Lane (Made From Stone Book 1) (4 page)

“Merry Christmas, Amy!” I say, placing the small gift, wrapped in the construction paper that I took from art class, gently in her lap.

She smiles and stands up quickly, passing me my present as she says, “Merry Christmas, Mallory!”

After unwrapping our gifts, we start laughing when we see what we bought. We must have been to the same sale at the discount mall; we got each other the same scarf only in different colors.

“I knew I should’ve gotten you the movie, Annie!” Amy jokes. My parents always called me Annie and I hated it. Yes, I have red hair but I hated the nickname, although it almost seems fitting now. The little orphan Annie, I think sadly to myself.

Our laughter dies down when we hear fighting coming from the room next to ours. This place doesn’t attract the best characters, so we’re always on alert, and rightly so. It’s such a far cry from where we were two years ago. We had had it all. Parents who loved us and a beautiful home in a nice subdivision. You never think it will happen to you and then you’re driving home, listening to the sound of Fourth of July fireworks in the distance and your car is the one that gets hit by the drunk driver.

Our Suburban was struck from behind and pushed into the tractor-trailer in front of us. I can still remember the feeling of my head whipping back and forth as the impact switched from back to front. I didn’t have time to think about what was happening but my mother’s ear-splitting scream followed by the sound of our family car being crushed like a soda can, brought me back to reality.

I remember the questions the paramedics asked me, “Are you hurt?” Not physically. “Do you know who you are?” Yes and no, how could I know who I was anymore? “What’s your birthday?” Does it matter? “Can you tell me what happened?” Every second, although I wish I couldn’t. I almost wished I would’ve been hurt or killed so that I didn’t have to know what happened to my family. Waking up to it would’ve broken my heart, but at least in that instance I could’ve imagined my father went peacefully.

“Lucky” the paramedics called us because we had only suffered minor injuries, but Amy and I felt cursed. We stood on the side of the road watching as our parents were pulled from the wreckage. I tried to convince myself this was all a bad dream and I was going to wake up any moment now, but I never have. It was almost like I was watching a movie scene and this was happening to someone else, anyone else, it couldn’t be happening to us.

The moment I saw the paramedics working on Mom, the slow- moving dream turned into a fast-paced, living nightmare. Our mother suffered internal injuries; a shattered knee and pelvis, a broken collarbone and her front teeth were knocked out. She was still in a coma when we buried our father. I hope we did what he would’ve wanted. We worried about what he would want to wear or what flowers he would’ve picked. Amy and I had no idea what we were doing; we were only children at the time. Our father’s sister, Aunt Marnie, was our closest living relative but my mother never got along with her so she wasn’t of any help.

When our mother finally woke up and came home, she was lost without our father. I know she wanted to be there for us, but she just couldn’t get out of bed and face reality.

Eventually, she started using her prescription medicine more than required and the gateway opened to harder drugs. We lost our house, moved into a hotel, and then we started to see Mom less and less. For a while she’d come back to sleep or shower, but it’s been a few months since we’ve seen or heard from her.

At first, Amy and I tried to help. We showered her and even hand fed her if we had to, but after a while, any trace of our mother was gone. Her eyes no longer belonged to her; they belonged to the addiction—black pools of destructive need that were only satisfied by her next fix. It's been so long now that we've had to give up hope on her ever getting help. We still pray she will, but we can’t find her; so, for now, we count on each other.

“Merry Christmas!” Mom says while running to me with arms open wide. She makes me laugh because every time she hugs me, it’s like she hasn’t seen me in years, regardless of the fact that I was here just yesterday bringing all the presents for my brothers, sister and cousins. When your family is this big, you have to prepare in advance.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“Scattered about. Your brothers are playing video games, your sister and Taylor are baking, Harper is going over the music selection and your aunts and uncles are drinking in the living room with your dad,”
Mom explains this to me with a happy smile, and I chuckle to myself. It’s always chaos around here, every event, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey jackass, you made it!” Gavin says, as he comes out of the bathroom.

“Gavin, it’s Christmas,” Aunt Kerrigan scolds him.

“Sorry, Mom,” he says and I know, hell we all know, he is anything but.

My mom rolls her eyes and heads into the living room as I follow.

“Hey son,” Dad says, handing me a beer and clapping me on the back firmly in our usual greeting.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Gather everyone so we can get this evening started?” he asks, as I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and give him a squeeze.

