Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) (40 page)

Everett raised his eyebrows.

“After his surgery, he asked for me.” She smiled. “He was glad you made it.”

Everett closed his eyes and relaxed.

“He admitted selling David meth before his accident. That’s been his nightmare—it’s why he tried the suicide. He said he was sorry.”

Everett wanted to hear more but was too tired to ask. He stared into her eyes, and she knew.

“He told me about the night Millie died.” Karen’s hand covered her quivering lips. “Ev, he cried. He apologized…”

Everett managed a blink and a smile. Then he cleared his throat. “So…where are we playing tonight?”

Karen burst with laughter and tears and draped her arms around Everett. Then their lips touched, and the kiss lasted a very long time.

41

SUMMER WAS IN FULL
bloom at Twin Streams, and Karen relished the slower pace. After the last unforgettable Living Water show at Cleveland’s Gund Arena on February 27—when an estimated 3,000 of the 13,900 in attendance gave their lives to Christ—Everett, Gray, and the band took some much-needed time off before regrouping for the next record and possible tour.

Seated at the kitchen table wearing denim shorts and a wispy, white linen top, Karen was coming to the last few pages of Madison’s scrapbook, which detailed the events of the Living Water tour. The kettle whistled, and Karen stood and walked to the stove to pour two cups of tea for her and Madi. Turning off the burner, she stepped back and gazed out the open window.

Beautiful.
The trees were full, the breeze was blowing the long grass on the hillside, and the locust trees running along both sides of the pebbled driveway were loaded with clusters of white flowers.

Everett and Wesley, both in ragged jeans, T-shirts, and work boots, bent over the hood of a big John Deere. Wesley was practically inside the engine.

“I can’t believe your brother.” Karen chuckled. “He’s amazing. I mean, Everett’s never fixed a tractor in his life.”

“He’s smart,” Madison said. “It’s been so good for him here.”

“We’ve loved having him. He’s like a different person without the meth. You told me he was sensitive; he really is.”

Madison stepped to the window and peered out. The wind nudged her frizzy hair. “You can’t even see the burns, can you?”

“Nope. He looks good as new.”

“They’ll never forget that day, will they?”

Vividly, Karen recalled the phone conversation with the Pittsburgh police officer who notified her about the explosion. It made her stomach turn again.

“Everett still wakes up at night sometimes. Says he sees Tony—burning. He can even smell it…”

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Madison said. “I mean, out of Wesley’s life.”

Karen swept some crumbs from the toaster into her hand and brushed them into the sink.

“Thank you for letting him stay in the farmhouse.” Madison nodded toward Wesley. “The fresh air, the work…he’s a different person.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Karen sighed. “We’ve enjoyed getting to know him. It’s been a blessing.”

“He’s still not sure about God…”

“No.” Karen smiled. “But he’s comfortable around us. And he does ask questions, once in a while.”

“And he gets to watch you and Uncle Everett up close and personal.”

“Oh, don’t remind me! We’re far from perfect.”

“Your lives will minister to him more than anything.”

Karen reached for the cups. “How’s your mom?”

Madison stared out the window. “I wish Daddy could see her. He’d be proud.”

“She’s still off the alcohol?”

“Oh yeah, and staying busy with a zillion things. If she didn’t, she’d go stir-crazy. She misses him so much.”

“Hmm.” Karen shook her head and handed Madison her tea. “That must be incredibly tough.”

Karen sat back down at the table with her tea and flipped through the last pages of the scrapbook. When she came to the end, she stared at the clipping from
Newsweek
magazine dated April 21.

The spread featured a two-page photograph of Everett, wearing a Cleveland Indians cap, black sweatshirt, boots, and faded jeans. He was leaning against the huge silo out back, with acres of tilled farmland blurry in the background. The tiny caption beneath the photo read: The former rock star at his 218-acre farm in Bedford, NY.

Karen’s eyes drifted to the headline and then the story.

LESTER’S HARVEST

BY HOWARD NEWCOMB

Never before—even at the very pinnacle of the DeathStroke phenomenon—has Everett Lester’s name been more at the forefront of the world’s stage. Good or bad, this guy is apparently always going to make news or, at least, be there when it happens.

