Golden Trail (80 page)

“Ma, the furniture –”

Vera looked him straight in the eye. “Is
Rocky eventually going to move in?”

“Yeah,” Layne answered.

“Then you need to give her a home to move
into.”

“It’s already a home, Ma, and she hasn’t
complained.”

“She moves in, are
you
going to go
furniture shopping?”

“Fuck no.”

She threw out a hand and announced, “No time
like the present.”

She had him there so Layne grinned.

“You’re a nut,” he muttered.

“Yep,” she replied on a smile.

“You gonna stay in town much longer?”

She tipped her head to the side and shared,
“Florida isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. They have hurricanes and
they don’t have Hilligoss donuts.”

This was true and Hilligoss was worth moving
back home. So was being close to her grandsons before they both
moved off to educate themselves and start their lives as well as
being close to her son when he was happy and last, being close to
Rocky again.

“So you’re moving back.”

She answered with, “I can do your
books.”

That wasn’t a receptionist but it was
something.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“You’re welcome, Tanner.”

“By the way, I’m not sure you’d be doin’
Aunt Flo or Helen a favor, hookin’ them up to Devin. He’s not young
but that doesn’t mean he’s not wild.”

She cocked her head to the side again.
“Hooking him up with Flo or Helen?”

“I know your game.”

She smiled and it was a smile he’d never
seen before in his life.

Then she suddenly stood, hitched her purse
on her shoulder and walked to the door. In the door, she turned and
leveled her gaze on his.

“It isn’t Flo or Helen makin’ him beef and
noodles, Tanner.”

Holy fuck.

Layne stared.

Then he started, “Ma –”

Her smile turned lazy and Layne didn’t know
what to do with that because he was a man and she was his mother,
for fuck’s sake, and as a man, he knew what that smile communicated
and he hoped to all that was holy she never directed that smile at
Devin. The man wouldn’t stand a chance.

“All these years, after your father, never
met a man who was worth the trouble because, except to get you,
your father proved not worth the trouble,” she remarked.

“Ma –”

“Until now.”

Oh shit.

“Ma –”

“See you later, honey,” she said cheerfully,
turned and walked out.

Layne stared at the door. Then he shook his
head.

Then he started laughing as he reached for
his phone to call Rocky.

* * * * *

Thursday, 6:11 p.m.

His client lifted his eyes from the folder
he was reading and noted, “This didn’t take you long.”

Layne sat across the client’s desk from him.
“He wasn’t real smart with hiding it,” Layne replied, “and he
didn’t try.”

The man’s face closed down. He was
embarrassed, or more accurately, humiliated. And he should be. He
had an employee who had been embezzling for over three years and he
didn’t cotton on until about a month before he hired Layne which
was only a few weeks ago.

Layne moved him past it.

“He’s also got a ticket to Argentina. He
leaves Sunday. So, my advice, pick up your phone and call the
cops.”

The man nodded, reaching for the phone.

Layne stood and moved from his office but
stopped and turned when the man called his name.

“You ever need a reference, you can tell
your potential clients to call me,” the man stated.

“Obliged,” Layne muttered and moved out of
the office.

He was out of the building and nearing the
Suburban when his cell rang. He pulled it out, looked at the
display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Yo, sweetcheeks.”

“You like oak?”

Layne bleeped the locks on the Suburban.
“Come again?”

“Oak. The wood. For the dining room table,”
she explained. “See, I don’t like oak. I mean, it’s okay, but I
prefer walnut or cherry wood. Also mahogany. But your Mom and I
found this awesome dining room table. Ladderback chairs. One
beautifully carved, thick, center leg, with four clawed feet coming
out at the bottom. It’s amazing. Two leaves so it could sit ten.
You could even squeeze twelve in, at a push. The perfect
Thanksgiving Dinner table.”

By the time she was done talking, Layne had
swung up in the cab and closed his door. “You like it, get it.”

“Well, does it sound like something
you’d
like? I mean, oak… I’m not sure.”

“You like it, get it,” Layne repeated.

“Layne –”

“Roc, I really don’t care about furniture.
If it’s there, I use it. I don’t care what it looks like or what
it’s made of. So if you like it, get it.”

She was silent.

