Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles)

by Creston Mapes

Everett mounted the chain-link fence, then managed to stand while balancing against the side of the garage. Just don’t fall. Reaching the ledge, he hoisted himself up and planted his bottom on the wet, narrow shelf.

  It was cold. He sat still, contemplating whether to keep going. The window was ten feet away. It can’t hurt to look.

  In the seated position, with his legs dangling over, he shimmied along the ledge toward the light. Once he got right next to the window, he rested with his back to the wall. It was an awkward position. There wasn’t enough room to get up on the ledge and look straight into Badino’s apartment. He would have to crane his head around backward to see inside.

  Here goes.

  The room was washed out in a pale yellow glow from a dull overhead light. His eyes adjusted. The young men came into focus, oblivious to his presence.

  The dreamlike scene before him registered in his brain, forcing him to jerk his head away, retch, and then catch his breath before peering in again.

  24

  OFFICERS WITH THE BEDFORD police took a full report at Twin Streams, noting Karen’s suspicions that Tony Badino might be behind both vandalism incidents. She did not mention Wesley.

  The two middle-aged officers took photographs of the painted brick, then helped her father tightly cover the hole in the living room window. As they did, Karen explained to Madison what had happened the night Millie was killed. Once the officers helped Dad put the ladder away, they vowed that Bedford’s finest would patrol the area more frequently. Then they were gone.

  Karen walked into the family room from the kitchen. Madison was cuddled up in her stocking feet on the couch, with Rosey at her side. Karen’s parents were nestled on the loveseat.

  “That was Gray Harris.” Karen set the phone on the coffee table, eased down next to Madison, and petted Rosey. “Final band practices are confirmed, starting the day after Christmas, right through the New Year’s Eve event in Miami at the prison. Then we practice daily, right up till the tour launches. It’s getting exciting.”

  “Did you say prison?” Madison asked.

  Karen nodded. “Down in Miami-Dade, where Ev did time during the Endora trial. It’s the final test run before the tour kicks off.”

  “I can’t wait,” Mom said. “Jacob and I are going, and Karen—”

  “You hope,” Dad said.

  “They haven’t actually cleared Mom and me yet,” Karen said. “We want to help with counseling, but they may not allow women to do that. We’re still waiting to hear.”

  Madison squinted. “Sounds dangerous.”

  Karen checked the clock on the mantel. Everett should’ve been home, but she dismissed the idea of calling him. He’d probably stopped for gas or gone to the store.

  “Madison, what are your plans for Christmas?” Mom asked.

  Madison’s gaze skipped from person to person. “Plans? You mean like a family gathering or something?”

  Mom nodded. “Will you be with family? I just wondered what you’ll be up to.”

  “We don’t really do Christmas.” Madi sighed. “My parents give us money or a few big gifts, and sometimes we go to the movies Christmas day. That’s about it.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come with us tomorrow night,” her mother said. “We’re taking Everett and Karen to dinner at their favorite restaurant, then we’re going to the candlelight service at their church. What time does it start, honey?”

  “Second service starts at nine. That’s the one we’ll go to.”

  “That’s nice of you.” Madison’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me. I better grab this. I’m sorry.” She headed for her phone, and Rosey followed.

  Karen couldn’t help but listen.

  “No, Dad, I haven’t seen her,” Madison spoke into the phone while looking at the Christmas tree. “Maybe Mom’s out with her girlfriends.”

  Karen had found herself connecting with Madison and taking great satisfaction in their relationship. She could relate to the girl. After all, Karen’s teenage years had been similarly filled with hypocrisy and turmoil—until her father’s Damascus road experience.

  Although Karen found it difficult to fathom the pressure her niece was facing, she could certainly relate to what had happened to her earlier that evening, with the boy. However, unlike Karen, Madison hadn’t allowed herself to be used for some twisted attempt at rebellion. She was not only mature, but virtuous; a flower among thorns.

  “I’m at Uncle Everett’s.” Madison wandered with the tiny phone. “No. He’s not here.”

  Karen’s father said something, but she was too busy eavesdropping to catch it.

