The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity Read online

  “Stop being such a fuckwit, Lance—” Dad suddenly growls behind me. “—and let go of her box.”

  I repress a laugh. There’s no way I’m ever letting go of Panty Shields’ pink box. Not till I’m done with it. And I never do anything Dad says when he’s sauced, on principle. Besides, I’m sure he noticed these two honeys were hotties the second he laid eyes on them and rushed over here to make his own play. It’s not like all the booze broke his dick.

  “Give it to her, Lance,” Dad grunts.

  Now I do snicker out loud. He better believe I’m gonna give it to her. Why did he have to show up now? Right when I’m getting my game on? Pain in my ass is what he is.

  Mrs. Shields gasps and folds her arms over her frilly no-cut top. No-cut, as in zero cleavage showing. You can barely even see neck. Are you surprised? I’m not. But I’m dying to see what she’s hiding. If her cans are anything like the ones filling out Chastity’s T-shirt… fuck. Boob heaven.

  “I said give it to her, Lance,” Dad growls.

  Chastity snorts and sneaks a smile in my direction. She’s wise to the comedy.

  I wink at her. Something tells me I might have to make a choice between her or her mom. They don’t look like best buds. Or I can do them one at a time. Whatever works.

  My dad stares at Mrs. Shields, a blurry smile on his face. He holds out his hand to shake hers. “I’m Rod McKnight. You can call me Rod.”

  What a tool. I can tell his whiskey courage is making him think he’s George Clooney or some shit when he’s all Adam Sandler. Dad never passes up a chance to wreck my game. But he’s gonna have to try a lot harder than that.

  Mrs. Shields smiles at Dad like it hurts. “Faith Shields. Pleased to meet you, Rod.” She shakes his hand like it’s dirty.

  Man, she is a total fucking bitch. I love it. Do I have to pick between her or the daughter?

  She looks at me and Dad thoughtfully. “I detect a family resemblance between you two. Rod, are you Lance’s—”

  “Dad?” Dad throws an arm around my neck and yanks me against his side. “Damn right I am.” He spews booze breath in my face.

  I wince, trying not to gag. I’ve been to town dumps that smell fresher than him.

  “Rod,” the mom says, “Can I ask that you watch your language in front of my daughter and I?”

  “Sorry, what?” He’s clueless. As always.

  Mrs. Shields laughs nervously. “It’s just that we’re not used to that kind of four-letter talk around our house.”

  Dad frowns like the clown that he is. “Oh. Sorry. I guess I’m a little rough around the edges with strangers. Won’t happen again.”

  What a pussy. And he wonders why I don’t respect him.

  “I completely understand,” Mrs. Shields says to Dad, beaming at him and running her fingers through her hair and tossing it like she’s Farrah Fawcett or Jessica Simpson or some shit.

  What… the FUCK? She did not just do that. My eyes volley between her and Dad.

  Oh shit.

  They’re in to each other.

  Why, I have no fucking idea. Maybe Panty Shields sees something about him I don’t. But no doubt Dad can tell Panty Shields is a hot fucking bitch.

  Fuck.

  I toss a look at Chastity.

  She grabs it out of the air like a love sick puppy.

  She’s gonna be easier to bag than I thought.

  Maybe it’s time I cut bait with the mom and focus on stealing Chastity’s V-card. Her eyes might scream DTF, but you know an uptight girl like her still has her cherry. I’ll make sure to break her in easy and let her down just as soft. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll think she’s the one breaking up with me.

  I glance over at Mrs. Shields who is busy flipping her hair like she’s ready to drop her dress.

  Who am I kidding?

  I want Chastity and the mom.

  Just to piss off Dad.

  Together or separate doesn’t matter. But I’m gonna bag ’em both.

  Game on.

  Chapter 2

  CHASTITY

  “Would you two like help moving in?” Mom asks Lance’s dad. “I’m sure my daughters and I could lend you a hand.”

  “We can handle it,” Rod says confidently.

  “It’s no bother,” she titters.

