Lucifer's Children

by Brett Williams

  Amanda truly could not fathom her craving for nicotine. She also knew she could not afford to start buying cigarettes, not if she planned to start a life of her own on minimum wage.

  “Can I bum a cigarette?” she asked.

  “Shit,” Tony said, “you ain’t gotta ask.”

  “Break time—be right back,” Amanda told Jill.

  “Whatever.”

  Amanda followed the grill dude outside, a guy she had barely spoken to since last summer. It felt odd following him, odder still that he seemed comfortable and, dare she think, familiar with her?

  Tony shook a cigarette loose from his pack in the alley and lit the end with a wicked flame. He drew its smoke deep into his lungs before offering the cigarette to Amanda.

  Amanda placed the filter to her lips and sucked in the promise of an addict’s relief. After exhaling a thick plume, she said, “Thanks, Tony.”

  “Yo, call me T-Bone.”

  “Okay, T-Bone.”

  T-Bone lit a smoke for himself, and then suddenly Amanda felt a hand cup a buttock.

  “What’re we waiting for? My car’s over there.”

  “That’s your car?”

  “You know it. Plenty of room in the back seat.”

  “No thanks. I’m fine right here.”

  “Right here?” T-Bone glanced up and down the alley. “Okay.” Puffing a smoke, he lowered his zipper.

  What the heck?

  Amanda watched him remove his penis. It was thin and long and limp as a noodle. Although she suspected that might change quickly, considering his stroking motion.

  “Tony. Stop.”

  “Stop? We just started.”

  “What do you mean we? You started.”

  “Yo, you serious?”

  Amanda wanted to dash inside but she also needed to finish her cigarette. Why was everyone she knew so freaking perverted? Ugh! She said, “Heck yes, I’m serious. Put that thing away.”

  “Jeez-us. What got into you?”

  “What got into me? What got into you?”

  Tony put his thing away and zipped up his pants. Amanda puffed on her cigarette fast and furiously. Her hand trembled each time she brought the filter to her lips. Nearly halfway through the cigarette Amanda asked, “Have we … done things before?”

  “Shit, girl …”

  “Straight up, T, just tell me.”

  “Well, fo’ shizzle.”

  “Cut the hip-hop talk. Yes or no? Please.”

  “Dang. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

  “Yes or no. Please.”

  “Yeah. We come out here on break, smoke a smoke, or a bowl, then you smoke my pole, and sometimes you let me—”

  “Stop.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Amanda couldn’t stop her tears. They flowed down her face, dripping down to the dry, dusty ground surrounding the building. If she had done such things, why couldn’t she remember doing them? And if Mandy had done those things, why did everyone believe her to be Amanda? Amanda would never have done such things, right? The nicotine coursing through her veins gave her such relief, would she truly go down on Tony for a fix? Not quite, but almost.

  “Don’t cry,” Tony said. “Yo, those tears ain’t helpin’ nothin’.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Tony puffed smoke, and then said, “Hey, Amanda, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed, shouldn’t have whipped it out in broad daylight, just cuz in the past, you know, you’d wanna …”

  “It’s okay. Just …” Amanda sobbed. “Just please don’t do that again.”

  “We can still hang, right?”

  Amanda didn’t know how to respond. “I don’t know. I’m trying to quit smoking.”

  “You still like my extra crispy fries, right?”

  “I do?”

  “Fo’ shizzle. And my special cheeseburgers.”

  Wow, a cheeseburger sounded great. “I suppose so.”

  “Cool and the gang. I’ll fix you up with a single patty with the works, just like you like.”

  Single-patty burgers with the works, along with extra-golden fries might explain her recent more womanly figure. She said, “How about a single slider and fries?”

  “No problem.”

  “Hey, thanks Tony.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Amanda dropped her cigarette butt, extinguished it with a shoe, and wiped away a tear.

  Tony said, “And you can hook me up with a scoop of mint chocolate chip.”

  * * *

  “Goodnight, Mr. Plum,” Amanda said as he let her out the front door.

