Take Three (8 page)

“Amazing. Jacque Ruse asked about you. He expects you to be at the next round of planning sessions. We’re scheduled out for the next three weeks.”

“Right. Okay, we’ll talk about that.” In the background there was the sound of little girl laughter. “Listen Keith, I gotta run. Call me.”

The phone call ended and Keith ripped the bluetooth headset from his ear. He tossed it on the seat beside him and clenched
his jaw. What was Chase doing? And why so cryptic about his past week? Keith gripped the wheel with an intensity that defined the moment, and then he slowly eased off. What was happening to their team? On the surface everything looked beyond amazing, like God was answering their prayers in ways they never could’ve imagined. But beneath the surface there were fault lines that rivaled the San Andreas.

Brandon Paul was certainly one of those. The kid was a huge box office draw, yes, but what about the red eyes and crow’s feet? If he was partying, then anything could happen. They could sink millions into
Unlocked
only to have him turn up in the tabloids caught red-handed in a drug bust. Or overdosed on the streets of Hollywood like a number of other stars who’d gotten trapped by partying and wild living. He could get some girl pregnant or find himself in any number of uncompromising situations—all of which could bring the movie to its knees and impact Jeremiah Productions for all time.

Then there was the situation with Chase—whatever it was. Keith wanted to believe tonight’s conversation would be nothing more than common courtesy, Chase’s way of telling Keith how badly he’d needed time with his family. Now that his head was clear he was ready to move forward, fully committed. But he had the strange, sinking feeling Chase was coming over tonight not to apologize for a missed week of work, but to call it quits.

Now, in the middle of everything great and wonderful.

Keith could hardly stand the drive home, through hours of life-sucking LA traffic and long stretches of the 5 freeway toward San Jose. Even so, he made better time than he expected. It was only four thirty when he entered the city limits and called Chase. Again his friend sounded calm and deliberate, and again Keith was convinced something was very, very wrong. Never mind that they were on the brink of everything they’d ever dreamed, and forget the fact that God seemed to be opening doors faster than
they could walk through them. As he pulled into his driveway, Keith had the feeling he was standing in the underground parking structure once again, the walls and ceiling beams shaking overhead.

Everything about his life as a producer about to collapse in around him.

C
ODY WAS FINISHED WITH HIS LAST
final and hoping for a few hours with his mother. This new boyfriend she’d been seeing had Cody worried more than any time since her release from prison. Once an addict, there was always the temptation to fall again, and if this guy dabbled in any sort of drugs, his mother could lose everything because of him.

He drove across town and pulled up in front of her small house. A few weeks ago he’d convinced his mother to give him a key—though she’d been reluctant at first. “I’m fine, Cody. You don’t need to check up on me.”

His concerns about her relapsing couldn’t be the reason for his wanting a way into her house, otherwise she would never agree to it. Instead he came at it from another angle. “You live alone. What if you fell and broke your leg and couldn’t get up? Anyone who lives alone should have someone looking out for them. Whatever age they are.”

His mother’s expression had softened. “You really care, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mom. You know I do.” Since then Cody had kept her house key with him in anticipation of moments like this. He walked up her uneven sidewalk and knocked on the door. While he waited, he noticed that her front yard was littered with weeds, the edges uneven and the flowerbeds forgotten and untended. His mother waited tables at a diner near the campus. She probably had no time for gardening. He chided himself for not helping her with the work sooner.

“Mom,” he knocked again, louder this time. When no one answered, he used the key. The house smelled the same—lavender with a hint of Marlboro. Cody suspected she still snuck a smoke now and then. The first thing he saw was an ashtray on the kitchen counter. Frustration shot through him, but he tried to temper it. Better cigarettes than pot. As long as she stayed sober. He raised his voice. “Mom?”

She worked the morning shift and normally she’d be home by four o’clock, watching
General Hospital
, which she recorded every day. She loved the new chief of staff on the show—a Christian guy who’d starred in soaps for years. The show was a good distraction for her. At least until she met her latest guy friend. Now, when she should’ve been home watching her soap, the house was empty. He thought about leaving, but curiosity got the better of him. She wouldn’t want him snooping around, but how else could he be sure she was doing okay? He knew nothing about this new boyfriend of hers. And who else besides him would care if she were falling off the wagon?

He tiptoed into the kitchen and the sound of a cat’s meow caught him off guard, made him lurch a little. “Shadow…where’s Mom?”

