“Charlotte, I need the truth. Why did the family turn their backs on me?” Or rather, why in particular? He’d certainly given them plenty of reasons.
His sister pushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. Stalling.
“C’mon. Whatever you got to say can’t be any tougher than losing my family.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I honestly don’t know. Once Daddy made up his mind, he refused to explain. And you know Mama. Whether he’s right or whether he’s wrong, she goes along.”
Yeah, Mom had always stood by Dad. Dad did the same for her.
And Bo did the same for Lucky.
Still, he had to know. “It’s important. Anybody you can ask besides the folks who might have some idea?”
Charlotte’s snort reminded Lucky of many other snorts over the years, a sure sign of his sister putting her foot down. And no Mama around to give her what for. “Bristol wouldn’t tell me for love nor money. Dallas can’t keep a secret for shit. If he knew, he’d’ve told me by now.”
“That leaves Daytona.” They both winced. Daytona hadn’t been the most reliable of sources back before Lucky’s life went to hell. No telling what another decade worth of drugs had done to the kid. “I don’t suppose he’s gotten any better. You told me he couldn’t donate his liver because of his drug abuse.”
“Poor kid. He’s tried.” Charlotte wriggled, settling closer to Lucky’s side. “Lord knows he’s tried. Been in and out of rehab since high school, but he’s never quite gotten his act together.”
“But if he knew something, would he tell you?”
“Remember how scared he used to be of the Noogie Monster?” She cracked her knuckles. “He never quite got over his fear of us.”
“And we never touched him.” Much.
“Well, you were the one giving him noogies three times a day. I just short-sheeted his bed.”
“…put a dead rat in his sock drawer, tossed a handful of corn on his plate whenever Grandma brought over a pot of chitlins.”
They both made a face. Many more chitlin ordeals in his youth, and Lucky might’ve joined Bo in being a dedicated weed eater, especially as he’d believed he saw the pig’s last meal when someone hid corn on his plate. Who the hell decided,“Hey! Let’s eat pig innards!”“We gave our brothers hell, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, but remember on the bus, those guys tried to pick on Day?”
Boy, did Lucky remember. He and Charlotte both got kicked off the bus. She’d come home with scratches and bruises, and Lucky sported a black eye.
The other guys came out worse. All five of them. Bigger, heavier, and only half as mean as two pissed off redneck farm kids defending the baby of the family.
And the bastards never even looked crosswise at Daytona again.
“I could call him. He’s living with Mama and Daddy now.” Charlotte dug her cellphone out of her purse. “If you’re sure you want to do this.”
Good thing Lucky wasn’t in the hospital hooked to a monitor yet. Nurses might come running for all the energetic bumps and thumps his heart made.
One phone call might solve years of pain. But what if whatever Daytona said carved Lucky’s heart out again? Or what if Day didn’t know jack shit? Bo. Lucky needed Bo here. But Bo wasn’t here. He’d given Lucky space. Lucky took a deep breath. “Call him.”
Charlotte hit a few buttons so the ringing came through the speaker, and set her phone down on the coffee table.
One ring, two rings, three rings…
“Hello?” came a groggy-sounding voice. Lucky’s heart lurched.
“Hey, Day.” Charlotte leaned over the coffee table and probably spoke louder than necessary. “It’s me. Did I wake you?”
“No,” the voice from Lucky’s past said through a yawn. Daytona Jerome Lucklighter, his pest of a little brother who’d once idolized Lucky. How he’d followed along like a puppy.
And yet he’d wasted years of his life to drugs. While Lucky wouldn’t trade his life for anything, being law-abiding meant he’d grown a conscience over the years. He’d failed Daytona, like he’d failed Charlotte. And his parents. And Dallas.
A band of angels couldn’t have helped Bristol.
