Golden Trail (15 page)

He didn’t respond to the blonde but grinned
at Rocky. “Hey sweetcheeks.”

She looked down at her feet, a small smile
on her face, and shook her head while replying, “Hey Layne.”

“Upstairs pass inspection?” he asked, moving
to the foot of the stairs where he stopped and so did she.

She tilted her head back, her eyes slid over
his shoulder to tag the blonde’s location then back to him where
she leaned in and whispered low, “I like it.”

He leaned in too and whispered back, “So get
it.”

Her eyes slid back to his shoulder but not
to place the blonde in the room. She was thinking.

“I don’t know,” she said.

How could she not know? The place was the
shit.

Then again, it wasn’t a six-bedroom mansion
skirting a manmade lake.

He turned to the blonde. “Can you give us a
minute?”

“Of course,” she smiled and started to move
toward the kitchen where she could easily still hear. The place was
the shit but it wasn’t exactly huge.

“No.” He stopped her with one word and her
head snapped to look at him. He jerked his head to the door. “A
minute.”

She looked at the door then at him then her
face set in a way that made her less attractive than she very
obviously thought she was but she nodded and headed to the
door.

Layne waited until she was out of it to turn
back to Rocky.

“What’s on your mind?”

She looked up at him and bit her lip. She
was thinking still, he could see it behind her eyes, but she was
thinking about something else.

“Roc –”

She interrupted him. “Layne, do you know
what the rent is on these places?”

“Yeah, I looked into them before moving
here. Why?”

She shook her head and then sat down on a
stair saying, “I don’t know if I can swing it.”

He stared at her. She was wearing
high-heeled boots, jeans and another, warmer-looking, but no less
expensive, fancy-ass sweater, this time with a matching woolly
scarf wrapped around her neck. She drove a Mercedes. The huge,
suede purse she was plopping down on the stair beside her probably
cost more than his refrigerator.

“Rocky –”

“I’m a teacher, Layne,” she informed him of
something he already knew.

“Yeah, a teacher whose soon-to-be ex is a
surgeon who makes six figures.”

“
Jarrod
makes six figures,
I
do
not
make six figures.”

Layne crouched in front of her. “Rocky, he
fucked around on you. He’s living with another woman right now. You
think this divorce isn’t going to go well for you?”

At his words, she reared back and stared at
him, eyes wide.

Then she breathed, “I’m not going to take
his money.”

He felt his brows shoot up. “Come
again?”

“I’m not taking his money.”

“Rocky –”

She shook her head. “No, no way.”

“Roc –”

She leaned in abruptly, her expression
turning sharp. “Fuck
that.
”

He caught her hand and held it firm before
shaking it. “Baby, are you insane?”

“No,” she snapped, tugging her hand in his
but he held on tighter.

“Sweetcheeks, a guy like that does what he
did to a woman like you, I’m not a member of the club but I’m
pretty sure it’s a chick requirement to take him to the
cleaners.”

“Layne –”

“You don’t do it, other chicks might vote to
throw you out of the club.”

Her face cracked and she smiled, her dimple
coming out and, seeing it, Layne wished he’d kept his mouth shut at
the same time he felt like he’d scored a touchdown to win the game
in the last seconds of the Super Bowl.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get thrown out of
the…” she lifted the only hand she had available to her and made
air quotation marks, “chick club.”

“Atta girl,” he whispered as he smiled but
her face got serious again and her hand dropped.

“I see what you’re saying, Layne but,
seriously, you don’t know… it hasn’t been…” She looked over his
shoulder then back at him. “I don’t want anything from him.”

He did not like what her words said, he did
not like how they made him feel but he liked it even less that she
had reason to same them.

He ignored this, decided on a different
strategy and advised, “Rocky, you greased some palms to get moved
up the waiting list for this place, you shouldn’t waste that
investment.”

Her hand clenched his spasmodically and her
eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I didn’t grease any palms to get moved
up.”

He stared at her then told her, “Not sure
that’s against the law, sweetcheeks, but even if it was, I wouldn’t
turn you in.”

“I guess it isn’t but I still didn’t do
it.”

“Roc, when I was lookin’ into this place,
the waiting list was minimum seven months.”

She nodded. “It still is. I’ve been on it
for nine.”

