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Good Luck Kid

Irish Bastards Saga One


S. A. Mecham

Editing by Tan Nizzum

Cover design by Sam Y Cats Designs

No. 1 edition

©2017 S. A. Mecham, All rights reserved.

©2017 cover art by Sam Y Cats Designs, All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

WARNING: This book contents materials which is not suitable for all audiences. No person under the age of 18 is permitted beyond this point.

Chapter One

The morning rays of the sun beat down on the back of my neck burning me, making it hard to forget its mid-July and I’m a fair skinned white boy. I’m glad I’m wearing my white Tee undershirt and basketball shorts or I’d be sweating in addition to burning alive. “Damn it’s fucking hot!” I shout aloud as I across Pinnacle Boulevard over to Lacy Drive. I am discreet, staying off the main roads on my way over to Skid’s house. His fucking rules, not mine. I mean I’m pretty cautious but Skid is a damn paranoid motherfucker, for real. He sells a few bags of weed here and there, but that’s it and somehow he believes everyone is out to get him. Now that I think about it, Skid has always been fucking paranoid, ever since grade school. I laugh out loud at the thought.

“Bark!!! Bark!!” A nasty, brown bulldog barks at me. I make matters worse by barking back at his ass. He is behind a fence so he can’t get at me but boy does he want to; he barks and growls even more as I round the end of the block leaving his barking-ass behind me.

I don’t mind the walk but I do wish that my 'shit mobile' wasn’t in the shop most of the time. I never wanted a car to begin with. I should be on my bike. I don’t know why I haven’t gotten my shit together and fixed my bike by now. It’s perfect weather for riding. For the next few months, New Mexico will have gorgeous weather and soon I will be riding through this amazing valley on my damn bike as it should be. I just need to get some money.

I woke with the sun this morning at six or so I guess it was. I look down at my watch and notice it is only ten. “There is no way Skid’s going to be up this early. I am going to have to knock on his door for hours in order to wake him up. Shit, I’d be better off just coming in through his window.” I go over my thoughts out loud.

No one is out on the streets in this rural, quiet neighborhood. Skid has lived here since we were kids. Billings is the street he lives on and all the houses are run down or completely abandoned. It’s a total shame what the shitty housing scams did to our sleepy town. Thanks a lot, Uncle Sam! The sight of the houses, with cracked windows and shit-filled porches, starts to get my blood boiling. I feel my neck muscles tense up and my stomach starts turning. Shit, I didn’t eat this morning. No wonder my stomach is acting up. I have too many things on my mind, like making money and getting out of this no way town. I hear a lawnmower off in the distance and for a moment I feel like I might be in a normal neighborhood on a just another ordinary Saturday. The sight of Billings Street snaps me back from my daydream.

“Just as I thought, no answer,” I scoff. I knock one more time but I know he’s either sound asleep downstairs in his dungeon with his music going or he’s not home at all. I look around on his porch noticing his ashtray and smokes alongside his favorite chair. “That’s strange Skid forgot his smokes out here,” I question. I reach down picking up the smokes before heading around back to his bedroom window. “Skid!” I bellow while banging my balled up fist on his basement window. I lean down looking into the window noticing movement I bang again. “Come on, Skid get the fuck up its fucking hot out here!” I yell while continuing to bang on the window.

Skid appears and starts opening the window with one eye closed and a blanket wrapped around him like a little kid. He barely manages to lift the window up as I have to grab it to open it the rest of the way. “Err…Yeah…” He stammers some shit I can’t understand.

“What? What the fuck are you saying Skid? Get out the way I’m coming in through the window I guess,” I say before I toss one leg through the open window before moving the rest of the way into his room. I drop down onto his bedroom floor without falling. “Thanks for finally answering man, fuck! Don’t you remember? You called my ass last night and told me to come over, so why the fuck was you asleep when I get here?” I say to Skid’s back as he stumbles off over to his couch plopping down on it, still wrapped in his blanket. “Oh yeah. And here’s your cigarettes man! You left them outside, dumb-ass.” I toss them over to him walking over joining him on the couch. The cigarettes hit him in his head before he catches them.

“Ouch…fuck Luck, man stop that shit!” He yells at me. I chuckle while grabbing one of the smokes that have fallen from the pack.

