The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity

by Devon Hartford

  I think if I dig deep, I might be able to find one more big money guy who’ll listen to my pitch for the video. He can probably fund the whole thing and then some. But he’s a snake. No guarantees with him.

  The only guarantee I have right now is if I get one more serious no, the house of cards that is my career comes tumbling down, all London Bridge and shit.

  Fuck.

  Why did I have to go and get Chastity fired from her job? Then trick her into thinking I had the yellow brick road all paved before her in gold? I’m sure it’s too late for her to get her job back scooping ice cream.

  I am such a dumbshit.

  A real chip off my dad’s dumb block.

  Fuck.

  I heave a sigh and stare at the band of pink and purple to the west as the sun sinks, standing on my driveway. I wonder if Chaz and her Dad are having any luck finding Charity?

  “Lance?” Dad asks behind me. He stands in the garage, next to his Harley, which is collecting dust.

  Speak of the fucking devil.

  The thing that really kills me about my cash flow problem is if things go south, I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna take care of his ass.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Son.”

  Seeing him and his hog looking like nobody cares about either of them makes me want to cut my guts out. I hate his ass for what he’s done to himself. He used to be my rockstar. When I was real little, he was sober. I was lucky enough to have a normal dad for a few years. Around first grade, when I was six, he started drinking. I don’t know what happened that threw him off the wagon. Something between him and Mom. Maybe. I don’t know for sure. I was too young and he never talks about it. I just see the effects. He’s a run down wreck. Like his Harley. It used to be a diamond.

  Fucking alcohol.

  “Son? Can I ask a favor?”

  “Yeah, what?” I sound more irritated than I feel. As it is, I feel like shit.

  “I was wondering if I could borrow some money.”

  “Money is kind of tight right now, Dad.”

  “It’s for something important.”

  “Yeah? For what?” I almost add, You want whiskey, you old booze hound? How about a coffin instead. You’re gonna need one soon anyway.

  “I need to buy a bicycle.”

  I hold in a laugh. “No shit?”

  “Yeah. I found a good one on Craigslist for eighty bucks. It’s a mountain bike. Looks good in the picture.”

  It makes me sad that my dad is asking me for eighty bucks. The fact it’s eighty bucks for a bicycle is also pathetic. It’s not something big like: Son, that earthquake we had caved the roof in. Insurance won’t cover it and repairs could run forty thousand easy and your mother and I can’t cover it unless we take out a second mortgage. No, it’s: Son, I’m a washed up drunk. I can’t hold down a job since your mother ran off. I don’t have a license because I drink and drive too much so I need a bicycle to get around. While you’re at it, can you spot me an extra five dollars for a tire repair kit and a used bicycle pump? Nothing worse than getting a flat when I’m bicycling from here to nowhere.

  “What do you need it for?” I grunt.

  “Thought maybe I could ride around town and keep an eye out for Charity.”

  I stare at him for a long time. I want to believe him. I really, really do. “John and Chaz are supposed to meet up with her for dinner tomorrow night. She’ll probably come home then. You sure you need a bike?”

  “What if she doesn’t? What if she changes her mind? The kid already ran away. Who’s to say she’ll come back?” He’s thinking about Mom and it makes me want to puke. “With a bike, I can keep an eye out for her all around town. And I don’t have anything better to do anyway.” That’s for fucking sure. “Maybe I’ll find her.”

  But he won’t find Mom.

  Fuck.

  His story is good and he sounds so damn sincere. But he is so good at lying, I can’t say for sure he’s not going to use the money for booze. Fuck it. I open my wallet and hand him one-sixty, scowling. “Get a good bike.” Today, I don’t give a shit if he uses the extra money to buy booze. Maybe he’ll surprise me and do like he says and he’ll be the one who finds Charity. This entire moment is so sad and pathetic I just want it over with.

  He takes the money but hands back half. “The bike is only eighty.”

  I almost tell him to keep it, but I can tell his sense of self-respect is on the line. I take the four twenties and put them back in my wallet. “If you need new tires or anything, let me know.”

