Chapter Two
~~ Oh his words how they hurt me,
I'll never forget it
and as the time, it went by, I lived to regret it
Lucky carried the black, plastic trash bag very carefully, trying hard not to knock the bottles together and make a loud racket as he exited his apartment and headed down the stairs. He didn't bother locking the door as there really wasn't anything there to steal. Take my mattress, please, laughed Lucky to himself. Maybe Jake will buy a new one then.
Lucky's brow furrowed as he thought about Jake. If he didn't start being more careful, he was going to get caught pilfering her liquor. When he first started stealing stock, he only took an occasional bottle once in a while. Now, he was beginning to take one percent of her stock or maybe one bottle for every few boxes. He promised himself that he'd reform his ways as he lowered his trash bag into a neighboring business' trash bin. No need to make Jake suspicious of his frequent trash bag drop-offs.
Lucky walked through the streets toward
Luke's or Roy's as it was now named. Laura had sold Luke's to Roy after the divorce. Lucky
cut through alleys and took the back way, stepping over black puddles and trash. He'd been
extra careful not to drink after this morning so that Roy couldn't tell. Roy was still
shacking up with Bobbie, and he didn't want his aunt to hear anything else bad about
Lucky. He'd already born the brunt of that hot, redhead temper too often lately. A month
or two after Luke had been sent to Pentonville, Lucky stopped by the brownstone to visit
Lucas and catch up with his cousin.
*** Bobbie opened the door to her
nephew and crinkled her nose as he passed by her.
"Lucky! Have you been drinking?" she asked firmly.
"Whatta you talking about, Aunt Bobbie," Lucky lied casually, resting his hand against the wall and leaning into it as he avoided her sharp eyes.
"I can smell liquor on your breath! How dare you come over here and ask to talk to Lucas in this condition," she yelled.
"I'm not drunk!" he yelled back, rolling his eyes at her. "Why are you hassling me?" Lucky had the unfortunate ability to look and act exactly like Luke when he was angry, and Bobbie responded harshly.
"I grew up with a drunk, and I don't have to stand for this behavior in my own house," she responded coldly. "You will not go near my son with alcohol on your breath. Get out of my house - NOW!" Bobbie stood there fuming and pointing to the door.
"FINE!" screamed Lucky. I
don't want to be here anyway!" He raced out of the brownstone, hopping three steps at
a time until he hit the street running. He had run for nearly a mile in frustration, fear
and pain. ***
Lucky shrugged his shoulders as he recalled his aunt's anger. He kicked a couple of empty cans as he made his way to Roy's. He'd only shot up half a syringe of the drug before he left his apartment, so no one should have anything to hassle him about tonight.
~*~*~*~
~~ You're no son, no son of mine
You're no son, no son of mine
Lucky knocked two times on the wooden door, hesitated, then knocked four more times. Roy DiLucca's face appeared at the door, and he frowned at the sight of Lucky.
"Hey, kid. What are you doin' here?" he asked disinterestedly.
"I want in the game," Lucky stated firmly.
"I don't know if we want a kid interrupting us," Roy replied flatly.
"I'm not a kid when it comes to the cards, Roy, and you know that. Let me in," Lucky said, standing his ground and placing his hand on the doorway.
Roy wasn't sure. It looked like the kid might be on something, he couldn't tell. Roy looked him up and down, noting his torn and ragged clothing and uncut, dirty hair. For a microsecond, he briefly felt sorry for the kid.
"Okay, Lucky. Come inside. If you bother us, you're out. Understood?"
"Yeah," Lucky calmly replied as he entered the dimly lit room.
Mike Corbin looked up from his cards as Lucky entered the room. "Lucky." he said without emotion. "If Sonny asks, you didn't see me here."
Lucky looked at him with amusement. "Sonny and I don't hang together anymore, Mike," he replied with a small smile.
Lucky pulled up a wooden chair and stepped over it to sink into the seat. He drummed his hand expectantly on the felt top table.