“You’re such a baby, man. Just look at you. What are you wearing a baby blanket or what?” I joke before lighting my smoke. I take a drag from it and float off into nicotine land. “Fuck…I need to quit this shit!” I scold myself before I take another puff.

“You’ll never quit Luck; you will be smoking for life.” He says to me before lighting up his smoke and puffing away on it. “It could be worse, though. I mean you could be an alcoholic too like most of the world but that’s what so impressive about you Luck is that you never drink. Now that’s something I don’t understand.” He adds while looking around at his room. “Take a look at what just one night of drinking does to me, man.” He says while gesturing to the many empty beer cans, wine bottles and other liquor bottles lying around the room. “And fuck you man, this isn’t a baby blanket!” He adds finally getting my joke. He was always slow at getting my jokes. I love teasing him, though. He is a good sport and an even better friend.

“So what was so damn important that I needed to be here first thing in the morning or else I would miss out on the best job ever.” I ask. I draw a long drag from my smoke as he takes a drag from his.

“Yes. Man, you will love this. I have got the best plan ever. Well, it isn’t my plan really but I thought of most of it on my own. So I say that makes it my plan, right?” He starts rambling on and on.

“What is the plan Skid? I’m not going to jail for some stupid shit that you thought of while high at two o’clock in the morning. You know, your coined ‘genius hour’.” I say to him but I can tell he’s not listening to me because he stands up and drops his blanket on the floor as he moves across the room and back again with some paper in his hand. “Shee-it! What’s this? Some get rich ponies’ schema?” I ask while grabbing the paper from his hand to read it. It’s a bingo brochure I can see from the title. I stop reading it and place it down on his coffee table. “What the hell, man bingo? Your plan, is to play bingo to get rich? You know that will never work, right?” I scoff at him. I’m getting frustrated that I was actually a little excited and for what? I don’t know. There’s no way out of this shit-show life I’m living and if there is, how the hell is he going to know the way out? I shake my head at him. “Give me another smoke man.” I bark with my hand out. He gives me another smoke which I light and puff on.

“Of course we’re not going to play bingo, asshole. Why the fuck would I suggest that anyways I’m not any good at spelling, you know that.” He answers me. I try my hardest to content my laughter at his last statement about spelling and bingo. Christ, I love this guy, he is so damn dense and funny as shit. Rather than go around in circles with Skid I decide to hear his plan out.

“So what’s your plan Skid?” I ask before leaning back on the couch. I start to feel the toll my early start today is having on me. I puff on my cigarette as he launches into his get rich fast scheme.

“Once a month there is a huge deposit made on behalf of Bear River Golden Rise Retirement Center to the First National Bank. I think last month's deposit was over two million dollars and this month it should be twice that much.” He boasts without pausing, almost spitting as he speaks. “I have it on good authority that only half of this month’s money will be making into the bank this time. And if we are in the right place at just the right time the missing half could end up being ours.” He explains with wide eyes fixed on me. I don’t laugh at him as I thought that I would after his huge build up. “Do you know how big of a difference that much money would make in our lives, man? You could go to school and become a professor of poetry or something like that and I could buy a surf shop on the beach or some shit like that.” He says while nodding his head.

“You are a dreamer man but I like how you think,” I answer back. I can’t believe that I’m actually considering this plan. “Oh yeah, it’s Saturday isn’t it. I will go over there to this place tonight and check it out to see just what kind of situation I’m really dealing with.” I finish. I lean over to put out my smoke in his ashtray before standing up. “Hey doesn’t that bingo place have a full bar and grill attached to the place?”

“Yes I believe they do have a restaurant and all kinds of good shit at that place. It’s where all the old rich motherfuckers go to die, you know?” He laughs finding himself amusing. Ashes from his smoke land on his shirt making it dirty and he jumps up cussing.

I laugh at him as I head out his bedroom door this time instead of the window. Some long strands of my blonde hair fall into my face causing me to brush them away. Damn. I should get a haircut before I go out tonight.

Chapter Two

“Ava, move your ass I don't want to be late. We have to sit in the fucking back with all the old ass-fuck people if we get there too late. The oldest people sit in the back to get the bathroom faster; you know. Weak bladders and all. So hurry up—girl!” Carla yells to me from the other side of my bathroom door. I don’t know why I agreed to go with her tonight to this stupid bingo place.