  “Okay,” he smiles meekly, “but I’ll be fine with eighty.”

  I wish eighty bucks was all I needed to be fine.

  Sometimes, I have to wonder what the fuck I’m doing with my life because it doesn’t seem to be going the way I planned. Days like today I feel as fake as TH3 PH4NTüM.

  Just a bullshit shell of a man who’s nearly out of money and half way to being his washed up dad.

  Fuck.

  ++++8++++

  CHASTITY

  “Do you think she’ll show up?” Dad asks nervously.

  “I hope so.” I turn around in my outdoor seat, scanning the sidewalk behind us. Cars whiz by on South Glendale Avenue. Evening traffic. We sit near the walk up window of Taqueria El Tapatio, which is an old A-frame building in front of a laundromat and a Mexican market called El Pipil. Charity told us to meet her here. It’s exactly the kind of divey place Mom would totally avoid.

  Dad looks at the taqueria building thoughtfully, “I think this place used to be an old Wienerschnitzel.”

  “A wiener what?”

  “Never mind. Do you think Charity took the bus? Maybe that’s why she’s late.”

  I shrug. “Who knows.”

  Dad starts drumming his fingers noisily on the table top. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He shoots to his feet. “You want some chips and salsa? Why don’t I get some.” He is super anxious.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I watch him while he leans down to talk to the Mexican guy through the walk up window. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the traffic on Glendale, but they’re laughing at something. I think Dad needs to keep himself occupied. He walks to the table holding one of those red and white checked paper trays full of chips and a red ketchup bottle of salsa.

  The second he sets them down, Charity walks up out of nowhere. She looks tiny and helpless but also tough and scrappy at the same time. She wears a black skirt I recognize, black leather boots I don’t, and a garish Affliction hoodie with black and white graphics of skulls that I’ve never seen before. Mom would freak if she saw Charity dressed like this. The hood is up, covering her blonde hair even though it’s warm out.

  “What up, peeps?” She winks at Dad and does a sarcastic wave like this is no big deal. She’s trying to act cooler than usual.

  “Charity,” Dad grunts, throwing his arms around her in a huge bear hug, picking her up off the ground.

  “I’m choking!” Charity laughs, waving her arms. “Cough, cough!” She actually says the words cough, cough while patting Dad on the back.

  He releases her and rolls his eyes while rubbing her back, “Such a comedian. Sit down with your sister, Chair. Have some chips and salsa.” Dad motions to the seat next to me.

  Charity looks at it warily. “Mom isn’t waiting in hiding to jump out with a net and a Taser to catch me, is she?” Charity looks around in every direction.

  I snort, “No. She doesn’t know we’re here.”

  She gives Dad a pointed look.

  Dad looks hurt. “Do you think I’d tell her?”

  “You better not,” Charity warns.

  Dad gives her a strange look like he doesn’t know what to make of her attitude. But I think he’s trying to keep the peace. “I didn’t tell her, Chair. She has no idea we’re meeting you. Please sit.”

  Reluctantly, she does.

  I ask, “Did you cut your hair?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Cause you never w
ear a hoodie unless it’s freezing.”

  She flips it back. “See? Still there.”

  Dad smiles when he sees her pile of blonde hair. Then he looks between me and her. “You two look exactly like each other. It’s uncanny.”

  “Do not,” Charity grouses. “I’m so much better looking than Chaz.” She flips her hair and smirks.

  I laugh, “Geez, Charity! Don’t be so vain.” I regret my words immediately because I sound like Mom.

  “You’re both beautiful,” Dad assures. “What do you want to eat?” He stands up.

  “Tacos,” Charity says.

  “Me too.”

  “Copy cat,” Charity jabs.

  “I’ll get tacos for everyone,” Dad says, “because I like the taste of cat.”

  Charity wrinkles her nose, “What?”

  Dad shakes his head. “Bad joke. What kind of meat do you guys want?” he asks.

  I say, “Make mine cat too.”

  “Nast!” Charity laughs.

  Dad goes right up to the window to order because no one is in line.

  “Dad is really glad you’re here,” I mutter.