  What the heck? I can’t believe my eyes. Mom is flirting. Mom does not flirt. Ever. I thought she’d sworn off men after she and Dad got divorced. Then again, Rod McKnight looks like an older version of Lance. The only difference between them is the sprinkle of grey in Mr. McKnight’s equally unruly dark hair, and his minimal wrinkles (which of course look good on him). Like father, like son. This is bad. Don’t ask me how I know, but I know.

  Mom says, “I’m sure you two men are more than capable of handling… things, but as the Good Book says, do unto others as you would have them do unto you…”

  Oh. My. Gag.

  I’ll bet she’d like Mr. McKnight to do unto her.

  Mom has never been this shameless. Yes, Lance’s dad is almost as sexy as he is. But seriously, I can’t believe the man is wearing a wife-beater. I want to say: Hello! Mom! What about Mr. McKnight says upstanding or God fearing? He’s probably never set foot inside a church! And whatever happened to sins of the flesh? You’re openly lusting after him!

  The look in her eyes says she’s lost all sense. She giggles. Yes, giggles. Mom does not giggle. “I imagine you two had a long drive. Can I offer you something cold to drink?” Her index finger twirls absently through a strand of her blonde hair.

  “We just came from Vegas,” Lance says impatiently. “It was only four hours. We’re fine.”

  “Never mind that,” Mom says. “You need to stay hydrated if you’re going to be moving furniture all day. Come inside, I’ll fix you men a drink.”

  Men? Oh, boy. Mom has lost her mind.

  And like that, she gives the father-and-son sexy vampires permission to come into our house. We all know disaster is soon to follow.

  Standing in the kitchen, Mom whips up a batch of ice water with two kinds of fruit. As always, everything has to be perfect. She gets out the good crystal pitcher for the hunky men like she’s throwing an impromptu garden party for the ladies from church. That move is so Mom. I doubt Rod and Lance care what sort of pitcher she uses. No, she couldn’t just fill two glasses under the tap and drop a few ice cubes in. Not Mom.

  Her eyes are glued to Mr. McKnight as she chops fresh basil. “The secret with basil is that you have to crumple it to release the flavor. Without it, the strawberries and lemon don’t quite live up to their potential.”

  No wonder she went for the flavored water. It means more time for her to flirt. I roll my eyes and grumble. This is nauseating.

  Mom pours two glasses of fruit flavored water and hands them to the men.

  “Thanks,” Rod takes a swallow. “This is terrific. Whaddya think, Lance?”

  Lance gulps down the entire glass. “Damn good.”

  “Careful, son. Mrs. Shields here—”

  “Faith. Call me Faith.” Mom beams like it’s prom night.

  Rod raises his glass like he’s toasting. “Faith it is. Like I was saying, son, Faith here doesn’t want language like that. You think maybe you could keep it PG while we’re in their house?”

  “Pee Gee?” Lance snorts. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Rod gives him a look. “Let’s just keep it clean, okay?”

  Lance scowls at him, but it’s the cutest scowl I’ve ever seen.

  Mom says, “And speaking of PG,” she turns to me and eyes my shirt, “could you please change into something more… appropriate?”

  “What are you talking about?” I blurt, instantly defensive. What is inappropriate about a V-neck shirt and cutoff shorts over a bathing suit?

  “I can see your…” She can’t bring herself to say it but I know what she means.

  My bikini top. It’s vaguely visible through my white shirt. It’s not like it’s a bra. I swear, Mo
m is living in the 16th century. I want to say: Are you serious? It’s a frickin’ bathing suit! But this is my mom we’re talking about, which means I can’t say frick in the house, and yes, she’s completely serious. I glare at her.

  “Where did you get that swimsuit, anyway? I don’t remember buying it for you.” Mom has radar when it comes to rule breaking.

  That’s because she didn’t. I bought it last week with my own money because it was on sale at Mermaid Mafia when I went there with Lark and it was the last one and it fit me perfectly. I guess I should’ve kept it under wraps until tomorrow at the pool party when I’ll be eighteen and she can’t say anything. Well, she would totally say something, but she wouldn’t be able to stop me from wearing it.

  She waves her hand. “It doesn’t matter where it came from. We have guests.”

