Golden Trail Page 4

  He stopped in front of her and tipped his head down to look at her.

  Then, softly, he said, “I told you not to get hooked up with that guy. I told you he’d bring you trouble. Stew is no good. He treated you right, I’d be happy to eat my words. But I get from this that he’s been fuckin’ around and he’s involved you in it and that is one way a man doesn’t treat a woman right.”

  “You’d know how not to treat a woman right, Tanner,” she shot back.

  “Don’t go there, Gabby. I took care of you, I took care of our house, I took care of our boys. I worked my ass off to make a life for our family. We weren’t a love match and you knew it and you wanted my ring on your finger anyway. I gave it to you and did the best I could. It wasn’t good enough. You gave a little, even the barest fucking inch, we coulda made a go of it. You didn’t. You can blame me but we both know that’s bullshit. That’s on you and this is on you. I don’t want any part of this. You made a decision a decade and a half ago to hold onto something when you shoulda let it go and you fucked up your life. You made a decision two years ago to hold onto something you shoulda let go and it’s happening again. I’m not getting dragged into this. I start, it won’t stop for me either and I’m not down with that. You go home, you talk to that asshole and you tell him to get his shit together and you don’t come here again and hand me this bullshit. Am I clear?”

  “You are so full of shit,” she hissed.

  “Yeah?” he asked, “How?”

  “I gave,” she informed him.

  “Yeah, you gave, you gave me attitude for five fuckin’ years.”

  “My husband was lusting after another woman!”

  Fuck!

  He wished he had a dollar for every time she brought up Raquel. He’d have a much healthier bank balance if he did.

  “That’s the something you shoulda let go,” he told her.

  “Yeah, how would I do that, Tanner? How?”

  “You cared about what we were tryin’ to build, you woulda found a way to let her go, like I did.”

  The second time that day he watched a woman’s body jerk. He knew he had her. She knew he’d done the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. She knew he wouldn’t step out on her, even if Rocky had come back. Gabby had his ring on her finger, their sons under their roof, so she had him. She couldn’t fight that corner. She tried, way too often, and she never won.

  “This was a waste of my time,” Gabby gave in acidly.

  “Yeah, it was,” Layne agreed.

  “Thanks for all your help,” she spat, turning.

  “Happy to oblige,” he muttered, also turning.

  “And you think Stew is an asshole,” she mumbled, opening the door.

  Layne sighed.

  Then he heard the door close behind her.

  Then he walked into his office, logged out of his bank account and started to investigate Stewart Baranski’s finances.

  * * * * *

  Dave Merrick opened his front door and Layne, Jasper and Tripp were assaulted with a scent that could only be what heaven smelled like.

  “That smells great!” Tripp shouted, and bolted in, nearly bowling Dave over as he kept shouting his greeting, “Hey Uncle Dave!” Then he ran down the hall to the kitchen in the back.

  Dave had turned to watch and he turned back, smiling.

  “Hey Uncle Dave,” Jasper repeated his brother’s words, socked Dave in the shoulder and followed Tripp, much slower, playing it cool, not wanting Mrs. Astley to know he couldn’t wait to see her.

  “Jas,” Dave replied and then he stepped from the door, keeping one hand on it, his other outstretched, inviting Layne in, “Tanner, good to see you, son.”

  Tanner took his hand, squeezed and got a squeeze back.

  Dave Merrick was still a good-looking man at sixty-three, tall, lean, fit, he only limped when he got tired and he only brought out the cane when it was raining and the wet got in his bones, making his old wounds ache.

  A long time ago, Dave had been married to a woman named Cecilia, the town beauty. Layne remembered her and exactly what she looked like which was a lot like what Rocky looked like now. And he remembered he’d never seen her not smiling.

  He also remembered the day he’d heard she’d been murdered on the same night Dave had been shot five times.