I do as he asks and make my rounds getting everyone together. We’re all sitting around the living room and there’s a sadness hanging in the air amidst the holiday spirit. Landon, my oldest brother and best friend, will be headed on his first deployment to Iraq right after the holidays. We are all beyond nervous. Mom and Dad constantly talk about when this war started, about how they can’t believe it hasn’t ended, and how things are heating up again. We’re all aware Landon will be in danger, and you can see it in everyone’s eyes.

“Well, it’s Landon's last Christmas at home for a while so I think he should go first,” Mom says.

“Thanks, Mom,” he smiles, “you heard her! Give the favorite son his gifts!” he jokes, just like always.

We watch as he opens his gifts; they are all sentimental, forget-me-not types of gifts, except the one from Lucas. That boy doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, which should be concerning considering he is part of the Chicago Fire Department.

“That isn’t what I think it is... is it?” my Aunt Lani asks, trying to act shocked but her stifled laugh betrays her.

“Yep, it’s a blow-up doll!” Landon says, glaring at Lucas who’s holding back laughter.

“Well, I figured it would be a while before you had any real pus…”

“Lucas! None of that talk on Christmas!” my mother scolds.

“Landon, just call me tomorrow, and I’ll explain how to use it,” Lucas says and my uncles all crack up laughing, as my aunts elbow them in the ribs. I can tell they are trying not to laugh as well.

“I just want one holiday where my boys don’t talk about… oh, never mind. Noah, Evan, Maddox this is all your fault!” my Mom says, shaking her head, resigned to the fact she has raised a group of male whores.

“Well, maybe next year we can talk about dicks,” Harper says, making a joke she should know better than to make. Uncle Evan immediately puts a stop to that talk.

“Harper! Stop!” Uncle Evan demands.

“Why do you laugh at the boys, but you don’t think it’s funny for the girls?” she questions pouting.

“Yeah, honey. It isn’t fair!” Aunt Lani says, and Uncle Evan gives her a look that immediately shuts her up.

“How about no dick or vagina talk? It’s Christmas for God's sake!” Aunt Kerrigan says.

“Alright, enough! Who’s next?” Dad asks, changing the subject.

“Mom, Aunt Kerrigan and Aunt Lani,” I say. It’s always funny watching them open gifts. My dad and uncles got into a game years ago of one-upping each other. I think Mom and my aunts enjoy the banter between my dad and his brothers, but it’s gotten way out of control; so out of control that last year my mom and aunts repaid them with ridiculously extravagant gifts they inevitably hated. Matching gaudy gold bracelets with the words ’Brothers and Best Friends’ engraved on them. We’ll see how it goes this year.

We all wait patiently as the women open their gifts, noticing that they all start to tear up. Landon is the first to ask what they got. They all got the same thing; it’s a collage of photos from when we were growing up. There are a lot of photos of all of us kids camping in Kentucky, those are some of my favorite memories. I think the photo that really got everyone was the photo of my grandma. She passed away unexpectedly last year from a massive heart attack. Looking at my family, I can see everyone’s mood has turned somber. I can see it in the weak smiles and lingering glances, we’re listening to the slow flow of Christmas music playing in the background and no one is really talking.

“Some great memories!” Mom says as she squeezes my father's hand.

“The best,” he responds while touching his cheek to hers.

I can't help but fight back tears as I look around the room at the people that surround me. My dad takes this moment to start handing out gifts again. Lucas, of course, takes this moment to start messing with the blow up doll and Gavin isn’t far behind as he starts to pet her plastic head. I watch my mom roll her eyes again. Even though the mood is starting to shift to one of happiness again, I need a moment away. I’m not going to cry like a little girl, but I know Christmas will no longer be the same with Landon and Grandma both gone. Not long after I go outside, I hear the door slide open.

“I’m going to miss you man,” Landon says with a quiver in his voice.

“You too. Keep your head down and hurry home to us, big brother. Those people over there aren't playing.”

“Will do,” he replies as I wrap my arm around his shoulders and we both continue to stare out at the skyline. Chicago is gorgeous at Christmas.

I’ve had to pick up extra hours at Connie's diner. My sister and I are barely making enough between the both of us to pay for that seedy motel room. I’m standing behind the counter serving classmates on New Year's Eve. No one makes me feel bad or embarrassed, but I want to be on the other side of this experience for once. To be the one saying, “thank you” instead of “you’re welcome;” just the chance to be one of them. I would love to live like a normal teenager. There’s just something about today, I feel more alone than I have in the past couple of years.