"Next game," stated Mike.
"Yeah, okay," said Lucky, getting up out of his chair and wandering around the room.
This place sure has changed, thought Lucky as he looked at the freshly painted walls and tidy shelves. Gone were all the colorful memories and outright Luke junk. There were no more family pictures or mementos. I wonder where the fossil is that I gave dad when I was four?
Lucky rushed back to the table expectantly when he heard the start of a new game.
The table erupted into laughter when Lucky produced his entire savings of $25.
Mike looked at him with tears in his eyes from laughing. "Lucky, the minimum bet is $200. What do you plan to do with that?" Mike pointed at Lucky's few bills. "Go buy yourself a soda, kid."
Lucky thrust his chin out defiantly. "This $25 will turn into $200 after the first hand," he stated. "Are you afraid to deal?" Lucky looked Mike in the eyes and held his gaze.
Mike looked down and reluctantly dealt Lucky his hand. "Well, let's just see about that, " he said.
An hour later, Lucky left the club $400 richer. Man, this is sweet he thought. His step lightened as he walked back to Jake's.
~*~*~*~
The insistent music beat rose up from the bar and invaded the ceiling above to the thin floor of Lucky's apartment. His metal bed hummed and buzzed to the beat of some rock song or another. Lucky had lain there for about an hour, kinda exhausted physically, but mentally alert. He tossed and turned, and finally gave up. Insomnia was getting to be real common, and he was pissed. What's wrong with me, I used to sleep like a baby every night, he complained to himself
Reaching for the light on his nightstand, something brushed over his hand as it scurried out of his way. Lucky jumped up quickly, startled, and he turned on the lamp. His eyes had just enough time to detect the monster cockroach that flew under his bed, running for cover from the light. Damn, Lucky hated those bugs. He'd found one yesterday morning, drowned in his liquor bottle, lying belly up and floating in the brown liquid on its back like a bug on holiday in the Caribbean. He had forgotten to fasten the lid to the bottle after he had drunk himself to sleep.
Lucky walked over to the sink bolted to the wall across from his bed, hoping that a cold splash of water would help his headache. The pipes were exposed, and a few drops of water regularly ran down the length of the silver pipe to the dirty wood floor that absorbed the small amount of liquid as a permanent, dark stain under the fixture. Tripping over the tiny, green frayed rug placed in front of the sink, Lucky cursed as he lost his footing and reached out his hand to grab the sink abruptly to keep himself from landing on his face. The action of his hand jarring the sink forced the pipe's occupant out of its home and into the cracked, porcelain basin.
"%^&&*&&^%%&&*!!!!!!"
Lucky shouted as many obscenities as he could think of or invent. Son of monster cockroach was perched saucily on the rim of the basin, daring him to act. ^$^$&$&$* Lucky had had it with these bugs and was determined that he would win this battle. Grabbing his toothbrush, Lucky chased it around and around the porcelain basin, swatting and cursing. The damn thing had nine lives. Twice, Lucky smashed with the bristles of his brush square into the bug's back, which just annoyed evolution's survivor. The cockroach seemed to rear up on it back legs as it waved its front legs at Lucky. Enraged, Lucky grabbed his next weapon, the toothpaste, and squirted randomly and ferociously at the little bugger.
"HA!" Lucky shouted triumphantly as his lethal weapon met its mark. The cockroach sadly waved its tentacles as it lay mired in the bright blue, sticky goop. Trapped, it could not avoid Lucky's vicious swats, and was flattened. Lucky swept it down the drain with his now unusable toothbrush and ran the water at full force. Lucky began laughing loud and hard. He fell onto the floor and rolled around, holding his side. Finally, he rose from the floor, pulled on some pants and a sweatshirt, slipped on his shoes, after shaking them out first, and headed for the door. Let the bugs have a party, he thought. I'm outta here. Lucky walked out the door and descended into the night.