The explosion that rocked three city blocks in a poor section of downtown Pittsburgh last January brought an abrupt end to one of the United States’ most prolific methamphetamine labs. And Lester was there.

But that blast was only the start of something even more extraordinary: what appears to be the long overdue dismantling of the Mendazzo mob, the East Coast’s incredibly powerful Mafia family, headed by New York’s Frank “Machine Gun” Mendazzo and Dominic “Brain Picker” Badino. Both men are awaiting trial on multiple charges, including murder, kidnapping, extortion, racketeering, loan-sharking, bookmaking, money laundering, and narcotics violations.

Lester’s brother, Eddie, was abducted from his home last January by henchmen believed to have been part of the Mendazzo crime family; he has yet to be found. Again, Everett Lester was the flame that lit the fuse leading to the explosive trials that threaten to obliterate the Mendazzo empire.

Finally, there was last winter’s little-hyped Living Water tour, a free Christian concert led by Lester’s new band (which still has no name) and scheduled to be performed live in thirty-six cities around the globe. Sounded innocent enough. In fact, entertainment experts predicted the event wouldn’t even be picked up on radar by top music and media sources. How wrong they were.

As it turns out, Lester still has the Midas touch. At the six-month mark, the
Living Water
CD has shattered both Christian and secular sales records, netting the star megamillions in proceeds.

What will he do with the money? “It’ll be used to pay for all the concert venues we rented for the tour,” Lester told
Newsweek
. “It’s not cheap to rent Madison Square Garden.”

Religious or not, here’s an interesting and, I’d even venture to say, inspiring fact: Approximately 65,000 people from New York to LA, from France to Thailand, committed their lives to God for the first time as a result of attending the Living Water concerts. Before you scoff, consider the fact that many who claim they got “born again” at Lester’s free shows admit they showed up at the concerts unemployed, alcoholic, homeless, involved in marital infidelity, guilty of criminal activity, or addicted to drugs. Many of those say they left the shows with new faith, hope, and love—as well as the determination to start over again. That’s good news.

And speaking of “good news,” Lester and company handed out more than 270,000 free Bibles during the 36-city tour.

So listen, the next time you see Everett Lester on the streets of New York or at a Christian rock ’n’ roll show, tell him thanks—thanks for being there. I know I will. —HN

When Karen closed the scrapbook, Madison was gone.

Easing up from the chair, she strolled to the window. The tractor was still there, but the guys weren’t.

“Madison,” she called, heading for the back door. “Ev…”

Pushing the screen door open and wandering onto the porch in her bare feet, she noticed Rosey frolicking in the backyard. Then her eyes drifted to Everett, kneeling by a small box in the grass, and Madison and Wesley, sprawled out beside him. “What’re you guys doing?”

“You need to come here, honey.” Everett chuckled, then whispered something to the others. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Everett Lester,” she meandered down the steps, “why do I have a feeling you’re going to embarrass me or something?”

“No, really.” He laughed again. “We’ve got a problem here. Madi and Wes are no help at all. I think you’re the only one who can deal with this. Hurry up!”

Rosey was dancing about, and Madison and Wesley were beaming.

“What have you done?” Karen stopped five feet short of the group. “I suppose you’re going to have some engine part in there that needs fixing…”

“Kneel down here.” Everett reached out his hand. “And close your eyes.”

Karen shot a glance upward, took a deep breath, sighed, and knelt in the thick, cool grass.

“Close ’em!” Everett insisted.

Pursing her lips, Karen shook her head and reluctantly complied.

She heard the lid of the box open. And then a tiny whimper—a squeak so irresistible, it forced her eyes open.

“Millie’s mom had puppies,” Everett exclaimed. “We’ve got another girl!”

Karen moaned softly as she reached into the box and scooped up the little collie, a brown and white cotton ball.

So soft…and fragile.

Karen’s tears came out of nowhere, and when she could, as she squeezed the puppy with all she had, she let out a squeal. “I love her, Ev.” She glanced at each one of them through watery eyes. “This means so much, that you’d do this…”

Everett and Madison smiled enormously.

