Chapter Three
~~ You're no son, no son of mine
but where should I go,
and what should I do
you're no son of mine
Lucky stood on the corner of Cortland Street and 4th, indecisively anonymous in the dark shadow of a busted streetlight. He'd been walking aimlessly for about an hour without any real destination in mind, but subconsciously he was really looking to score some drugs.
He knew that he should save his winnings from the illegal poker game earlier that evening, but the money was burning in his pocket, and he had an itch, well, that need to be scratched. He knew that some dealers frequented a strip club that was close by, but Lucky was underage and was sure that he couldn't get in. So, he slumped up against a wall and leaned his head back, waiting…. and thinking.
Lucky pulled out a pack of cigarettes,
and bent over as he lit one and drew a deep drag of smoke into his lungs. Cancer sticks.
That's what his mother had called them when she lectured his skinny, junior high school
butt after catching him sneaking one with his friend Stan behind the garage.
*** "Lucas Lorenzo Spencer Junior!" Laura shrieked.
Lucky's geeky friend Stan hightailed it out of there at the sound of Lucky's mother screeching.
"Ah, mom, you're gonna wake the dead," Lucky deadpanned, imitating, as always, his extra cool dad. He turned away and took another puff off of his cigarette.
~ SMACK! ~
Laura knocked the cigarette right out of Lucky's surprised hand and stared him down with her hands on her hips and lips pursed.
A twelve year old Lucky shuffled his feet and averted his eyes as he threw down the pack of cigarettes and stamped them with his right foot.
"You will not indulge in those cancer sticks while you're living under my roof," she fumed.
Laura then pulled Lucky into her arms and held him closely in a tight embrace. They stood together like that for what seemed to be an eternity. Laura gently stroked Lucky's hair and softly replied, "You are my son. I love you more than life itself. I never want to lose you - especially to something dumb like those cigarettes. I love you, Lucky." Laura lifted his chin and looked directly at him with tear-filled eyes.
"I love you, too, mom,"
Lucky's voice squeaked as he hurriedly wiped away a tear. ***
Lucky made a repetitive swirling motion with his sneaker - around and around, he carved a circular pattern in the dust and grime of the alley, pausing only to drag a bit deeper on his cigarette. He hunched his shoulders a bit and crossed his arms against the evening's cold dampness. Fall was approaching rapidly, and Lucky thought he should go over to the Goodwill store tomorrow to buy a coat. They had good stuff there, and some of it was even new. He fingered the wad of bills in his pocket, glad that he had a new cash reserve.
Lucky coughed and briefly grimaced at the sharp pain in his chest. He didn't think it was the cigarettes - he only smoked occasionally. Who knows how he'd started that up anyway? It must be the drinking. Drinking and smoking seemed to go hand in hand. He never crossed through Jake's when the air wasn't 50% smoke and 50% oxygen. The smoke just swirled repeatedly and obsessively from the drinkers' free hands.
Lucky looked up sharply and expectantly at the sound of laughter and approaching footsteps. He stepped out of the alley and into the path of Joey C. Joey was the local dealer that Lucky had hooked up with maybe three or four times since his return to Port Charles.
"Hey Joey," Lucky called out nonchalantly. "Wanna do business?" Lucky gestured back toward the isolated alley.
Joey looked at Lucky with a combination of amusement and irritation. "Can't you see I'm busy?" Joey replied, hugging his buxom companion tighter and kissing her smiling face.
"Just for a minute, man," Lucky insisted a bit desperately.
"Wait here, babe," Joey told his impatient female friend. She looked on and tossed her long brown hair as Joey joined Lucky in the alley.
"What can I do for ya?" asked Joey impatiently.
"Same as last time," Lucky replied. "And, can you do me? I don't like to stick myself," Lucky shrugged.
"No time for that, pal," stated Joey as he quickly handed Lucky a small baggie full of white powder. "Just blow."
"Okay," said Lucky reluctantly. He really had been looking forward to an awesome high, something that would send him out of the universe.
Joey walked quickly out of the alley, and joined his friend, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck. They both laughed and continued on down the street and to his car.
Lucky stood in the alley for minutes, trying to decide what to do. He really didn't look forward to wasting his stuff in the cockroach-infested room over Jake's.
When life threatened to wrap its ugly tentacles around him again, invading his mind as unwelcome, stray thoughts, Lucky quickly decided. He reached for the baggie and snorted a generous amount of the white powder.
After placing the baggie in his front jean pocket, Lucky sought out a place to crash further into the alley.
He barely had time to roll himself up into a broken wooden crate in a darkened corner before his high decimated him. Lucky nodded off, warm and content in his nothingness.