Searching for Beautiful(18)
Sleep settled over him, an uneasy and fickle companion he didn’t trust.
VINCENT SOLDANO HATED HIS mother.
Unfortunately, he also loved her, feared her, and would do pretty much anything for a smile or a kind word. He’d learned early when to bother her and when to stay far away. The white powder was king, father, and all things holy. He could deal with the sugarlike substance. The needles. Even the occasional backhanded slaps or screaming sessions.
What scared him was the men.
He shuffled toward the front door, his palm already sweaty against the broken knob. The house was barely a shelter, just a few walls, leaky roof, and endless weeds choking the broken pavement outside. Two windows were taped up. They lived on Happy Street, on a dead end. When he was first learning to read, he thought it was good luck. He figured out quickly it was one of God’s bad jokes played just on him.
Vincent stepped into the house. The room was empty. Relief buckled his muscles, so he moved fast. Who knew how long he had before the strangers would troop in and the noises would start? He placed his one book on the folding table and began scouring the refrigerator and cabinets for something to eat. Mama’s bedroom door remained tightly shut.
He flicked off the band of cockroaches scuttling in the sink, chugged a glass of water, and found an old granola bar with chocolate chips. Score. He ate it slowly at the table, savoring every bite, and flipped through his math book. He missed school a lot, but when he was able to go he found it easy. Especially anything with numbers. He’d just look at a page, shut his eyes, and then be able to recall the entire thing from memory. He swung his skinny legs, making a note to try and wash up tonight, and then heard the squeak.
He froze. Looked up.
The man stared back at him with a funny grin on his face. “Hey, little dude. Didn’t hear you come in.”
Fear choked him. He didn’t know why. Just realized a few years back that the men were bad, and they wanted to do things that made his stomach hurt. He tried hard to look mean, but he figured it didn’t go over well when the man grinned wider and took a few steps closer.
“Where’s Mama?”
The man’s hair was straight, slicked back, and looked greasy in the few rays of sunlight that poured through the broken window. He was tall, wore jeans and a T-shirt, and had eyes that reminded him of a shark. Like Jaws. Grayish, flat, and kinda cruel.
“Ran to the store. She’ll be back soon. You like school?”
Vincent stiffened but pretended he was unafraid. “ ’S okay.”
“Bet you’re a smart boy. But there’s a better way to make yourself some money. Bet you’d like that.”
Warning bells clanged. He peered up and gauged the distance from the table to the door. “Don’t need no money.”
The man laughed. It held no humor. “Gonna depend on your poor mama to provide for you, huh? Not very manlike. Maybe it’s time to step up and help out.” He licked his lips and took another step. “I can help.”
He got ready to run. He’d been here before and thank God he was fast. He knew when and where to hide. Outside in the woods he stashed an old blanket and some water to hole up with if needed. His closet door locked and most didn’t want to bother bashing in the door.
He clenched his fists, rose to his feet, and got ready.
The door opened. His mama stumbled through, a cheery smile on her face. Her nose was bruised and pink from her last nosebleed. She had on a short strawberry skirt and a tank, and her bones stuck out in odd places when she moved. He remembered how much he had loved her hair when he was little. It was long, dark, and silky, and he’d bury his face in it and take a sniff, and she’d giggle and call him her shining star. Now the strands were cut uneven and choppy around her head.
“Hey, baby.”
Vincent relaxed. She was normal today. For a while. “Hi, Mama.”
“Getting to know Johnny?”
He nodded. The man named Johnny forced a fake laugh and grabbed the grocery bag she held, walking over to the small linoleum counter. “Yeah, we’re having a man-to-man talk.”
“That’s nice. I got some chicken on sale, baby. Gonna cook it just like you like it.”
Vincent stood up. “Thanks. I’m gonna go study for a while.”
“’Kay, don’t go far, it’ll be ready soon.”
He made his way to the large closet that served as his bedroom, and not for the first time wished to hell he was Harry fucking Potter and was really a wizard. Wished he could escape the hell of his life and feel safe. Just for a little while.
Instead, Vincent tried not to think of the man’s face and ignore the feeling that his luck was starting to run out.