by F. X. Scully
Dash actually laughs. A sound I'm pretty sure I've never heard come out of his mouth before.
"And then of course there's me." Roscoe gestures to himself from head to toe. "I mean, obviously I don't have to sell this package."
At this he gets a chorus of boos and I suddenly feel like I'm in a classroom with a bunch of third-graders.
"What do I have to do?" I'm laughing now, the liquid courage clearly mixed with happy juice.
"Well, sing of course."
My eyes bug. "What? Si—I can't sing. Are you crazy?" It's not entirely true, but singing in a church choir is much different than belting out Top 40s on stage. At least it is for me. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Especially in front of these guys.
"One task," Roscoe responds.
"And if I refuse?"
"Ohhhhh!" Ryan and Luke nudge each other and Dash lets out a low whistle.
"As you can see by that response, refusal is not an option, sweetheart."
"But if I do?"
"You know, by now, how sneaky we can be. And, well, completely unpredictable."
I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate my choice. Be at the mercy of their ridiculous idea of a prank any second of the day for the next three months, or humiliate myself for a five minute song.
I clear my throat. "I don't know any songs by heart."
"That's what this is for." Roscoe holds out a remote and just above my head, a screen flashes on.
"Karaoke? Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Fine," I say. "I choose you."
Roscoe smiles. "Good choice, Carlson. Trust me," he leans in just a bit closer, licking his lips. "You won't be disappointed."
"Oh, I doubt it," I say.
Roscoe raises an eyebrow, his gaze searching my face for a moment. I take the opportunity to grab the remote from him.
"So how about some Johnny Cash?" he asks. "Or maybe The Eagles. Queen?"
I nod, a light bulb going off in my head. "Definitely Queen. I've got just the song." I smile sweetly.
I can't sing to save my life, but what I do know how to do—thanks to a mandatory school talent show and a celebrity crush I'm determined to take to the grave—is rap.
"Close your eyes," I say.
"Why?"
"Just do it. I want this to be a surprise."
He frowns, but complies anyway.
The moment the first chords of Under Pressure start to play, there's a wide smile on Roscoe's face. But the second he hears the words, "Yo, VIP" come out of my mouth, his eyes fly open and he stares back at me horrified.
"I'll do the first verse, you take the second," I pronounce triumphantly. Then after one more swig from Ryan's flask, I tuck it in my back pocket and prepare to perform Ice Ice Baby for the second time ever in front of my audience of four.
The guys are practically rolling on the floor with laughter once we've finished and I'm not sure if it's due to my stellar performance or Roscoe's pathetic one. An hour passes before I finally climb off the stage, sweaty, exhausted and, I'm sure, more disgusting than when I got here.
I've sung with every single one of them including a Donnie Hathaway and Roberta Flack duet with Ryan, Rock and Roll Ruby with Dash and a group version of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. But my favorite by far was Ring of Fire with Luke. As silly it makes me, I felt like we just might have been singing about each other. Or at least some future version of ourselves.
And oddly enough, Roscoe was right. My hazing, while unexpected and completely embarrassing, has made me feel like a part of the band. I've never had this much fun in my entire life and I'm pretty sure it's only about to get better.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shannon
My hands are clasped together and squeezed between my thighs. I'm well aware of the dangers of body language, so I'm even turned away a little bit, just in case. There'll be no funny business tonight. Lucas is sitting next me, palms down in his lap, legs spread wide as the MGM lion roars at us from the screen.
"Sorry," he whispers in my ear. "I'm not really a restaurant type guy." He chuckles. "I was just trying to impress you. Who knew they'd be so packed?"
"It's all right," I whisper back.
"And I'm really sorry you have to watch The Silence of the Lambs. If there was something more...girly, I would have—"
"Excuse me?" I nudge him hard with my elbow and he doubles over. "Girly? Are you serious?"
"I just meant—"
"I know what you meant. Just because I'm a girl doesn't make me girly."