  “Goodnight, Amanda.”

  “Thank you again. See you tomorrow.”

  Mr. Plum waved good-bye as he shut the door behind her. Amanda snapped back the kickstand and climbed aboard the bike, not anxious to go home—if the Henning house could truly be considered home—but excited to read through the classified paper. She began to pedal into the night.

  At the corner headlights drew her attention and a car horn sounded, so she stopped. At first nervous, she recognized the vehicle as it pulled closer. She remained in the middle of the road as Brad’s car pulled up alongside her, and the driver’s side window rolled down.

  Brad looked as handsome as ever, sitting behind the wheel, dashboard illumination brightening his features.

  “Hey, Mandy. I almost didn’t see you—you usually come down the alley.”

  “Don’t call me Mandy.”

  The expression on his face shifted subtly, causing a shiver to travel down her spine.

  “Sorry, Amanda. I don’t know what came over me. Hop in. It’s been a while since I saw you.”

  Amanda hesitated. “It’s been a long night, and I should go home.”

  “Come on, Amanda. I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed me? When was the last time you saw me?”

  “Don’t be silly, Amanda. I saw you just a few days ago. A few long days without you. We went to the movies.”

  Amanda didn’t recall any such date. She couldn’t remember Brad ever calling her Mandy, nor could she recall anything for months. One thing she did recall, however, stood forefront in her mind.

  “What were you doing with Kat today?”

  “Kat? I was … Wait, Kat who?”

  “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Kat, the redhead with all the tattoos.”

  Brad denied knowing her, said he only knew of her from parties, parties he had attended with Amanda. But she could see the lies written all across his face in her blurring, tear-streaked vision.

  “I have to go now,” she said, pushing away on her bicycle.

  “Wait, Amanda. I can explain …”

  She wanted explanations. Oh, how she longed for them. But she didn’t want them from him, didn’t really want them from anyone. She wanted them solely from herself, buried in memory, memories that apparently didn’t exist.

  “Amanda, stop. Please. You don’t understand,” Brad shouted out the passenger window as he paced her in his car. When she pedaled harder he sped up. Braked, he slowed down.

  “Leave me alone. All of you, leave me be!”

  “Amanda, just stop for a minute. You’re acting crazy.”

  “I am not crazy. All of you are crazy,” Amanda shouted.

  “Stop, god damn it.”

  “Go to hell!” She slammed her brakes before cutting left, off the curb, behind his car, and, standing on the pedals, propelled the bicycle forward, toward campus. He wouldn’t be able to follow her on the narrow paths.

  “Wait, come back.”

  Amanda wanted nothing more than to turn around and return to him. But right now, he scared her as much as anyone. She pedaled as fast as she could along the campus pathways, until she reached what she feared most: the Henning home.

  She left the bike at the front door, rushed into the house, up to her bedroom, and wedged her desk chair under the knob. Although she longed to browse the newspaper, she didn’t. Instead, she balled up in a corner and rock
ed herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  “Ohmygod,” Amanda told Pammy as she joined her at the lunch table, “I believe I found a place.”

  “Found a place?”

  “A place to live. It’s just a few blocks from work, the landlady sounds sweet, and the rent is just right.”

  “Awesome. Where did you find it?”

  While they ate lunch Amanda explained how, between classes and before lunch, she had called a few prospective rentals she had found in the gazette.

  “This one, though, sounds best.”

  “Don’t you want to see it, first?”

  “Of course,” Amanda agreed. “I can see it before work tonight.”

  “Tell me what you know about it,” Pammy said between bites of mashed potatoes.

  “The lady I spoke with said her son recently got married. Several years ago they renovated the space above their garage to create a studio apartment for him. She said it’s only about the size of a two-car garage, but it has a small bathroom with shower, a kitchenette, and a large living space. She said it has heat and window A/C.”

  “Sounds cool. What do you plan to do for furniture?”

  “That’s the best part. The place is furnished. Apparently her son’s wife didn’t want any of his bachelor furniture in their new place.”

  “What if it’s crap?”