“I’m coming, just give me a minute,” I explain. I start pulling up the side zipper on my new dress which gets stuck halfway up. “Damn it…what the fuck.” I scold myself out loud before tugging on the zipper again, and again and again. “FUCK—“I yell before yanking the dress off completely leaving it on the bathroom floor. I stand there in nothing but my camisole and bootie shorts. “Fuck you, you fucking dress I don’t need your ass anyway!” I continue yelling at the dress not noticing my friend Carla has entered the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you girl? You’re yelling at the ground and shit?” She asks while handing me a shot of tequila which she has brought with her. “Go ahead and take a shot girl. That will loosen you up…you’re wound far too tight.” She adds before raising her glass to me. I look at her wanting to cry. She’s so beautiful. Her life is carefree and easy going. She was brought up by two, loving, supportive and very rich parents who doted on her and her older brother. I was raised by my two strictly religious parents that worked seven days a week, even on Sundays. I am usually a pretty anxious person mostly worried if I’m living up their standards. They loved me. I know that or at least I tell myself they do but my life isn’t like Carla’s and it never will be.

“I really appreciate you buying me this dress I’m afraid that you must not have accounted for my post-baby fat when choosing it. I’m far too fat for it. I can’t wear that tight shit,” I say while quickly pointing at the dress on the floor, “it makes me feel too self-conscious,” I add before downing my drink. I place the glass on the bathroom counter.

“You can wear whatever you want to Ava, you are so gorgeous I bet that you could get away with wearing jeans and a tee shirt. For real!” She says to me before squeezing me as she briefly rubs her boobs up against my shoulder while pretending to lick my face. “Let me lick you my pretty, pretty girl…I love you!” She persists while continuing to lick the air barely missing my cheek each time.

“Oh my fuck Carla, you’re nuts!” I joke. I can’t help but laugh at her. She can so easily encourage me to be brave because she’s so fucking fierce. “I fucking love you too baby girl,” I say before turning my head to pretend to lick her back. I want to be fierce in the real world not just in my own home. “Ok, I will put on something that makes me feel right. You get us two more shots.” I say to which Carla grins while nodding at me. She smacks my ass before leaving.

I dart into my bedroom barely hitting into one of the moving boxes littering my floor. I get over to my bed grab up my favorite shirt and jeans before I quickly dress. “Now I feel better…”I say while looking at my reflection in my dresser mirror. I spin around checking my back. “Yup…my ass is still huge ass fuck!” I gasp.

“Yes, it is! It’s big and bouncy and will make all the men want to pull down your panties…”Carla sings from the doorway of the bedroom before she walks over to me handing me another shot. “You look great, Ava!” She adds with a wink.

“Aww…you…thanks! I’ll take that,” I say. I gulp my drink. My head starts floating a bit and my skin warms up. I can feel the buzz from the drinks starting to roll over me. I hear my cell phone so I reach grabbing it off my dresser. I see that it’s Robin calling and I immediately hit the reject call button, sending the call to my voicemail.

“Who was it?”

“Her. Satan. The Devil.” I answer. I stand there looking down at my phone. Why is she calling me now? She probably wants to complain about something that she found in the house during her inspection.

“What the fuck does she want now? She already kicked you and Gabe out of your home and then she sold that house for who knows how much without giving you any of the profit. Doesn't she know that you and your son need that money to live? You know you should sue her ass! No, really my uncle Sal is an attorney he’d love to represent you.” Carla rants. Parts of me want to agree with her but I know suing my dead husband’s sister would never sit right with me.

“The house was their parents’ house. I never owned it. Logan got his parents house when they died. His will says it all. Don’t make me think about that shit right now or I will never be able to go out. It will totally crush my motivation,” I reply. It’s like all the energy starts rushing out of my body suddenly. Carla pulls out her phone and puts on some music. One of my favorite songs starts to play. I know that it’s not fate or anything like that but I do think it’s awfully good timing. “Only good thing that came out of this sudden move is that I have that next ten days off from work. I am not going to let her, or anyone else, stop me from getting out for once,” I say, almost chanting. Carla starts bouncing around my bedroom like she’s still a sixteen year old or something. I wonder how she got stuck in a time warp and I seemed to have aged in dog years.

