Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)

by Andrea Randall

  In the span of a few, angry sentences Matt fills in basically everything I thought I knew, but had hoped I was wrong about.

  “Matt,” I whisper, standing with tears in my eyes. “You have to know that this isn’t it. This isn’t the story. Only part of it.”

  Jonah stands and follows me around to the back of the couch, where Matt is slumped over with his hands on an end table and his head down.

  “What if I hadn’t agreed to meet Roland several years ago? What if my mom kept me from him or, worse, he never wanted to meet with me? I wouldn’t have known all of this. Of him, his family, or you guys. I’d take the Joy Martinez bullshit every week for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep these last few months. I didn’t run away when she tried to push me down. I stood up, Matt.”

  “Because it makes you better than us?” he huffs.

  “No.” I snap, gently pushing his shoulder. “Because you asked me to. Remember? Remember when you begged me to see this through? All the national attention and the leery glances from jerk students? What about when both of you dragged me into that meeting at Word and told me about your non-plans for the corrupt among us?”

  Matt stands and looks through me. “Big mistake listening to a loser like me, K. Sawyer.” He moves past me and to the back door, Jonah following closely behind him.

  “Don’t!” I shout after them, freezing them in their spots. “Don’t you dare do that to me, Matt Wells. I trust you. And, you know what? I believe God brought you into my life for a reason. You’re not going to push me away and make me feel like a jerk for believing in you.”

  Matt turns around with a shockingly straight face. “Maybe this God you talk about brought me into your life to show you that he’s really an asshole, since nothing else in your life has painted the picture clear enough.” He swings the door open, holding his hand up behind him. “I want to be alone, Jonah.”

  Once outside, Matt slams the door behind him with force enough to rattle my chest. I let out a small sob, needing the pressure to go somewhere.

  “Kennedy …” Jonah sighs and approaches me with open arms.

  I let him hug me. I sink into it and let my tears dry on Jonah’s navy blue Henley. I need a hug so badly right now, and the one person who I want it from literally can’t give it to me.

  “Go,” I finally say into his shirt. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  Jonah steps back, holding me at arms length. “You’re incredible, Kennedy. You know that, right?”

  Tilting my head to the side I give him a slight nod. Because, you know what? I am incredible. I hate journeys, paths, quests, scavenger hunts, adventures, and treks. I want no part of them, yet here I am, seeing one through. I’m not backing down, and I certainly won’t let anyone push me. I am pretty freaking incredible.

  “Thank you, Jonah. I really needed to be reminded of that.” I give him one more long, deep hug before shooing him out the door.

  I polish off the rest of the Chinese food and half a pint of ice cream before texting Roland and telling him I’m going to bed. I fall asleep quickly, but the respite doesn’t last long. Some time after midnight there is a text dinging through on my phone and someone tapping on my window. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I squint enough to see that it’s Jonah, and he looks frazzled.

  Roland is in the bedroom across the living room, and I don’t think he’s a light sleeper, but I make quiet work of getting out of bed and opening the window.

  “What?” I whisper, annoyed.

  Jonah peeks over his shoulder before leaning in. “Matt’s gone. You have to help me find him.”

  “It took me an hour to sneak out of Matt’s parents house,” Jonah says, walking toward Roland’s car. “How’d you get out so fast? And with his keys?”

  I roll my eyes and unlock the car. “This may come as a shock to you, but this isn’t my first time.” We get in and I start the car, ever so grateful for the silence of an electric car as we pull away. “What happened after you guys left?”

  Jonah sighs. “He stormed back into his house and up to his room. His dad looked at me in that way that dads sometimes do when they’re concerned, and his mom asked me what happened.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “I said we’d gotten into a heated theological discussion.”

  I nod in approval. “Not even a lie. Go Jonah. So, why are we in the car? And where are we going?”

  “Well we were sharing a room, and about an hour ago I heard him shuffling around. I asked him what was up and he told me not to say anything, and just leave him alone. He wasn’t a total jerk about it, or anything. He just … snuck out his window, down the drain pipe thing and that was it. He was gone.”

  I nod. I only met Joe “Buck” Wells once before this morning, but he seemed much more relaxed and pleasant today than back when I first met him. Janet Wells, Matt’s mom, is such a sweetheart that when Matt filled in the details of his father’s past, it broke my heart for her. She’s a petite woman, dwarfed by both her husband and Matt, but her strength is evident and more than makes up for the difference in height. She’s probably forty, with shoulder-length blonde hair that has started showing some white. Other than that, she barely looks over thirty-five. Matt’s sister is spending the rest of her break at Janet’s parents house in Savannah, so I won’t get to meet her this trip. Given all that’s going on, I’m kind of glad she’s not here for this.

  “And where we’re going is …”

  “I’m not telling you unless I’m right. Just keep driving.” Jonah’s unusually assertive as he looks at his cell phone, which I can see is displaying a maps app that Jonah has muted.

  “You’re kidding.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m praying I’m wrong, Kennedy. I don’t want to give any lip service to the worst case scenario.”

