Amanda was constantly getting in trouble at school because she loved nothing more than to break the dress code by throwing in a pair of skinny jeans with her button-up top, or better yet, she’d leave too many buttons open, showing entirely too much skin for Principal Lynn.
I adored her, though. She kept me feeling alive, even if she didn’t know it.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged.
“You never do anything with us,” she whined.
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. Look, I get the whole strict dad thing. I mean, seriously, look who you’re talking to here, but you can sneak out. It’s kind of a rite of passage for girls our age. Come on, Faith, please. You only live once and, honey, you ain’t living.”
My dad once told me that Amanda was a bad influence. I didn’t tell him, but that was one of the main reasons I spent so much time with her. I never stepped out of line and living vicariously through her made staying in line more tolerable.
“I can’t. If I could I would, but I really can’t. I have church Sunday morning and if I’m out too late on Saturday, I’ll never get up on time.”
She rolled her green eyes and exhaled loudly. It wasn’t technically a lie. I would be tired if I stayed out too late, but she knew the real reason I wouldn’t go and it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my dad. She’d seen him beat me once when we were nine, but she never spoke of it. Maybe she thought I didn’t get beatings anymore now that I was older. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“You go to the church, like, every day. I’m sure God will understand if you miss one day.” She adjusted her strap again and blew a stray piece of hair from her eyes. “Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”
Going on a double date with Amanda, her new boyfriend Kevin, and his cousin Tony did sound fun. Everything sounded fun to me since I never did anything but go to school and church. So I did think about it. I thought about it all through dinner that afternoon and when I couldn’t think about it anymore, I went for the kill.
“Daddy, is it okay if I go out to a movie with some friends this Saturday night?” I poked at my untouched mashed potatoes and avoided eye contact.
It wasn’t an unfair request. Seventeen-year-olds went to the movies all the time, but I knew before I asked that he was going to say no. It never stopped me from trying. One day… one day he’d say yes and I’d have just one night of freedom. All I needed was one night.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said after he used his cloth napkin to wipe his mouth.
I didn’t bother mentioning it again. I’d learned long ago it was futile to argue with a man of God. No matter what I said, he’d have some way to associate my request with Jesus and whether or not he’d approve of my actions. That argument won every time.
Instead, I settled for homework on my older-than-dirt computer. I loved it and hated it. It got me what I needed, but only after taking forever to do so.
An hour later and I still hadn’t gotten past my sign-on screen. I was about to throw the computer from the desk when my dad interrupted. “What would Jesus do, Faith?”
Honestly, I hadn’t thought about what Jesus would do as I mumbled angry words and smacked at my computer. I had a paper due the following day and my ancient computer and dial-up Internet were making that extremely difficult.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I mumbled.
He patted my back as he walked by with his Bible in hand. He’d spent his time after dinner preparing for that night’s special sermon. It was more than difficult to focus on studying with him calling out the words of God as if he were already standing behind the pulpit.
“You almost done?” he asked a few minutes later. “Sister Francis asked that we arrive early for tonight. She needs your help preparing for Bible school.”
I wasn’t even close to being done. “All done.” I smiled sweetly.
Daddy always said church came first. God waited for no man. It didn’t matter that I had to sit up some nights past my bedtime just to finish a paper.
The church my dad preached at, Riverbank Baptist, was bigger than it used to be. Just a few years before, they’d added on extra rooms to the back, including a small kitchen for when we had big dinners. A simple redbrick building that was older than my grandfather stood tall in the middle of a large patch of grass. A tiny patch of rocks represented the parking lot. About seven cars fit in the space, which meant on rainy days, a lot of people braved muddy shoes for God.
I was raised in Riverbank Baptist. So much time was spent with our church family that I could no longer figure out who was actually a blood relative and who wasn’t. All in all, it didn’t really matter. Family was family as far as I was concerned.
I met Sister Francis, the Sunday school teacher and possibly my aunt, in the kid’s room as soon as we arrived. As her assistant, I was in charge of having worksheets printed out and the snacks ready to go. It didn’t take much time, but it was my job. I enjoyed being around all the lively kids. They had spunk and said some pretty bizarre things that made me laugh.
“Thank the Lord you’re here. I didn’t think I’d get everything done,” Sister Francis said as she flittered around the room and prepared for our special Wednesday class.
Her black flats pounded into the old hardwood flooring as she moved around the room to prepare. The edges of her shoes stretched to accommodate her thick ankles. A tiny run in her nude stockings rippled up the back of her knee, allowing her fleshy pale skin to poke out.
As a bigger lady, she was out of breath from all the activity. Her face was flushed, but her graying miniature beehive was still holding strong. Sister Francis had always worn her hair in her signature beehive. I could remember being seven and trying to peek over her nest of hair to get a good look at my daddy as he preached his heart out in front of the congregation.
I spent thirty minutes preparing the room for the kids and then I left and followed the sounds of my father’s booming voice as it bounced off the curved ceilings of the chapel. I found myself at the back of the church, staring up at the choir and my daddy, who was blue in the face and shaking his Bible at the crowd. He was a passionate man, but only when it came to God.