When this lasted awhile, Layne called,
“Roc?”

“You care,” she said softly.

“What?”

“You care, Layne, and that’s okay. You can
be a badass and also have style. I mean, you dress really nice
too.”

Layne blinked at the steering wheel and
repeated, “What?”

She laughed softly. “Sweetheart, it’s okay
if you give a shit about this stuff. It’s not like it makes you any
less of a man.”

What the fuck?

“Uh… Rocky, what the fuck are you talkin’
about?”

“Your clothes, your furniture, Layne,
they’re stylish, handsome. Your clothes make you look good,
especially when you dress up. Definitely hot.” He knew she said
this through a smile but he was too busy concentrating on his neck
muscles contracting to let that penetrate. “And your furniture is
fantastic. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be able to put a house
together like that, Layne, but it looks great. I mean, it’s
comfortable and manly but it’s still attractive. I love it and I
wouldn’t change a thing.”

Shit.

“Roc –”

“So, baby, since you know what you’re doing,
in a badass interior decorator kind of way, tell me, do you like
oak?”

“Roc –”

“Or do you want to come and look? Maybe we
can swing in on Saturday.”

Shopping.

Shit.

He pulled in a breath then he let it out and
made a decision. And he made his decision because shit happened and
if he didn’t tell her, she’d eventually find out somehow. That shit
had a way of making it to the light. Usually through Tripp.

“I didn’t buy that furniture, baby,” he said
softly.

“Sorry?”

“Or most of my clothes.”

Silence then, “Sorry?”

“Melody did.”

He waited. She didn’t speak.

Fucking
shit.

“Rocky –”

“Um… I’ve gotta go.”

“Roc –” he stopped speaking because he had
dead air.

“
Shit!
” he hissed, tossed the phone
on the passenger seat, started the truck and headed to her
house.

He was standing out on her balcony an hour
and a half later having a smoke when he watched her car drive up
and swing into the spot beside his truck. She got out and moved
from under the awning over her spaces, her eyes lifting to him.
Then she dropped her head and walked to the sidewalk.

Layne moved to the little, black wrought
iron table she’d had delivered from the Garden Center and he
stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray she left out for him.

He was inside when she came through the
door.

“Rocky –” he started.

She didn’t look at him when she shrugged off
her coat and stated, “I need some alone time.”

He crossed his arms on his chest and said
softly, “Baby, you know that shit’s not right.”

She tossed her coat on a stool by the bar
and turned to him. “I do?”

“We’ve had this discussion,” he reminded
her.

“Yes, you had women in your life, we’ve had
this discussion,” she agreed. “What you failed to mention during
that discussion was that I was sleeping in
her
bed.”

Fuck, he was getting pissed.

He controlled it and replied, “She picked
it, I paid for it, I sleep in it, it’s my bed, Roc.”

“Did she sleep in it?” Rocky shot back.

“Don’t do that shit,” Layne returned.

“She slept in it,” Rocky muttered, dropping
her head and moving into the kitchen.

He followed her but kept his distance,
stopping on the other side of the bar.

“Like I said awhile ago, sweetcheeks, I
wasn’t in suspended animation when we were apart.”

She was at the fridge and she’d pulled out a
fancy-ass beer. She opened a drawer, popped the cap, tossed it and
the opener on the counter and turned to face him, resting her waist
on the edge of the counter, lifting the beer and taking a pull.

She dropped her hand, her eyes hit his and
she said, “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

What he knew was that was not good.

“Rocky, don’t do this,” he warned.

“And what I’ve been thinking is that, awhile
ago, you were right. I played you.”

Layne was silent.

Rocky was not.

“You were right as well that I didn’t know
it but, thinking about it, I did. I played you.”

“Where you goin’ with this?” Layne asked
even though he really did not want to know.

“So, I asked you the other night, if I made
that pass, would you have accepted it and you said you didn’t know.
Which means no.”

“You don’t know what it means. I don’t even
fuckin’ know what it means,” Layne returned.

“It means no.”

“Rocky, god damn it.”

“Because she was in your life.”

Layne shook his head, barely controlling his
temper and feeling his patience ebb. “I explained that too,” he
reminded her.

“How long was she in your life?”

“Point is, she isn’t now.”