  “I can tell.”

  “How are you doing?”

  She shrugs. “Mmmm.”

  “Sounds like you’re having a party without me.”

  She sighs. “I’m fine. So glad I don’t have to listen to Mom bitch about everything every single second.”

  “I feel you,” I nod thoughtfully. “Sorry I bailed on you with Lance.”

  “I can’t blame you. I would too. He’s hot.”

  I blush. “I guess.”

  She snorts, “Don’t be lame. He’s gorgeous. Is he nice too?”

  Despite the fact Charity and I talked plenty before she ran away, I didn’t go into detail about my arrangement with Lance. I didn’t want to make her more jealous. But I can tell her some of it. Assuming she comes home, she’s going to find out eventually. “Yeah. He gave me a job.”

  “What happened to Marble Slab?”

  Charity still doesn’t know about Mr. Molton catching me and Lance and I’ll probably never tell her. Maybe when we’re both eighty. So I lie. “Oh, uh, Lance offered me a really good job. He pays better than Mr. Molton.”

  “That’s awesome. What kind of job?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty much a receptionist. I answer phones and keep the office organized.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “I guess.”

  “But it was cool of him to give you a job.”

  I’m relieved she doesn’t ask any more questions about Lance. What would she think if she found out Lance was a semi-famous DJ? She’d probably never come home.

  Charity grabs a chip and squirts a ton of salsa on it and pops it in her mouth. Her eyes bug. “Hot!” She waves her hand in front of her mouth.

  I laugh. “Eat another chip. It’ll cool the burn.”

  She does.

  Dad sits back down and we chat about whatever for a while. Charity polishes off most of the chips by herself in like two seconds.

  Dad says carefully, “Chair, are you getting enough to eat?”

  “It’s only been a few days, Dad. I’m fine. But yes, I’m getting enough to eat. Do you know what marmalade is?”

  I don’t.

  Dad narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that orange jam?”

  Charity nods. “It’s disgusting.”

  “Please tell me you’re eating something other than orange jam.”

  She rolls her eyes, totally exasperated. “Yes, Dad. I’m eating real food. Stop worrying about me.”

  Dad leans his forearms on the metal table. “Hey, I love you. I will always worry about you.” He means it.

  Charity feels it and nods solemnly.

  Dad’s eyes sparkle with impending tears. He cracks a smile, “I can’t have my youngest daughter eating orange jam every meal, can I?” It’s supposed to be funny, but it isn’t really.

  Oddly, all three of us laugh, overcome by emotion.

  The Mexican guy inside calls out our order.

  “I’ll get it!” I bolt to my feet so Dad can have a minute alone with Charity. When I set the tray down, they’re both laughing about something. “What?”

  “We were talking about your mother.”

  “She’s always good for a laugh,” I say sarcastically.

  We all laugh even harder than before even though my comment wasn’t very funny either.

  I sit down and we fight over the tacos. “Which one is the cat?” I giggle.

  “This one,” Dad chuckles, handing me a Carne Asada taco. “I think it’s still meowing.”

  Somehow, that’s also really funny even though it’s not.

  Charity and I always have fun with Dad. Every summer with him has always been a blast.

  He says to me, “We missed you this summer.”

  “Maybe you did,” Charity laughs. I know she doesn’t mean it. Unless she’s trying to claim Dad all for herself. The important thing is that for a few minutes, everything feels normal and I don’t want to shatter this fragile moment.

  Dad says, “Remember how much fun we had at Raging Waves out in Yorkville?”

  “It was awesome,” Charity says.

  Dad grins at me, “See? You missed out, Chaz.”

  I laugh, “You guys know Blazing Waters in San Dimas is way better. Too bad you don’t live here in LA, Dad. We all could’ve gone.” I stop myself, realizing I’m probably hurting his feelings. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Dad smiles, pretending. “It’s okay. If I lived here, I would’ve bought season passes to the Blaze and taken you two any time you wanted.”

  Charity rolls her eyes. “Nobody calls it the Blaze, Dad.”

  “I do,” he chuckles.