And Wesley…Wesley was crying.

Immediately following the Living Water tour, Everett and Karen had been told that the adoption process, which they entered into with gusto, could take many months. So when Everett heard that Millie was expecting puppies, he had to have one for Karen.

For now, this will be our “baby”— until God’s ready to bring us the right child.

Karen smothered the tiny fur ball, set her in the grass to prance, then scooped her up again. The little collie sneezed and licked Karen’s face, and she laughed like a schoolgirl.

Karen’s joy put Everett on another planet—until he began contemplating fatherhood once again. Even with Karen’s encouragement, the subject made him uneasy, probably because his father had not been a good one.

Feeling the heat on his face from the sun, Everett drifted back to his boyhood and the summer night he and Eddie missed their curfew. Vince waited for them in the moonlit family room wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. With a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon between his legs, he sat in the recliner, snapping his fat, leather belt before beating their bottoms red—and waking up much of Cleveland’s east side.

Eddie often got the worst of the whippings, simply because he was older.

Where is Eddie, right this minute?

The laughter and voices of the others faded as Everett savored the wind on his face and looked up at the leaves blowing in the trees.

Is he alive somewhere? Does he feel this breeze? Or has he met his Maker?

Right then and there, Everett made a silent vow to find his brother—dead or alive.

The End…for now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

DEAR FRIEND,

I hope you enjoyed
Full Tilt
, book two in the Rock Star Chronicles.

The Bible says that Christ Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men. Think of that! How radical is His love? This novel really forced me—and the characters in
Full Tilt
—to deal with the question, and challenge, of loving the unlovable. I hope you’ll be faced with similar thought-provoking issues because of this story.

One of the things that intrigued me most in creating this tale was the remarkable and often disturbing information I discovered in my research about methamphetamines.

One of our nation’s top news magazines quoted a spokesman for the Drug Enforcement Administration as saying, “Meth is the number one rural drug in America—absolutely, positively, end of question.” An Associated Press story painted the problem as even more widespread: “Already known as a rural scourge, methamphetamine is becoming a monstrous problem in U.S. cities… It’s everywhere.”

Meth can be smoked, swallowed, injected, or snorted. Its ingredients are common household items, and the labs that produce it can fit in the trunk of a car. This relatively inexpensive, highly addictive drug acts as a powerful stimulant that actually overwhelms the brain, spinal cord, and central nervous system by interfering with normal neurotransmission.

In other words, meth kills.

Not only is meth dangerous to the people who use it, but many of its users commit brutal, senseless, alarming acts of negligence and violence. That’s because meth makes users feel euphoric and invincible. They do things they would never do sober, unspeakable things.

Please, watch for the symptoms in those you love and others in your community. Meth users range from elementary-age children to adults. They span all races and economic levels. Meth users tend to be rail thin and suffer from various skin and health conditions, including chronic itching, nasal perforations and nosebleeds, muscle cramping, scabs, rashes, constipation, and dental problems. You can find out more on the Internet, including where to get help.

It has been my pleasure to hear from so many readers around the world. Thanks for your support, and I thank God for drawing us closer to Him through the power of story.

Stay tuned for book three in the Rock Star Chronicles. Until then, you may visit my website:
CrestonMapes.com
. If you’d like to contact me, you may do so via e-mail at
[email protected]
or via Facebook.

Warm regards,

Creston Mapes

READER’S GUIDE

1. In
Full Tilt
, Everett Lester is a relatively new Christian. He feels a great deal of pressure to live up to the expectations of a watching world and a watching church. As a result, he has some of his tattoos removed, gets his hair cut, and even changes the way he dresses. What are your thoughts about this? (Check out 1 Corinthians 6:12, 19–20; 10:23–24 as food for thought.)

2. The Bible says a Christian should make sure he is never a “stumbling block” in the life of another person. This suggests that it is possible to take the liberty that is ours in Christ and to actually wound the conscience of one who is weaker. Read 1 Corinthians 8 and discuss the principles of Christian liberty and the importance of being aware of our weaker brothers and sisters.