“She thought she was, surprising you like
she did.”

“Honestly, you wanna process this?”

“I’m putting two and two together, Layne,”
she announced.

“And, sweetcheeks, you’re comin’ up with
five.”

“I’m not.”

“Baby, you are.”

“You wouldn’t have done it,” she stated in a
way that he knew whatever the fuck she was referring to was
important.

“Done what?”

“Made the play.”

“Made
what
play?”

“For me.”

Fuck!

“Roc –”

“You had your Melodys, your Cassies, you
didn’t need me and you wouldn’t have made that play. Thinking about
it, thinking about the way you spoke to me that first morning I
came to your house, you had no intention of finding us again.”

Layne clenched his teeth and when he won the
battle for control, he reminded her, “Rocky, you were married and
you still are.”

Her eyes narrowed and she returned, “You
knew it was over when we were sitting on Merry’s couch and you knew
it had been over a long time. You knew it was bad. And you still
walked away from me.”

“Now I’m standin’ right here so what the
fuck does it matter?”

“It had to be me that made the play.”

That was when he lost it.

“Yeah, Rocky, it had to be you because,
sweetcheeks,
you
left
me.
I wasn’t gonna swing myself
out there again, not unless I knew I’d find a different ending this
time.”

“There it is,” she announced. “You’re
throwing it in my face again.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and his eyes
locked on hers. “You’re workin’ for it. You want this. I’m givin’
it to you but, warning, Rocky, you told me last Friday not to let
you do this shit and I’m not gonna let you do this shit. There is
nothin’ here for you to be pissed about. You’re just pissed to be
pissed because you’re scared as shit.”

“I’m not scared,” she stated.

“Baby, you’ve spent two decades controlling
everything in your life so you wouldn’t feel what you feel right
now with me. And I’m not stupid, I know why.”

“Yeah? You do? Enlighten me, oh wise Layne,
why?” she asked with deep sarcasm and Layne’s body got tight.

“Raquel, fair warning, I’m already pissed,
don’t make me mad.”

“
You’re
pissed?” she asked, leaning
forward, her words a hiss. “
You’re
pissed?
You
fucked
me in
her
bed.
You
fucked me in your closet wearing
her
clothes. And
you’re
pissed?”

“I do not give a shit about furniture and
clothes. You want, build a bonfire in my yard, toss it all on and
replace it. I do
not
care. It means nothing to me.”

“Melody meant something to you.”

“Yeah, she did, and clue the fuck in, Roc,
it wasn’t enough or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You should have told me,” she snapped.

“Yeah? When? When I had you against the wall
moaning for me, do I whisper in your ear, ‘By the way, baby, Melody
bought me this suit.’ Or, when you’re locked in your head because
of Ma’s games and I had to talk you out of that shit, ‘And since
we’re discussing Melody, you should know, she picked out this bed.’
Jesus, Roc, seriously?”

It was then, Rocky went in for the kill.

“I’ve never had an orgasm, except with you
and, obviously, self-induced. I’ve had two lovers. My husband and
you
. I’ve kissed two men in my life. I’m thirty-eight years
old, Layne, and I’ve kissed
two men in my life.
One I
married, the other was
you.
”

He had no idea where she was going with that
but it didn’t mean she hadn’t scored a direct hit.

“Baby –” he whispered.

“I’ve loved one man, and that was also
you.
”

“Rocky –”

“You’re beautiful and I see how women look
at you. I also know what I did to you. You don’t think
I
wonder, especially when you bring it up all the time, when you’ll
remember what I did to you and when you’ll wonder if it isn’t worth
the risk. You decide it isn’t, I’ll be right back there, Layne,
without you, and now without Tripp and Jas. And you’ll move on, you
did before, you can have anyone you want. You’ll move on. But I
won’t. I never did even though I got married, and you know it. But
you did. Maybe not the same way, but you did. And you didn’t make
the play for me. You would have carried on and you wouldn’t have to
do it alone.
You
think
you
took a grave risk taking
me back, what do you think
I’m
feeling, knowing, any time,
your head can turn to someone who’ll know she’s lucky to have you,
who wouldn’t do anything to rock that boat and you’ll decide I’m
not worth the worry and you’ll be gone.”