Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) Read online

  Things were beginning to fade as Everett read the note: “’How does it feel to lose something you love? Your so-called God allowed this.’” And then he must have seen the inverted cross, as she had. “’To hell with your God, and with you, his followers.’”

  It was the guy in the gray ski cap. A buzzing sound drowned out Everett’s voice. The one following her at the airport.

  Her head filled with pressure, and the ground spun. She couldn’t hold on any longer; her eyes closed.

  It was Tony Badino…

  And then—nothingness.

  28

  BY THE TIME THEY got Karen back to the house, she was coming around. Everett laid her on their king-size bed and stroked her forehead while Sarah rummaged around in the large master closet for some dry clothes.

  “You fainted, babe,” he whispered.

  She blinked and licked her lips. “The note…it freaked me out.”

  “We’re gonna get you changed into something warm.”

  “Okay.”

  He stroked her soft hair. “Are you all right?”

  She closed her eyes, nestled her head against his hand, and smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “You should sleep awhile.” He stood, still gazing down at her. “I’ll check back on you in a little bit.”

  “Ev.” She touched his arm lightly. “There was a guy following me at the airport.”

  “What?” He bent back down and leaned close to her pale face. “Honey, you’re still out of it. Let’s just—”

  “Listen to me. I want to tell you this now. It had to have been Tony Badino.”

  Everett cringed at the mention of Badino’s name. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “I thought I was being paranoid.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  “Midtwenties. Mean little face. Gray ski cap and a long black trench coat.”

  “That’s him.” The gears in Everett’s mind spun out of control. “Did you wear the denim coat you had on today to the airport?”

  “Yeah. Today’s the first time since then. He was watching me from a bookstore. Then when I was waiting for Mom and Dad at the top of the escalator, he was there.”

  Watching my wife! “Did he say anything?”

  “No. I remember bumping into some people when I saw my folks. I was kind of in a hurry. He may have dropped the dog tags in my pocket then.”

  Jacob’s deep voice came quietly from behind. “He hates God.” He padded into the room in his baggy gray socks. “I saw it so many times when I was in ministry. People get mad at the church, at the pastor, or at Christianity altogether—and they end up hating God.”

  Sarah appeared in the bathroom doorway with a sweatsuit for Karen.

  “This guy’s girlfriend finds Christ. He sees a change in her. May have piqued his interest even. But then she dies and he’s ticked at God. All of a sudden, everyone who believes becomes the enemy, especially prominent pastors—and born-again rock stars.” He glanced at Sarah. “We had our share of nutcases in and out of the church.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sarah rested her palm on Karen’s forehead. “Whenever you’re bearing good fruit, there are trials. Look at what you guys are about to embark on—a missionary tour that’s gonna blow the lid off of Satan’s plans for many, many lives.”

  Jacob shook his head. “There’s gonna be heavy-duty persecution.”

  Sarah stood. “Okay, enough of this for now.” She shooed Jacob and Everett toward the door, walking with them. “Let’s let this girl get out of these wet clothes.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Karen raised her head. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for anything.”

  “Don’t worry about tonight, babe. Just take it easy.” Everett closed the door and followed Jacob and Sarah to the kitchen.

  “How is she?” Madison asked from a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Feisty as ever.” Everett sauntered up behind Madison and leaned over her shoulder.

  With a pencil held loosely in her right hand and a gray eraser in her left, she sketched a picture of the view outside the kitchen window.

  “That’s incredible, Madi. Karen said you were talented, but I had no idea…”

  Sarah and Jacob wandered over, too. “That is beautiful,” Sarah said. “Is this something you’re pursuing as a career?”

  “I’m not sure.” She kept working with her head down. “I’d like to, but it all depends.”

  “That’s a real gift, to be able to draw like that,” Jacob said.

  “I’m tellin’ ya,” Everett said, “this girl’s got it goin’ on!”