As I stare out at the snow-covered parking lot, I’m choking back tears, remembering the times I spent building snowmen with my parents and sister. Slipping into my memories, I can feel the cold stinging my face. I can see the proud look on my sister’s face as she tells us all to look at her always-pitiful snowmen. I can hear my parents’ laughter and feel the way my jaw hurt from smiling so much at my family’s accomplishment in building the best snowmen in the neighborhood. For one day, I want it back. I want those memories again, and I want to make those fleeting moments count.

I've tried to keep from resenting my mother, but it's impossible when we're struggling as much as we are. Amy had to drop out of night school to keep us from living out of our cars, which we thought about trading in for something a little more economical but we can't afford cars that need more maintenance. Not to mention, trying to keep up with all of this on top of getting good grades and to make myself a good candidate for scholarships.

I maintain a 4.0, but so do a lot of high school seniors. I can’t help but feel disheartened. There’s so much I want to accomplish. I want to travel and live carelessly; I want to be able to go to a really good school and help kids like my sister and I who feel like they have no option but to rely on themselves.

But for now I’m stuck with this crappy diner, in this smaller than extra-small yellow uniform that makes my skin itch when I get too warm. I think the owner might have been going for pin-up and instead she got soft porn. I’m the first to admit it, I’m not a busty girl by any means but even my B cups are having a hard time staying in this uniform. Something, anything, has to give.

I notice some patrons with near empty glasses and I rush to refill them hoping people are feeling generous tonight. I’ve been here six hours and have less than twenty dollars in tips, you’d think this uniform would help me out a little bit. Maybe people are stiffing me to buy their booze tonight; it is New Year's Eve after all. Whatever the reason, I hope it turns around.

“Are you sure you’re not staying the night?” Jill whispers as she runs her finger up and down my bare chest. Lazily I lean over and kiss her ear.

“No, I told you I was going out with my family.” It's New Year's Eve and we've been messing around long enough for Jill to know I always spend this time with my family.

“What are we Lane? What do you want?” she asks, looking uncertain as she rolls towards the spot I’m sitting in to put my pants back on.

“I like what we have.”

“I don’t know what we have. You come over, have sex, sometimes you stay and sometimes you don’t. I would think after a couple of years we would be moving towards something more.”

“What do you want?” I ask, knowing this conversation has been a long time coming.

“I can tell you I don’t want to waste anymore time if this isn’t going anywhere. We’re both twenty-six, I can’t wait forever.”

“I don’t know what I want, Jill. I know I like hanging out with you. The sex is great, but outside of that, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Maybe with time I’ll know but I don’t right now.” I speak honestly; I’ve never intended to lead her on.

“Why haven’t you asked me to go out with you and your brothers? I haven’t met your family yet.”

“Do you want to meet my brothers?” I ask. I’m not trying to hide Jill from my family and leaving her out of my plans has never been purposeful.

“Yes. I’d like that,” she says.

“Well, ok. We can meet up with them next week,” I respond, hoping to satisfy her even if it’s only temporary.

“What’s wrong with tonight?” She asks and it dawns on me…. Shit!

“My parents and aunts and uncles will be there,” I confess and I know for a fact that I’m not ready to introduce her to the only women I hold on a high pedestal.

“Just go,” she says in a small voice, sounding defeated as she rolls to the other side of bed and away from me.

“I’m not there yet, Jill, but it doesn’t mean I won’t be.”

“I want more, Lane. Please, don’t lead me on.”

Not knowing what else I can offer her at this point, I get up and walk out the door deciding to head to the small diner a few blocks over so that I can eat and think about this before I meet up with my family. I know I need to make a decision before I see them; they’re going to know if something is weighing on my mind. Family is family and they’ll force me to let them in whether I want to or not.

I head back to a corner booth and start thumbing through the menu halfheartedly, unsure of what I want to eat or do in my personal life.  

“What can I get you tonight?” the waitress asks me in an overly sweet and completely unauthentic voice that’s still so recognizable. I have to look up to see her face.

I should leave… now. She’s wearing a tight-as-hell uniform that barely covers her ass and I’m certain if she bends over, I would be able to see what I so desperately should not see. My eyes slowly travel up the rest of her body and it has me wondering if she’s wearing that purple lacy underwear I caught a glimpse of last week when she uncrossed her legs in class, the school really should do something about those cheerleading uniforms.

