Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) Page 27

  “All I’m saying is, there’re certain people who are just hardened. It’s like they’re destined for evil. You can’t talk sense to someone like that.”

  “Maybe we should cancel the tour.” Everett marched toward the window.

  Karen stood and threw her hands up. “That’s exactly what Satan wants! If we cancel, we’re not going through a door God wants us to go through—one He’s thrown wide open!”

  Everett crossed his arms and sighed as rain ticked against the windows.

  “We can’t stop living because of this,” Karen whispered. “God’s given us these fields—they’re ripe for harvest.”

  “You know I don’t want to cancel,” Everett said. “That’s the last thing I want. But I’m worried about your safety.”

  Thunder rumbled and shook the old house. Rosey came running in from the kitchen and plopped down at Dad’s feet.

  “I think you’re going to be better off away from here,” Mom said. “I mean, surely they’re not going to follow us out on tour.”

  “Look, we can sit here all day and fret about all the things they may do.” Her dad stood. “That Scripture kept coming to me all night: ‘To live is Christ and to die is gain.’ I just feel like God’s saying, ‘You can live flat-out for Me. Boldly. Even during this trial.’ And if something should happen to us, we go to be with Him—”

  “Call me immature or unspiritual,” Everett paced, “but I guess I’m just not ready to die. And I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me! I’ve brought so much heavy stuff into your lives… You know, I can read the Word and talk spiritual, but this—this is tough. Sometimes this whole existence just overwhelms me.”

  Karen turned him slightly and rested her hands on his waist. “You’re doing so well, Everett Lester.”

  Her father reached for Ev’s neck with his big hand. “We’re proud of you, son. A lot of people in your shoes would have folded by now. You keep pressin’ on.”

  “I can’t stop thinkin’ about Eddie.” Everett turned his face away from them toward the rain. “Madison pleaded with him to accept Christ. I mean, she begged him. Maybe he will—or did…”

  “Maybe so.” Karen hugged him. “And maybe you had something to do with it.”

  They stood there together, the four of them. As they did, Karen could almost feel the fire—the passion—burning inside Everett, to share what God had done in his life. Though all around her, she could sense the other fire, too, the one that was testing their faith so severely.

  Suddenly, the rain came hard. Karen had never heard it pour so loudly.

  At that moment she was sure that each of them was thinking the same thing: God’s here with us. Alive. Pouring down on us. Filling us. Letting us know—we can go through the flames.

  When Karen knocked softly and entered Wesley’s hospital room—followed by Sheila and Everett—she found Madison asleep on a narrow rollaway next to her brother. He was awake, sitting up against two pillows, watching MTV with the volume low. The Bible Cassidy had given him was closed and sitting next to him on the bed.

  Sheila made her way through the maze of furniture and hugged Wesley, with little response. “How’d you sleep?”

  He shrugged.

  “Better than me.” Madison groaned and rolled over. “I watched him sleep most of the night. This thing,” she pounded the cot, “should be outlawed.”

  “Listen,” Karen said, “Ev and I can go down to the snack bar for a little while, if you guys need some time.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Madison yawned and stretched. “Anything new on Dad?”

  “Not yet,” Sheila said.

  Madison sat up. “I’ve got to get freshened up.”

  “Well, Twin Streams is all yours,” Everett said. “You have your key?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go get a hot shower and change.”

  “Help yourself to anything,” Karen said. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge and pantry.”

  Madison found her purse on the floor and ambled over to a large mirror above the sink. “How long’s it going to take to get the house fixed, Mom?”

  “They said two or three days.” Sheila stood. “I still need one more cup of coffee. Haven’t quite filled my tank yet. I’ll walk down with you, honey.”

  Madison finished fluffing her hair, rinsing her mouth, and putting on some lipstick, then headed for the door with her mother in tow. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Wes, see you later.”

  He looked over and raised a hand. “Thanks for staying.”

  “You’re welcome. You need anything while I’m out?”