  Jacob found a sliced carrot in the fridge, snapped off a bite, and spoke with a mouthful. “It’s so cool to see the different gifts God gives us.”

  Everett’s head jerked toward the pounding at the front door. His heart slammed into his throat, then dropped back down into position but continued ticking like a bomb.

  Madison and Sarah sat frozen at the table while Jacob took several steps toward the kitchen cupboard where the gun was stashed, but he stopped short.

  Everett peered through the sheer that covered the narrow, vertical window next to the door. “It’s Eddie.” He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. The cold air rushed in and so did his brother.

  “Whaddya think you’re doing?” He was five inches from Everett’s face, seething through clenched teeth. His brown eyes were sunk deep in their sockets, and he was unshaven. “What’d you do? Huh?”

  Everett looked toward Madison then Jacob.

  Eddie’s eyes followed. “Jacob. Sarah.” He nodded. “Madison…” His voice went soft, and he put his game face back on. “Look, I gotta talk to Ev alone. I’m sorry. It’s urgent.” Out of breath, he turned back to his brother. “Where can we go?”

  “The den, I guess.” Everett led the way.

  “Do you want me to come, Ev?” Jacob caught Eddie’s gaze. “I know everything that’s going on.”

  “Just give us a few.” Eddie continued toward the den, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

  With a bob of his head and a raised hand, Everett assured Jacob it was okay.

  Madison remained red-faced at the kitchen table, and Eddie made no further contact with his daughter as he marched past.

  Everett closed the door behind his brother, who didn’t bother to remove his winter coat and still clutched his leather gloves in one fist. Everett started to speak but was cut off.

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing, messing with Dominic Badino? Are you crazy? What his wiseguys did to me, that knot on your head—it’s child’s play! These guys chop off hands and feet. They’ll dismember you, put the pieces in a burlap sack, and scatter your remains along the Jersey Turnpike!”

  “I was following his son, not Dominic,” Everett said. “I don’t give a flip. It doesn’t matter—”

  “You’re really one naive idiot, Ev, you know that? Ever since you got saved it’s like you just fell off the turnip truck. You’re in hot water, understand? Boiling hot water.”

  “Why?” A wave of panic rocked Everett. “What’d you hear?”

  “You filed a police report last night—” Eddie spun away, hands on his waist—“accusing the son of carrying a stiff around in his trunk and dumpin’ it in the sewer in Yonkers.”

  “I saw it! He and his buddy chased me; they fired at me. How’d you find out?”

  “I just did.”

  “Well, they’re going to find the body.” Everett approached the window Eddie was staring out. “I called down there today. They’ve had teams working on it since morning. And Tony Badino’s in for questioning.”

  Eddie smacked his gloves to the ground, swiveled, and grabbed Everett’s shirt at the neck. His brown eyes danced wildly. “What do you think this is? You think this is a game?”

  Everett groaned as Eddie’s knuckles pushed hard against his throat, shoving him backward into furniture, disturbing his cracked sternum. “You think you’re on some kind of crus
ade to tidy up society like some Christian superhero?”

  “Tony threw a brick through our living room window last night!” Everett grabbed his brother’s wrists and stopped himself from being pushed any farther. “And he’s the one who cut Millie’s throat. He was with your—”

  Three knocks sounded at the door. “Ev, is everything okay?” Karen called.

  Eddie shoved him and let go.

  “It’s okay, babe. We’re fine.” He breathed hard, his chest aching. “Be out in a minute.”

  “What you don’t know,” Eddie spit out as he jabbed a finger at Everett, “is that Dominic Badino’s henchmen fished that stiff out of the sewer before sunrise.”

  “No way! There was a bag of bloody clothes—”

  “They got that, too,” Eddie said. “No body, no evidence—no crime.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No! Tell me how you know!” Everett grabbed Eddie’s tie and pulled it tight against his throat. “I’m sick of you lyin’ to me. I moved to this town to be near you. To help you!”

  “Get your hands off me.” Eddie squeezed Everett’s wrist. “I won’t ask for your help again.”

