As soon as the lie left his mouth, I turned and looked at him like he was crazy. First of all, there were no flowers planted yet, and my dad would know that the minute he stopped by the church for paperwork the following day. Secondly, I was amazed at how quickly and easily he was able to lie. I’d never seen anything like it and I was secretly jealous of his fabulous talent. I could’ve saved myself from the belt a few times if I were capable of such a thing.
“Is that true, Faith?” my father asked.
I didn’t want to lie to him, but I really didn’t want to get in trouble and I really didn’t want Finn to get in trouble either. Regardless of what we were doing, I was still out past a decent time when I wasn’t supposed to be. I was still going to hear it, but somehow saying I was planting flowers for Sister Francis sounded so much better than I was at a party with a bunch of stoners and band boys.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the lie wouldn’t come out. Instead, I shook my head yes and silently prayed for forgiveness.
I felt sick doing it. I hadn’t lied to my father since I was a little girl. My throat felt tight and cold chills wracked my body, causing me to wrap my arms around myself.
“You should’ve asked first and you’re still going to be on restriction for sneaking out past your bedtime,” my dad said adamantly. “As for you, Finn, I don’t want Faith falling into your sinner ways. I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from my daughter outside of church.”
My dad grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the front door. His fingernails dug in, pinching the soft skin. I looked over my shoulder at Finn and caught him glaring at my dad’s back. Before I stepped inside the front door, I looked back again as he pulled away.
I got the worst beating ever that night. For the first time, Daddy lost control and his belt hit other places on my body instead of just my legs. When I went to bed, my back ached and my arms and legs stung. I barely made it into bed before the tears came. I never cried during the beating—I’d never give him that satisfaction—but I’d almost given in to the pain.
On top of the belt beating, I got a month’s worth of restriction, which didn’t matter much to me since I practically lived on restriction as it was. I finally fell asleep two hours later with stale tears on my cheeks and anxiety for what would happen the following day churning in my stomach. It was only going to get worse once my dad got to the church and saw there were no flowers in the flower bed.
I fucking hated flowers. I spent the rest of my night working on that damn flower garden, and I’d spent my last ten bucks on those damn over-scented weeds. I’d never been more thankful that Wal-Mart stayed open twenty-four hours or that I could flirt my way into the lawn and garden department after hours.
By the time I got back to my house, I was covered in dirt and exhausted. Everyone was gone and so was all the beer, which pissed me off pretty good. Instead of sitting around bitching about it, I went straight to my bathroom, got a shower, and crashed.
The next day, I slept way into noon. I’d decided to skip senior year and go straight to work for Uncle Lester, my dealer. He didn’t even have any nieces or nephews, but everyone called him uncle. The best thing about Uncle Lester was he dressed like a pimp from the seventies and had a porn star mustache. He worked it, though, and he was the man when it came to the ladies. He was a strange man, but he always made sure I had a full supply of wacky dust. It wasn’t honest pay, but it was pay.
With a busted head gasket and a blown tire, I needed whatever work I could get to get my car back on the road. In my mind, the band was my meal ticket, but if the worst happened and my band did nothing, I’d end up taking care of my mom and working some shitty job somewhere. I was born and bred for struggle.
I fixed myself a bowl of cereal in one of mom’s mixing bowls and sat on the couch, deep in thought. Faith. I couldn’t seem to get her off my mind. I wasn’t sure why I’d lied for her. Maybe it was because I’d seen her welts, and the thought of her getting more made me sick to my stomach. Or maybe it was because her dad seemed to piss me off all the time. It wasn’t that he was doing anything, but it was his “I’m the pastor so I’m better than you” mentality. He wasn’t better than me. Actually, I’d give the ounce of cush and the eight ball in my top drawer to say he was probably more crooked than I could ever dream of being.
I fixed my mom some lunch and made sure she had her pills. She was having an especially painful day, which meant she wouldn’t want to be bothered. Instead of sitting around and babying her to death, I smoked a bowl in the garage and headed out to get lost around the town.
It was days like that when I wished I had an actual job. I’d talked about it with my mom before, but she swore she needed me home more than she needed help financially. I understood and even though the thought of having money that I’d made legally sounded great, I couldn’t take the chance of not being there for her if she needed me.
Later that afternoon, the boys came over and we practiced for the rest of the night. We’d been invited to play at a new underground club called The Pit and we wanted to make sure we sounded kickass. It wouldn’t pay to play a shitty show, and we always had the hope that someone important would see us and take us out of our fucked-up situations.
I sang my heart out as Kevin, the lead guitarist, crushed my garage with his rips. I’d known him since the first day of middle school. He was the first friend I’d had for more than a few months. That was one of the worst things about being in the system and getting moved around so much. I never made any lasting friendships. I’d spent my life being passed by strangers and it was nice to have some loyalty in my life.