Chapter Three

Hours have passed since my morning meeting with Skid. I have changed into a much better outfit more fitting the setting. These are rich people, so naturally, I’m sporting my Versace suit. I know that I look damn good in this suit. It is, however, a haunting reminder of a dirty and dark past, though. I arrived in a cab, which I had drop me off down the street before walking up to Blue Boar Bar & Grill. The place looks like some sort of French Chateau, with brown and gray stonework walls and high archways at the entrance. I’m more than impressed but now I’m very alert as I smile at the doorman who opens the door for me.

“Good evening sir, welcome to Golden Rise Retirement Center. Will you be joining us for dinner in the Blue Boar or perhaps you are dining in La Chateau Moshaun?” He asks me. He is dressed in full doorman attire with white grooves, black hat and a uniform with yellow shoulder tassels.

Thinking fast on my feet I answer, “I will be dining at the Blue Boar tonight, thank you so much for asking. I’m afraid that I have not made a reservation for tonight, though, is that going to be a problem?” I grin at him as pull a fifty from my jacket pocket placing it into the palm of his hand. He places his hand and my money into his pocket without looking at it and simply nods at me.

“Not a problem at all sir. Please, right this way,” he adds while flagging down a busboy that joins us to escort me into the dining area. “Enjoy your evening sir,” he says from behind me. I don’t bother looking back; he’s got my money and I’ve got an entry.

I follow a busboy through a long gallery. I notice right away that this is definitely a high society place. There are famous and expensive paintings hung throughout the gallery. I can hear Mozart or Beethoven playing on the PA; I was never really good at telling the two composers apart.

“Is this your first time dining with us, sir?” The busboy asks me trying to make polite conversation with me. I am slowly trailing about five feet behind him doing my best to really get a good feel for this place.

“Yes…I hear the lobster is fantastic.” I answer. I fucking hope they serve lobster. I think about my statement while remaining cool.

“Yes, we are very famous in this county for our lobster, sir. You will be very pleased. The chef has it flown in fresh daily, straight from Maine,” he goes on to add, but my attention is on the ‘employees only’ door that we are nearing on the right side of the gallery. Even the door plaque is gold-plated. This place is a goldmine bursting at the seams with all kinds of riches. Normally I wouldn’t get this excited about a job because of the penitential for injury. It seems people hate it when you take their shit, and I don’t blame them I would shoot a motherfucker like me if the roles were reversed. I’m excited this time simply because this is going to be easy as shit job, a really quick grab and nab kind of deal. I just need to get inside and plant myself here for a few hours so I can watch things for a bit. Then later tonight I will come back and handle shit.

“Sir? Sir, do you want to have a drink at the bar while your table is being set up?” The busboy asks me for what appears to be several times now and I realize that we are inside a darkened area which looks like an olden day French eatery. I only know this because of my education from The Streets University. I joke to myself. I can only assume this is what an olden day French eatery looks like.

“Yes I will have a drink while I wait, thank you,” I say to him as I take a sit at the bar. He smiles and quickly disappears.

“Good evening, sir my name is Dwight and I will be your bartender for this evening. What may I make you to start with, sir?” Dwight the bartender asks. There isn’t any name tag on him, too fancy a place I’m assuming. I’m pretty sure that the suit he has on is more expensive than mine, the tips must kill around here.

“Whiskey sour please, thank you,” I say thankful that I have brought with me some extra twenties. By the looks of things I’m going to need it for just the bartender Dwight who looks to me like he makes way more money than I do.

“Yes, of course, sir one whiskey sour coming up,” Dwight says as he quickly assembles a perfect whiskey sour before my eyes, before placing it in front of me. I grab it up and slowly sip it; it will be a very long night I need to take things very easy. At least I know not to pay upfront. This is the kind of place where you run a tab all night. “How is that treating you sir?” He adds with a smile.

“Very good, indeed thank you, Dwight,” I say back to him. “So tell me Dwight. Does it get pretty busy around here on Saturday nights?” I ask hoping for some much-needed distractions later tonight.

“Oh yes, sir this place is really busy on the weekends, as you can imagine. This is the only fine dining, casino and bingo location in this county. People come here from all over the area to enjoy themselves. You should have a great time tonight, sir. Maybe you will even meet a lady.” He says while adding a wink at the end. I chuckle a bit before drinking again from my glass. The whiskey is fine, smooth and goes down like fresh air and I feel I have been holding my breath. I start daydreaming for a moment about living like this all the time. The suit, the personal bartender, the promise of fine ladies dressed in beautiful gowns and me right in the middle of it all.

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