Flee From Evil (10 page)

Vince almost choked on his soda. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lew, but I don’t have any kids.”

Eddie gulped his beer. “I wish someone’d come out and help
my
ole lady. Not exactly a widow, since she never married, but she’s been real sick lately. Can hardly get outta bed.”

Vince fished a pen out of his pocket and slid a cocktail napkin over to him. “Put her name and number on here, and I’ll make sure she gets a meal.”

Eddie’s lip curled. “You serious? Someone’ll bring her food? My brother doesn’t even do that, and he lives with her.”

“I tell you what, I’ll take the dish to her myself.”

Eddie scribbled on the napkin as if to challenge Vince to follow through.

Lew grumbled beside him. “Do you all ever actually work for a living? Billy’s been trying to sucker me into volunteering for his car-care ministry.”

“Yep. We’d love to have you.” Vince tried to make eye contact, but the man’s gaze ran the length of the bar. “He says you’re a whiz with engines. You can fix them, build them, and race them.” Billy was so proud of his father’s ability he even showed videos of his old dirt-track events.

Lew nodded to the bartender for a refill. He tipped it back and slammed the empty shot glass on the bar. “Long time ago.” He watched dregs of amber liquid puddle at the bottom. “Reflexes slow with age.”

Or too much drink.

Vince held that thought to himself. “You don’t need good reflexes to fix cars.”

Lew’s expression soured. “Especially for old ladies and poor people.”

“Is that beneath you?” Vince hadn’t realized the challenge in his voice until he saw the reaction in the man’s eyes.

“Beneath me?” He slipped off the stool and hovered his wiry frame over Vince, breath thick with Scotch between them. “Let’s not talk levels here, Country Club. I knew your set.” Spit flung as he slurred. “I knew yer dad, too.”

Those last words bit. Couldn’t be a star endorsement on his resume.

“Don’t act like yer gonna swoop in and give me God.” Lew thumbed his chest. “I know what I’m worth, and I don’t need you to tell me.”

Vince’s gaze traveled the stubbled chin, down the stained T-shirt and dirty jeans, wondering what kind of worth the man had calculated for himself.

God saw so much more.

Lew glared as if noting the perusal and coming up wanting.

“Vrooooooom!” Cass’s young son bolted from the bathroom, and headed straight toward Vince. He wove around one table, then another. Did the boy recognize him from church?

Cass’s eyes went wide as she took after him.“Tibo,” She called with a look of mortification on her face.

Vince readied himself to catch the boy until …

“Umpf!”

~*~

Crazy kid.

Lew wrapped his arms around the boy to make sure they both didn’t land on the beer-soaked floor.

“Tibo!” The woman turned a pleading look to Lew. “I’m so sorry. He has autism. He doesn’t always do what he’s supposed to.”

Tibo peeked up from Lew’s grasp and let out a roiling giggle. Something about it swirled around Lew making him want to join in the joke. “That’s okay. Kid just wants to drive fast, that’s all.” Lew could understand.

“Mrs. Whitaker, this is Billy Lewis’s dad, Lew.” Preacher boy barely made eye contact with the lady as he introduced them.

She jutted out her hand. “Please, call me Cassandra.”

You’d have thought the preacher’d been stuck by a sword the way he looked when she used her first name. Did the guy not like her being familiar with the likes of him?

“Kat tells me you’re really good fixing cars.”

He grunted. What was he supposed to say—
oh, yes, I’m the best
?

Tibo pulled on Lew’s T-shirt, like he wanted the man to join him in a race around the bar. Lew resisted the urge.

“Tibo, leave the man alone.”

Lew held up his hand. “That’s okay. He’s not bothering me.” Something about the kid made him want to crack a smile—just a little. He glanced between Vince and Cassandra, and realized they’d never really looked at each other. He suspected a soap opera there.

“Well, I was just leavin’.” Lew tousled the boy’s hair. “See ya round, kid.”

Cassandra pulled on her son and turned. “Us too. Nice meeting you, Lew.”

“Yep.”

She never said a word to the man staring after her as she walked out the door.

Chapter Nine

Sophie gripped the fabric of her skirt as Sky parked his Honda Civic in front of Water’s Edge High School. She peeked sideways at the guy looking very dressed up in his polo and dress pants. It felt too quiet in the car. “You look nice today.”

He chuckled. “Never thought I’d need these clothes again. My uncle bought them for a funeral we had to go to.”

Should she ask who died? “Your uncle?”

“He’s my guardian.”

So many questions ran through Sophie’s mind as her eyes got caught up in his. He seemed to dare her to ask and warn her of the repercussions at the same time. She waited.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the arm rest between them. “Social Services took me from my mom when I was ten.” The words came out as if he were speaking of someone else. “I spent some time with a foster family.” A wistful smile spread as he stared at the bottom of the steering wheel. “They were real nice. Eventually, I was placed with my uncle …”

Was he disappointed?

“… since he’s family.”

What could she say to that? “I’m sorry,” was all she could think of as several other questions swirled in her head, like
where is your mother now?
And
is your father in the picture at all?

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I think I was the only guy not wearing jeans there.”

She guessed this was not the time to ask. “There were some people dressed up. But yeah, the church is kind of casual.”

Sky popped the latch. “Let’s get started.” He jogged around and opened her door before she knew what hit her. “It’s your turn to drive.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “Already?”

“Of course. Did you think I was going to demonstrate from the driver’s seat?”

Sophie gave herself a mental slap as she stepped from the vehicle, palms clammy, and swapped places with Sky. She stared at the buttons, knobs and levers all around the steering column. “What do I do?” Could she hear his words over the pulse in her ears?