  I hate it when she does this. Eighteen can’t come soon enough. It was bad enough she had to approve everything I wore all through high school, but it’s summer and I graduated and I should be allowed to wear whatever I want. “Mom…” I groan.

  “Please go change.” It’s an order.

  “What do you want me to wear? A turtle neck?! It’s boiling hot outside!”

  “Don’t get defiant with me, young lady.” Wow, way to make me sound like I’m twelve. “I will not tolerate your—”

  “Fine! I’ll put a jacket on. And a scarf. If I die of heat stroke, it’ll be all your fault.”

  She smiles politely. “Don’t be flip, Chastity.”

  I feel my face quivering like I’m going to explode. If we didn’t have guests, we’d be screaming at each other. Like always. But I don’t want to look like a brat in front of Lance, so I rein it in. “Then don’t make me dress like a nun,” I grumble.

  “I’m not making you dress like a nun.” She smiles like we’re old friends exchanging sewing tips.

  What a laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.” I barge past her.

  I am so embarrassed right now. I can’t believe she started lecturing me in front of Lance. Then again, I can’t believe I lost it like a child. Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday for heaven’s sake. After that exchange, Lance probably thinks it’s my eighth birthday.

  “Pardon her,” Mom whispers in the kitchen. Does she think I can’t hear her? “She gets like this when—”

  “I can hear you!” I holler.

  “What’s going on?” my younger sister Charity asks, sticking her head out of her bedroom. She’s fourteen. The song Dark Horse by Katy Perry drifts out.

  “Mom. As usual,” I growl.

  “Oh. What’d you do this time?”

  “I broke the dress code.”

  “You always break the dress code,” she says smugly.

  I scowl, “Do you want me to tell Mom you’re listening to Katy Perry?” Mom considers Katy Perry a whore, Britney Spears a slut, and Lady Gaga the Anti-Christ.

  Charity’s eyes bulge and she whips her door closed. Without slamming it of course. Otherwise Mom would be down here yelling at both of us.

  I swear, if it wasn’t for Charity, I would move out of this heaven hole tomorrow. Yes, heaven hole. Because the stench of religion around here is enough to make you gag. But I would never forgive myself for leaving Charity behind to fend off Mom’s righteousness on her own. If I could, I’d take Charity with me, but Mom would never let that happen.

  I close my own bedroom door behind me and stand in front of my closet. What can I wear that won’t make me look like a prude in front of Lance? It’s a tough call because half my clothes are prudish, thanks to Mom. The other half of my wardrobe is merely boring, again thanks to Mom. She didn’t use to be this uptight. Religious yes, but after the divorce she turned into a puritan. I’m convinced Dad left because Mom has always been a bit too righteous for her own good. He was never into church like she is. I really don’t blame him for leaving. If I could divorce Mom, I would’ve done it when Dad did. I wanted to live with him but the court had other ideas.

  ++++8++++

  CHASTITY

  FOUR YEARS AGO.

  My world is ending.

  I’m fourteen.

  I sit on the edge of my bed, my dad beside me.

  My curtains are closed, muting the bright California sun, drenching my room in gloom. It feels like someone is ramming a jackhammer through my stomach. All I can manage to choke out is one word:

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to do what the judge ordered, Chaz.” Dad says it with potent sadness. His arm is around my shoulder as he explains the details of my family’s destruction in a tired voice. “The judge said that you and your sister will live here at the house with your mother during the school year, but you get to live with me in my new apartment all summer long. We’ll get to do all kinds of fun things. Isn’t that terrific?” He doesn’t sound like he thinks so. He sounds like it’s the worst thing ever because it is. He’s just putting on a brave face. Too bad I can see right through it. At least he’s trying.

  “Do I get to see you during the school year? Like, at all?” My voice is shaky with low grade terror. The idea of being imprisoned with my mom for nine months at a time scares me to death.

  He smiles half-heartedly, “One weekend every single month.”

  “One weekend? That’s it?”

  His face cracks, his silent sadness pouring out like a bursting dam. “That’s all the judge would allow. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “No, Dad!” I whine. “I want to live with you!”

  He stares at me, his eyes wet. “I’m sorry, princess. I tried. I really tried. But we have to do what the judge says.”