The black cat slinked around the corner and rubbed against Cody’s left ankle. He couldn’t feel it, since that was his prosthetic lower leg. Strange, he thought. How little he even thought about the fact that his left leg wasn’t like his right one. He moved into the kitchen and peered into the fridge. No sign of alcohol or anything amiss. Still he had a strange feeling, like she was hiding something. Not telling him everything the way she had since her release.

He opened the cupboard beneath her kitchen sink and pulled out her white plastic trash bin. The top layer was rumpled paper towels and an empty cat food can. Cody almost pushed it back beneath the sink and assured himself everything was fine. He was
only victim to his overactive imagination. But instead he dug past the paper towels and dirty can, and there near the bottom he saw something that made his heart stop cold.

Buried there were two Miller Lite bottles and a few half-pieces of plastic straws. His heart jolted back into action, pounding in double time. What was this? His mother was drinking again? She couldn’t be drinking. She was an alcoholic, just like him. Every other time in her past when she started drinking, drugs weren’t far off. And when she started doing drugs, she had no way of stopping.

He remembered something she’d told him when she got out of prison last time. “Don’t ever let me start again, Cody. Please.”

“I won’t. Not ever.”

“It’ll kill me next time. If I start again they’ll either take me out in a hearse or a squad car, and this time I won’t be coming home.”

She was right. Drugs had gotten her in trouble with the law too many times. She had a record as long as his arm, because whenever she used drugs she also dealt. Her way of supporting her habit. If she got caught dealing again they would lock her up and throw away the key for a decade. Fifteen years, maybe. It was that bad.

He could hear her now, if she walked in and saw him digging through her trash.
Come on, Cody, what’s a couple beers? A girl needs to relax, right?

But not when the girl was an addict. The Miller Lite bottles were a terrible sign, proof that she was indeed falling—maybe harder than it seemed. Shadow rubbed against his leg again and meowed loudly. Cody felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he peered at the other suspicious items sitting next to the beer bottles. The half-cut straws. He’d seen his mom when she was using, and the straws terrified him. Sure, some people cut straws in half and used them for coffee stirrers. But not his mother. The
only time she’d ever used straws like that was when she was doing cocaine. The shorter straws worked as the preferred way to snort the cocaine. Less waste along the inside of the straw.

He straightened and braced himself against the kitchen counter.
Dear God, please, no. Don’t let this be happening. Let there be some other explanation. Please.
He replaced the top layer of trash and had just situated the bin back beneath the sink when he heard his mother’s laugh and the sound of the door opening. He took a few quick steps from the sink and swept Shadow into his arms.

His mother wasn’t alone. The guy with her must’ve been the man she was seeing. He looked as shocked as Cody’s mother to see him standing there in the kitchen. Cody smiled, desperate to cover up the guilt he felt for checking up on her. “Hi! Thought I’d stop in and see how your day was going.”

The laughter on his mother’s lips faded and she slowly set her purse down on a chair in the living room, her eyes never leaving his. “You came in—when I wasn’t home?”

“This here’s your mother’s property, boy.” The man looked like a biker. Sleeveless T-shirt, tattoos everywhere, a bushy dark beard. He glared at Cody as if he were an eight-year-old caught stealing quarters from his mother’s coin box. “How long you been here?”

Cody wanted to tell the guy it was none of his business. But he didn’t want the scene to turn ugly. Instead he focused his attention on his mother. “I thought you’d be home. I was worried about you.”

“I didn’t work today.” She reached for the man’s arm. “Benny and I spent the day at the lake.” She smiled at him. “Fishing, right, Tiger?”

“All morning.” The man winked at her.

Tiger?
Cody resisted the impulse to ask his mother if she’d lost her mind. The last thing she needed was a guy like this
character. For a long moment, the three of them stood staring at each other in what felt like a face-off. Finally Cody set the cat down and cleared his throat. “Mom, I’d like to talk to you.” He shot a look at Benny. “Alone, if that’s okay.”

His mother looked nervous; there was no denying the fact. She uttered an anxious-sounding laugh and patted “Tiger” on his soft, oversized shoulder tattoo. “Go on into the TV room. I’ll be right back.”

Benny glared at Cody, but he did as he was told. Cody watched until the man was out of sight; then he grabbed his keys and walked out onto the front porch. His mother followed, and Cody was quick to shut the door behind her.

“Who’s
he
?” Cody’s tone hid none of his anger and concern. “Looks like you picked him up at some bar.”

“He’s a Harley guy.” She sounded defensive, but her eyes still looked nervous. She kept glancing back toward the house. “Don’t judge people by the way they look, Cody. You’re a Christian. You should know better.”