I’m not trying to stare, but this little ensemble outlines every curve of her tight body and her small breasts are practically busting out of the yellow dress. I really need to leave. When I meet her eyes again, I can see the embarrassment in them.

“What’s good here?” I ask half-heartedly, trying not to make this any more humiliating for her than I know it already is.

“Connie’s double fried steak burger is good. It probably has over a million calories and it’s far from heart healthy, but it’s ohhh-so-delicious.” She explains, exaggerating the word ‘oh’ by licking her lips. She needs to fucking stop. Is she trying to tempt me? I clear my throat as I drop the paper napkin into my lap in an attempt to cover her obvious and infuriating effect on me.

“I’ll take that and a coke, please.” I quickly respond, still staring at the menu, hoping she'll leave quickly.

“Ok. Make sure you get some cardio in after this burger.” She says innocently as she turns and saunters off to her next table.

Fucking Christ. I can almost feel what it would be like to have her balled up underneath me, while I slam my dick deep inside her and then start pounding her hard and fast. Take that for some cardio.

I shake my head; I don’t know why I keep going there. She’s a student for Christ sake! I hate when those news stories come on - teachers having sex with their students. It’s sick. I know she’s eighteen, but just because she’s legal doesn’t make it ethical. I feel guilty for thinking about her that way, I’m sure that’s why she seems so embarrassed. I’m likely not the first and only one tonight to let their eyes linger on her body just a moment too long. I’ll have to eat quickly and get out of here. After winter break is over, I need to power through those next five months with my head down.

To get my dirty mind off of Mallory’s ass, I try to turn my attention back to Jill. Why am I not rushing to put a ring on her beautiful hand? On paper, she checks every item on the list for what I would want in a wife. She’s funny, beautiful, smart, mature and gives an excellent blowjob. I could love her; maybe the reason I worry is because I want my family to love her. I probably should’ve invited her tonight. Maybe if I see her getting along with the women in my family, I’ll start to see her differently.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Mallory's voice. “Please don’t touch me,” she says with a disgusted tone. I notice she’s bent to the ground and in the process of standing back up with her ass facing straight towards a table full of middle-aged men.

I have to hold onto the edge of the table to keep myself from jumping out of my seat. With white knuckles clutched to the table, I try to calm down. She seems to be holding her own against these assholes, but what happened? I wonder if one of them grabbed her ass and I’m forced to hold myself down in this booth once again.

I sit and observe a few more minutes once she's walked away from the table. The guys sitting there are laughing loudly and I can tell they’re drunk; so drunk that one of the idiots knocks a few dollar bills on the floor. I would pick it up for him but he doesn’t deserve anyone’s help. You would think men our age would’ve grown up by now. I mean we’ve all seen pussy; we’ve all had it. If you’ve seen one you’ve damn near seen them all.

When I see Mallory headed to my table, I notice she looks sad and it’s bothering me. I know she gets a lot of guys like these who are inappropriate, hell, I’ve heard talk about her in the locker room. I decide to keep the conversation light.

“Here you go, Mr. Stone,” she says while placing my food on the table.

“I have to admit, Mallory, I’m looking forward to the burger.”

I notice she shifts from one foot to the next and replies, “ Well, I hope you agree. Would you like some ketchup?”

“If it’s as good as you say it is it won’t need any ketchup. I’m trusting you here!” I tease.

She smiles a little smile and says, “After you’re done, you might want to run a few miles. I wasn’t lying when I said it was delicious and completely unhealthy.” With that, she playfully walks away.

As I start to take a bite of my ‘ohhh-so-delicious’ Connie’s double fried steak burger, I notice she bends down to pick up the money that man had dropped and ah yes, I was almost right. Though I can’t see everything, I can see that it’s pink lace that outlines her ass- not purple this time. Not only do I see it but the men do as well and I realize quickly that the asshole dropped the money on purpose.

“Here you go,” Mallory says quickly, trying to hand the man back his money. He takes it and in an unbelievable and enraging move, drops it again right in front of her face.

“If you bend over again, you can keep it this time,” he slurs.

My white knuckles can’t keep me in my seat anymore. I jump up. When I get there, I'm immediately livid at what Mallory has just done. She actually bent over again; she showed her ass to that fucker’s whole table for the three worn out dollar bills he tossed on the dirty white-tiled floor.

