Free Lucky's Girl by William Holloway Page B

gave me twelve of these bad boys.”
    “She blew you and gave you a twelve pack?” Kenny exhaled. “You didn’t stick it in any of her other holes? Because, dude that’s just plain nasty.”
    “No way, there’s things down there no shot can fix.”
    “You don’t tell Christie about things like that do you?”
    Mason shrugged. “Sometimes.”
    “Christie knows about Mary and those kind of… nasty fucking road whores?”
    Lucky shot his million-watt smile and laughed. “Son of the Preacher Man, Kenny.”
    ***
    “So where’s Mary, dude?” Kenny took a swig, ambling to the edge of the pier, unzipping and beginning a long beer piss off the edge.
    Mason, sitting on the tailgate, belched. “She’s feeling a bit under the weather.”
    Kenny zipped it and listened. How Great Thou Art boomed out over the water and spread across the night sky. Gorgeous . The Rev was a practically unnatural choir director. As many times as he had heard this and the million other gospel standards, it had never failed to impress. That he could take the stumblebums of Elton Township and make them sing like that was amazing.
    “You gonna be a daddy or something, Lucky? How you gonna stay Lucky changing out a bunch of Pampers?”
    Mason didn’t immediately respond. He just sort of paused. This got Kenny’s attention even though he was four beers in. He thought about pursuing it but decided against it.
    Finally Mason said, “Nah man, nothing like that. That ain’t ever gonna happen. I don’t want kids. Fuck, that’s the last thing I would ever want. Fuck all that. I’ll never ever get tied down like that.”
    “You value your freedom.”
    “Yeah, man, of course. How we gonna take our big roadtrip saddled with a pregnant bitch?”
    Kenny inwardly cringed. He hated when Lucky called either Mary or Christie, or the other women who flung themselves at him, bitches. It was bad enough he got away with everything he did, but these unguarded glimpses into his actual thoughts really rubbed Kenny the wrong way.
    But that’s the way Lucky was. He was Lucky, and Lucky did what lucky guys do; he took his luck for granted. But , Kenny thought, Lucky could be a lot worse than he was . If he kept the over-the-top arrogance out of sight then it was out of mind. And Lucky was his best friend, always was, and having the most popular guy in the Upper Peninsula as your best friend wasn’t such a bad deal.
    Kenny sighed. “We been talking about this roadtrip for years and now we’ve graduated and supposed to go but I don’t have any money.”
    Mason grinned. “Neither do I, dude. Who the fuck cares? We’ll live by our wits, be wild men, right?”
    Kenny shook his head. He loved Lucky, but Lucky had never understood. Couldn’t understand. How could he? Lucky lived a charmed life, Kenny McCord didn’t.
    Lucky had always been there for him, and so had his parents, The Rev and Abby. Always there to pick up Kenny, would never let him go hungry, or ever let him go without. They loved him, for them it wasn’t charity. But for the person who survives on that kind of love it can’t help but feel like charity sometimes.
    And what Mason was proposing was more of that kind of love, or charity, depending on how you looked at it. It was true that Mason really didn’t have any money either, but Mason was Lucky, and Lucky could charm his way into any woman’s bed, and keep them on couches and out of the rain all across America. And he wanted Kenny to tag along.
    Mason could tell where Kenny’s head was. “Man, don’t worry about it. Between me and you we’ll be under every skirt from here to Kalamazoo. And that’s just a start. You’re my ace, buddy. We’re going to LA and we’re gonna fuck the living shit out of every single slut in the whole damn motherfucker!”
    Kenny grinned. “So lemme get this straight. From here on out, fuck is a noun, a verb, and an adjective?”
    “It’s a bitch doing jumping jacks on the end of your dick,