Golden Trail (5 page)

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.