Lucky's Girl by William Holloway

Not even close. She drove an Acura and bought her clothes in Chicago.
    He’d never spoken to her or looked her way until last summer between their junior and senior years. He had come to her front door and she’d lost her virginity on her bedroom floor while her parents watched the U.M. game downstairs.
    Although it was impolite to say so, she didn’t believe in God. Her dad had laughingly referred to them as Christmas Christians. They would go to the Lutheran Church at Easter and Christmas, for big civic events and write checks for all the right blah blah blah. But really it was superstition for the natives. If Jesus really gave a hoot about the poor he would have given them jobs.
    But Mason, Lucky , was something different.
    She felt a warm glow in her heart.
    She felt a deep, pulsing heat down below.
    Mason, Lucky , was a Prophet .
    She knew that other women were owned by Mason in a way she didn’t understand or know how to question. But she was different from those lesser women. Yes, she belonged to him, but he belonged to her as well.
    They were meant to be together.
    There was no other explanation.
    Her eyes were opened and she’d been shown the truth. There was a God, Mason had told her so. His very existence proved it. She hadn’t known how small and shallow her world had been until he’d come into it. He said that people had got God all wrong. His God was here , his God was now . He said it with such conviction.
    His God.
    She knew this was no mistake.
    They were meant to be together and she was willing to do her part. She didn’t need to go to college. She didn’t need to go away. Mason was here, right here in this place, she just needed to make it right. She needed to show him he didn’t need that little trailer park tramp or the other women who coveted what could never be theirs. She was worthy. She just needed to be willing to wait until he was ready. She knew that this world judged you by what you do, not what you intend, and she just hadn’t gone far enough, she hadn’t truly proven herself worthy.
    He was on the dais, to the left of the pulpit with his mother, while his father gave the first reading. His father was a handsome man with a giant voice radiating warmth and compassion. His mother was a sweet, pretty lady. It was easy to see how they’d created the largest church in this part of the state. Their clothes were cheap and worn but taken care of thoughtfully.
    The rest of the rabble was a different story, but she was beginning to see even those people differently. They just needed help. They just needed to be shown the way – shown the way by men like Mason.
    But Mason was beautiful .
    She’d realized he was handsome, really handsome, ever since they’d been freshmen. She just hadn’t seen how wonderful and pure he was until he’d stood on her porch that day. She’d heard the knock from her bedroom, and had looked down from her window, seeing his truck. It was him , the preacher’s son from Elton, the one the trailer-trash thought was the second coming. Well, she wasn’t like those small-town sheep. She walked straight down the stairs to send him packing. Who did he think he was? Did a small-town rube like him really have the effrontery to come calling like that? Just show up in his beat-up old pickup?
    Aw shucks ma’am, I was just in the neighborhood, do you wanna talk about Je-zis?
    They didn’t end up talking about Jesus.
    He just said he’d be honored to get to know her. Then she’d looked into his bright blue eyes and had felt as if she’d been falling upwards. Her parents hadn’t heard the knock. She’d taken him up the stairs to her bedroom, locking the door. She’d never had a boy in her room before. She turned to face him. He was just inches from her. Their faces so close, their lips so close.
    She’d kissed a few boys before, but always in Chicago, and always boys wearing private school sweaters or fraternity ties. Some had tried to push their luck but she was far