Lucky's Girl (21 page)

She looked up at him, her eyes showing nothing but terror and confusion.

“Why is this happening to me? Why did we do that?”

Kenny could only shake his head. “Lucky, he… he can make people do things. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

At the mention of his name, the glaze came back over her eyes. “Lucky. Where is he?”

He shrugged again. “Like I said. Probably at home, or he’d be here or over at my place and we’d be hanging out drinking beers. So he’s probably at home.”

Her expression went hard and weird again. “Can I go over there?”

Mason shook his head. “That’s probably not a good idea right now. His parents, they… they don’t know about you, and they wouldn’t understand…”

He trailed off, knowing that he didn’t understand either.

She continued. “Okay, where’s Mary?”

He needed to tread carefully, Christie was acting mental. “Well, I’d say she’s probably at Lucky’s house.”

Christie stood to leave, but Kenny pushed her back down gently.

“Look, Christie, do not go there now. His parents will not approve of that. Just stay here. You don’t need to go there…”

In a second her expression became feral. “
Need
? You don’t know what the hell need means!”

She pushed up and he pushed her back down, not hard, but hard enough. She tried to wiggle past him, first one way then another. She wasn’t going to give up. And by the look in her eyes, she wasn’t
ever
going to give up. It was getting physical in a way Kenny couldn’t do. He looked at her big black eye. He could get blamed for that. And in her struggling she could get another one and he just wasn’t that kind of guy.

He let her go, within seconds hearing her tires spin and disappearing into the night.

***

The Rev gazed blankly out over his backyard. He held the smoke to his lips and inhaled. He tasted menthol and tar. It tasted like burning toilet bowl cleaner. He exhaled, hitting it again.

Abby looked at her own cig and took a drag. “Haven’t seen you smoke since before Mason was born.”

The Rev fought back a tear and nodded, unable to meet her gaze.

Mary knelt down in front of him, putting her head in his lap. He stroked her hair gently.

Mary raised her head, “Whatsa matter, Dad? Why so glum?”

He blew out a cloud of smoke, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Mary, it’s great to see you but I need to talk to Abby alone for a few minutes. Why don’t you run inside and watch some TV?”

She stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, Rev, but I ain’t going anywhere. I love you guys!”

Then she went inside like it was just another day.

He waited until the sliding door had closed behind her. She didn’t turn on the tube or plunk down on the couch, instead prancing up the stairs to Mason’s room. She’d never done that before. He was fairly certain they spent hours in there when the folks weren’t around but never when they were. They were always the model of Christian propriety around others.

And she was wearing those jeans and makeup. And smoking. That was hard to miss. She seemed to have blossomed overnight. The beginnings of a smile formed. The fact that Mary was coming out of her shell, even if it wasn’t church sanctioned, was a beautiful thing. But Mary was about to have a big problem, and that problem was their son.

He looked over to Abby. In his bewilderment he saw that she was looking stunned, apparently enough to be smoking too.

But stunned by what?

He exhaled a stream of smoke. “Are you okay?”

She took a drag on her own cigarette. “I’m not sure.
Where’s Mason
?”

He nodded absently. He didn’t know where to begin. “Jerry arrested him.”

Abby choked back the tears. “Honey. We got problems. Mason’s got problems. Mary’s pregnant.”

The Rev coughed and sputtered out a cloud of smoke. The tears came hard and true. “Oh Lord, oh Lord no.”

Abby was shocked. Yes this wasn’t ideal, but this was their grandchild and a child of God. “Honey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. They’re young and they just got… irresponsible. Yes, Mason did something dumb, apparently several somethings dumb but we’re gonna be fine. What did he do?”

***

Mary swan-dived into Lucky’s bed. She’d always wanted to do that. That’s what he always did. He’d make sure they had the house to themselves, then he’d run up the stairs and she’d try to keep up, but was only fast enough to see him hanging midair before he crashed down onto the bed. Then he’d hold out his arms and she’d fall into bed with him. That was their life, ever since those first few times at her house. This was where he’d taught her how to be his girl, what to do and how to do it. She smelled his blankets, rubbed her face on his pillow and pulled up her shirt to feel her skin against his sheets. She was in bliss.

