Chapter Thirty
"Lucky would you stop looking at that computer for a minute?" Emily asked shortly with a bit of exasperation playing across her face. "You've been working on it nonstop the whole time I've been visiting you."
Lucky looked up into Emily's hurt face. He closed the top of the laptop computer and held his hand out to her. "Sorry," he said. "You know my one-track mind. Come here."
Emily took his hand and looked into his blue eyes. She broke away and started digging through her purse. "Let me play with your hair," she grinned, wielding a pocketsize brush and jumping up and down. "Please, pretty please. I'm a hairdresser wannabe!"
Lucky sighed. "Okay, but just for a minute, and you'd better stop right away if someone walks in."
Lucky sat on the edge of the bed, dangling his arms between his legs, and Emily kneeled behind him, stroking his hair with her hand and running the brush carefully down its silky length. She sectioned his hair, and brushed each section gently, working up the shine and curving the brush under the ends.
"You have nicer hair than me," she sniffed. "It's not fair, why should a guy have such great hair? I can't believe how long it is, it must grow even faster than mine." Lucky sat there silently with his head leaning back, soaking in the sensation of her hands on his hair. "Mmhm," he answered absently with his eyes closed and his mind pleasurably relaxed.
"You have great hair," he murmured without thinking. "I can't stop looking at you." Emily's mouth opened in surprise, and she stopped brushing. Lucky slowly turned around and reached his hand out to softly touch her long, brown hair. His hand lingered on the side of her face, and his thumb lightly traced the plump heart shape of her lips. Emily closed her eyes, leaned her cheek into his palm, and turned her head to lightly kiss it. Lucky responded by capturing her lips in a soft embrace. He rubbed his lips repeatedly over hers as she moaned and ran her hands over his shoulders. Lucky finally broke the kiss and leaned his forehead onto Emily's forehead.
"I care about you so much, Lucky," Emily whispered breathlessly. "How did this happen?" she wondered out loud as Lucky's blue eyes met her brown ones, caressing them with their warmth and love. "I don't know," he replied in a low, intense voice. "But it feels so right."
~*~*~*~
Tony stood with his hands on his hips, chuckling. "Earth to Lucky!" he exclaimed loudly while waving one hand in Lucky's direction. Lucky looked up from his laptop, startled.
"Tony, I didn't hear you come in," he said sheepishly while closing the laptop and frantically trying to clean up the top of his bed, which was littered with computer parts.
Tony snorted. "And you didn't hear me calling your name the first two times, either." Tony's eyes grew curious. "How's that repair job going?"
"I finally have all the parts I need. As soon as I put it all back together, it should run fine," Lucky stated confidently with a hand on the top of the computer.
"I have something important to discuss with you, Lucky," Tony stated. He sat down on a pleather chair, crossed his legs and played with the tassel on his right loafer. "I'd like for you to live with me when you are discharged from here. They're pretty simple digs and I can't cook, but what do you say? Want to batch it with me?"
Lucky was silent for a minute, staring down at his hands, deep in thought. "Are you sure, Tony?" he asked softly with a little quiver in his voice. "I might be kind of a liability." Lucky paused for a minute, then added, "Besides, all I can cook is chewy spaghetti and Hamburger Helper." Lucky laughed out loud.
"Anything beats my usual pizza delivery or frozen food," Tony replied with a smirk. His face grew serious, and he stated, "I'd really like you to consider living with me."
"That's very generous of you, Tony," said Lucky sincerely as he nervously picked off pills from his blanket and created a pile of them. "I'd be happy to. Thanks." Lucky took in a shaky, deep breath. "Tony?" Lucky asked in a small voice. "Why are you helping me? I still have a lot of issues to work on. I'm probably won't make the ideal roommate."
"Well, from the looks of the top of this bed, you're probably right," quipped Tony. "But to answer your question, I'm helping because nobody in this life succeeds without family and friends, and I guess I qualify for both. Simple as that."
~*~*~*~
Dear Lucky,
What an interesting photo of you and Miss Emily. Why are you wearing such a big grin, pray tell? I think I can count all 32 of your teeth just by looking.
They have me working in the prison library now. It beats breaking rocks or washing dishes I suppose. Your dad the librarian only I don't have enough hair to stick a pencil in. I should start wearing some specs just to play the part.
Let me know what your plans are post hospital. Love you son.
Your father,
Luke Spencer
~*~*~*~
Dear Dad,
Well Emily and I are a couple now I guess. And, don't say a couple of "what." I can hear you saying that!
Tony Jones is letting me stay with him after I get out of the hospital tomorrow. He's been cool. Unfortunately, neither of us can cook.
I take my GED test in four weeks, so I have to do some studying. Can you take that test in prison? Maybe we can study together online or something. I love you, too dad. I just wanted you to know that.
Your son,
Lucky Spencer
~*~*~*~
Luke Spencer tidied the circulation desk, stacking papers into neat piles and placing pens and pencils back into the cylindrical black plastic pencil holder bolted onto the wood counter. Although he would never admit it to anyone, he kind of enjoyed working in the prison library. When the checkout line and requests for information ebbed, he had time to dip into the books, and now he was knee-deep in Sophocles' "Oedipus Tyrannus." He always considered himself to be somewhat of an armchair philosopher, and he enjoyed digging into the ancient Greek texts.
"On arrogance and pride
a tyrant feeds
The goad of insolence
Of senseless overbearing, blind conceit,
of seeking things unseasonable,
Unreasonable,
will prick a man to climb the heights
where he must lose his footing
and tumble to his doom."
Luke closed the book and his eyes took on
a vacant look as he remembered his early life.
*** "But, dad, I like school," Luke protested. "I just won the eighth grade speech contest. I want to go on to the ninth grade. I can work real hard on the weekends. I'll bring home a lot of money, I promise!"
Luke's rumpled dad picked up a whiskey bottle and shakily poured himself another drink, his seventh in the last hour. "You don't need any school. What I want is a son that brings his father some money to support this family. I'm pulling you out, and that's final. If you want the shit smacked out of you, just keep it up, sonny boy. I'm in a mood, and it would suit me fine to bash your face in."
"But, dad, please," Luke continued in a teary voice. "This is important to me."
"What did I tell you boy?"
slurred Luke's father with enraged red eyes bulging. He grabbed his thin, lanky son by the
scruff of the neck, shook Luke hard and kicked him to the floor. "That's all the
learnin' you need," he growled. ***
Luke's eyes refocused, and he toyed with the pamphlet in his hands. He just might take that GED test. Lucky could help him with the math, and Luke was the history buff. Maybe between the two of them, they might pass that test. Luke cleared his throat, rubbed his chin and grinned.