  “Okay, Just tell me where to turn.” I’m holding back because I’m grateful Jonah asked me to come along at all. I suspect he didn’t want to be the one to steal Roland’s car, and that’s why he asked me, but it’s still nice to be included. Even as an accessory.

  After a few minutes of silence and a couple of right hand turns, I turn the radio on, and Jonah and I are surrounded by the modern Christian satellite station talking about Jesus being the rock on which we should stand.

  “Better be a big-ass rock,” I mumble. “Because we’ve got some weight we need it to hold.”

  “Do you ever doubt?” Jonah says, rolling down the window and filling the car with a chilly breeze.

  “Sure,” I answer honestly.

  “Like really doubt?”

  I chuckle. “I guess that depends on what kind of faith you think I have. I don’t doubt God’s power, but I question his absolute authority in my life, if that makes sense. Like … I believe he’ll help me if I call, but I’m not sure about the in-between stuff.”

  Jonah huffs through his nose. “God’s not a magic lamp, Kennedy. And Jesus isn’t his genie.”

  “So it’s all or nothing?” I grip the steering wheel tighter.

  “Hey,” Jonah holds up his hands, “I didn’t say that. God did. In the Bible.”

  I shoot my eyes to Jonah for a second and twist my lips. “I’m aware. Sort of. I think I need to read more New Testament, actually.”

  “But what you said to Matt about the story and God’s plan. You believe all of that?”

  I take time for a long sigh. “Sometimes. I certainly feel that’s the case here, since I have no other rational explanation for why I ever set foot on CU ground or why I’m here, driving a sort of stolen car in Georgia looking for our hurt friend who’s run away.”

  “Turn left and slow down a little,” Jonah instructs. “Keep your eyes forward though.”

  “Don’t be weird or anything.”

  “Please, Kennedy.” Something tells me to listen to bossy Jonah. So, against my own wishes, I keep my eyes forward. “Slower.”

  “Mmhmm,” I answer while doing as instructed.

  “Shiiiiit,�
� Jonah draws out in a whisper.

  “I should take a right then?” I guess, judging by where his gaze is.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll have to look there, though.”

  He’s not biting at my attempt of mood-lightening humor, so I swallow hard and make the turn. At first glance, it kind of looks like any old parking lot in a relatively busy area of town. A Wal-Mart is in the distance, and a strip mall with a barbershop, clothing store, and pet food store all in one place is a little closer. Turning my head to see the name of the establishment we’re parking in front of, I see the name The Pink Pony.

  “Is this a restaur—oh … oh …” It’s not a restaurant. Restaurants have windows. And “Live Entertainment” is usually followed by the name of a band. And, to my knowledge, restaurants aren’t typically called a “Gentleman’s Club.” And, if I’m being honest, no place I’d actually want to eat at would have such a name.

  I don’t believe for a second there are gentlemen here.

  “There’s his car.” Jonah points to the Hummer that is most certainly Buck’s midlife-crisis-mobile.

  And it sat in this same lot.

  My mind is racing. Jonah knew where to find Matt. Matt’s been here before, or at least talked about being here before.

  “This is the place Matt mentioned tonight,” I state, hoping that’s where Jonah picked up on it.

  “Yep.” Jonah’s rubbing his palms on the front of his pants.

  “He’s been here before.” I pray to be wrong.

  Jonah’s hesitation is all I need.

  Unbuckling, I open the door. “Let’s go get him, then.”

  Jonah grabs my wrist and pulls me back in the car. “You’re not going in there,” he barks just below a shout.

  I yank my arm away, nearly knocking myself in the face when he releases my wrist. “Take it easy, Prince Charming. I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sorry. Shoot, I’m sorry, Kennedy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jonah exits the car and we face off, talking over the roof of the tiny environmentally friendly vehicle.

  I take a deep breath, then damn myself for that decision. The air smells like the loose gravel of the parking lot, old Christmas trees from the emptying lot next door, and reeks of regret.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” I lie. He’s strong. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m not going to follow through with my best CU friend. How many times has he gone here? Jonah?” I press when he hesitates. “I don’t think now is the time to keep secrets.”

  “Here just once. But there were a few more times near Asheville.”

  “At school?” I hiss, drawing looks from a nearby customer getting in his car.

  Don’t worry, dude with the nice wedding ring. I don’t know your wife.

  “How?” I continue. “When? Jesus,” I whisper with my head down. “Those damn football parties.”

  “He lied about those,” Jonah cuts in. “Yeah he snuck off campus a few times with them but I think that just taught him how to do it. And he got a bunch of demerits for not signing off campus but no one ever knew where he’d been …”

  I lock the car and start for the door. “How long have you known?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “A while. Kennedy, look, you can’t go in there.” Jonah catches up to me and takes a few steps ahead.

  I laugh, throwing my head back. “Jonah, if there’s anyone who shouldn’t go in there, it’s you. I’ve seen naked people before that don’t belong to me.”

  His face falls, but he doesn’t fight me when I push past him. “What are you going to do when you get in there?”