  After the laughter fades, we all fall into uncomfortable silence.

  I keep waiting for Dad to mention Charity’s running away, but he keeps avoiding it. Maybe it’s for the best. Talking about normal stuff feels so much better.

  Dad says, “And speaking of living nearby, now that you’re a high school graduate, Chaz, have you given any more thought to college?”

  “I have terrible grades, Dad.”

  “They’re not that bad. But that doesn’t matter. You can go to a community college for two years and transfer to a four-year after.”

  “I guess.” I’m not going to remind him that I’ve got a good job with Lance. For now. I’m still waiting on that first paycheck, but I want to believe it’ll work out and I can forget about college and tests and grades for good.

  “What do you think about the idea of moving out to Illinois and going to Oakton for two years? Then you can transfer to a university. Chicago has so many good schools to choose from. And you could live with me and save on rent. Your sister could live with us too.”

  Charity’s eyes light up. “That would be awesome, Dad! Don’t you think that would be super cool, Chaz?” She beams at me.

  I grimace. That would mean leaving Lance. I don’t want to do that, job or not. He may be evasive about saying he likes me, but the way he stepped up when Charity ran away has me seeing him in a whole new light. I mean, I’m living with him. And working for him. We’re practically married, which secretly thrills me. I can’t walk away now. I have to give Lance a chance to come around. As much as I would hate for Charity to move away to Illinois, maybe it’s time. It would get her away from Mom faster than I ever could.

  Excited, Charity says, “What do you think, Chaz? You, me, and Dad in Illinois?”

  “We’ll have to talk to your mother,” Dad says, full of hope. “In light of the circumstances… who knows? Maybe she’ll consider it.” Notice he didn’t say change her mind or let Charity move to Illinois. Nope. Consider it.

  The idea makes me sick.

  Whir.

  There goes that dentist’s drill.

  “Please say yes, Chaz!” Charity begs. “We can both say goodbye to Mom for good! She’ll be all alone like she deserves.”

  Dad sm
iles uncomfortably at that.

  So do I. It’s not like I hate Mom. Or do I?

  Charity stares at me like I hold her future in the palm of my hands.

  Whir.

  “Yeah, that could be awesome,” I say anxiously. Notice how I said could and not would?

  Lance was right. I’m definitely my mother’s daughter.

  Whir.

  Chapter 23

  CHASTITY

  Dad and I convince Charity to spend the night at Lance’s.

  We don’t tell Mom and literally sneak her in.

  Lance buys a sleeping bag for Dad who insists on taking the couch so Charity can have the second air mattress. It’s like a sleepover. We stay up late that night talking about everything and nothing. Most of all, we laugh. It’s amazing how well Dad gets along with Lance and Mr. McKnight. They trade jokes and friendly insults and share stories all night long while Charity and I mostly listen in awe. Without Mom around, we’re both in heaven.

  The next day, Dad convinces Charity to go back to living with Mom until he can talk to his lawyer and start talks with Mom’s lawyer about moving Charity to Illinois. Nobody mentions it to Mom because we all agreed she would call in the Army and the National Guard if anyone tried to take Charity away from her.

  That night is bitter sweet. I’m going to miss Dad. He makes having parents seem like a good thing, unlike Mom. With Lance and his Dad around too, it’s perfect. There’s nothing like having three strong men around protecting you and caring for you, especially when they all have a sense of humor that makes life seem like it’s full of fun and infinite possibility instead of drab and dangerous. Not once does anyone mention heaven or hell or sins or damnation or blah blah blah.

  Dad goes home the next day, optimistic about everything. Lance and Rod are both sorry to see him go. Not half as sorry as Charity and me.

  A few days later, Charity calls me up at work.

  “Hey, Chair. What’s up?”

  She groans, “Mom is freaking out again.”

  “What now?”

  “She’s making a huge deal about me being a freshman at North Valley. We had to go buy new clothes appropriate for my age. The outfits she picked out make me look like a dweeb. Then she lectured me about all the evil things boys will try to do to me. As if I didn’t figure that out in middle school. She thinks I’m still twelve.”