Lucky's Girl (12 page)

Aw shucks ma’am, I was just in the neighborhood, do you wanna talk about Je-zis?

They didn’t end up talking about Jesus.

He just said he’d be honored to get to know her. Then she’d looked into his bright blue eyes and had felt as if she’d been falling upwards. Her parents hadn’t heard the knock. She’d taken him up the stairs to her bedroom, locking the door. She’d never had a boy in her room before. She turned to face him. He was just inches from her. Their faces so close, their lips so close.

She’d kissed a few boys before, but always in Chicago, and always boys wearing private school sweaters or fraternity ties. Some had tried to push their luck but she was far too good-looking to be passed around like other girls. No, her first would be her only, and he would have a private plane and a title like Senator or Governor.

At minimum.

But her life had changed at that very moment, and she’d seen the error of her ways. She wasn’t going to go down the path of materialism and shallow pursuits. Instead, she’d found her purpose and her calling. His name was Mason James and he was sitting on the dais, ready to tell the world the words of his God.

The Rev stopped speaking. There was more singing and clapping and praise and hallelujah-amen. Finally Mason got to his feet and stepped up to the pulpit, his thick brown hair hanging around his forehead. He smiled and spoke. Christie’s pulse quickened.

CHAPTER 3

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of our God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to our God, which is your spiritual worship…”

Mason paused, scanning the crowd.

“It’s Romans twelve.”

Mason understood that only some of them would know this, and most wouldn’t have known the context. He left that thought hanging in the air while looking down at his hands placed carefully on the pulpit. He lifted one and examined it, making sure the crowd could see what he was doing. He continued to look at his hand, as if distracted by something about it.

“I know Jesus was talking to a very different group of people at a different time. A
very
different time. A hard time when hard choices had to be made…”

A faraway look came over his face, and for a moment he looked like he was just about to cry. The whole church congregation were on the edge of their seats. The Rev was a spellbinding preacher but his son Mason, well…

Mason was
blessed
.

Mason was like the Apostles. Some even suspected Mason to be something more, some kind of prophet. Every eye was turned, every heart was open to receive.

Every heart except one.

Kenny felt like he was going to vomit. He’d seen Mary several rows in front of him, with no makeup on and wearing a long dress. She had dragged her father out to church and he looked hung-over.

Mason nodded, tearing up ever so slightly.

“I admire those people, living under Roman tyranny, unable to be who they wanted to be, to live how they wanted to live, to love, to give freely. To be free! To step out in front of the world and say, “This is me! This is who I am! Can’t you just love me as I love you?”“

He looked up from his hand, reaching out with his eyes, with a wrenching pain.

“But the Romans, and the
Pharisees
, they didn’t see it that way. They wanted to own!”

He held out a clenched fist, looking at it as if he were crushing the life out of something or someone. There were little gasps from the audience.

“They wanted to tax, to grind down until there was nothing left, nothing left to give, and yet… those people continued to give, even as they were taken out and crucified!”

There was a pause, a collective gulping inhalation.

They were
there
.

They were all the way there, taken to the outskirts of an ancient Roman city by the sound of Lucky’s voice alone. In their minds a pious beautiful young man was being flogged and marched to his death for nothing more than the crime of his own incalculable beauty. They could smell the sweat and animal terror, see the sun glinting off of Roman steel…

“Yes! Crucified!”

“Run, Mason!” A little girl cried, tears pouring down her face.

“Nails! Nails pounded through their hands and feet!”

Mason threw his hands out wide, looking up in terror.

“No! Mason!” A girl cried out. It was Mary, but there was more than one woman thinking the exact same thing. No one in the entire room had found this reaction odd or inappropriate.

No one but Christie.

Her hands gripped her purse and squeezed, crushing the sunglasses inside.

He slowly lowered his arms and his face. He brought the microphone back to his lips and asked, “What will you give?”

A deep sigh passed out from the audience, it was pleasure, release, surrender.

“What will you give to a man, torn and bloodied… a man who has given everything of himself, thinking only of others so that they may live and be happy?”

In their minds that man was Jesus and Jesus was Lucky.

“He’s given everything for you. What are
you
gonna do for him?”

***

Abby squeezed the Rev’s hand as their son had stood up and walked over to the pulpit. Some of the girls in the audience had actually let out a little squeal, as if Mason was some kind of rock and roll music star. She’d seen this reaction to him over and over again. No matter where they went, Mason was the focus of every woman. Young and old, Mason would draw their gaze, and it wouldn’t fall until he was out of their sight.

She noticed the Rev shoot her a bemused glance from the corner of his eye. He’d always thought this was funny, probably because women reacted to him in somewhat the same way. He would always handle it with such grace and humility, because he was modest and charming, but still larger than life.

She wondered whether Mason truly had the modesty part down.

He certainly acted like he had. There were times when she’d known their ministry wore on him. It would wear hard on anyone. It wasn’t an easy life, but he always pushed ahead, whether it would be teaching Sunday school, taking the Scouts camping, or dealing with the hard cases at the AA meeting.