"Isn't that the very definition of the word?" A woman in front of us turns to glare, but Lucas ignores her. "Or at least the root of it."
I drop my voice back to a whisper. "I'm a girl. Which means I have certain parts you don't, but there are parts we share. You know, like a brain. I'm perfectly capable of watching a movie that doesn't involve falling in love and getting married."
He picks up a tub of popcorn from the seat beside him and hands it to me. Reluctantly, I unclasp my hands.
"Enjoy the movie," he says.
From the moment Jodie Foster runs through the forest drowning in fog to the moment Anthony Hopkins hangs up that phone, I'm eating my words. And when the theater lights flicker back on, Lucas is looking over at me with an expression that makes me want to smack him.
He doesn't say anything on our walk to the parking lot, but once we settle in the car and he clicks on his seatbelt, he asks. "So did you enjoy it?"
"It was fine," I lie.
"You weren't scared?"
"Were you?"
"Hell, yeah." He laughs. "You weren't?"
"A little," I admit.
He chuckles. "The next time we'll go see something girly."
I roll my eyes as he starts the engine.
Next time. I chew my bottom lip. I seriously doubt that's a good idea. Not with all the drama in my life. Especially considering time spent with him is the cause of all of it.
As we pull out onto 21st Street, I can't help but think of Sheila, where she is and what she might be doing. I'm tempted to look her up while I'm in town, but asking him to do something like that would be weird. If I'd brought my car, he wouldn't have a choice. Still, I can't stop thinking about the fact that she's here. Somewhere in this city, fuming at me and plotting her escape.
She's planning on taking off with some band for the summer. I shudder at the thought. Doesn't she know how dangerous that is? She barely knows these guys and she's just going to go off with them? Just like that?
I clench my teeth and glance over at him. Maybe he won't mind. Maybe he'll understand.
As I get up the nerve to ask, he stops me. "Ice cream?"
"Huh?"
"Do you want some?"
"Um, sure."
He pulls onto 19th Avenue and before I know it we're back on Route 12.
"Where are we going?" I glance frantically in the rearview mirror.
"To get ice cream."
I frown.
"In Pullman," he adds with a grin. "I hope you don't mind."
"Uh..."
"There's this place, Ferdinand's. When I was visiting colleges, I considered going to Washington State. The lady that was giving us a tour took us by there and I've been hooked ever since. It's my favorite."
"You drive all the way to Pullman for ice cream?"
He nods, veering into the right lane. "It's better than one of those franchise places. Been around since like the thirties or something. Trust me, you won't be disappointed."
It's too late for that. I glance back one more time before settling into my seat.
An hour later, we're sitting in the open trunk of the back of his truck, feet dangling. He was right about the ice cream, but I still can't get Sheila off my mind. I should have asked him while I had the chance. I could've easily just told her I was on a date. If I drive out there on my own, she'll only be angrier with me. I have no clue how I'm going to let this go. Let her go.
"You okay?" Lucas's fingers brush m
ine and I snap out of it, turning to face him with a nod. "Cause you've been kind of quiet all night." His eyes twinkle. "Compared to the first night I met you."
I don't move my hand, even when he links his pinky with mine. I realize I need the comfort and the warmth of his skin is making me feel just a tiny bit better.
"I'm fine," I say. "Just have a lot on my mind."
"You could share." He takes my whole hand now, locking our fingers together . "You already know I'm a good listener."
I shake my head. "No. No heavy stuff. We're on a date after all."
"It's fine," he says. "I don't mind. What's wrong?"
"It's just..." I take a deep a breath, then angle my body to face him. "The first night, after we...when I left the parking lot and went home, things got a little crazy."
"Crazy how?" His expression darkens. "With that Dave guy? What'd he do?"
I shake my head. "No. It was my sister. She got into an argument with my parents and she left."
"Like, ran away, left?"
I nod. "Only she told us where she was going, so it wasn't really running away. She was mad and I can't even blame her." I shake my head. "I was supposed to be covering for her that night. Just like she's covered for me a million times. But I got...distracted." I look up at him and realization washes over his face.