This was her place.

Then she heard the knocking. Three soft raps on the front door.

She smiled. It must be Kenny. Maybe they could get the bed ready for Mason whenever he got back from wherever he was. Maybe he was with Christie. Maybe he’d bring her with him. Maybe they’d all break the bedsprings together. Ha! That was a fun thought. The Rev and Abby wouldn’t approve. Maybe they’d all just have to break them in too!

Mary let out a peal of girlish laughter and ran down the stairs. She opened the door. “Hi, Kenny!”

But it wasn’t Kenny, it was Christie.

She had black sunglasses on. Her expression was glacial.

Mary didn’t care. Tonight was beautiful and the rest of their lives would be beautiful
together
. She had to bring Christie into their love, and let her know that all of that materialistic rivalry crap was garbage. Their love was real, it was just this world, “the System” as Mason would say. Christie was her sister, her lover, her woman, her goddess, and she would make her feel welcome and loved. She would bring her home.

Mary grabbed Christie in a big hug. “Hi, Christie, come on in! Mason’s folks are out back having some important talk so we shouldn’t bug em’. Let’s go upstairs!”

She grabbed Christie by the hand and playfully began dragging her up the stairs.

“Have you ever seen Mason’s room?”

Christie’s face registered nothing. “No, I don’t suppose I would have.”

Mary stopped at the top of the stairs. “This is how you do it!”

Then she ran and repeated her swan dive. She hit the bed and then sat up. “Now your turn, baby!”

Christie stood at the top of the narrow stairs. She wasn’t moving. She was as stiff as a board. Mary held out her hands just like Mason would do when they fucked. She looked at her like Mason would look at her.

“Come here, baby. We gotta be good because the folks are out back, but I still want your kisses.”

Christie sat next to Mary on the bed. Still stiff, still precious, still apart from and better than even though they’d fucked like animals the night before. Mary wanted to pull her sunglasses off, but Christie intercepted her hands. She didn’t want to be here, to really
be here
with her. Still being a square, as Mason would say. Mary smiled. She knew that despite Christie’s upbringing, their love could crack the ice holding her prisoner.

“Can’t we take off the shades so I can see those baby blues? C’mon little miss mystery, how can I love you if I can’t see you?”

“The sunglasses stay on.”

Mary affected a playful pout and touched her lips to Christie’s. She was hard and rigid, her lips like cold rubber. Mary pulled back and tried to see past the big black shades. But she saw nothing. Christie may as well be a ghost in this room.

“Honey, you know I love you. Mason loves you and Kenny too. You don’t have to be afraid of anything ever again. We’re together now. We’re a tribe, and now we’re gonna be a tribe for real, I was just telling Abby the good news that…”

Christie interrupted her. “Abby? Who’s Abby?”

Mary gave her a skeptical look. “Mason’s mom. You didn’t know her name?”

Christie went even stiffer, like she could shatter like glass. “No, Mason never told me that. I guess I’m not
special
enough.”

Mary didn’t understand bitter insinuation, it wasn’t part of who she was. “Oh, don’t worry Christie, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know her, and we’re all gonna have plenty of time to get to know you. Plenty. Like I was saying…”

Christie interrupted her again. “Where is Mason? I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

Mary shrugged, now a bit perplexed as well. “Hmmm. He’s not here, and he’s not at your place and he’s not at my place and he’s not at Kenny’s place because Kenny’s at my place so…”

Christie let out a crazed little cry. “I know that. That’s why I’m here.
I need him
.Now! Where is he?!”

Mary was a little taken aback. Christie was really scared, but she understood. She knew what it was like. Pacing, watching the phone, crying, just wanting to know; where is he? Why isn’t he here with me,
in me
, right now?

She understood.

She took Christie’s hands. She pried the fingers open and saw the line of fingernail scars in the palms. She understood what no other woman could understand. Christie needed Mason because Mason was more than any regular man. He was different. He was a prophet. And his touch was electric.

She put Christie’s palm to her face and held the other up to kiss it gently.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. He’ll be here soon. Let me in. We’re all part of him, all of us in the Tribe. And we’re never gonna be alone again. We’re gonna be a family, a real family. I’ll be the first and then you’ll have your first, and we’ll raise them together…”

Her hands were fast, hard and cold. They wrapped around Mary’s head and pushed her face-down in a pillow, then the base of a bedside lamp crashed into the back of her head.