  “Look, they’re gonna find evidence.” Everett released him. “At least meth.”

  “Forget about it!” Eddie pounded the windowsill. “Badino’s thugs went over the kid’s place with a fine-tooth comb before sunup.”

  “There’s gotta be blood stains in the trunk—”

  “The car’s gone,” Eddie spoke like an all-knowing madman. “Badino’s men took it. Nobody’ll ever see it again.”

  “But—”

  “What you don’t realize, brother, is that what’s true and right ain’t always true and right.” Eddie quit fighting now, and his voice weakened to a monotone. “Even if they do find something on the kid, his old man owns half the NYPD.”

  Everett shivered. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “He can make it so that police report never existed; same with the officer who filled it out; and same with the witness who claims he saw the crime. That’s you.”

  Everett covered his mouth, then dropped his hand. “You’re in deeper than you’re telling me.”

  “You worry about yourself.” Eddie bent over to pick up his gloves. “This is the real deal. You’re way out of your league. They may not come after you now, while this thing’s hot, but they’ll come—when you least expect it, and from someone you least expect.”

  “But if Tony goes free—”

  “No.” Eddie shrugged and laughed nervously. “It doesn’t work that way. They’re not gonna let this die. I guarantee it. You went to the captain’s house lookin’ for trouble. You fingered his son! In the mob’s eyes, this is unforgivable.”

  “So, what do I do?” Everett yelled. “Go to Badino? What?” He nearly smacked his brother. “You tell me, since you’re so involved with this gang—”

  “Are you nuts? He’d have you stuffed on the spot. You need to look into witness protection or something. But watch your back. You still got a gun?”

  Everett didn’t want to admit he did, and instead pivoted away.

  “If you don’t, you need to buy yourself one.” Eddie slapped something bulky against the back of Everett’s shoulder. “I know you can shoot.”

  Without looking back, Everett covered the package with his hand. “What’s this?”

  “The rest of the dough I owe you. Twenty-four grand.”

  The money was in a fat white envelope. “How long can you keep winning?” Everett turned to face his brother. “Huh? Forever?”

  “I knew the bad beat was gonna end.”

  “Stop, Eddie, while you’re ahead.” But Everett knew his plea wouldn’t penetrate; Eddie was as stubborn as their father had been.

  As Eddie reached for the doorknob, Everett wanted to tell him that Wesley had probably been with Tony in the white Yukon the night Millie died. But he kept his mouth shut and watched his brother open the door, walk past his daughter, and amble out of their lives.

  Madison scrambled to her feet seconds after he was out the door. “Dad, wait!” She ran into the cold without her coat. Everett watched from the window as Eddie turned and faced his daughter on the front sidewalk. He looked down at her as she spoke, steam filling the air between them.

  After several moments, he grasped her hands at chest level and began to warm them in his. She continued peering up, directly into his aging face—talking, nodding, sharing. And then Eddie engulfed her in his arms, and she hugged him back tightly. For minutes, they held each other, swaying back and forth in the wind that had whipped Eddie’s coat collar up against the back of his graying head.

  When finally they parted, both faces glistened. Eddie took his glove off and wiped her cheeks with the back of his fingers. Then, with an arm around her shoulder, he walked her back up the sidewalk to the door.

  Madison’s mascara was running when she came back in, but her brown eyes were open wide and shining. She nudged the door closed, crossed her arms, and stroked her biceps as she strolled toward her extended family.

  “I had to tell him how much I love him, no matter what…” She smiled and cried at the same time. “I mean, that’s what Christmas is all about, right?”

  29

  SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT. Everett was despondent. He couldn’t play the music, couldn’t even make himself smile. As the band prepared to take the stage in the center of the atrium at the Miami-Dade detention center on New Year’s Eve, Everett asked for a few minutes to himself.

  His old friend Donald Chambers, one of the head guards at the maximum security prison, led Everett beyond several roped-off areas to his own office cubicle in the bowels of the complex.