But sometimes…

She’d seen a gleam in his eye she didn’t like.

Like he was
enjoying
something she didn’t quite understand…

Of course they should enjoy the ministry. And the hard parts? Well they needed to get through those even if they were taxing. However, Mason seemed to enjoy those the most. Things which made her and the Rev have to take time out to pray, to renew their resolve, appeared to make Mason stronger. He didn’t get drained… instead he got stronger. Counseling a wife with a black eye and a fat lip sometimes left her shaken and disheartened. Sometimes she would go and cry on her own. She knew that even the Rev would go out back sometimes to sit on the porch with a tear in his eye. She had seen it.

But not Mason.

She hadn’t seen him cry since being a toddler.

She sighed. Why were these thoughts even coming?

Look at him, just look at him. He might one day be the most successful evangelist the world has ever seen! And you’re judging his motives even though you can’t even describe what’s bothering you!

***

Kenny felt the puke bubbling in his belly. The beers from the night before were burning in his stomach but that wasn’t the problem. The problem,
his
problem, was currently standing up on that stage, causing a mass hypnotic orgasm in every woman in attendance. And some of the men as well. He glanced up towards the front but kept having to look back down. Something was wrong, something was very wrong here, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

His uncle had told him that Mason shot animals with a pellet gun and then took them to Grove Island.

So? So what? Hunting was a way of life here. Maybe… maybe he was burying them there for some reason.

Maybe your uncle’s crazy. Have you ever considered that?

That sounded like something Lucky would say, something Lucky would casually say with the contempt and spite invisible to Kenny up until very recently.

His was a good life, a really good life. He had no mom or dad but didn’t care. He had his uncle, a real live war hero, and Lucky and his folks. Ever since he’d been able to remember his life had been filled with love even though he was poor. He’d never felt poor, he…

Was
he poor? What did that really mean?

Okay, get a hold of yourself. Your uncle’s just mistaken is all. He’s not crazy, any more than Lucky’s evil. Lucky’s just Lucky. He’s just a different kind of guy.

Kenny glanced up. The entire audience in the church released a big gooey sigh.

Lucky asked them, “
He’s given everything for you? What are you gonna do for him
?”

And now Kenny came right back to the baffling conversation he’d had with Lucky the day before. Lucky had said his own father, the Rev, was a kind of a fool. He talked about Mary and Christie like they were… disposable? Replaceable? Mary had been the third part of their triad for years now. She barely ever spoke, but he still saw her as a best friend. How could Lucky say those things?

Kenny glanced up just as Mary turned and glanced over her shoulder at him. She was stunning. She smiled slightly, but behind the smile was a constant gnawing fear. Her palms had fingernail scars and her lips were constantly bitten, her breath short and sharp.

What would happen to her if Lucky went away?

She looked like she already knew, that Lucky would only be hers for a short time, that she could lose him at any moment.

She
lived
for him.

And for the first time Kenny saw this completely. This girl, this child, lived for Lucky, and he knew it. And he was planning on disposing of her, and of Christie as well.

And Christie was here too, sitting in the front row, as out of place as any person could be. Wearing clothes costing more than the people here saw in a couple of paychecks, but wearing her hair straight and parted in the middle and no makeup. Like she was joining church, not going off to college.

Kenny didn’t know a thing about college, but he knew it wasn’t something people like her passed up for some boy from the other side of the tracks. Girls like her didn’t go out with boys from Elton. Hell, girls like her didn’t even go out with boys from the Upper Peninsula!

But here she was either way, fully aware that Mary was here and that Lucky was fucking Mary. Kenny didn’t know how girls like Christie were supposed to operate. She came from a different caste and their paths hadn’t been meant to cross, but they had, via Lucky. She didn’t really seem like a nice person. She seemed to think her shit didn’t stink. But here she was, sneaking off to fuck the son of the hick town preacher.

Kenny couldn’t contain the surprise on his face. These things were clearly and obviously not supposed to happen yet he’d never questioned them.

Maybe you’re just a naïve kid from boonies…

This excuse was plausible but even a kid from the boonies knows this doesn’t happen. Lucky may be Lucky, but no one is
that
Lucky and even the most naïve kid from the boonies isn’t
that
naïve.

CHAPTER 4

Lucky looked over from behind the wheel. He had on the most godawful sunglasses. “Man, you’re worrying me. Is there something wrong? You’ve been acting funny for a couple days now.”

Kenny tried not to let any of the storm of doubts in his mind show on his face. “No, I’m fine. But what in the hell are those shades? They’re really, really hard to not make fun of.”

Lucky grinned and laughed. “Latest and greatest. Oakley blades, homie!”

“
Homie
? Is this that shit from cable TV,
Yo MTV Raps
or something?”

“What? You aren’t down for the struggle? Christie gave them to me. They’re her dad’s”

“Down for the struggle?”

“Yes, we gotta fight the power!”