  “How ’bout a Big Mac and fries? The food in here stinks.”

  Madi laughed. “We can arrange that.”

  Everett gathered up the blue blanket from the rollaway chair and handed it to Karen, who folded it while he lifted the cot and rolled it back into position within the chair. Then he found the cushion, put it in place, and offered Karen the seat.

  Everett pulled another chair next to Karen and sat. “You doing okay, Wes?”

  “Depends what your definition of ‘okay’ is.”

  Everett cleared his throat. “I know you’ve had your share of pain and troubles, but I think it’s time we cleared the air, got things out in the open.”

  Reflex forced Karen’s hand over her mouth. She was somewhat taken aback by Everett’s timing but never by his boldness.

  “What’s there to get into the open?”

  “We had some vandalism at our house.” Everett stared directly into Wesley’s eyes, which couldn’t hold his gaze. “One of our dogs was killed. We saw a white Yukon. What do you know about it?”

  Wesley’s eyebrows arched, he shook his head, and smiled. “Nothin’,” his voice cracked. “There’re a lot of white Yukons out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Karen’s stomach gurgled acidic. Everett glanced at her with his mouth shut tight, then looked back at Wesley.

  “What about the meth lab in your basement?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “It became our business the night you killed our dog and drove over our manger scene!” Karen squeezed Everett’s hand. He lowered his voice and slowed down. “It became our business when Karen found the lab in your basement, and you pulled a gun on her behind her back.”

  “I don’t have to take this.” Wesley gritted his teeth.

  “We’ve been patient with you,” Everett said. “We’ve tried to help. The least you can do is be honest—”

  “So I tried to cook some meth.” Wesley sneered. “What’s the big deal? Shoot, you work your buns off to make enough for a couple bumps. It’s not even worth it. I know a guy who deals the stuff in mass quantity, some big operation in Pennsylvania. I don’t need to be cookin’ the stuff myself. It was just an experiment.”

  “What about the gun you pointed at Karen?”

  Karen looked down and waited, barely able to breathe.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “That’s lame.”

  You tell him!

  “If I did that, it was because of the meth.” Wesley scowled. “Stuff makes me insane.”

  “Okay, what about this Tony Badino?” Everett said. “He’s your dealer friend, isn’t he?”

  “I figured you knew.”

  “Is he out to get me for some reason? Maybe you both are…”

  Wesley’s head was down, and he fidgeted with his hands, but his eyes eventually found Everett. “I think you may be paranoid.”

  Everett’s face reddened. He stood and walked to the sink. Karen sat rigid on the edge of her seat.

  Everett leaned back against the sink, crossed his arms, and glared at Wesley. “A brick came through the window of my home. Part of our manger scene reappeared with animal blood all over it. I don’t call that paranoid; I call it ticked off at the cowards who did it!”

  Wesley’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t have anything to do with those things, I swear.”

&nbs
p; Oh, how I want to believe that.

  “Okay.” Everett threw his hands up and paced. “Let’s just look ahead for a minute.”

  Don’t let him off that easy, babe!

  “What’s gonna happen when you get out of Horizons? Tony Badino’s gonna want to run with you again.”

  Wes looked out the window. “Gotta stay away from him.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?” Karen finally got up the gumption to speak.

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Shoot, my memory’s still fried.”

  “It’s been a while, though?” Karen pictured Tony, sucking on his cigarette as he passed her on his way into the hospital. “Maybe back when you got shot in the wrist at the range?”

  “That was it, probably. It’s all pretty foggy.”

  Is it foggy? Or are you lying?

  “Thing is, you need to have something to keep you occupied when you get out.” Everett leaned on the back of his chair. “A job or classes or something.”

  “That’s what they preach at Horizons.” Wesley shrugged. “Stay busy. Keep your mind on other things.”

  He needs to get a college education. But he’d never cut it socially.

  “I got an idea,” Everett blurted out. “How would you like to come on tour with us?”