  Chills engulfed Everett along the way as the prisoners chanted at the top of their lungs, “Les-ter, Les-ter, Les-ter.” He wished Karen and Sarah could be here, but the prison had refused to allow females to interact with the inmates.

  “Reminds me of old times.” Donald smiled.

  “Yeah.” Everett took a deep breath. “Sure does.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Ev. You okay?”

  “I just need a few minutes to get focused.”

  Sitting alone in the charcoal-colored swivel chair at Donald’s cluttered desk, Everett closed his eyes to pray but stopped midsentence, flashing back to the Christmas Eve dinner at Beau’s Tavern and the loaded semiautomatic Glock he’d slipped into his coat pocket to take along—only to change his mind at the last minute.

  What kind of believer considers taking a loaded gun into a restaurant?

  Just as he had when he returned the gun to its hiding place that night, he wrestled with the depth of his faith.

  Who are you to sing for almighty God?

  He’d lost weight. Since Christmas Eve he had virtually no appetite. Even at the highly anticipated dinner with Karen, her folks, and Madison at Beau’s Tavern, he’d only picked at his blackened grouper. Later that night, he couldn’t even concentrate on the message at church; he was too busy scanning the auditorium for would-be assassins.

  Look at you…

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the thick white towel draped over his shoulder, Everett attempted once more to talk with God. But the phone conversation with the NYPD detective replayed itself, confirming what Eddie had prophesied: no body, no duffel bag, no evidence. Tony Badino was free.

  There could be a contract on my life, right here—tonight.

  And what about Karen and Sarah, alone at Twin Streams…

  He’d become paranoid, plain and simple. This Christian life was all new to him. Soberness was new to him. As a millionaire superstar, everything had been handled for him. He hadn’t learned to cope with real life, real people, fears, or problems. He’d never been the center of others’ attention when he wasn’t stoned out of his mind.

  Now it was different. All eyes were on him.

  Who am I?

  Was he the new creation he cla
imed to be?

  Or am I a fake?

  His lack of concentration had gotten so bad on Christmas and the days that followed that Karen confronted him late one night. “Gray Harris is here, Lola and Oz…the whole band. They’ve come here for you, to stay at your home, to help you with this dream of yours. You owe it to them to get your mind on business—100 percent—and on to what God’s called you to do. If you can’t do that, maybe we need to call this thing off.”

  Those within Everett’s inner circle understood the possibility that the Badinos may retaliate in some way, but no one seemed to be caving to the extent he was.

  He writhed at Donald’s desk. “I’m here for these people, Lord. You’ve put this desire in my heart. But I can barely move. It’s like I’m paralyzed.” He closed his eyes, still able to hear and almost feel the thundering anticipation of the boisterous crowd. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Fear,” God seemed to whisper.

  “What do You expect? I’m worried. I’m self-conscious. I want a drink so bad…”

  “‘I, I, I…’”

  “You’re right; I’m so selfish!”

  “Everett…”

  Just remembering that God knew his name calmed him. “What’s going on, Lord?”

  “Am I your Shepherd?”

  “Yesss.” He squirmed, frustrated by the simple question.

  “What can separate you from My love?”

  “Nothing.” He knew the answer. Why couldn’t he live it?

  “Tribulation?”

  “No.”

  “Persecution?”

  Everett shook his head.

  “Death or a demon’s powers?”

  “No! None of that—ever. Nothing can separate me from You.”

  “But what about this valley of death?”

  “I’m supposed to say I’ll fear no evil.”

  “Can you?”

  Hesitantly, Everett whispered, “Yes. I know You’re with me. Your rod and staff comfort me.”

  “You are mine.”

  “Sometimes I forget, Lord.”

  The quiet settled in around him. He opened his eyes. The fluorescent lights seemed bright. He was to find a Bible. Scanning Donald’s desk, he did—beneath a calculator. He knew just where to turn.