Reynolds, who could play the hell out of a pair of drums, was hitting the beats hard. He hated to practice, but he always showed up on time and played his heart out even if he was all geeked out half the time. We all had our vices, but I think he was developing a serious problem. His sudden appearance of nosebleeds made it hard to look away from his cocaine addiction. I was no saint. I sold the stuff and on occasion I’d down a line, but nothing as extreme as Reynolds.
Then there was the newbie, Tony. I’d given him the name Tiny, mainly because for a kid his age, he was fucking huge. The kid could play some bass, though, and he kept to himself. I could appreciate that. He seemed genuine and had yet to fuck me over in any way. In my world, that was enough for me.
I was confident that Ordinary Malice was going to go far. We’d already started attracting attention from the locals and playing bars even though none of us were twenty-one. Singing and writing music was my passion. I loved it and I’d give anything to be able to walk away from all the bullshit and make an honest living doing it.
The next day, I got a phone call from Faith. My house phone never rang so it was a shock when it did. The only reason we still had one was just in case of an emergency. Mom and I shared her cell, although I had it more than she did.
“I saw the flowers,” Faith said.
She was whispering into the phone. The poor girl had probably never let go in her entire life. It was no way to live. It made me wonder how wild she’d be in the sack. As quickly as the thought came, I pushed it to the back of my mind. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls and had already somehow managed to earn a certain amount of respect from me.
“And?” It sounded rude, but I was curious where the conversation was going.
“And I wanted to say thank you. My dad can be a bit strict, and while I did get in trouble for being out, it would’ve been even worse if he’d caught me in a lie.”
“Don’t worry about it. I would’ve had to do it come Wednesday anyway. At least this way maybe I won’t be out in the heat all day.”
It really had sucked that I’d missed hanging out with my friends that night. Not to mention, my ex, Jenny, had been there and there was a good chance I was going to get laid, but it was worth it in the end, I guess. Faith already had it bad from what I could see. The least I could do was help the girl out.
“Do you always sneak out like that?�
� I couldn’t help but ask.
I thought I was seeing things when she’d stepped into my garage that night. She obviously didn’t belong there, and I wasn’t all that thrilled to have her there. A girl like her could be a liability. The last thing I needed was my boys getting accused of some crazy shit because an inexperienced girl got herself all caught up in our craziness.
She was a nice girl and I felt bad for her. The contrast between her and the rest of the girls in the room was pretty hilarious, though. They were all covered in makeup with painted-on clothes that left nothing to the imagination, and Faith was clean and covered.
I hadn’t meant to call her skirt ugly, but it was a crime for such a pretty girl to be so uptight. Not that she should walk around with her ass hanging out, but damn, she must burn up in all those clothes.
“That was my first time. I won’t be doing that again,” she said adamantly.
It was kind of cute. She was so childlike since her father had obviously sheltered her for her entire life. When I thought of all the things she was missing out on, it was kind of depressing. She was a teenager. It was her job to experience all the crazy shit possible. It’s how you become a good adult. You live and you learn. She was going to be thirty and still clueless to what life had to offer.
“That’s a shame,” I said with a grin as I rested the phone between my shoulder and my face.
Flirting was in my nature and I never suppressed what came naturally to me.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Well, I was going to see if you wanted to hang out one night.”
It was a last-minute decision, a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone kind of thing. I could get her out with me and show her a good time while pissing off her dad so much that he’d want me nowhere near his daughter. Win-win.
“Why?” she asked, confused.
She had no idea how pretty she was. I’d seen that when I called her pretty in the car on the way to her house. Confidence was sexy, but so was a beautiful girl who had no idea how beautiful she was.
“Because you seem like a nice girl, and I already told you I thought you were pretty.”
I didn’t mention the fact that I was also trying to get under her dad’s skin. I somehow didn’t think that would fly over well with her.
“But we’re so different,” she said.
She couldn’t have been more right.
“Opposites attract. Don’t you find me attractive?” I asked.
I’d seen the way she looked at me when she didn’t think I noticed. I’d seen girls look at me that way before and all of them had tried to get a piece of me at some point. Not that I was complaining or holding out, but still, I knew a girl who was attracted to me when I saw one.
She didn’t answer. I’d bet money that she was all huddled up in those restricting clothes, hiding from her parents like a five-year-old. And I’d also bet that she was ten shades of red since all she seemed to do was blush.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. Besides, it would just be a friend thing. Listen, don’t think about it. I’ll see you at the church on Wednesday, and don’t worry about the flowers. I’m just glad you didn’t get into any more trouble.”
I hung up the phone with a big goofy smile on my face and plans to make the preacher man crazy.
The following Wednesday, there wasn’t any outside work that needed to be done around the church. Sister Francis loved her flower garden and a few ladies around the church had praised me for my gardening skills that I had no idea I possessed.
I got stuck in a back room, filing papers. It didn’t sound like much of a job, but after thirty minutes of that crap, I was dying to get outside to work in the sun. The room was too small and smelled like old lady’s perfume. Every couple of minutes, I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe and my eyes would water from the sickly sweet smell.