"I'm sorry," he says. "If I'd known, I never would have—"
"It's not your fault, Lucas. It's mine. I was supposed to be there for her and I let her down. Now she's run off and..." I pull my hand away and run it through my hair. "She's gone and I'm worried."
"Where'd she go?"
"Lewiston," I smile lightly and his eyes widen.
"And you were thinking about her all night, weren't you?"
I nod.
"We could've, I don't know, asked around. We could go back. What's her name? Maybe I know someone who knows something."
"No." I place a hand on his knee. "It's all right. She's...she's my little sister, so naturally I'm freaking out, but she's not a kid either. She'll be eighteen soon and well, there's not really much I can do to make her come back. She'll have to come on her own. She's with a friend, so I know she's safe. For now."
"What about school?"
I shrug. "I don't know. She's in the twelfth grade and that's almost done now anyway. She got a summer job. I'm not thrilled about it, but she's determined. And tough. When my sister puts her mind to something, no one can stop her. Not even me."
"You two are close, huh?"
"Yeah."
His arm slips around my shoulder and his breath is warm against my ear as he speaks. "She'll be all right. Like you said, she's tough. By the end of the summer she'll be dying to come back home. Just wait."
"I hope so."
"She will," he says. "Everyone's got to make a rash decision at some point in their life. Most of us come out on top."
"Like you?" I ask, tilting my head to look at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You're dropping out of school."
"I guess it's my turn for the heavy stuff now, huh?"
I shrug. "Two dates and I still don't know much about you."
"What do you want to know?"
I clear my throat. "You said your parents went away. Where'd they go?"
He lies back, taking me with him, our feet still dangling off the back of the truck.
"This is a big one," he says, clasping his hands behind his head. He chuckles, then turns so I have a full view of his face. It's reflecting a pale blue from the moonlight and the whites of his eyes are practically glowing. "Aren't most second dates supposed to be about small talk? You know, the avoidance of the things that make us quirky and unlikely to reach a third."
"I don't know," I say. "Maybe. But it doesn't necessarily apply to us, now does it? After all, I'm not even sure a third date is on the table. What with your family trip and all." I prop my head in my hands and turn on my side. "You going to visit your parents?"
"Nope." He sighs again. "I haven't seen either of them since I was fifteen. And I could care less if I see either of them ever again."
Whoa. "Where are they?"
"Prison."
I'm sure my eyes have bugged out of my face, but I work hard to reel in my surprise. I expected him to say they were dead or he was adopted. That I could deal with. It would be sad and tragic, but this? It's tragic, but I don't have a clue how to respond.
"It's all right." Lucas seems to sense my panic. "It shocked me too. Imagine coming home from school to find your entire block surrounded by cop cars and yellow tape. It scared the hell out of me. I still remember that day like it was...this morning. My friends and I were all freaking out, mostly thinking it was the coolest thing ever—until I found out the cops were raiding my house. Heard a neighbor talking. I didn't want to believe it at first. I expected my mom to pull up behind me, my dad to come rushing in from wherever it was he spent all his goddamn time. But they didn't." He closes his eyes. "They were sitting in the back of a cop car and the next thing I knew I was sitting in a police station with a social worker asking all kinds of crazy questions."
"What...happened?"
"My folks were drug dealers. I had everything, all the toys I wanted, video games, parties, our house, because that lab my dad worked at out in Cali wasn't testing rats and curing cancer, they were cooking meth. And distributing that shit all over the country. All over the fucking world, probably." He props himself up on his elbows. "My parents were...for the most part they were decent. But they were..." He laughs, dryly. "I guess you could say they're free spirits. Looking back, I realize neither of them ever really had a steady job. They went from one thing to the next. Money drove everything they did. The only thing that was constant was the house we lived in and that restaurant. Guess it was a cover or something, because they barely spent anytime here." His eyes twinkle as he searches my face, "Which is why it was so easy to sneak up onto that roof, steal booze from the bar, and do whatever I wanted. They didn't have a clue. But then again, either did I." He lies back down and lets out a heavy sigh. "Feels good to get that off my chest."
