“Is Emily gonna watch the movie too?”
“Seems like it.” Emily had just come home the previous week from another stay at the alcohol rehab center. So far she seemed happier than she had for the past few years. She’d been excited to go Christmas shopping with Kylie, and Banger hoped that his nineteen-year-old stepdaughter had finally realized life was too short to spend it in and out of rehab.
“We’re almost done,” Belle said from the kitchen. The scent of freshly popped popcorn and sweet buttery caramel filled the room.
“Smells good, Mom,” Ethan said.
“How’s Jack doing?” Banger asked his stepson quietly.
“Good.”
“Is he having trouble with someone at school?”
Ethan shook his head, but the way he diverted his gaze from Banger gave the real answer.
“You sure? It’s important I know.”
Ethan pulled at his flannel shirt and squirmed in the chair. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”
“I’m not gonna say shit to Jack.”
“But he doesn’t want anyone to know, especially his dad.”
“Why not his dad?”
“’Cause he doesn’t want his dad to think he’s a pussy-ass.”
“Ethan! Watch your language,” Belle fumed as she brought in two huge bowls of steaming popcorn.
“Mom, I didn’t say it. Jack did. I was just quoting.”
“He’s right,” Banger said as he reached over and scooped up a handful of the caramel corn.
“You better not be protecting him. I don’t want to hear you speak like that, Ethan.” She pointed at Banger. “And you wait until I bring the individual bowls.”
Banger watched her go back into the kitchen, then winked at Ethan. “So who’s this fucker who’s in Jack’s face?”
“A new kid. He’s in my class. He just came to school a month ago. I tried to protect Jack, but when I did, Owen just gave it to him worse. Jack told me not to interfere anymore.” He glanced at the kitchen, then back to Banger. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I promised I wouldn’t tell Jack. His dad’s got a right to know.” Banger popped a few more bites of popcorn in his mouth, his gaze fixed on Ethan. “Don’t look like you’re gonna die on me. Chas won’t say shit to Jack. He already suspects some shit was goin’ on with his son. He just wanted to make sure. He’s gonna teach Jack how to defend himself.”
Ethan’s eyes brightened. “That’ll be great! Once he decks Owen, that’ll stop what he’s doing.”
“I hope you’re not saying that fighting is the way to resolve a problem,” Belle said as she placed the bowls on the coffee table and scooped caramel corn in them.
“No, Mom. I was just talking hypothetically.” He looked over at Banger, who winked at him.
Banger cleared his throat and took the bowl Belle gave him. “We were just kicking some what-ifs around. That’s what guys do.”
“Do they?” Belle threw him a suspicious look and he blew a kiss at her. She shook her head and finished doling out the bowls of popcorn.
Emily went over to the TV and popped National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation into the DVD player. She picked up her bowl of popcorn and settled into the overstuffed chair opposite of Ethan’s.
“This is to die for,” Kylie said as she popped a puffed corn into her mouth. “You’re going to have to give me the recipe. Jerry will love it.”
Harley yawned and snuggled closer to Banger as the movie started. Soon his blue eyes grew heavy and Banger watched him as he drifted off to sleep. Sitting with his family, eating the best caramel corn he’d ever had, and watching a funny-as-hell movie were the best antidotes to encroaching danger. And for a small slice of time, he could pretend all was well in his outlaw world.
Chapter Seven
The Crazed Grinch
The computer screen glowed eerily in the dark basement. Clicking on a diamond and emerald–studded tennis bracelet, he leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. The bracelets listed on various online stores were selling for three to four thousand dollars. All he had to do was list it and wait for the bids to come in. Glancing at the Christmas tag that read “To Glenda, with all my love, Phil,” he took the jewelry out of the green velvet box and ran his smooth fingers over the stones. Grabbing his camera, he switched on the overhead light and positioned the item on a black cloth.
“It’s almost one o’clock. You’re going to be late.” His wife’s voice washed over him as he hunched over, trying to get the perfect shot. He glanced at the time on the computer. Shit. “Are you going in today? I thought you told me you were. I don’t know why you volunteered to do this on your weekends. You’re gone most of the time as it is.”
Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch! “I’m coming. I didn’t forget.”
His footsteps clumped on the stairs, and he brushed past his wife seated at the kitchen table, thumbing through a magazine, a cup of something in her hand. Probably her favorite drink—tea spiked with scotch.
They didn’t say anything to each other. They rarely did; they merely coexisted in their home, picking fights on occasion when the silence and boredom became too stifling. That day, she wanted her booze and a magazine, and he wanted to get the hell away from her.
Picking up his keys from the counter, he trudged out to the garage and closed the door behind him. His wife never went into the basement, so the stash of gifts he’d stolen at the various homes he’d broken into were quite safe. He’d make a nice sum of money after he’d listed everything that night. When he’d first started destroying Christmas, he hadn’t taken any of the presents, his only goal to destroy as many decorations as he could. But after he’d found a ten-thousand-dollar necklace in one of the brightly wrapped gifts, he’d decided that making a profit from his hatred of the holiday wasn’t a bad idea. It was a double whammy for the victims, and he enjoyed that very much.
“Goddamn holiday,” he cussed under his breath as he maneuvered his car up and down the lanes searching for a parking space. He hated that time of year with a passion, and he wished they would abolish it. If he had to hear another fucking Christmas carol again, he couldn’t be held responsible for what he’d do.
Turning sharply, he nabbed a space, lifted a small suitcase on wheels out of the back of his car, and headed for the entrance of the Aspen Grove Mall. The stench of hot dogs, pine, and kids clobbered him in the face when he entered the shopping center. The place was packed and he moved through the wall of people, trying not to run into the pop-up kiosks that always invaded the mall during the holiday season. Vendors called out to him as he walked by ignoring them.