An hour later, I was done filing and headed over to Sister Francis to see if there was anything she needed. I stepped into the kids’ room and was caught off guard by Faith dancing around.
I stood in the doorway and watched from afar as she laughed and shook her hips with the kids to some kiddie music about Jesus. Her smile was real, her happiness genuine. It was beautiful to watch.
She raised her hands above her head and shook them around. Her skirt lifted, revealing tiny feet and ankles. It was about that time that my mind shifted and I started imagining what her knees looked like, her thighs, her flat stomach, and from that point, the thoughts only got worse. I was so caught up daydreaming about Faith naked that I hadn’t even realized she’d stopped dancing and was talking to me.
“Finn? Is there anything I can do for you?” She had her hands on her hips and looked at me like I was nuts.
Maybe I was. I’d just caught myself fantasizing about the pastor’s daughter. That could never end well.
“Finn?” she asked again loudly.
Little snickers sounded from the kids around us.
“Yeah. I was curious if Sister Francis needed me to do anything. I’m all done filing.”
“Actually, I could use your help in here if you need something to do.” She smiled.
She seemed to smile at me a lot more than she did before the whole flower incident.
“Okay. What can I do?” I asked.
I spent the rest of the time playing with the kids. I hadn’t been around kids since my last foster home. Those foster parents had entirely too many kids, so me and four others who were younger than me slept in one room. It was obviously those people just wanted the state checks that came with us.
I kind of liked spending time with the kids. They were funny and asked a lot of questions. I found myself laughing with them quite a bit. And every now and again, when she didn’t think I was looking, I’d see Faith smiling over at me. She really was beautiful, inside and out. I was pretty good at seeing through people, and when I looked at her, all I saw was goodness. She was selfless. I could tell by the way she treated the kids. There wasn’t a bad bone in her body.
The next week was a blur of smoking bowls, making deals, singing, and hanging out at church with Faith. It got to a point where I’d get excited about going to church. I loved hanging out with her and the more she was around me, the more I got to see who she really was.
She was more than just the pastor’s daughter. She was funny. She made me laugh so much most days that I’d go home with a sore stomach. She was sweet. Some days I’d sit to the side and watch as she took her time showing the kids how to spell a word or how to do something correctly. My initial assumption about Faith was right. She really was an angel.
Being around her was good. I barely smoked cigarettes anymore, since she said she hated the smell, and the only time I really hung out with my friends was when we had practice or a show. I’d make plans with them and then Faith would ask me to help her do something and I’d cancel with my friends.
I had a hard time telling her no about anything. So when the church had a bake sale coming and she asked me to help her bake some stuff, I was on board. I really wasn’t much of a cook, but anything was better than filing or working in the churchyard.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked as she mixed a bowl of cookie dough.
“Nah. I don’t think dating is for me,” I said as I buttered the baking pan.
“No girls? Seriously?” She looked at me like I had two heads.
“Oh no. There’s girls, but not one that’s steady.”
Her face lit up as I expected, and I smiled to myself.
“So you’re a player? Isn’t that what they call boys like you?” She started picking at the cookie dough and rolling it into balls.
“I’m not a player. I’m honest with girls. I just don’t do the whole girlfriend thing all that well.”
“Oh come on, Finn, there had to be a girl that got through that hard exterior of yours once or twice.” She smiled up at me as she continued to pick the raw cookie dough from her fingers.
I wanted to tell her that technical
ly she had gotten through, but I didn’t know how that would sound. We were friends—I’d never really been friends with a girl before—and we had an easy relationship. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t slowly becoming uncomfortable. And if it was becoming uncomfortable, then maybe there was more there.
“Yeah, once or twice.” I playfully winked at her to play it off.
She laughed and threw a wad of dough at my chest. It made a wet smacking noise and stuck to the front of my Guns N’ Roses T-shirt.
“Oh no you didn’t,” I said in a girly voice as I wiggled my finger at her.
She laughed harder.
I picked the dough from my shirt and threw it back at her. Next thing I knew, we were running around the small kitchen at the back of the church and throwing flour and sugar all over each other. She held up her hands and screamed as I sprinkled sugar over the top of her head.
“Such a sweet girl like you should taste sweet, too.” I laughed.
She turned in my arms and put her hands up to stop the sugar. I held the bag even higher out of her reach. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her petite body against mine. Her sweet breath warmed the side of neck and she slid up and down my front as she tried to reach the sugar. She felt good against me and it was making me hard.
Everything stopped. The smile slipped from my face as I stared down at her. She continued to smile, flour dotted her cheeks, and sugar shimmered in her hair. Once her eyes met mine, she stopped reaching for the bag above my head. My arms fell slowly and I let my empty hand cup the side of her face, using my thumb to wipe some flour from her cheek.
Her smile slipped, too, as she looked up at me with wide brown eyes. Her eyelids fluttered closed as I caressed her cheek with my fingers. Little puffs of heated breath came from her mouth, pulling my attention to her soft pink lips. I ran a finger across her bottom lip, drawing a soft sigh from her.
Get Rocked Page 45