“Get back to work,” I say in a low rumble that comes out almost like a growl. It might have come across much more threatening towards her than I meant for it to. I notice her small jump as I grab her arm and start to push her to the back of the counter.

“You got a problem?” the drunken man asks.

“Get up and get the fuck out. Now,” I demand.

“We haven’t even started eating... but this sandwich isn’t what I want to eat anymore.” He teases, trying to look around me at the red-faced Mallory.

Complete and utter rage fills my body, and when his buddies laugh with him, I can’t help but take their plates and throw them outside onto the snowy ground so they can go eat like the animals they are.

“Go fucking eat then,” I bark at the now slightly less talkative group of men, pointing to the piles of food on the ground outside the thin glass door. I notice how quiet the restaurant is, aside from all the noise I’m making, when I catch myself listening to the quick beat of some tune that must be playing in the kitchen.

“Mr. Stone!” Mallory says in an attempt to chastise me but her voice only comes across whiney.

“Mallory, I said get back to work,” I bark out angrily; I’ll deal with her later.

Mallory is pacing frantically and I know she’s uncertain about how to deal with this situation or with me for that matter. You can read in her dumbstruck expression that she isn’t equipped to deal with this. She shuffles over to me quietly, and without making any eye contact whatsoever, she attempts to reason, “Mr. Stone, they’re paying customers.”

“Yeah, we’re paying customers.” the drunk man says, flashing his yellow smile. “Now bend on over baby, and maybe I’ll drop a couple more singles on the floor.”

The man chuckles to his friends and faster than I could stop and weigh the consequences, my hand was behind his grimy, useless head smashing it face first into the Formica table top which was the same mustard yellow as Mallory’s tight little uniform.

I can tell I’m losing it and judging from the shocked look on Mallory’s face she knows I am too.

She rushes to put her arm through mine and I can feel her small hands knotted together in a fist struggling to try and pull me away from the table of men. If I weren’t so focused on being pissed off, I would laugh at how easily I’m able to shrug out of her delicate hold and keep my footing in front of the table.

“Mr. Stone!” Mallory desperately interrupts once again, and once again, it pisses me off. If she isn’t going to defend herself then I’m going to have to.

“I’ll fucking deal with you in a minute,” I say over my shoulder to Mallory while grabbing the man by his greasy shirt collar and pushing him headfirst out the door. His much more restrained buddies followed quickly and quietly out the frosted glass door. I’m surprised that not a single one of them protested, but I’m equally as relieved as I watch them step over the remnants of their forfeited dinner without a single complaint under their breath.

"What's your problem, dude?" the drunk fuckface asks from his position on the ground when I step outside to make sure they’re not trying to hang around.

"Just go. Don’t come back and don’t even
think
about laying a hand on her," I snarl, looking down at him, hoping this is enough to dismiss him.

"She didn't mind... I think she might’ve wanted me too. She could've made more, I would've paid to see more." He gloats pitifully from his position on the soggy concrete and I take a deep breath to keep from dragging his belligerent ass into traffic. This time when I speak, I address his friends instead of him.

"Get your friend the fuck out of here. I'm sure you'd rather spend your New Year's Eve anywhere but in the hospital."

They scurry around silently to pick him up and put him in the car. I turn away from the pitiful sight of them trying to help themselves and I don’t move until I can no longer hear the feeble rev of the rusty Ford’s engine.

Once they're gone, I decide to stay out in the cold air a little longer to try to get a grip on whatever came over me inside that diner. Between my brothers, cousins, and I there are six boys. Pissing each other off and beating the shit out of one another was something that just happened; I’m used to that kind of thing. What I’m not used to is being jealous and territorial, much less over a student!

"What the fuck, Stone?" I whisper to myself. I take a few more deep breaths to calm myself before I head back to deal with Mallory. I still can’t figure out what she was thinking. Silently thankful that only a couple members of the kitchen staff witnessed my behavior, I walk back inside.

Mallory is standing rigidly in front of the booth, clearing off what remained on the table. But there wasn’t all that much left seeing as their plates were on the ground outside, nevertheless I walk over to the booth and attempt to help.

“I’ve got it, Mr. Stone,” she says bluntly as I move to pick up a glass and she snatches it before I’m able to wrap my fingers around it. I can tell she’s irritated with me, but she isn’t the one who should be irritated. She’s showing her ass to everyone for a few bucks and
she’s
irritated? I know I need to cool it; I have to keep reminding myself that I have no right to care.