He let her hand go and stood, watching her
head tilt back to look up at him as he went.

Then he asked, “What?”

She stood too, bringing her body close in
front of his. “I’ve been on the waiting list for nine months.”

That meant she’d been intending to leave her
husband for nine months.

“You knew he was fucking around on you?”
Layne asked.

She shook her head.

“But you been plannin’ on leavin’ him for
awhile.”

She nodded her head.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why?” she repeated.

“Yes. Why?”

“Layne, I’m not sure we should –”

“Why?”

“I really don’t want to talk about –”

“Why?”

“Layne!”

He leaned in to get his face close to hers.
“Why?” he repeated.

“Why do you want to know?” she shot back,
amused Rocky gone, annoyed Rocky in her place.

“Because I do,” he answered.

“Well it really isn’t any of your
business.”

“Sorry, sweetcheeks, but we got a long road
ahead of us. I’m not gonna stumble onto enough evidence to take
Rutledge and whoever is pullin’ his strings down all bound up and
wrapped in shiny paper sitting on my island when I walk downstairs
to make coffee tomorrow. This means sharing time, sharing space and
sharing our lives and it means doin’ it for awhile. While we do it,
we actually have to
live
those lives and
your
life
comes with me pretending to be your man while you’re divorcing
another one. He made you a chump, don’t make me one even if what we
got is sham.”

Her head jerked back and she took a step up
the stairs.

Then she said softly, “I’m not making you a
chump.”

“You don’t share, you are. I haven’t been in
on your life for awhile, Roc, but you’ve lived in this ‘burg a long
time and people know shit. Case in point, my guess would be half
the town who are of drinking age know your car was in my drive all
night and I can guarantee, due to Tripp thinkin’ you’re one step
down from a rock star, that every single kid in your school knows
there’s times when he can call you Rocky. But for the last year, I
wasn’t a prime recipient for gossip about Raquel Astley so you’re
gonna have to fill me in.”

He noticed she’d started to get pissed while
he spoke and when he was done, she didn’t hesitate to explain
why.

“You know what sucks?” she snapped.

“I know a lotta things that suck,” he
returned.

“Well, what sucks the most right now for me
is when you make sense.
That
sucks.”

He couldn’t stop himself, she was so fucking
hilarious, he threw his head back and laughed.

What he did stop himself from doing was
yanking her in his arms and laughing in her neck.

When he quit laughing, he focused on her to
see she was still glaring.

“You gonna share?” he prompted.

“Yes,” she bit off. “But not now. We have a
football game to get to.”

“You gonna get this apartment?”

“I don’t know,” she replied irately.

“Sweetcheeks, get the apartment.”

“Layne –”

“Do it,” he prompted.

“Layne!”

“Your attorneys tell you what you got
doesn’t allow you to fuck him over so bad he’ll reconsider any
relationship he ever thinks of starting, you tell me, baby. I’ll
find enough shit on him to make him move to another state.”

She didn’t speak, she just stared at him
with her lips parted.

When this lasted awhile, he repeated, “Get
the apartment.”

She stayed silent.

So Layne made a decision.

He left her on the stair and walked to the
door.

He opened it and the blonde was on her cell
phone outside.

She whirled to face him and Layne declared,
“She’ll take it.”

* * * * *

“I can’t eat this,” Rocky announced quietly
and Layne looked down at her.

They were standing three feet away from the
concession stand and he’d just handed her a hotdog and a diet and
she was looking like she was either going to heave or bolt.

He knew why she’d lost her appetite.

They’d just walked the length of the field
from entrance to concession stand. The game was four minutes in and
the ‘dogs were already on the board and, still, Rocky and Layne
walking into the game with their arms around each other had
diverted the attention of the vast majority of eyes in the
bleachers and folks standing at the fence around the field. The
parents were looking and the kids were looking and they weren’t
being secretive about it.

They also fielded a variety of greetings
from giggling girls pulling up the courage to say at the last
minute, “Hey, Mrs. Astley,” to full grown men, some of them married
fathers, married fathers of kids who probably sat in Rocky’s
classroom, giving Rocky the once-over and saying to Layne,
“Tanner,” in a way that could easily be read as, “Nice work,
dude.”