  “Karen.” He chided her with a glance. “How far is it to Pelham Village?”

  “I told you, Dad, thirty minutes or so.” She looked at her watch. “Everett must’ve stopped somewhere. I’m not gonna call him again. He’s a big boy.”

  After speaking to Eddie for several more minutes, Madison dropped the phone in her purse. “Well, my dad talked to a nurse at Horizons. Wesley’s had a rough day. He’s going through the worst of the withdrawal now.”

  “I can’t imagine.” Mom shook her head.

  “He was also looking for Uncle Everett,” said Madison. “Said he had some earth-shattering news to tell him. That’s my dad for you, either high as a kite or in the depths of despair. It runs in the family.”

  Karen caught her dad’s gaze. She had seen the thoughtful smile on his face a million times. That’s how she knew he was about to do something unusual.

  “Madison,” Dad moved to the edge of the loveseat, “with all that you’re going through…” He glanced at Mom and Karen. “Can we pray for you? I mean, can we gather around you right now just real casually and lift you up before God?”

  Madison’s eyes darted about. Karen reached over and placed a hand on her knee.

  “Sure,” Madison whispered. “I guess so.”

  Mom moved next to Madison, and Dad sat on the very edge of the couch beside her as well. It was quiet for a moment. “Lord, Madison has her whole life ahead of her, but she feels trapped by the poor choices of her family.”

  Karen squeezed her niece’s knee, and Madison’s trembling hand covered hers.

  “Any fears she has, any doubts, any hatred, any uncertainties—we pray they’ll all be washed away in the flood of Your presence. We pray for her family, that they’ll grow weary and fed up with themselves and their ways, that they’ll turn to You for a better way.

  “You know about the evil that’s risen up against us.” Dad took a deep breath and exhaled. “Bloodthirsty men hate people of integrity and seek to kill the upright. Lord, we need Your protection. Destroy Your enemies…”

  In the stillness that lingered following the prayer, Mom spoke to Madison about the Christmas Eve service while Karen made one more silent appeal. Please keep Ev safe, Lord. Bring him home to us soon…

  The blood grabbed Everett’s attention first. A crimson stain the size of a Frisbee and shaped like a cauliflower—soaking the stomach area of Tony Badino’s white thermal top. Then Everett gagged when he noticed the bits and pieces of intestine or brain or whatever gruesome thing it was that had sprayed Tony’s shirt and pants. His hands, too, were tainted red, as if he’d just painted a wagon.

  The tall guy looked on as Tony ripped the shirt off and stuffed it into the black duffel bag at his booted feet. Everett blinked twice to make sure he was seeing straight when he spotted the long black-and-red inverted cross on Tony’s right bicep. Only this one wasn’t just a cross; instead, the long part was hooked, like an upside-down candy cane.

  Tony dropped to the floor, stripped off his boots, and tore the pants from his legs—into the bag. His body was white, lean, and muscular. A long silver chain hung from his neck, with dog tags bouncing against his young chest. Badino had another tattoo—this one of a small inverted cross—on the inside of his left wrist.

  Tony’s facial features were small and taut. He wore a constant scowl, and one of his eyes twitched. On his way into another
room, he picked up his black trench coat, said something, and threw it at the tall guy, who examined it closely.

  The room was a pigsty. An unmade mattress on the floor, boots, shoes, and dirty laundry everywhere. Gun and pornography magazines strewn about. Bags of junk food, dirty dishes, and beer bottles lying throughout.

  The tall kid was moving a mile a minute. Done checking Tony’s coat, he threw it onto the bed, undressed, and stuffed his clothes into the duffel.

  Tony came out, patting his face and neck with a green towel. Rummaging through a nightstand full of junk, he found a smashed pack of Marlboros, tapped one out, and stuffed it into the corner of his tiny mouth. Finally finding the Zippo in his black coat pocket, he lit the bent cig, took a massive drag, dropped it in a glass ashtray on a cluttered dresser, and exhaled like a dragon.