Wednesday nights weren’t usually as packed as Sundays, but I still didn’t want everyone turning and looking back at me. Without wanting to cause a scene, I quickly slid onto the pew in the very back.
Usually, no one sat that far back. On any other day, I’d be sitting on the first pew with my mother, but I’d taken longer in the kids’ room than usual. Mainly because I had no desire to listen to my father preach.
The last pew should’ve been empty. But instead of having an entire row to myself, I slid right into a hard wall of heat. The smell of paint and freshly cut grass filled my nostrils as my cheek met the hot flesh of a man’s upper arm.
As I quickly pushed back, my eyes met the jagged design of a black tattoo. It wrapped around the arm in question and worked its way under the white sleeve of his T-shirt. My fear of the unknown kicked in and I slid quickly to the edge of the pew.
It was then that I was met with caramel-colored hair and soft baby-blue eyes. They skimmed my chin and cheeks before colliding with my own. His lips tilted in a grin before he ran his fingers through his hair, turned his attention away from me, and crossed his arms over his chest.
He was leaning back in the pew with his long legs sprawled out in front of him. Chains hug from his right pocket and slid across the shiny wood as he gapped his legs to get comfortable. His jeans were rugged and worn, with holes allowing me to see peeks of the skin and hair around his knees.
My eyes roamed across his strong features. A thin stroke of soft sable hair lined his jaw before bleeding down onto his chin and around his mouth. He bit at his thick lips in boredom, which pulled at the tiny silver stud beneath his bottom lip. Soft evening light spilled in through the stained-glass window and gave his face a red hue. The light flickered off of a piercing in his brow.
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br /> I couldn’t look away. I’d never before seen anyone like him up close. Every time someone like him even came near, Daddy would pull me to the side and shelter me from anything unbecoming. Besides, going to an all-girl school meant I rarely saw boys unless they were at the supermarket or church.
He turned toward me again with a raised brow. I was staring and it was rude, but even then I couldn’t peel my eyes away.
“I’m not.” He grinned down at me.
A dimple deepened on his cheek and another flicker of silver showed inside his mouth when he spoke. Dear God, was he pierced everywhere? I felt my cheeks heat at the unholy thought.
“You’re not what?” I whispered.
I don’t think I could talk any louder if I tried. It was bred into me to be seen, not heard, especially in church where it mattered most.
His smile widened and I felt my blush rush down my neck. “I’m not the devil.”
Swallowing the dry lump in my throat, I shook my head like I understood. “I know.”
“Oh really? How can you be sure?” He turned toward me a little more and I saw another tiny tattoo on his other arm.
If only Daddy could see me interacting with such a polluted person.
“Because this is a holy place and sin’s not welcomed here.”
He laughed quietly to himself and shook his head at me like I was confused. His caramel-colored hair spilled into his humor-filled eyes. For the first time in my life, I had the desire to reach out and touch a stranger. My fingers itched to push the hair from his clear blue eyes. It was a crime for them to be covered.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You couldn’t be more far off. I’m not the devil, but the fact that I’m sitting here says a lot about your logic. An angel should know the difference between holy and hellfire.”
Again, my body lit up with a hot flush.
“I’m no angel.”
He reached up and flicked a piece of my thick hair from my face. I pulled back, making him laugh softly to himself.
“If it looks like an angel and talks like an angel, then it must be an angel.” He smiled.
Even through his piercings and dark, looming looks, his smile was sweet. I wasn’t sure how he was able to do that. Maybe he was the devil. I’d been told in life that evil would be a charmer—a rattlesnake masquerading as a prince. I was beginning to think there was some truth in that saying.
I tried to wrap my mind around his words. If it looks like a sinner and talks like a sinner, then it must be a sinner. And one thing I knew about the stranger in front of me was that he was made for sin.
Without another word, he stood, the chain hanging from his pocket clanking and drawing the attention of the entire room. Daddy stopped preaching and his eyes were wide in anger and shock. I expected him to run down the aisle and snatch me up to get me away from the strange boy with the sinister beauty.
He looked down at me and smiled again as he slid against the pew in front of me to get out. The front of his coarse jeans slid across my plain skirt, lifting it and revealing my ankles and white tennis shoes. A cool breeze rushed up my legs and I got chills. I wasn’t sure if it was the cool breeze or the boy. Either way, it felt nice.
Ladies in fancy hats watched in disgust as he pushed loudly on the church doors and let dusk and evening air into the room. The doors slammed behind him, blocking out the fresh air and leaving me feeling like I was about to suffocate.
Vandalism. That’s what I was charged with for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had much better things to do with my free time than spray-paint the side of a church. I can’t draw for shit. The last thing I’d do is try to paint anything. The designs on the wall of the church were way more advanced in the art department than I could ever be.
No matter how many times I told the judge this, no matter how many times I pled not guilty, he still slapped community service on my ass. The court ordered me to attend that same church for thirty days and help them in any way.