  Karen’s head jerked toward him. She may have even let out a gasp as her mind reeled and her body stiffened.

  “Thirty-six cities. You could work with the roadies or the sound crew. We could find something for you; pay you, of course.” The enthusiasm on Everett’s face dissolved the instant he made eye contact with Karen, who was too shell-shocked to let out the scream that was bridled in her throat.

  “His doctors,” Karen said. “We’d have to check with his doctors, and the staff at Horizons.” She glared at Everett, her whole face on fire. “We don’t know how much longer they’ll want him to stay, or if he’d be up to all that travel. That’s nothing to rush into.”

  “Actually,” Wesley said, “the head honcho from Horizons was here this morning. She talked with my doc, and they agreed I’m good to go back later today. I’ll be done in rehab in three to five days. So, maybe that would be a plan. It sounds cool.”

  “Hold on,” Everett mumbled. “I may have spoken too soon…”

  Ya think!

  “Before I jump the gun, I better check with Gray first, see if there’s even a spot—”

  “You don’t want me to go, do you?” Wesley raised his chin toward Karen.

  “It’s not that,” she stammered, forcing a ceramic smile. “I…I just think we need to talk about it more first—Ev and I—and pray about it. That’s a big commitment for all of us. I would feel responsible—”

  “I am an adult, Aunt Karen.”

  “Wes, I jumped the gun.” Everett nodded at him. “I’m sorry, dude. My mind gets ahead of my mouth sometimes.”

  It’s a little late now. You invited him, and I’m the one throwing a wet blanket on it.

  Wesley’s face went sour, and he stuck his hands in the air. “Hey, no worries. If you don’t think you can trust me—”

  “Wesley…” Her teeth gnashed and her head shook ever so slightly toward Everett. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and contemplated before she spoke. “This tour means so much. It’s going to have eternal consequences. We’re all going to be working very hard, and not without opposition. For us, it’s a mission. And someone’s got to make sure we stay 100 percent focused on that mission. Part of that falls on me. I need to look out for Everett, make sure he’s not overloaded—”

  “And you think I’m gonna be the needy child.”

  This whole thing was out of hand! Satan was having a field day, and Karen had had enough. “Look, I don’t know if this tour is the best place for you to learn to live again without meth, not to mention the fact that you…”

  “Just tried to commit suicide.” Wesley gazed at Karen with apathetic eyes.

  “Okay, okay.” Everett stood and walked between them. “This is my fault, Wes. I should have put more thought into this before opening my big mouth. Karen’s right—”

  “I mean, I understand Everett’s intentions,” Karen interjected, “and I want to help… But we have an obligation. If you come, Wes, I would feel divided, like I have an equally important obligation—”

  “Forget it!” Wesley crossed his arms and forced a fake laugh. “I don’t want to be your obligation. I’ve been that to Eddie and Sheila my entire life! I’m not about to become your ball and chain.”

  “Wesley, I didn’t mean it like that,” Karen said. “Please…”

  Everett closed his eyes, shook his head, and turned away.

  Karen crept to the edge of her seat. “Try to understand.”

  Wesley fumbled for the remote, lifted it toward the TV, and hit the power button, as if he were pulling the trigger on a gun.

  35

  EVERETT WAS ALLOWED TO make one visit to Horizons. That frigid Wednesday afternoon after the band had finished practicing, he picked up Wesley in the Nissan and drove him 120 miles north to Schenectady for the memorial service of his friend, Cassidy Hope Collins.

  Scores of teenagers packed the local Presbyterian church; some of them recognized Everett. Of the people who spoke—from the young and old to the punk and paralyzed—each told of a girl who was selfless, who shone like the sun with a chronic smile and a habit of helping others.

  With a steady flow of tears, tissues, and laughter, they said Cassidy loved God and people. She wasn’t without her problems, having hit several months of hard times in the end; mixing with the wrong crowd and bad drugs; and ultimately, unable to pull out of the tailspin.

