself.”

She smoothed the bedspread and puffed up the pillows on the guest bed, reminding herself that God’s timing had brought Eddie to Twin Streams that night. Turning out the lamp and going to the window, Karen peered outside and gradually took in the dreamlike scene that unfolded before her.

The dogs were no longer beneath the window, but something dark stained the snow. And something shone in the distance. Bright red taillights—in the yard.

No. Not right. That shouldn’t be there…

Blood in the snow!

The dogs had cornered
people.
But who? DeathStroke freaks?

Frantic yelping sounded in the distance, by the road.
Rosey…Millie!

Now, headlights swerving.

In the yard!

Smashing through the manger scene. Spinning…taillights.

“Oh my…nooooo!” Karen screamed. “Everett!”

Eddie was by her side in an instant as she fought with the heavy porch door, yanking it open into the frigid night.

“Everett!” She dashed down the steps, into the snow.

“Here,” he yelled to the backdrop of a car engine roaring into the night. “It’s okay. I’m okay, honey. We need to get Millie to a vet. Don’t come out here, babe.”

Karen’s heart came up to her throat with a squeal as she ran toward his voice, through air that became saturated with the smell of gasoline.

Rosey trotted, puffed, and limped into the light to meet Karen, who began to spring toward Everett when her eyes finally spotted him in the indigo night, cradling a heavy, lifeless Millie in his lap.

“Ahh!” Karen fell to the ground next to Everett and the collie. “What’s wrong?”

The air vacuumed out of her when she saw the thick, shiny band of blood covering the dog’s head, ears, and neck. “What happened?” Karen moaned. “Did that car hit her?”

“She’s been cut—bad.” Everett hoisted Millie up into his arms as he got to his knees, but her head dangled there, odd and grotesque. “She’s alive, but we need to get her help—fast.”

Everett balanced on one knee then grunted as he stood, lifting Millie.

Karen took in the surreal scene as Eddie put an arm around her shoulder. The spotlight that illuminated the manger scene was gone. Pieces of the wood figures lay in splinters on the snow and half-buried in the muddy tire tracks that circled the yard and trailed off in the distance toward Old Peninsula Road.

Everett trotted toward the garage with Millie in his arms. “Karen! Get the keys to the Honda, and some rags. Do you know a vet open this time of night?”

She made a beeline for the porch. “Animal emergency in Chappaqua! I’ll drive.”

“I’ll go with you.” Eddie followed as fast as he could into the kitchen.

“Eddie, no.” She searched for her keys. “You’re hurt. You need to rest.

“I can probably—”

“Please. We’ll be fine.” She finally retrieved the keys from a black leather purse in the pantry and looked around the room, asking herself what else she needed to do or take. “I’d feel better if you stayed here anyway. Just make sure Rosey’s okay.”

“Isn’t there anything else I can do?” He met her at the door to the garage and held it for her.

Karen hit the lighted green button to open the garage.

“I feel bad just sitting around here,” Eddie said.

Everett yelled for Karen to hurry.

“Eddie,” she locked eyes with him one last time, “if the higher power you mentioned earlier is God, you can pray for Millie.” She raced down the steps. “And get the door for Everett!”

Eddie made his way down into the garage and opened the back door for his brother while Karen got in to drive. With his chest and hands covered in Millie’s blood, Everett ducked into the backseat holding their beloved collie. “Let’s roll!”

Karen fired up the white Honda and zoomed back out of the garage
. Get us there in time, Jesus. Please…

Cutting the wheel, she took one last glimpse at Eddie, who looked so helpless yet whose life seemed so dangerous. She stepped on the gas and whirled the car down the driveway, pleading with God to forgive her for the judgment she’d allowed to fester in her heart toward the dark brother who’d found his way to Twin Streams that night.

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