“I went through your trash.” Cody had no reason to lie to her now. If she was falling, she should know he was on to her. “You’re drinking beer, Mom? Is that the kind of influence he has on you?”

“Cody Coleman,” she put her hands on her hips. “How dare you go through my things. I didn’t give you a key so you could spy on me.”

“I didn’t plan on it. But you weren’t home, so I came in. Figured I love you enough…I had the right to look.”

“You’re worried about nothing.” She blinked a few times, faster than usual, and her mouth sounded dry. “The beers were Benny’s. I’m clean.”

He wanted to ask about the straws, but he knew she’d have an answer. Also, if she were doing cocaine again he’d know soon enough. He’d rather come around unannounced over the next few weeks and try to catch her in the act. That way she’d have to
agree to get help. “Mom, what’s this guy got? I thought you were gonna find a church. Get into a Bible study.”

“I tried that.” Again she glanced back at the house. “Church people are…I don’t know, Cody. So different. Benny understands me.”

“What about your new life?” He hated this, having to grill her about her personal decisions, but his heart hurt at the thought of her throwing away her sobriety. “How does Benny fit into that?”

“I’m not sure.” She stared at her feet and began wringing her hands. “I have to go. Benny’ll wonder what’s happening.”

“Benny should be working.”

“He has a job.” She lifted her chin, indignant. “He’s a mechanic.” She took a step back toward the door. “Things are a little slow right now, that’s all. Gives us more time together.”

Cody studied her for several seconds. “Okay. If that’s what you want to believe.” He hugged her. This close he was almost certain he could smell alcohol on her skin. It repulsed him, the way alcohol always did ever since the time he nearly died drinking, back when he was in high school. Again he saw no point in saying something about it to her. If she was drinking again, clearly she wasn’t going to tell Cody. He drew back and searched her eyes. “I love you, Mom. I want you to make it this time.” He was caught off guard by a wave of emotion too strong to fight. “I just…” His voice cracked and he looked off at the place where the maple trees met with the blue sky overhead. He found her eyes again. “I want it so bad.”

She put her hands on his shoulders and gave them a strong squeeze. “I want it too, son. I’m okay. Really.” She glanced back once more. “I’d tell you.”

He nodded, knowing she was only saying the words because they were what both of them wanted to believe. But as he walked away, as he reached his car where he’d parked down the street and drove off, tears blurred his vision. A block away from his mom’s
house, he pulled over and pressed his fists to his eyes. She wasn’t okay; he could feel it. Benny was trouble, and his mom wouldn’t tell him if she was struggling or falling. Not until she admitted it through the bars of a prison or a room in the ICU.

God, please show me how to help her. Get this guy out of her life, and let her desire be for You. Only with You will she beat this addiction, God. I know that, because…because I’m the same way. I love her, God. I don’t want to lose her. She’s all I have.

You have me, son. Never forget that. Do not be afraid, for you are not alone. Not ever.

The voice echoed across his soul, and Cody wiped his eyes, regaining control. He heard the voice of God in his heart once in a while. But never this clearly. A verse flashed through his mind, one they’d focused on at the Cru retreat last weekend.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.
It was from Joshua 1:8-9, and Cody felt it ring true alone in his car. His mother wasn’t all he had. He had the Lord, certainly. And God had given him a second family long ago when he’d needed one most.

The Flanigan family.

Bailey might have a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he was any less welcome at the Flanigan home. He clenched his teeth, wrestling with his emotions. He hadn’t been by in far too long. His classes had been tougher than usual, and now that finals were over, and in light of his concerns for his mother, he suddenly wanted to be with the Flanigans as badly as he wanted his next breath.

He flipped a U-turn, and ten minutes later he was pulling up the long driveway that marked the Flanigans’ enormous house. Any time of the year the place was beautiful—beige with substantial white trim and a heavily defined black roof, wrapped halfway around with a covered porch that looked like something out of a storybook. He pulled his car up in the circle and stared at
the front entrance. How many times had he walked through that door without giving his life here a second thought? As if he might be a part of this family forever.

Now he was grateful any time he found his way back. He still thought of Bailey’s brothers like his own, and her father—her father was one of the most special people in Cody’s whole life. No one would ever be a dad to him like Jim Flanigan. The man still coached the Indianapolis Colts, and they were in the middle of summer camp. But once in a while he was home on Friday for the weekend. That’s what Bailey had told him.

He climbed out of his car and hoped this was one of those times.