  He also remembered going to her funeral with his mother and everyone else in town and standing across the casket and watching Raquel the whole time as she sat in her seat, her eyes not moving from the casket, not once, her skin pale, blue shadows under her eyes, her face perfectly blank. He had only known of her then, he hadn’t really known her. She was already beyond pretty. But she was fourteen, he was eighteen and he was out of her league. It wouldn’t be for three years when he’d run into her and decide to make his move.

  He let Dave’s hand go and moved into the house, pausing to wait for Dave to close the door. When he first got back and renewed his relationship with Dave and Merry, coming to that house messed with his head. Too many memories there. Now, he and his boys had been there so many times, it didn’t faze him.

  Except for that night and the fact that Rocky was somewhere in that house. She was never there when they were there.

  “How’s things, Tanner?” Dave asked, coming to his side as they made their way slowly down the hall by the stairs.

  “Could be better,” Layne answered honestly. Dave was a friend, Dave had known him a long time and Dave used to be a cop, three reasons not to lie. One way or the other, he’d know.

  Dave was silent for a beat before he said, “We’ll talk later.”

  Layne nodded and they hit ground zero on the smell.

  Merry was standing at a counter, wielding an electric knife. Tripp had his head in the fridge. Jasper had settled on a stool at the counter.

  Raquel was nowhere in sight.

  “Yo, Tanner,” Merry called with a grin over his shoulder.

  “Merry,” Layne replied.

  Garrett Merrick looked like a male replica of his sister, but taller and definitely masculine. Same dark hair (without the fake streaks), same deep blue eyes.

  Merry’s nickname was apt. He was a good ole boy. Always had been. He was such a good old boy he made an art out of it.

  “Dad, you want something to drink?” Tripp asked.

  “Beer, Pal,” Layne answered.

  “Where’s Mrs. Astley?” Jasper asked, looking around while trying not to look like he was looking around.

  “Went home about two minutes ago, buddy, headache,” Merry answered Jasper and Layne’s eyes went to his friend.

  She didn’t have a headache. After the way he spoke to her that morning, she had an intense desire not to be in his presence.

  He told himself that worked for him when he knew he felt guilt that he could see all around, and smell, how hard she’d worked and she’d blown out of there before she could enjoy it.

  Then again, she could also have a headache.

  “Bummer,” Tripp muttered and handed him a beer before he took a can of pop to his brother and cracked open his own.

  “Yeah, I’ve tasted this shit,” Merry put in, lifting his hand, a slab of meat between his fingers, “Bummer. This stuff is the freaking bomb.” Then he tossed the meat into his mouth.

  “Awesome, I’m starved,” Tripp replied.

  “She get headaches a lot?”

  That came out of Layne’s mouth before he could stop it and both Merry and Dave looked at him. For over a year, anytime the three of them were together, Rocky had been the elephant in the room. This was the first indication Layne had given that he was aware of its presence.

  But she’d suffered headaches when he was with her, migraines, pain so extreme he couldn’t touch her, he couldn’t even be in the same room walking around. The barest hint of noise, light, anything, increased her agony. He hated having to leave her to battle it alone but he had no choice. Nothing worked. She tried everything. It didn’t happen often, thankfully he could count on
one hand how often it happened when she was with him, but he remembered every last one.

  “Not really,” Merry answered and Dave looked at Layne’s sons.

  “Boys, grab bowls of whatever you see and take them to the dining room. Roc set the table. Sit your butts down when you get in there. Grub’s up, we should eat,” Dave said and the boys, unlike at home, moved quickly to do as ordered.

  “How do you do that?” Layne asked jokingly when the kids left the room.

  “Years of practice,” Dave answered, a smile lighting his blue eyes.

  Then, completely unable to control it, Layne looked at Merry and said, “She gonna make it home?”

  Merry dumped another load of lamb on a platter and looked at Layne.

  “What?”

  “If it’s a migraine, she’ll have trouble making it home. She used to get sick,” Layne told his friend something he already knew.

  Those were the only times she let him touch her when she had a headache, when she was puking in the bathroom. He’d hold her hair back and press a cold washcloth to her neck while she did it. When she was done, she’d wait for him to rinse the cloth and she’d sit on her ass on the floor, head tilted up to him, eyes hazy with pain and she’d let him wipe her face and mouth.