“Your mother really hasn’t taken you driving at all?”

She suddenly felt defensive for her mom who was super busy all the time. “She’s been kind of distracted.”

“Okay. First, you turn the key in the ignition while you gently pump the gas.” His instructive tone made her feel safe, like he knew what he was doing.

She cranked the starter, and flinched at the car’s hard rev. Sky’s slow grin calmed her. Sophie exhaled as the Honda’s roar settled into a hum.

“Now, put your foot on the brake, and shift into gear.”

Sophie loved the way he went step-by-step without making her feel like an idiot. She followed his instruction, moving the car forward in fits and starts.

He took the motion well. “Just make that—” jerk “—left turn—” he grabbed the dash “—around the gym. Lighter on the pedals, there.”

She turned the wheel, and the car lurched to the left.

“Whoa! Not so much. Take it easy.” He grimaced. “We’re in no hurry to get to the other side of the school.” Except his crooked smile seemed to block all transmission from her brain.

He sucked in a breath and blew it from his full lips.

“At least there’s no one here I can hit.”

“Yep. We got that goin’ for us.”

He led her through the parking lot in one direction three times, then the other direction four. Little by little it became more second nature. Sophie’s breathing calmed, and her grip relaxed on the wheel.

Sky pointed to the school’s front entrance. “Now park over there.”

She eased the car up against—Wham!—the curb.

His brows jumped as he grabbed his seat.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry, Sky. I didn’t hurt anything did I?”

He winced. “That’s okay.” The words were not convincing. “I think my tires can handle it.” He mumbled, “And hopefully the alignment is still good.”

Sophie froze. She couldn’t unstick her fingers from the wheel to shift backwards.

“Back up and straighten out a bit.” His baritone soothed her.

She complied.

Sky hopped out of the car, before she could ask what was next, and popped his trunk. After rustling around, he pulled out two traffic cones, placed them next to the curb, and stuck up-ended brooms in each. He had a dangerous spark in his eye as he turned to look in through the windshield.

Sophie shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m not ready to parallel park. You just saw what I did to the curb.”

He jogged to the opened window, leaning his elbows on the door, his cologne meandering after him as a gentle breeze touched the blond curls at his collar. “You can do it, Soph. I know you can. So what if I need new tires after.” He tugged at the sleeve of her blouse, leaving a warm imprint on her arm where his fingers had brushed.

Back in the car, Sky gave her directions about shifting, turning, gassing, braking. She followed as best she could, bumping into the broomsticks over and over, Sky claiming she nailed his Aunt Shirley’s car the first time, Grandma Gertrude’s another, and a few cousins in between. When he groaned over the death of his pet warthog, named Oinker, Sophie laughed so hard she ran over the cone and almost up the curb.

“Whoa!”

Sophie braked and parked.

“Man, when you take em’ down, you don’t mess around.” His wide eyes softened. “Now one last time. But keep it slow.”

After Sky set the broom back in the cone, Sophie pulled up next to it, shifted to reverse, then rotated the steering wheel all the way to the left as she inched into the spot. Reversing the wheel, she let up on the brake, easing some more. She stopped and grasped the gear shift.

Sky’s hand covered hers. “Not yet. Back up a little more.”

Sophie’s brows knotted. Not just because of the warmth of Sky’s palm across the back of her hand, but because she wondered why it felt so rough, bumpy. Not like callouses, but sores. She flinched.

He pulled his hand back and fisted it between his knees, staring out his window. “Go ahead.” Words tight.

The air in the vehicle seemed to harden as Sophie peeked at the guy next to her. She backed up, shifted into drive, and pulled up to the front broom.

“I did it!” The accomplishment bubbled up inside.

Sky nodded curtly. “Yes, you did.”

The bubbles popped. What just happened? “Thank you, Sky. You’re a great teacher.”

He nodded again. “I better get you back home now.”

She unfastened her seatbelt and pulled the door latch. “Yeah. Sure.”

They traded places, and rode to Sophie’s house in absolute silence.

~*~

Vince poked the doorbell at Cecelia Crenshaw’s house—Eddie’s mom. Yolanda stood next to him carrying a cooler and a casserole dish. The button fell from the encasement and dangled precariously. Had it even sounded inside the house?

He scanned the front—shingles missing, lawn and garden overgrown, trash piled high.

“I can see your friend takes good care of his Mama.” Yolanda’s tone did not register appreciation for the man.

Vince decided to knock on the screen door this time. It rattled as if made of foil.

The door swung open. A large dude in a muscle shirt eyed them up and down. “We don‘t want any.”

“We’re friends of Eddie’s.” Vince slung the words as if to race the closing door.

It halted. Then slowly peeled back revealing muscle-shirt guy again, a question mark on his face as he scanned the two intruders. “You can’t be serious. Eddie’s got
tidy
friends?”

Why did Vince suddenly feel overdressed in his Dockers and polo? And why did it feel as though the word
tidy
somehow translated into
prissy
?

Yolanda pushed through the entrance. “We brought your Mama food.” She lifted the coolers and bags she carried while staring the man down. “Show me the kitchen.”

Muscle Shirt let go of the door, lifting a brow at the woman, even if he did let her have her way. Yolanda marched in as if she were the President’s personal chef, preparing for a state visit.

Vince followed past the weight bench strewn with T-shirts, stepped over balled up socks and scattered sneakers to find the woman already opening and shutting cabinets as she looked for cooking utensils. He placed his bags on the counters.

Yolanda pivoted to Muscle Shirt, pointing to the dish-filled sink. “You ever clean these?”

He shrugged. “Dishwasher’s broken.”