They both froze at the sound of the doorbell.
“Aren’t you going to get the door?” Bo whispered.
“I thought you were.” For some reason, Lucky’s feet wouldn’t do his bidding.
The doorbell rang again. Neither moved. The knob twisted. Lucky held his breath. Hundreds of drug busts, hundreds of times facing drugs dealers and other dangerous types, and his heart had never pounded harder at what he’d soon face.
The door creaked open. A woman who looked too much like Lucky’s mother stood in the doorway clutching her handbag like a weapon. “Oh! Hey, y’all!”
Older, maybe, her smile more hesitant. She’d filled out since being the scrawny runt of a girl who used to dog Lucky’s footsteps and run when he’d chased her with frogs—only to find a bigger frog and chase back.
After he got into bed with a four-foot blacksnake, Lucky checked the sheets for years.
“Richmond Eugene Lucklighter. Are ya just gonna stand there looking purty, or are you gonna invite me in?”
Still as sassy as a jaybird.
Bo unfroze first. “I’m so sorry. Charlotte, it’s wonderful to see you again. Please, come in.” He glowered at Lucky. Yeah, right. Like she hadn’t threatened to shoot Bo the last time they came face to face.
One step, two… Lucky grabbed his sister, burying his damp face in her hair, and held on for dear life. Oh God. Charlotte. He squeezed tighter lest she suddenly disappear.
The scent of familiar perfume surrounded him, a gift he’d sent her one Christmas.
Charlotte, his best friend growing up, his partner in misadventures, and one of the few people to ever best him in a wrestling match.
She’d learned to fight dirty while still in grade school.
“Ack! Rich! Let’s go! You’re choking me!” Charlotte wrenched away from his grasp and stared him in the eyes.
She grabbed him back. Her purse connected with his kidney. Ow! “Oh, dear God, Richie. I’ve missed you so much!”
Lucky held on tight, opening his eyes to watch Bo quietly retreating. He opened his mouth to tell Bo to stay, but the pizza delivery guy buzzed from the gate and gave him an excuse to back off.
The pizza guy came and went, and still Lucky and Charlotte clung to each other, like she’d once clung to him as a child after a nightmare.
In the background, Bo clanked dishes as he set the kitchen table. Once they finally broke apart, Lucky and Charlotte both scrubbed their faces with the backs of their hands. Bo traipsed out of the kitchen and handed them each a paper towel, but said nothing about their tears.
At least Lucky’s hadn’t formed black streaks down his face like Charlotte’s.
“Pizza’s getting cold.” Bo vanished into the kitchen.
“Hungry?” Lucky asked between sniffles. The lovely aroma of pizza managed to get through his stuffed-up nose.
“I could eat.” Charlotte wiped her eyes, tossed her suspiciously heavy pocketbook onto the couch, and let out a whistle. “Day-um, boy! Nice house. You done good for yourself. I want a tour later.”
“Okay. Let’s eat first.” That would buy Lucky time to pull himself together. Charlotte. Here. Now.
Suddenly not talking to her all those years except for texts and e-mails seemed like a dumb idea. Who’d come up with such nonsense anyway? Oh. He had.
“So, how’ve you—” Lame, lame, lame. First time face to face in years and nothing better came to Lucky’s mind?
“I got so much to tell—”
They stopped in the kitchen doorway and stared at each other. No telling who started first, but laughter burst from them both.
In a moment of déjà vu from days gone by, Charlotte smacked Lucky on the back of the head. “That’s for not talking to me for all these years!”
What could he say? Talking to her made things too real, brought down the ton of guilt he’d earned for being a jerk, an asshole, and getting himself locked up so he couldn’t watch over her anymore.