  “No!” Tears stream down my face. “I don’t want to do what any stupid judge says!”

  Defeated, he whispers, “We have to, princess. We don’t have any choice.”

  I smear tears with the back of my hand. “This is Mom’s fault, isn’t it? She made everybody think she was a saint and you were the devil, didn’t she?”

  I wish I could’ve been in court to play videos of how she really is. Mom is the insane one. She couldn’t talk to Dad without turning it into a fight. She’s the same way with me most of the time. But I never have fights with Dad. It’s all her.

  Dad opens his mouth to speak. “I—”

  “Nooo!!!!” A shrill scream erupts from across the hall, piercing my heart. Charity. She’s ten. She sounds like someone is murdering her. Mom is telling her the bad news in her bedroom. “Nooo! I hate you! Hate you!! Hate YOU!!!! “I!!!! HATE!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!” Charity shrieks so loud it sounds like she’s going to rupture her vocal cords.

  My hands start to shake as her panic bleeds into mine.

  Dad jolts against my side, sucking back a silent sob. His voice shivers, “Everything’ll be okay, princess. I promise. Everything will be okay.”

  I don’t believe him.

  The sad thing is, he doesn’t believe himself either.

  ++++8++++

  CHASTITY

  PRESENT DAY.

  I shiver as I stuff the memory back down in my stomach where I keep it and others like it. At times like this, my body copes by turning everything down to a low hum, but it’s a foggy dentist’s drill hum in my stomach.

  Whir.

  Not pleasant, but better than freaking out at the old memory.

  Since that time four years ago, Dad has sadly become more distant. Not emotionally. Emotionally he’s always there for me and Charity. But he had to take a management job in Illinois because he couldn’t afford to pay alimony and child support and his bills on what he made here in California because Mom doesn’t work. She never has and still doesn’t. She’s so lazy.

  When Dad first moved away, I didn’t understand why. Now I do. For the past two years, I’ve had an after school job dishing up ice cream at Marble Slab Creamery and I know all about budgets because I make so little.

  I don’t blame Dad for leaving.

  I blame Mom for making him leave.

  No matter what she thinks, Dad is normal. He doesn’t
tell me I have to dress or act a certain way. He’s not overly protective but he’s not overly permissive either. Believe me. He proved it the time I was visiting him two summers ago, the time we spent the day at Foster Beach out at the lake. When Charity and I were playing in the water, I met a cute boy named Ethan who had a great body and tattoos and little nipple rings. When Dad waved us in from the water, I told Ethan I was going to Chase Park that night to watch Sixteen Candles. I didn’t mention Dad and Charity would be there too.

  Chase Park has outdoor movies every summer and you can bring food. Dad bought hot dogs, which he wouldn’t let us put ketchup on. It’s a Chicago thing. Anyway, that night at the park, Ethan walked up to where we were all sitting on our picnic blanket. He wore a Chicago Bulls sleeveless jersey and ratty shorts. His tattoos were so obvious. He smiled at me with the cutest grin and said, “What up, Chaz?”

  “Hey, Ethan,” I giggled, already blushing. I didn’t think he’d show up.

  “Who’s this guy?” Dad asked.

  Ethan ignored him and grinned at me, “Hey, Chaz. You wanna go sit with me and my boys?” He nodded toward the other side of the huge crowd.

  He was so cute, all I could say was, “Ummm…”

  Dad said, “Why don’t you sit with us, Eeth?”

  Ethan did, but he and I were both totally uncomfortable the whole time because Dad sat between us. Amazingly, Dad acted reasonably casual and didn’t try to scare Ethan off. After that night, I never saw Ethan again. But at least Dad let him sit with us. If it had been Mom, she would’ve embarrassed me to death by either yelling at Ethan until he ran off or talked about God until he ran off.

  The thing I like about Dad is he never talks about God and he never asks me about church. Ever. He’s a reminder there’s a whole world out there that doesn’t obsess about your eternal soul every second of the day. Don’t get me wrong. He expects me to be a good person and work hard at school. But whenever I visit him, it’s like I can breathe again.