  “I don’t care. Besides, the woman said I could have it or haul it away, whatever I want. No TV, though, but that’s no big deal.”

  “Who needs TV when you’ve got Brad to keep you company?”

  Amanda shrugged. She liked the idea, and perhaps she had overreacted the night before; however, right now she had too many other things on her mind to spend time thinking about him.

  Pammy gaped. “You two are still together, aren’t you? That’s what Josh tells me.”

  “You and … ?”

  “Yep. He likes to bump while I prefer to grind.”

  “Oh my. Is he … ?”

  “The baby-daddy? I don’t think so. Which reminds me …” Pammy’s expression became solemn, bringing weight to their conversation.

  “Yes?” Amanda urged.

  “You wanted me to let you know the next time …”

  “Next time what?”

  “You wanted me to tell you when I will attend the next ceremony.”

  Yes, a ceremony. With everything else going on, along with befriending Pammy again … Somehow it had slipped her mind.

  Amanda said, “When is the next ceremony? What kind of ceremony?”

  “Friday at midnight.”

  * * *

  “Goodnight, Mr. Plum.”

  “Goodnight, Amanda. By the way, it’s good to have the old Amanda back.”

  “Thank you. It’s great to be back.”

  Mr. Plum got behind the wheel of his Cadillac and started the engine while Amanda mounted her bicycle. She was daydreaming about the studio apartment above the garage that she had agreed to rent. Amanda’s new landlady, a Mrs. Burke, said she would prepare a simple contract and Amanda could pay a deposit tomorrow morning before work. The place seemed spacious and grandly independent for an eighteen-year-old girl fresh out of high school. Plus, it wouldn’t take much longer to ride to work than it did from the Henning house. Amanda planned to ask to keep the bicycle as a graduation or birthday present—a small gift Mr. and Mrs. Henning would undoubtedly agree to. Amanda could hardly wait. Her impending freedom blotted out the worries and fears that had recently terrorized her.

  Red taillights catching her attention grounded her in reality. The car at the curb belonged to Brad. He would want to speak with her, and perhaps do more than just talk.

  “Amanda …”

  Tonight his presence didn’t seem quite so foreboding.

  “Hi, Brad.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Wanna get in the car?”

  “Okay. So long as we don’t go anywhere.”

  Brad shut off the engine and Amanda slid in on the passenger side.

  “I believe there may have been a miscommunication between us …” Brad started.

  Amanda stopped him: “I get it. Well, not really, but I understand that Mandy has caused a lot of trouble. I can’t deal with that now—I have my future to think about—so … it breaks my heart saying this but …” Amanda sniffled as tears began to pour down her face.

  “Oh, Amanda,” Brad cooed. “Don’t cry. You’ve no reason to cry.”

  “But Mandy … And those messages you sent me … They make no sense to me … They just break my …”

  “Amanda, you have it all wrong.”

  “You weren’t with Mandy? Or Kat? No, I don’t want to know. I just …” Amanda sobbed hard. “Hold me. If you love me, just hold me. Please.”

  Brad slid close, hugged her tight. She cried until his shirt was wet from tears and, once the tears had dried up, Brad tempted her with a kiss. Their kisses grew passionate, and soon the humidity from their heavy breathing coated the windows in a fog. When Brad’s hands started to roam, Amanda stopped him.

  “Not tonight.”

  “But …”

  Amanda silenced him with a fingertip to his lips.

  “Not tonight,” she repeated. “And maybe not again until after graduation.”

  Amanda sensed disappointment. Brad said, “Are you saving yourself?”

  “I suppose you could look at it that way. Really, though, I’m not in the mood, doubt I’ll be in the mood until I have my own place.”

  “Your own place?”

  “Yes.” Amanda told him about it, how she had found it, what it meant to her, what it could mean to them.

  “Sounds great,” Brad said.

  “It’s wonderful. The best thing ever.”

  “Well, it is getting late. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”

  “Yes, I should be going.”

  Amanda gave him a quick peck on the lips before getting out of the car.