  Opening several drawers, Tony fired clothes at his tall buddy. They got dressed. Everett heard the hint of a ringing phone through the window. Tony snatched it from the black coat. As he talked and paced, the tall guy meandered about, glancing at one of the girlie magazines then flicking through a muddled pile of CDs on top of an old console TV. Tony covered the phone and barked some instructions, and the dude dropped onto the mattress and went through the inside pockets of the black coat.

  Pulling out a small silver pipe and a plastic bag of white crystal, the tall dude loaded the bowl. Still on the phone, Tony gave him a thumbs-up and threw him the Zippo. Soon, the crystal was cooking, and both young men were seated on the low bed with their knees high, toking away.

  Everett longed to know what was in the trunk of the Monte Carlo. Should he make a run for the trees next to the car? Or maybe just get to the Audi while the getting was good? But he couldn’t do either; he was mesmerized by the scene: two friends getting stoned after just changing out of blood-and-flesh-soaked clothes. The sheer hideousness of it forced him to keep watching.

  When the tall guy dropped to one knee and reached for his jacket, that should have been Everett’s first clue to hightail it. But it didn’t register. Within seconds, the two goons had their coats and hats on. Tony hoisted the duffel bag onto his shoulder, and they were through a doorway.

  All in one motion, Everett bounced off the top of the fence, leaped to the ground, and took off for some bushes at the side of the garage. He’d barely made cover when the two came chuckling their way out the side door and to the rear of the Monte Carlo. Tony put the key in and popped the trunk.

  “Help me here, Bru.” He leaned in.

  The tall dude bent in as well. Together, they lunged at whatever was inside and practically fell over laughing.

  “Gettin’ heavier by the minute,” Tony cracked.

  “I’m serious!” Bru hooted.

  “Come on, roll ’em,” Tony commanded. “Let’s go.”

  The Monte Carlo rocked as they shifted the cargo in the trunk.

  “Lemme lift this.” Tony wrestled with something.

  It was a shoe. A shiny brown dress shoe. And it was attached to a leg. The leg of a man! At least that’s what Everett thought he saw. It happened so fast; it was but a flash. Had he really seen it?

  “Now, go ’head.” Tony forced something in the trunk. “Drop ’er in.”

  The tall guy lifted the duffel bag over the edge of the trunk and dropped it inside.

  “We’re outta here.” Tony slammed the trunk and went for the driver’s seat while his buddy scrambled for the other door.

  Everett crouched and tried to become one with the wet ground as the Monte Carlo came to life and backed out of the driveway, lighting up the entire landscape where he hid.

  You don’t see me; you don’t see me!

  As soon as the car was on its way down King’s Court, Everett sprinted up the driveway, cut through Badino’s yard, hit the unlock button, and climbed into the Audi. Hurry! Within seconds he was roaring down the empty road, searching for the red taillights of the blue Monte Carlo.

  He caught up with them at a four-way stop near an affluent suburb called Pelham Manor. Keeping his distance and praying they’d get to a more congested area so he wouldn’t be so noticeable, Everett felt for his cell phone.

  “Where are you?” Karen answered. “I’ve been worried!”

  “Can only talk a sec.” Everett caught his breath. “I’m following Tony Badino and another kid—”

  “I thought you were coming home!”

  “I was, but Tony showed up with another doper. They’re high on meth, and I think they may be about to do something… I just need to follow.”

  “Why are you doing this, Ev?”

  “I watched through a window. There was…it looked like blood on their clothes, and I think a body’s in the trunk.”

  “Everett, call the police!”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

  “You already are if you don’t call the police!”

  “I’m not gonna call till I know we can nail this dude.”

  “Ev!”

  “I’m going to call them! I just need to follow and be sure. I’m not going to approach them.”

  Karen sighed. “Where are you?”

  “We just turned north on River Parkway.”

  “Don’t let them see you, do you hear me?”

  “I won’t. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Honey, wait.” She paused. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, babe.”

  “We’re praying…”

  It began to drizzle as Badino’s car hit a main highway, and Everett tucked the Audi in among several other cars. Tony must have been doing about sixty-five miles an hour. Everett did the same, only one lane over and sixty feet back. As he adjusted the wipers, he debated calling the police.

