Double Dippin' by Allison Hobbs

Author:Allison Hobbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2006-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

2002

The exchange between him and his brother had Shane feeling emotional and in need of something that was hard to find. Getting high and raising hell with Brick and Misty would not soothe him tonight.

Shane thought about a girl he’d met a few days before, a pretty Puerto Rican named Valencia. Valencia was hot and he had every intention of getting with her…but not tonight.

He couldn’t define what he was feeling; it was a carnal urge—a yearning that he couldn’t begin to analyze, but recognized as being absurd. Without allowing himself to be motivated by conscious thoughts that would deter him, Shane simply hailed a cab and hopped in. Seated comfortably in the back, he told the driver where he wanted to go. “Forty-Second and Wyalusing,” Shane said, knowing there was no turning back.

“Forty-Second and Wyalusing,” the driver confirmed.

“Yeah.” Shane kept his eyes closed throughout the cab ride. When they reached his destination, Shane got out of the cab, paid the driver and looked over at the church. His lips curved into a satisfied smile. There was no church activity going on and therefore no prying eyes that might recognize him.

He trotted up the stairs to the boarding home and rang the bell. An old woman peeked through the peephole. “Whatchu want?” the woman yelled.

“I came to see my mother.”

“Who’s your mother?” the old woman wanted to know.

“Miz Holmes, but don’t tell her. It’s a surprise. I’ve been over in Iraq; I just got home.”

The elderly woman smiled and nodded in approval as she started unlocking the multiple locks on the door.

The boarding home held a musky odor that Shane associated with old people, but he wouldn’t be deterred by an unpleasant scent. “Which room?” he asked in an excited whisper.

“Upstairs. First room on the left,” the woman also spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

Shane climbed the stairs. He knocked on the door softly. “Who is it?” asked a familiar female voice.

“It’s me, Mom. Open the door.”

The door opened instantly. His foster mother, Dolores Holmes, stood wearing a printed housedress, eyes widened. Blinking back tears, she opened her arms to Shane. “My boy,” she cried. “My boy.”

Shane fell into her embrace. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t know it would end up like that.”

“I know, honey pie,” she said, patting him. “I prayed for you every day.” She let him go and wobbled over to the sofa. The years had not been kind and she had gained a tremendous amount of weight.

Exhausted from the walk to the sofa, Ms. Holmes gasped for breath. Shane sat next to her and tenderly rubbed her back while she tried to catch her breath.

“You had a nice house, Mom. This ain’t right. I’m gonna get you out of here.” He set his chin firmly, impressing the sincerity of his words upon her.

“It’s all right. I’m grateful for what the church does for me. They never believed that I was a fallen woman; they blamed everything on you. But I told them the real culprit was Satan.

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