Saints and the Wayward Sailor

Chapter 1

I knew how to make my mother cry. It wasn’t the best talent, but it came in handy whenever we got into it.

It just took a few vulgar words, or the flip of my pretty middle finger, and she broke every time.

Whenever I was up to no good, I loaded up my vocal bank with harsh words that would work in my favor. And being that I was always up to no good, I was constantly making withdrawals.

Being a mixture of smashed and faded while trying to remember a locker combination was tough shit. It was only three numbers, three directions, but due to my incoherent state of mind, it just couldn’t be done.

“Shit.” I groaned, pressing my forehead against the cold, gray, metal door in defeat.

“Just…think really, really, hard,” one of my best friends, Jack, suggested. It was his fault we’d broken into the school to begin with. He was that intent on getting his bomber jacket out of my locker. He wanted to impress a girl.

“Quiet,” I demanded.

In his vintage worker boots, skinny jeans, and white tee, Jack shivered amid the cool breeze wafting down the empty corridor we were standing in.

He was going for a punk look. The girl he was trying to impress was into the whole ’90s riot girl aesthetic.

Sure, Jack liked his Ramones, L7, and Pearl Jam, but he otherwise had no shot with this girl.

I mean, her name was Me9, or, Meg with a nine on the end instead of a G.

She was opinionated and socially aware, while Jack was simply… Jack.

He wouldn’t listen, though.

Ian shined his flashlight down on my activity, the light bouncing off of the steel lock and momentarily blinding me.

“Shit.” I fell back against my locker, too messed up to think straight.

“Is it that deep?” Danny asked for the fourth time that night.

Jack nodded, his blond curls soon covering his hazy eyes. “She’s special, man.”

It was ten to midnight and we’d broken into my high school to get a jacket from my locker, all because Jack thought this girl was special.

This type of behavior wasn’t unusual for me. If you asked around, I had a bad reputation.

Fuck if I cared though.

I didn’t really get along with anyone from my school. One bad run-in with the law was enough for most of them to steer clear of me. They were all rich, stuck-up, and boring anyway.

My boys, they knew how to have a good time.

Now my mother didn’t like my friends. Mostly because they were all guys, older, and covered in trouble.

Danny gave me my first tattoo, Jack gave me my first hit, and Ian gave me my first buzz.

At twenty-two, twenty-one, and nineteen, they were all a “bad impression” for my young and innocent seventeen as far as she was concerned.

But they were my best friends—no, more than that, they were my brothers. Talking me into breaking into my school was the mildest thing the boys had gotten me into.

Principal Leffler was going to shit a brick come Monday morning when he discovered the broken chain that once secured the double doors at the cafeteria entrance.

Ian was good at picking a lock, but Danny insisted on going all out.

I tried again to unlock my locker, but it was to no avail.

“Give it up, Say,” Danny said with a shake of his head.

“Come on, she’s waitin’ on me,” Jack whined.

“She’s way out of your league anyway,” Ian snickered.

Jack shoved Ian, and Ian shoved Jack. Soon, they were bickering, and I was lost, drowning in a sea of possible combinations for my locker.

Six, one, nine?

Twenty-three, thirty-six, five?

Eighteen, two, nineteen?

“Wait.” Danny stepped up and held his hand out to cease their fighting. “Shh. Did you hear that?”

The boys got as quiet as they could, and we waited.

Then we heard it: footsteps.

Ian went to the end of the hall and crouched down to poke his head out to see who was coming. In seconds he was tripping over himself as he came scrambling over to us.

“It’s a cop!” he hissed.

Oh shit.

We must’ve triggered some silent alarm.

All at once we took off in the opposite direction for the nearest exit.

“Hey! Stop!” The officer’s voice echoed to us as he sped up his steps.

We were on the second floor and nearly tripped over one another as we raced down a flight of stairs to a side exit. I was out the door and almost in the air as I slipped on a stray pencil some asshole had left behind.

Ian caught me, tugging me along until I was up and steady on my own.

High and wasted, we’d never run so fast in our lives. It felt like we’d rounded the building in seconds.

Parked out front was the police cruiser, its red and blue lights flashing ominously. Thankfully, the officer was inside, trying to track us down.

Danny’s truck was sitting across the street, waiting for us to hop in and escape, but there was something about the police cruiser that enticed me.

“Saylor!” Jack called to me as I inched closer to it.