  “Goodnight, Brad.”

  “Bye.”

  The car rumbled as it pulled away from the curb, leaving Amanda to bike home.

  * * *

  As Amanda rolled up to the Henning house she noticed the glowing orange tip of a cigarette and wondered who could be standing there. The figure stepped into the illumination cast from a light post. Kat said, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming home.”

  “The thought crossed my mind. What are you doing here?”

  Kat drew off the cigarette, blew smoke, and, waving off the question, said, “Just showing Pops the ropes, thought I’d stop by, figured you might need a smoke.”

  That didn’t make sense but nevertheless, Amanda said, “Thanks.”

  Kat handed her an open pack of smokes, Amanda shook one out and Kat lighted it. “So,” Amanda said, “I’m supposed to believe you wanted to say hi, and give me a pack of cigarettes?”

  “I don’t care what you believe, Mandy, I just wanted to see you.”

  “Wanted to see me? What the hell is this ‘Mandy’ business, anyway?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Kat caressed Amanda’s face, “you’re Amanda now. So sweet, so innocent, so precious.”

  “You’re high,” Amanda said. “I’ve always been Amanda. If I ever meet this Mandy person, I’m totally kicking her butt.”

  “Sure you will. Doesn’t matter, though.” Kat pitched her cigarette onto the lawn. “I just wanted to see you again. It’s been a blast.”

  “You are definitely high.”

  “You are so beautiful.”

  Amanda, not sure how to reply, didn’t.

  Kat, however, moved closer. Uncomfortably close.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda asked.

  Kat hooked an arm around Amanda’s waist while a hand touched the swell of a breast, a much riper breast than Amanda could recall having before.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Amanda said, pushing Kat away. “I saw you yesterday, with Brad. Besides, I
’m not into girls, I like guys.”

  “You didn’t see anything.”

  “I did too. I may be going crazy but I saw what I saw. What were you doing with my boyfriend?” Amanda wanted to burst into tears, but more than anything, she didn’t want to display weakness when faced with the toughest bitch at Monarch Prep.

  “I wasn’t with your boyfriend,” Kat simply said. “I was with Mandy’s boyfriend yesterday. Sometimes we swap, it’s no big deal.”

  “Whatever. I’m sick of hearing about Mandy. She’s caused me enough troubles. Soon, I’ll be gone and all of you can go to hell.” Amanda started for the front door.

  “Goodnight, love,” Kat said, “it’s been a blast, even if you don’t remember it.”

  Amanda flipped Kat the finger.

  Kat sighed. “Later, Mandy. I got your back.”

  * * *

  Amanda couldn’t sleep all night. She tried to focus on seeing the apartment again tomorrow when she signed a one-year lease agreement. Oh, what wonderful things a year on her own had to offer. She could work at Sugar Plum Grill, check into attending Johnson County Community College, perhaps her relationship with Brad would grow stronger once she didn’t have such horrors to occupy her mind.

  Dawn broke and, after a quick shower, Amanda set out for her day. It was early, so she stopped by the coffee shop first before heading over to sign the lease which started Monday, her eighteenth birthday, then went to work. Time flew by much too quickly, leaving Amanda with no place to go but the Henning house.

  If only she could keep her wits for one more day. If she didn’t sleep until then, so be it. She would sleep well in her own bed soon.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Amanda rolled to a stop in front of the Henning house.

  One last night, she thought, I can do this.

  Pammy hadn’t been at school that day and neither had Kat. Amanda feared for her pregnant friend but didn’t know what to do.

  Amanda parked her bike beside the house. Mr. Henning had said she could keep it, and so she wanted it nearby, without keys or locks to fool with, in the morning. She took her last cigarette out of her purse and lighted it. She planned to quit, cold turkey, tomorrow when she moved out at first light. She doubted she would be able to sleep tonight, what with all the caffeine she drank while hanging out at the coffee shop. A barista had talked to her before closing, mentioning an upcoming job opportunity. Amanda thought she might apply. A few extra hours of pay would come in handy.