  I shrug. “Find Matt and drag him out kicking and screaming if I have to. You’re strong, you can help.” I arch an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry about pulling you. I’m freaked out here.” He sounds truly panicked.

  “Jonah,” I take a deep breath, “you should go wait in the car. If it gets ugly in there and somehow someone finds out I’m here, I can take the heat. Roland can deal with the PR fallout and I’ll just be some lost child from a heathen background. You? You’ll lose your whole life. Stay out here, Jonah. Don’t risk it.” I don’t want to get kicked out of CU, but more that that I don’t want Matt screwing up his life by turning into the dark version of his father.

  Jonah’s eyes roam over my face before he straightens his shoulders. “I’m not leaving either one of you in there.”

  “Then let’s go, buttercup. Take me on my first missions trip.” I hold out my arm, and Jonah links his through mine.

  Holding open the door to the strip club for me. Like a true gentleman.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Toxic

  Kennedy.

  After the business of showing the over-bulked bodyguard our ID’s, he asks for a backup. Both of us only have our CU ID’s, which we show him. He finds this amusing.

  “What are you on some mission? The girls who hand out the fancy soaps come on Wednesdays. You’re late.”

  “What? No. That’s not why we’re here,” I answer. “Can we have our ID’s back?” Just before walking in, I’d asked Jonah to keep his trap shut until we got in. This place is eighteen and over, but I wanted to minimize the risk of undue attention.

  “Have fun,” the ogre says with a condescending grin.

  I wink back. “Always do.”

  Once officially “in”, we have to walk down an overlong hallway, music thumping louder the closer we get. The place isn’t as dark as I’d expected, given my limited knowledge of these places. There are some backlights around the bar, which only serves coffee and soda according to the small menu, but other than that, The Pink Pony has a kind of formal dinner lighting. Soft, elegant, and you can see the people around you but they’re easy enough to tune out, too, if you wish. And, I’m counting on the people around us to be tuning us out. Though I suppose the women on the stage at the moment have more to do with no one paying us attention than the lighting does.

  As Flo-Rida blares from the speakers, Jonah moves to my left, leaving me closer to the stage area. His hands move to his pockets and his head lowers as if he’s on a scavenger hunt for rocks.

  Rocks…

  I suddenly get the code word Silas and Bridgette have for each other when they’re in public and want to “guard” each other from seeing things they want to protect their eyes from. Their heads would have exploded in the parking lot, so I don’t have to waste time wondering what they would be thinking if they were in here, but I’m growing really concerned for Jonah.

  “Hey,” I whisper as we walk aimlessly to the back of the room, “I was serious. Wait outside. I don’t want you getting in trouble with CU or … you know.”

  God. The unspoken third person in every single conversation.

  “Stop,” he demands. “It’s fine. I just want to find Matt and get him out of here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He tilts his chin forward. “Maybe from the back corner we can see more of the floor and find him faster.”

  Just as much as Jonah is keeping his eyes away from the stage, I’m working to keep my eyes off the patrons. Because I don’t just see a group of college guys sneaking sips of their own beer. I see Trent, Jonah, and Silas. I don’t see the guy with his loosened tie and cast-aside suit coat. I see Roland, and it turns my stomach. I see their wives, girlfriends, and daughters at home. I see Matt.

  I see Matt.

  “There.” I elbow Jonah and point to the furthest table in the back, just as the track changes to an Usher song. “I’m going to need to make some major changes to my playlists when I get home,” I mumble, my heart racing the closer we get to Matt.

  We’re approaching him from the side, so he doesn’t see us—what with his eyes being glued to a girl sliding down the pole upside down—quite skillfully from what my peripheral vision allows me to see.

  Stop looking at her, Matt. Stop.

  Putting my hand up, I stop Jonah a few long paces away from Matt’s table. “We need a plan,” I w
hisper, close to his ear so he can hear me over the thumping of the bass. “He’s drinking.” I try not to choke on the last few words, since seeing an eighteen-year-old drink is not out of the realm of normalcy for my life in Connecticut. But it is here. Well, “here” as in Matt.

  “How do you know?” Jonah whispers back, just as close to my ear as I was to his. His voice is breathy, highlighting his adrenaline-surged nerves.

  “Flask between his knees,” I note of the shiny silver neck peeking over his jeans. While I can’t tell if he’s done this alcohol-hiding thing before, he’s not a complete amateur with a brown paper bag.

  Britney Spears is up next. Musician, not girl. Her name is Charity, says the man with the creepy-sounding voice.

  Yes, Ms. Spears, this is all very toxic.

  I’ve never given much thought to strip clubs. My senior year in high school, the rite of passage for guys turning eighteen was to go with their other now-adult friends to such places to celebrate their independence from childhood. It certainly garnered laughs, but right now none of it seems that funny. Sure, there are guys in here with groups of friends, clearly with their fraternity brothers or at a bachelor party—don’t get me started on that—but it’s the other men that make me uncomfortable. The ones here alone. Not here for any sort of social bonding—whatever that means—but here for this. The women, the scene.

  “What if he won’t come with us?” Jonah asks, clearly growing in his hesitation.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk forward. “He will one way or another.”