  I’m not positive it was a body.

  Without using a blinker, Tony rocketed off River Parkway and veered onto Cross County Parkway, heading west in a hurry. Following, Everett began to do the map in his head.

  Okay, into Mount Vernon to Yonkers, then… Oh, dear God, help me. We’re headed straight for the Hudson River!

  25

  WESLEY HAD NO CLUE what time or day it was. His clouded head, parched lips, and sore throat told him he may have slept through winter. His heavyset, energetic nurse, Veronica, wheeled him down the long hallway to the quiet, low-lit lounge. On the way, he passed solemn faces, some people talking, some crying.

  There was no laughter.

  Veronica told him it was late Tuesday night. Whatever. He really didn’t care about time frames. All he knew was that Veronica, with her red cheeks and bright smile, had come to the rescue. She’d gotten him out of his suite, as he requested. The room had begun shrinking, and he’d started to hear the voice again, the one calling itself Vengeance. It flustered him so bad, he was afraid what he might do to himself.

  No matter how long he’d lain on his bed, sleep wouldn’t come. He’d constantly been getting up, rifling through magazines and newspapers, itching, washing his hands, pacing, and picking at his skin. He shuffled through one song after another on his iPod when Veronica finally came in with some meds, offered to wheel him to the lounge, and left him there.

  The drugs were kicking in, taking the edge off.

  Mellow was how he was beginning to feel as he reached up from his wheelchair and pressed his fingers against the huge picture window. Cold. The winter rain pounded the concrete patio outside. Showering the earth. Replenishing the Sound beyond the glass.

  Through the splattered window, he made out a long, horizontal strip of lights—many of them Christmas red and green—from across the water on Long Island. Through the droplets, the lights shone like tiny spiderwebs, reflecting off the dark waters that headed out to the Atlantic.

  It was a peaceful place, and Wesley decided if he had to live, it would be here. He could stay here on meds for a long time. In fact, he didn’t know where else he could survive. His life had become one of constant upheaval as he either warded off the evil spirits and the insatiable desire to get high,
or gave in to the monster and suffered the unbearable physical and mental consequences.

  He’d made a fool of himself earlier, flipping his food tray, threatening the unit supervisor, and begging for a bump of the drug that had become his master. It’d been pitiful but was probably not altogether uncommon at Harbor View.

  “I hear you had a rough day,” came a pleasant female voice from behind. “You doing okay now?”

  Without turning around, he listened to Cassidy’s footsteps. “Can I sit?” She stood over him. He liked it when she was near. He nodded and continued staring out at the blurry night.

  “My first few days were bad.” She pulled a chair next to his wheelchair. “I told you what I did... It’s gonna get better.”

  I doubt it. He glanced over. Her face was fair, and she had marble brown eyes, and pretty black eyebrows, which matched the color of her short, messy hair. He wondered if he’d see her when they got out, or if this was one of those foxhole friendships.

  “It’s nasty out there, isn’t it?”

  “I like it.” A wave of heat rolled over Wesley’s tired body.

  “The rain, you mean?”

  “Yeah. And the Sound…”

  “What do you like about it?” she asked.

  “The lights. They’re distant. You can admire ’em from over here without having to get involved.”

  “No commitment, huh?”

  He nodded. “That’s right.” Her cheeks were wide and tapered down to a cute pointy chin, and she had big dimples that came easy. There was a small gap between her front teeth, and she had a tattoo that looked like a leafy bracelet around her left wrist.

  “We’ve gotta make up our minds that things are gonna be different when we get out,” she said. “That’s gonna take commitment, and a Power beyond ourselves.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Yes you can, Wes. I can, too. The key is cutting the cord to the bad relationships.”

  “Good girl for listening to your counselors.” Wesley gave her a crooked grin. “I can tell right now the desire’s still gonna be there. It’s there now. I’ll never forget what the high is like, never be able to erase it from my mind. It’s too outta-this-world.”