If that wasn’t enough, Gabby, who always
came early so she could sit front row, fifty yard line, had come
early so she could sit front row, fifty yard line and she did this
by Stew. That meant Rocky and Layne had to walk right in front of
her while she glared fire at them both, her face so hard, Layne
wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered.

Nevertheless, he’d tipped his head to them
both, keeping his arm firm around Rocky’s stiff shoulders as her
fingers dug into his waist and he greeted, “Gabby, Stew,” a
greeting which was not returned by either of them, and then he
guided Rocky right by.

“It’s fine,” Layne assured her.

“It’s not fine!” she leaned in and hissed.
“Did you see Josie?”

Layne felt his brows draw together.
“Josie?”

“Josie, Layne, Josie Brand, now Josie
Judd!”

“Chip’s wife?” Layne asked.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Chip’s wife and
my
best friend.
My best friend
who I
haven’t
called
to inform that I’ve reunited with my old
boyfriend!”

Jesus, that was all it was?

Layne grinned. “She’ll get over it.”

She threw her hands up and almost lost the
lid of her cup as well as the dog out of the bun. “You obviously do
not
know Josie.”

He did, he knew Josie Brand but as far as he
knew he hadn’t seen her in over twelve years.

“Sweetcheeks, calm down.”

She leaned closer. “If you call me
sweetcheeks in front of one of the students –”

Like he had the previous day at the Station,
he hooked her around the neck and yanked her into his body and both
her hands flew out to the sides to avoid her not very exciting
dinner getting crushed. This time, instead of her coming to his
side, she was full frontal and that was better. Much better.

He dipped his face close to hers. “Baby, I’m
not gonna call you sweetcheeks in front of the students.”

“Don’t kiss me either,” she hissed. “I
haven’t read my contract for awhile but I think it has an express
clause that I can’t make out with seriously hot private detectives
at football games or during any other school activity.”

His body went still as his mind tried and
failed to sort through how fucking great it felt that she referred
to him as a “seriously hot private detective” at the same time he
wanted, with no small amount of desperation, to laugh out loud for
a long fucking time.

Instead, he joked, “It’s good they had the
foresight to include that in your contract.”

“I’m not being funny, Layne,” she
warned.

“You’re wrong, Raquel,” he replied.

At his words, she went smack into stare down
which, unfortunately for her, Layne thought was cute.

Therefore, he asked, “Your contract says you
can’t make out but does that mean I can’t kiss your neck?”

“Yes!” she hissed.

“Your forehead?” he went on.

“Yes!” Her voice was rising.

“Your nose?”

“Layne, this is not amusing.”

He smiled. “Wrong again, sweetcheeks.”

“Two seconds and you’ll have ice cold pop
over your head,” she threatened.

She wouldn’t do that. She used to threaten
all sorts of wild retribution but she never did it. Their fights
might occasionally get physical but only in good ways. She’d once
accidentally squirted his t-shirt with ketchup but only because she
was yelling while holding a ketchup bottle at the same time
gesticulating and she’d done it by accident. The hilarious look on
her face after she’d done it had led to him laughing so hard he
nearly split a gut, Rocky doing the same and, shortly after, them
fucking on the kitchen table during which he transferred the
ketchup on his tee to hers.

This memory had while she was pressed
against his front served to sober him so he dipped his face even
closer and whispered, “Everything is gonna be fine, Roc,
swear.”

She stared into his eyes several long
moments before she nodded.

He let her loose from his front but kept his
arm around her neck and led her to the boys. These being Colt,
Colt’s best friend Morrie who co-owned the local bar, J&J’s
Saloon, with Colt’s wife Feb, Loren Smithfield, the local ladies
man who stayed a ladies man even when he was legally bound to only
one lady (and he’d been that way three times), a decent guy on the
surface but underneath pure asshole, Ricky Silvestri who owned most
of the car dealerships in the county and who famously fucked around
on his wife so she divorced his ass but he was equally famously
still in love with her, trying to win her back and spectacularly
not succeeding, that said, Layne thought he was a decent guy who
was paying due penance for a very bad mistake, and Joe Callahan,
Colt’s across the street neighbor, a well-known, highly-respected
security specialist, a serious badass and the man Layne hoped like
hell Jasper didn’t piss off when he eventually started dating Cal’s
stepdaughter.