CHAPTER 6

  LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

  The Eagles

  He was a hard-headed man

  He was brutally handsome, and she was terminally pretty

  She held him up, and he held her for ransom

  In the heart of the cold, cold city

  He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude

  They said he was ruthless, they said he was crude

  They had one thing in common

  They were good in bed, she'd say

  "Faster, faster, the lights are turnin' red"

  There were lines on the mirror, lines on her face

  She pretended not to notice, she was caught up in the race

  (Life in the fast lane) yeah

  (Life in the fast lane) everything all the time

  Becky could already see what was coming if she didn’t. Escape.

  Why? Because momma didn’t watch over baby girl. Nope, momma was caught up in the race – into trading one loser boyfriend for another. Because momma liked the brutally handsome bad boys. Usually ex-cons or future ex-cons.

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  He would move in, take over, and rule his castle. That he didn’t even own. And drive the car. That he didn’t even own.

  And, momma would keep working to pay for the trailer and the car and all the other bills.

  Johnny was the current one. Ex-con. Weight-lifter. Buff prison body. Preferred Becky over momma, apparently (even though momma was prettier – currently). And younger over older, definitely. How young Becky didn’t know. And didn’t intend to find out.

  Becky’s baby girl was her little sister, Chloe. Becky raised her. Becky mommied her. Because Becky was the real Mommy. Because momma was too busy with work and play. .

  Becky’s father? He was one of those loser live-in ex-boyfriends. “Yep, he was innocent of armed robbery. Mistaken identity it was, I think.” Then he was innocent of murder and now he is up at Jefferson City Correctional innocently serving a life sentence.

  Momma used to take Becky and Chloe to visit but stopped once she found a replacement boyfriend. Becky’s Poppa sure was proud of all the articles in the paper about her, though: “You got that speed from me!” Becky thought: Didn’t get this hair, eyes, and complexion from you, though. Or momma.

  Well, Poppa wouldn’t be reading any articles about her this year, Becky mused.

  Johnny was sitting on his couch when Becky came home from school, flipping though a Playboy and certainly not reading any articles. Johnny: “You know, I’ve just about had it with you locking doors in my own house. What if there was a fire or somethupn’? Chloe doesn’t lock her door. Maybe I should starting tucking Chloe in every night, ya know?”

  That night, Becky doesn’t lock her door.