"I don't know what to say."
He smiles. "You don't have to say anything. I know it's fucked up. I only told you because I..." He looks away.
"So you've never gone to see them? Not once?"
"Not in six years. My brother dropped out of college and took over where they left off. I don't owe them anything. If anything, I owe him."
"Your brother raised you?"
Lucas smiles. He doesn't look at me, but keeps his gaze fixed on the sky. "Yep. Dropped everything and came home. If it weren't for him, I'd probably have ended up in foster care."
"What about your grandparents?"
"Dead."
"And you don't have any other family."
"No close relatives. I think Ellie had a few cousins by marriage."
"Ellie?"
"Mom," he says, in a flat voice.
"Is that why you're dropping out of school?" I ask. "Because he did it for you?"
"Wouldn't you?"
I'd do anything for Sheila. If she'd let me. "I guess I would."
"He means well. He's a good guy and he's given up everything to fix my parents' mess—a scholarship, Berklee, a half-normal life. Sometimes I think he is the way he is because of them." He shakes his head. "No, it is because of them. He just let it all go and never bothered to try and get it back."
"Is that what you're going to do?" Damn it. What kind of question is that?
Lucas chuckles. "Not if I can help it. Sometimes I'm scared it'll happen. That's why I work so damn hard. And plan every goddamn moment of my life. I just don't want to end up like them. It's bad enough their fucking messed up legacy follows me everywhere I go."
"What do you mean?"
"My brother and I aren't the most popular guys in town. Some people feel bad for us, others still blame us. Some we just steer clear of."
A light bulb goes off and I let out a little gasp. "Like
at that burger place the other night? That guy looked like he wanted to kill you."
Lucas sighs. "Randy Chase. He's...he's had a rough go of it too. His sister..." He closes his eyes. "She died a while back. It's how they caught my parents. She worked for my dad—smuggling shit across the border."
I blink and whisper, "What happened to her?"
"She was a mule. The thing exploded inside her."
"Oh, my god..."
"Yep, so you can imagine why he hates me so much. And I can't blame him really. I just try and stay out of his way. That place belongs to his grandfather. We haven't been welcome in there for years."
And there I was forcing him inside like it was no big deal.
"But, like I said," Luke continues, his tone upbeat. "That's why I work so hard. I need to prove I'm nothing like them. Nothing at all," he murmurs.
And I thought my life was bad. I suddenly feel like the biggest whiner there is. Sheila and I have parents who care. Maybe a little too much, but they care nonetheless. I can't even imagine having to leave every one of my dreams behind because the people who were supposed to take care of me screwed up instead. I suddenly respect this mystery brother that much more. Take life by the balls, indeed. But still, is that really what he wants for his little brother? I know I wouldn't want that for Sheila.
"So why are you dropping out of school then? I mean, I get that he's done a lot for you, but wouldn't he understand? If you...stayed?"
Lucas glances over at me a curious look on his face.
"I mean...if you wanted to stay."
"I do," he says quickly. Then he shrugs. "But I'll be back in September. Besides, I literally owe him my life."
I smile. "I guess."
"It's not so bad," he says with a wink. "I'm a lucky guy. My nineteen-year-old brother gave up his future for me. I don't have the most traditional family, but at least I've got one. I mean, sure there are some days I wish things were different. That my parents hadn't been such selfish idiots but, in the long run, it worked out all right. We got to keep the house, our money, which thanks to my dad's conniving ways was set up in nice trusts funds." He laughs. "I guess you could say we've been surviving on drug money. But unlike my brother, I won't touch it. I intend to make my own way. I can't blame him though. He had to pay bills and take care of me—he didn't have much of a choice. Although I really don't think he minds."