My first day there, a few of the church ladies stared at me like I was Satan himself. Big eyes took me in from underneath flowery hats and thick over-applied eyelashes. I’d never been stared at so much, and that said a lot since I was the front man in a band.
I’m sure the congregation wasn’t used to piercings and my few tattoos. I could understand that. Everyone was different, including the holy rollers. Even though I probably looked scary as hell to them, there were still a few that treated me like their long-lost grandson and patted me on the head. I didn’t hate that part as much as I should’ve.
I’d never had a grandma. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I had one out in the world bouncing around, but I’d never met her. When I thought of having grandparents, I envisioned lots of baked goods and cheek pinches—the smell of mothballs and handmade blankets. Some kids would hate that shit. Cheek pinches or not, having some form of family should be appreciated. I’d appreciate it.
I spent that first day of community service painting over the old red brick that had been destroyed. Luckily, the space wasn’t huge and the church planned on having a local artist paint over the beige square I’d painted as a cover.
Once I was done with that, I mowed the front of the church. Cutting grass wasn’t anything new for me. My adoptive mom went nuts if the grass got too tall. She was deathly afraid of critters and she swore they lived in tall grass. After having my ass eaten alive while mowing, I had to agree with her.
I pushed the old lawnmower into a little red shed on the side of the church and cleaned up in the bathroom. After helping everywhere they needed me, I took a seat on the last pew and waited until I could leave. The pastor had to sign my community service paper, confirming that I stayed for the entire sermon. I knew it was pointless to get him to sign it so I could leave early. Asking a preacher to lie? Only I would think of something like that.
My eyes rolled back in my head as I tried to stay awake through the preacher’s blabbing. The pew was hard against my ass and back and I was getting a kink in my neck from trying to lay my head back against the wood. I prayed silently that it would be over soon, but the preacher continued his rant about Peter. So much for prayer making things happen.
My lashes tickled my cheeks as my eyes fluttered closed once more. The sermon faded to the background and my breathing evened out. Sleep had slowly come to take me away, and I was well on my way when someone bumped into me.
My brain rattled and my teeth clicked. My body jarred to the side and my eyes popped open. The sweet scent of roses filled my senses as warmth invaded my side. As quickly as the warmth came, it went as the person who bumped into me hustled to move away.
Soft pink and luminous light surrounded me. It’s all I saw. Her sweater, her cheeks, and her lips… they were all soft pink and pretty. The light haloed around her, giving her an angelic glow. The way she stared back at me made me want to laugh. Her big doe eyes were wide, a mixture of brown and hazel swirling back at me. Perfect white teeth showed as her pouty lips gapped open in what could only be interpreted as shock.
Chocolate waves hung loosely around her untouched face. She looked like an actual angel, or at least the way you’d picture one. Maybe they were real. Maybe I never saw them because they only hung out in churches. All she was missing was her wings. She was beautiful, but in a church-girl, skirt-too-long kind of way. Lucky for her, I wasn’t into the wholesome, angelic girls.
The last girl I dated was far from wholesome. Of course, that only lasted a week, but still, I could smell virgin on this girl a mile away. I’d lost my virginal blood when I was fourteen and since then I hadn’t really slowed down. I didn’t sleep around so much; I just dated… a lot.
The pastor stopped preaching and his eyes focused in on us. The entire congregation turned to face us, but she was too busy staring at me like I was about to catch fire to even notice. I didn’t mind having attention on me. I actually thrived on it, but I didn’t want everyone in the church thinking I’d corrupted the chick
next to me.
I could still feel the stares on my back when I made it outside. Damn nosey-ass holy rollers. I walked to the side of the church and lit a cigarette. I hadn’t had one since earlier that day and I was having a nicotine fit. The moment I inhaled, my skin felt tingly and my blood slowed in my veins. Relaxation. It wasn’t like smoking some of that mean green, but it would have to do until I was no longer on holy ground.
“That’s bad for you, you know?” A soft voice slid across me and soothed me like a drag from my smoke.
I dropped the cigarette to the ground and smashed it into the freshly cut grass with my boot.
The angel from inside stood before me with her hands locked in front of her. All her hair was pulled to one side and spilled over her shoulder. I wanted to run my fingers through it and see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Everything that feels good is bad for you.” I grinned down at her.
“I have to disagree.” She smoothed out her skirt with her hands and stepped closer. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Maybe that’s because I’ve never been here before.” I leaned against the wall, careful not to touch the newly painted section.
“Makes sense, but why are you here now?”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I pointed to the big beige square. It looked dry already, but the smell of fresh paint was still strong.
“Oh.” Her face dropped. “I’ve always loved the brick on this church.” She looked away from me and ran her fingers across the jagged brick. “When I’m older and I have my own home, I hope it has brick just like this. Please don’t ruin it anymore,” she asked sweetly.
I wouldn’t defend my innocence anymore. It was pointless. No one believed me anyway. The day I was busted, my ex-girlfriend, Jenny, had kicked me out and I had to walk home since I’d blown a head gasket in my fixer-upper mustang while racing my boy Leroy like a dumbass.
Get Rocked Page 42