  But they sang anyway. And they burned candles in shaky hands. And their faces glowed as they prayed and worshiped and celebrated into the night.

  Wesley sat on the front of his seat most of the time, with his head craning over the balcony railing. The only time he glanced at Everett was when he sensed his uncle watching him, and then he did so without expression.

  During the ride back to Horizons, Wesley’s voice came out of the darkness. “The way those people talked, they made it sound like she was really into religion.” He mentioned again that Cassidy had given him her Bible.

  “Yeah.” Everett kept his eyes on the road. “She sounded like quite a girl.”

  “I couldn’t really tell that about her. I mean, I knew there was something different. We connected. She was interested in me, but she never preached.”

  Everett was pleased Wesley was opening up. “Did she mention God to you?”

  “I guess so—once or twice.”

  They rolled on in silence for several moments.

  “You doubt she was a Christian, don’t you?” Wesley said.

  “Not at all. I didn’t know her. And that’s not for me to say.”

  “If she believed in God, how could she die like that? OD, I mean?”

  Whoa. Where did that come from? Everett’s mind blanked out for a few seconds under the pressure. Just be real. Talk to him like a friend.

  “Christians can get corrupted like anyone else,” Everett said, “if they expose themselves to the wrong surroundings, the wrong people.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very powerful religion to me.”

  “Hey, all I can do is speak for myself. I was high every waking hour for what, like fifteen years? Rotten to the core. But thanks to Karen, I found out there was a loving God who wanted to have a relationship with me—”

  “Oh, jeez, here we go.”

  “You see the proof in me, Wesley. You’re not blind. Maybe you just don’t want to accept the fact that Christ has come inside and made me new and that He can do the same for you.”

  “Back to my original question: If Cassidy was a Christian, how could she be lured right back into the meth scene?”

  “I can’t answer for Cassidy—”

  “Cop-out.”

  “Look. God’s made me salt and light. He said the sick are the ones who
need a doctor. So I interact with unbelievers and build relationships. But that doesn’t mean I hang out at bars and overnight parties where there are drugs and booze and things that are going to tempt me.”

  “Are you still tempted?”

  “Of course,” Everett said. “I’m human. I still get tempted to sin, just like everybody else.”

  “How do you say no?”

  “I try to let God fight my battles.” Everett looked straight out into the night. “When I’m doin’ well, I give up and He runs the show. But I definitely have my weak moments when it’s not like that. Are you worried about being tempted when you get out?”

  The Nissan hummed along quietly for about a mile.

  “Have you ever heard voices,” Wesley asked, “in your head?”

  Now we may be getting somewhere.

  “Back when I was doping, I thought I did. I opened myself up to that stuff. Why? Do you think you’re hearing something?”

  “Madison’s a Christian now, isn’t she?”

  This is like ping-pong—one subject to another!

  “Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Everett said. “I’m happy for her… Have you heard voices?”

  Wesley turned and stared out the partially foggy passenger window. “I’ve heard something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to say.”

  “Is it bad? I mean, what’s it saying? Is it telling you to do something?”

  “I don’t want to say!”

  “Do you hear it when you’re high or straight?”

  “Mostly when I’m comin’ down from a high or cravin’ it.”

  “Is it something—?”

  “It’s real.”

  “It may seem real. It may be real. But Wes, if it’s telling you to do something wrong, then it’s a lie. That’s how you can know.”

  “Do you think my old man’s dead?”

  Wesley was staring straight ahead when Everett peered over at him.

  “He may be, Wes. I hate to say it, but he may be.”

  After getting Wesley checked back in for one of his last nights at Horizons, Everett began the fifteen-mile trek back to Bedford in the frozen blackness. What would his nephew think about when he laid his head on his pillow that night? What would become of him? Everett cringed when he admitted how easy it would be—how likely, even—for Wesley to slip back into the same drug-induced lifestyle as Cassidy had.