  Merry studied him then said, “She doesn’t have far to go.”

  Dave lived about five minutes from Layne, Merry lived about two minutes from Dave, Rocky lived at least fifteen minutes from all of them. Rush hour traffic, even in the ‘burg, could get rough and it was still rush hour and would be for another half an hour. That could mean a twenty-five minute ride home, if not longer.

  “Rush hour, Merry,” Layne said.

  Merry’s head tipped to the side but his eyes slid to his Dad. He only answered when he was looking directly at Layne again.

  “She’s stayin’ with me, big man,” he said quietly.

  Oh fuck. This didn’t sound good.

  “Come again?” he asked and he wondered why the fuck he did. But he did.

  “Left him, Tanner,” Dave said, moving forward to grab the platter as Merry unplugged the knife. “She did it over two months ago.”

  “No joke?” Layne asked, this time he knew why it came out of his mouth. He was shocked. Jarrod and Raquel Astley were pillars of that community. Rock solid.

  “No joke,” Dave answered.

  “And no joke that fuckwad moved his latest piece right in before Roc’s side of the bed was even cold,” Merry added, his tone low but trembling. He was pissed.

  Layne felt his body freeze.

  The he repeated, “Come again?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Dave said.

  “We’ll talk about it now,” Layne replied. “He’s moved another woman in?”

  Merry turned away from the counter, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

  “Been steerin’ clear of this, big man, but you have to have heard,” Merry said.

  He hadn’t heard. Everyone he knew in that town knew he and Rocky had had a thing. No one said boo about her to him.

  “Heard what?” Layne asked.

  “Fucked around on her all the time,” Merry informed him. “Far’s I can tell, since about a week after they said ‘I do’. Nailed every nurse in his hospital. Every nurse’s aide. Every decent looking patient, probably.”

  “You are shitting me,” Layne whispered.

  He could not believe this mainly because it was unbelievable. Not once, not even once had he considered stepping out on Rocky when he was with her. He didn’t have to. She was great in bed, she loved sex, she was good at it and she wanted it often. Her appetite was so healthy, she’d nearly killed him but it was a death he didn’t mind dying. Outside of bed she was affectionate, attentive, funny and almost always in a good mood, unless she had a headache, was stressed about a test she had to take or they were fighting about something, which they did a lot, which meant they could make up a lot. She could cook. She kept a clean house. Even working as a waitress on the weekends and going to school full-time, she still took care of him in every way there was to take care of a man and she took care of their apartment, their bills, the food, their lives. Except for paying the rent and utilities, taking out the trash and helping her do the dishes every once in awhile, Layne hadn’t had to lift a finger.

  Who would step out on something like that?

  “She’s already filed,” Dave said and finished before walking away with the platter. “She’s through.”

  Layne watched Dave disappear into the dining room then he turned to Merry.

  “She okay?” he asked.

  “Nope,” Merry answered. “She had no clue. Whole town’s talkin’ about it, have been for years and she’s the putz. She found out, moved out and he moved his new girl in. She’s twenty-three. Spittin’ image of Roc fifteen years ago. She’s also a cheerleader for the Pacers.” Merry got closer and his voice dipped lower. “She’s a freakin’ Pacemate, big man. That dick’s got courtside season tickets and has for the last ten years. If shackin’ up with some hottie almost half your age who dances on court at halftime isn’t in your face, nothing is. So, no, she’s not okay.”

  Layne did not know much about Jarrod Astley. He knew he was from Indianapolis, Broad Ripple. He knew he was nine years older than Rocky. He knew he was Chief of Surgery at Presbyterian in Indianapolis and supposedly a hotshot since he’d been Chief of Surgery for five years which made him young when he earned the post. He’d seen the man, not often, a few times around town. He was good-looking enough, in a stick up his ass kind of way. He struck Layne as ice cold which Layne thought didn’t work with Rocky, who was anything but cold.