Christie shook. Her hands were flecked with blood. She looked down at Mary lying unconscious on the bed, face down next to her. She looked at her fingers, coiled and corded like steel. She looked at her fingernails, manicured and hard. She took those hands and stuffed those fingernails through Mary’s soft skin. She pulled and she tugged and she tore until there was nothing Mary could give to Mason that Christie couldn’t give him first.

***

Frank knew Kenny wouldn’t be at Lucky’s house, so when he wasn’t at home he did the math. He wasn’t out back by the pier and wasn’t driving the truck. Mason said he had left him at Christie’s. Christie was that rich girl, Ted Tellefsen’s daughter. Ted Tellefsen was the closest thing to a power in these parts by virtue of owning the sawmill which was the only employer around.

That Lucky had managed to rope the rich girl into whatever he was doing was surprising. He’d seen her before. Rich. Aloof. Not from this side of the tracks.

So he didn’t relish knocking on that man’s door and asking for his nephew, but that’s what he did anyway.

His beat up old truck from the seventies looked every bit as out of place as he did on the porch of this house. The sound of his knuckles on the door made a hollow echoing on the inside. After a moment a big, angry and arrogant man opened the door.

His face was red, his eyes were red. “What do you want?”

Frank looked down. “My nephew Kenny.”

Ted’s voice quavered, breaking up with rage. “Is this some kind of joke, do you think this is funny?”

Frank shook his head. “No. I was told he was here. I guess not.”

Ted was a bigger man than him, and from the smell, a drunk man too. He slammed the door behind him and pushed. Frank landed on his back and clenched his eyes shut. Real physical violence was something he couldn’t do. His breath came in short spasms and he fought the urge to hug his legs in.

He gasped. “Please, I’m just looking for my boy.”

Ted walked up and kicked. It landed in the front of Frank’s thigh. His leg went limp.

Ted leaned down and threw his drink on Frank. It splashed into his face.

“So is this how it’s gonna be, huh? Crippled fucking hermits on my lawn? Are you here to beg or to line up with the rest of the filth to put their hands on my daughter?”

He swung his leg back and Frank rolled over to protect his front. The kick landed in his back. A dry snap like a pencil breaking came out of his chest. He saw Ted’s mouth moving but didn’t hear the words. The sound was there but his mind wasn’t processing.

That was a rib breaking, wasn’t it?

Ted growled and barked, his words starting to come clear.

“Fucking dyke done up like some kind of LA streetwalker and some white trash hick kid while some pervert gave them instructions from off screen!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The fucking scumbags fucking my daughter!”

“You’re drunk.”

“And I guess you’re here too? Gonna fuck my daughter on camera too?”

“Can you describe this white trash hick kid? Maybe that’s Kenny.”

Ted paused and his skin blanched. “Kenny.”

Frank nodded. “Almost six feet, athletic, needs a haircut?”

Ted didn’t say anything. All the blood had drained from his face. It was deathly silent until Frank heard the creaking of Ted’s teeth grinding together. He understood this man’s facial expression and state of mind well enough. Ted turned and slammed the door behind him. Then crashing, shattering and things clattering to the floor. Frank knew those clattering sounds. Ted Tellefsen was going for his guns, and Ted Tellefsen had a name; Kenny.

***

Kenny smelled like a hangover and sex, sex, sex. This was supposed to be what every human male lived for, the end-all and be-all of existence. His cock bulged to attention, his physical mind wanting to fold down into skin and sweat but
Kenny himself
wanted to vomit.

He’d seen porn before, but he hadn’t put the pieces together. Lucky had showed it to him in a porn magazine one time and on a videotape in Mary’s living room another. Some kind of French word. It was when three people fucked and it was supposed to be the greatest thing in the world. And it was. It was the single most incredible experience he’d ever had.

But this wasn’t about pleasure. This was about control. This was about Lucky trying to control him. And it had been going on for a long time. He had never asked questions, but when he did start asking questions Lucky had upped the ante.