The driver’s door was surprisingly unlocked and, in the ignition, hung the keys.

What a steal.

“Feel like goin’ for a ride?” I asked as I hung in the door.

Ian’s eyes tripled in size as Danny immediately shook his head. Being the oldest came with wisdom on his part.

I should’ve listened to him then.

The illicit trouble before me was too tempting to resist, and with Jack stepping up to the passenger door, I was all too ready for some debauched fun.

I climbed into the cruiser, adjusting the seat and buckling up for safety as I took the wheel. Leaning over, I quickly let Jack in and waited for him to buckle up as well.

“Let’s paint the town blue and red, baby!” I hollered as I floored the gas pedal. The car jolted forward, and we were off, leaving Danny and Ian behind as they soon were jumping into Danny’s truck.

The road ahead of me was a blur of lights and unintelligible figures.

Dispatch was killing the vibe so I leaned over and slapped the radio off.

I couldn’t explain it, being behind the wheel, I felt powerful. I could feel adrenaline coursing through my body as I sat in the stolen vehicle. This was living.

“WOO!” I screamed as I drove even faster. I drove into the school parking lot and found myself doing wild doughnuts to imitate those guys from the Fast and Furious movies.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I heard Jack shout.

Wuss.

Suddenly, across the lot, I saw the image of a racing finish line, complete with balloons, ribbons, and a big fancy banner.

I sped up. “Fuck yeah!”

“SAYLOR NO!” Jack screamed beside me.

I couldn’t believe he didn’t want to win the race. We were so coming in first.

The finish line was getting closer and closer, and I could vaguely feel Jack’s fingernails digging into my skin as he began grabbing my arm.

Turning my head to face him, I began to question his motives. “What?”

He pointed ahead of us. “Dumpster!”

Facing forward, my vision became clear. It was not a finish line I was about to cross, but a dumpster I was about to collide into.

I slammed my foot on the brake as Jack’s heavy boot smashed into my shoe.

We’d only begun to slow down just a little before we crashed loudly into the rude awakening before us.

When I came to, I found a shiny new bracelet on my wrist.

It took a moment for me to adjust and realize it was a handcuff.

Waking up in the hospital, hearing the sounds of beeping machines, chatter, and footsteps, I was grateful that I was actually alive and in one piece.

I would never be that reckless again.

While it was imminent that my mother was going to have a heart attack and lecture me, there was one thing to look forward to: her husband, Richard.

Richard was a big-time lawyer, and he was damn good at his job.

If you were pulled over for speeding and got caught with a dead body in the trunk of your car, he could get you off.

If you were tasered by security after getting caught running around naked in the middle of a shopping mall high as a kite, he could get you off.

If the police stormed into your house, catching you eating human flesh and mumbling about the devil, he could get you off.

Lucky for me, he was in my pocket. He had all the money and knew all the right people.

I never really cared for Richard. He was some uptight hard-ass that didn’t know a thing about fun or personality.

In truth, he was a fucking snob. His approach to me at first had been saccharine and soft, but I saw through his veneer instantly, and soon he dropped the act and mostly paid me attention only when it was necessary.

I honestly wasn’t sure what my mother saw in him. They were total opposites.

When Richard married her when I was fourteen, he understood that I was a packaged deal. Whenever I messed up, it was his job to get me off.

This was no different.

I lay in a hospital bed, cocooned by a rack of blue curtains.

Around me, I could hear heated voices, one mentioning “felony” and another insisting “misdemeanor.” I was certain the upset voice, the broken one—no doubt strained from crying—belonged to my mother.

And the annoyed voice, the tired one, was Richard.

An ache in my head caused me to groan, eliciting attention at once.

The curtain was pulled back, welcoming me into the presence of my mother and stepdaddy dearest.

As I suspected, my mother was a wreck of worry and a tear-drenched face. Richard, he glowered at me as he soon came and hovered over me.

I sat up as best as I could, tugging on my handcuff as I struggled to become acclimated with it.

“You’re really in a lot of shit this time,” Richard whispered vehemently.

My mother covered her mouth. She stepped out of the area and looked around frantically. “Nurse! Nurse!”

In seconds, some middle-aged woman dressed in foam-green scrubs was stepping into my makeshift room.

She greeted me with a gentle smile, cooling my nerves as she approached me.

With her warm hand, she felt my forehead and offered me a look of understanding.

