Page 4 of Nothing to Lose: Lost Trilogy: Part 1
“Leave Kenny alone. Don’t seek revenge. Lay it to rest.”
Her words are not slurred in the least when she tells me that. In all honesty, I haven’t heard her sober like this in, well, probably ever. But the fact she tells me this makes me think Kenneth Adams is hiding something. And now that she planted that seed in my head, I need to know what it is.
“Why do you protect him?” I will never understand this need she has to take his side in all things. He uses and abuses her, and she never blinks an eye to it all. In fact, she is content in her misery. Even when she cries.
“He is my husband, isn’t he?” she eyes me shrewdly. “In sickness and in health.”
“Even at the risk of your own health?” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with her.
“That’s what marriage is, Lucas,” she smiles at me, looking almost scary when she does so. “You will learn that one day.”
“I will never sacrifice my child,” I point at her, “or any child for that matter, for some idea that doesn’t make any sense at all,” I vow to her.
“Never say never, Lucas,” my mother smirks. “Never say never…”
2
Lucas
“Hey, Lucas,”a group of giggling girls are waving at me from the other side of the massive stretch of green grass we have on campus.
I push my sunglasses down my nose and give them a way too obvious wink. “Ladies.”
That just seems to throw them into another fit of giggles. I almost want to roll my eyes at how obvious they are, but I’m used to it by now. They’ve been flocking my way from the second I stepped on the campus as a freshman. Now, as I am nearing the end of my junior year, it is safe to say that I most likely fucked them all. Some, twice.
“Dude, you ready for tomorrow?” Brandon, one of my closest friends on campus, hooks his arm around my neck and tries to give me a noogie. I try to push him off me, but the fucker is huge and won’t let go. “We’re gonna get wasted,” he promises after he’s finally released me.
“You mean, just as we always do?” My sarcasm is thick.
“Well, it’ll be legal this time. For you,” he snickers.
Brandon turned twenty-one a month ago. Ever since then, any sort of alcoholic beverages have been flowing a lot easier than before. He is the first in our group of friends to be of legal drinking age, and it’s helped a lot.
And starting tomorrow, I’ll be of legal age as well. The thought is sobering. I am so happy the day is finally here, but at the same time, I am nervous as all fuck, and I don’t want to jinx myself. A look at my expensive watch tells me I have six hours and twenty-two minutes to go. They’ll be the longest hours of my life.
“I got us some good stuff, too,” he murmurs in the corner of his mouth, looking around to make sure no one is listening. “It’s gonna be lit, dude!”
He claps me on the back so hard, I take a few steps forward. The fucker is huge, and he works out all the time. He is attending the prestigious Ivy League school we’re both enrolled in on a hockey scholarship, even though his family has even more money than mine, and that says a lot. He is good enough where he is being watched to get drafted into the NHL.
“Don’t you have a game the next day?” I’m not sure doing drugs on the night before a big game is something he should be doing. If he gets caught, his career playing professional hockey will be over before it even started.
“Fuck ‘em,” he shrugs. “It’ll be fine.”
“Let’s save that for the break, okay?” I elbow him in a teasing manner, but I am dead serious.
Brandon eyes me for a few seconds, then lets out a big sigh.
“I hate that you’re right about this,” he finally admits. “So that’s why,” he hooks his arm around my neck again and starts dragging me with him, “you’re gonna help me practice tonight. You’ll be my puck.”
“Deal,” I say as I try to fight my way out of his hold.
“Let’s go, Puck,” he teases me.
I’m a decent size for a guy at around six feet tall. Brandon is on a different level though. He stands close to half a foot over me, and that’s without his skates on.
As we start walking toward the hockey arena we have on campus, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I pause to answer when I see it’s my mother. Her name showing on my screen today is making me nervous.
The lawyer she had looking into releasing the trust fund to me early said that it was locked tight, and nothing could be done. I had to wait until my birthday.