  Now, he knew the man was just a plain fool.

  “Jesus,” Layne muttered, tilting his head to the side and looking at the floor.

  He was wondering, again, why she’d come to his house that morning.

  He was also wondering why she’d come to his hospital room, looked at him the way she did, touched him, put her mouth to his.

  Rebound or something else?

  “Tanner,” Merry called and Layne looked at him.

  “Let’s eat,” Layne said and watched as Merry’s eyes flashed then his face closed off, not giving away anything.

  Then he smiled huge, a cover, grabbed a basket that had something wrapped in a clean dish towel and he replied, “Fuckin’ A, bubba.”

  * * * * *

  Layne inhaled from the cigarette, took it from his lips and exhaled.

  He had one smoke a day, after dinner with a beer or, if the day had been shit, a whisky. Since quitting ten years ago, he only had the one a day.

  Unless the day was really shit.

  He looked to Merry as Merry exhaled. Merry didn’t have one smoke a day. He had a lot more.

  They were both standing outside but Dave, not smoking, was sitting on a garden chair. The boys were in the house watching some movie on TV.

  “So Stew’s fucked her over?” Dave asked.

  Layne had told them about Gabby’s problem.

  “Yeah,” Layne answered.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised,” Dave muttered.

  “That’d be because it isn’t surprising,” Layne muttered back.

  “I’ll keep my ear to the ground, big man, but, with Stew, it could be anything,” Merry told him.

  “It’s bad shit, she’s in danger, I gotta know,” Layne said to Merry.

  “What’d you get on your searches?” Dave asked.

  “He’s maxed out,” Layne answered. “Overdrawn at the bank, credit cards over the limit, hasn’t paid any bills in over six months, debt collectors circling, his truck has been shopped out for repo. She’s been holdin’ on but the last three months she’s struggled. Utilities are only two months out but I figure she pays them so she won’t get shut off. She was always current, always paid on time and the last six months, she’s been juggling, payin’ late, fallin’ short, payin’ minimum payments instead of payin’ the full amount. Now, outside the utilities, she
isn’t payin’ at all. She didn’t often carry debt, except around Christmas. She’s been inchin’ up but, last two months, she’s shot up and she’s also maxed. They’ve both been declined for new cards, him twice in the last month and she’s tried taking out three.”

  “That’s not good,” Merry mumbled.

  “Nope,” Layne agreed. “She makes decent money and never lived beyond her means. We bought that house together sixteen years ago. Her mortgage is low. He lost his job, which he hasn’t, she could take him on. She’d feel the hit but she can do it. This kinda shit, he owes someone. Gambling. Betting. Something.”

  “I’ll ask around,” Dave offered.

  “It would be appreciated,” Layne replied.

  Merry crushed his butt into the ashtray on the outdoor table and twisted his head to his Dad.

  “Got a date, Dad,” he said and Layne smiled.

  Merry was Jasper except forty years old. He’d been married once, for six years. Before and since, he played the field as often as he could. Like his sister, young, he’d been a knockout and age hadn’t touched it, in fact, it seemed to enhance it so Merry’s field was wide and varied.

  Layne’s smile died when Dave got up from his chair and headed into the house, muttering, “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Layne took one last drag and then crushed out his cigarette on the exhale knowing now this invitation to dinner was more than a family get together.

  Layne watched Dave close the backdoor then he locked his eyes on Merry.

  “What?” he asked instantly.

  “You know we gotta talk, it’s been six weeks,” Merry replied quietly, his eyes on his Dad’s dark backyard.

  “Yeah, we’ll talk but not now. I took a hit –”

  He didn’t finish when Merry’s eyes sliced to him and he growled, “Yeah, you took a hit.”

  He was talking about Layne getting shot.

  “I didn’t mean that kinda hit, Merry, the hospital bills wiped me out. It kills to say it but I can’t focus on that right now. I gotta take cases that pay.”

  “You’re off on this one,” Merry declared and Layne felt his neck muscles contract.

  “No, Garrett, I’m not,” he said softly.