“She has a slight concussion due to the airbag, and I’m assuming a massive headache due to the alcohol and… err, marijuana.”

My mother squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh my God.”

“Other than that, she should be fine.” The nurse, whose nametag read Kirsten, came and adjusted my pillow a little. “You’re very lucky, Saylor. I wish I could say the same for your friend.”

Vomit rose in my throat. “Oh my God, is he…?”

At once she blanched. “Oh heavens, no. He bumped his head, is all. He’s going to need some stitches.”

“Ahem.” Richard cleared his throat, anger lacing his gray eyes as his attention flickered from my mother to me, and back. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Certainly,” Kirsten replied as she soon stepped out of the area, closing the curtain behind her.

Richard faced me, unloading his full wrath. Really, he could’ve at least pretended to be concerned for my wellbeing.

“Have you any idea what you’ve put us through tonight?” he demanded to know. “What fines I’m going to have to pay? Your blood alcohol level was through the roof, and let’s not even start on the substance you took.”

I wanted to mention he was wrong: you didn’t take weed, you smoked it.

But I was in too much pain to contemplate it or care. “Not so loud.”

His brows rose as he took a step back. He chuckled, sarcasm coating his face. “Unbelievable.” He looked to my mother. “Speak up, Madeline, we’re all ears.”

My mother choked a little as she came closer to me. “Saylor, honey, what were you thinking?”

“I was just having a little fun,” I tried to reason. I was going to give the cruiser right back.

My mother shook her head. “It’s not enough. Rich can only do so much.”

He snorted. “Like she cares!”

I didn’t.

It was hard to care about anything when I felt nothing most of the time. All I wanted was a good night’s sleep, something neither of them were being considerate about.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” Richard gripped the railing to my bed, and I was half afraid he’d shake it. I was already wound up as it was.

I gave a nonchalant shrug to his inquiry. “Nope.”

“Speak. Now. Madeline,” Richard uttered as he began to pace.

I looked to my mother, seeing new tears forming in her eyes.

She hiccupped and wiped at her face.

We lived in Los Angeles. This kind of thing was not that bizarre. Once, on the news, I heard about a guy who married a fuckin’ mannequin.

I had just taken a little joy ride.

It wasn’t a surprise my mother was upset. She never got me to begin with. My mother taught pottery for a living, and she’d once tried getting me to channel my rebellion into art.

It never stuck.

Now her gentle potter’s hands were shaking as she attempted to hold herself.

“T-Things are serious,” she spoke lowly.

I looked between them, growing more impatient and in desperate need of rest. “Am I off the hook or not?”

Richard’s nostrils flared. “That’s beside the point.” He went over to my mother, caressing her arms. “Keep going, I’m with you.”

“Maybe…” my mother started to say, only seeming to rile Richard up in the process.

“She is going toward the goddamn gutter and we cannot stop her,” he practically hissed. “You made the right call.”

The right call?

“Saylor… W-We made a bargain. It was a last-ditch effort,” my mother went on. “We’re sending you away.”

My face crumbled. The record skipped. Even my pain froze. “What?”

“Saylor,” my mother sighed. “You’ve gotta go, honey.”

Disbelief briefly went through me as anger was quick to take over. “Really? You’re going to kick out your only fucking kid?”

Richard stepped over to me. “I don’t think you know what strings I just had to pull, young lady.”

I deadpanned. “As cocky as you are, now you’re acting like your job is strenuous?”

“Saylor Leigh!” my mother scolded me.

“What? He got me off, didn’t he?” She should’ve been consoling me and attending to my aches, but no, she was taking Richard’s side and trying to throw me out.

Richard faced my mother. “Tell her, so I can see her bubble burst. I am through with saving her ungrateful little ass. I’m sick of her shit. She could’ve killed someone tonight!”

And the award for Outstanding Dramatics in a not-so-serious situation goes to…

I massaged my temples. “Can we please just talk about this tomorrow?”

My mother folded her hands. “That’s just it. After you’re discharged, we’re going home to pack you up.”

Mild panic set in at yet another person giving me the boot. Worst of all, my own mother.

This wasn’t real. She couldn’t just “send me away.” We had no family in LA. It had always been us two. We were estranged from my grandparents since I was five. My mother was an only child, and I didn’t even know Richard’s family that well to just move in with them.

I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, sure, just where am I going to go?”

My mother hung her head, her shoulders drooping in defeat. “We think it’s time that we…send you to live with your father.”