T's Trial: A Bone Cold--Alive Novel (18 page)

His saving grace was the gift-wrapped perfume he needed to give her. But even it posed a dilemma. If he went to her, they could quite possibly have an audience, but it would keep his hands and mouth and eyes in check, if not his desire. If she were here—he’d want to get rid of Fletch so they could be alone. Then there wouldn’t be a need for a check on his hands and mouth and eyes and desire. Nor on hers. If she still wanted to—

“Why? What do you have in mind?” Fletch was still tinkering with the contract, paying only cursory attention to T.

“I was wondering if Lyla needed to come attend to the house today. If not, I forgot to give her a gift last night.”

“What sort of gift?”

“Some perfume.”

Fletch nodded his head absent-mindedly. “And what could make you forget that?”

“Warden Wilson.” Did Fletch not pay any attention last night?

Fletch brought his eyes to T’s. “Oh, yes, he was sitting on the doorstep when you brought her home.”

“Practically.” Better to have Fletch on his side than not. “I was walking her to the door and gave her a goodnight kiss and the warden appeared out of no where.”

“The purity police watching over one of their own?”

“More like a jealous lover. I wonder if she sleeps with him. What do you think?”

“Oh, I have all kinds of thoughts right now.” Fletch steadied his gaze on T. “Like, didn’t she think it strange that a homosexual man finds her attractive? Or perhaps, that’s no longer an issue?” T shrugged and smiled weakly. “I see. And why you should care who she sleeps with when less than a week ago, her chastity was the fodder for a rather crude bet between us. Unless, of course, this attraction is more than bet deep.” He let the inflection in his voice ask the question. “T, son, please, please tell me we are not heading for disaster. Again.”

T chose to ignore the paternal reference, rarely used by Fletch with BCA, and then only condescendingly. Instead, he kept his reply simple. “I love her.”

“You are on a hormonal rebound that is so accelerated even your spun-out, overloaded body and mind doesn’t know what to do with it.” Fletch leaned back in the booth and folded his arms across his chest. “I think the best thing for us to do is just leave. We’ll go to your grandmother’s in Kentucky. That’s what we should have done in the first place. It’s just that it was so obvious a retreat.” He was half-talking to himself now. He started to get up.

“Where’re you going?” There was desperation in T’s voice.

“Call Lyla. Tell her we’ll be out of here this afternoon.”

“But I don’t want to go.”

Fletch turned back to him, leaned down on the table to confront T eye to eye. “A week ago you didn’t want to come. Calling you surly would have been a compliment. This morning you don’t want to leave because you’re in love. Get a grip, T. This is going nowhere. If we don’t leave now, what’s it going to be like in two weeks when we’re supposed to go?”

“See, even you know this is no passing fancy. Even you know that in two weeks I’ll still feel the same way. You see it! You know what she’s doing for me.”

“Okay, stud. What are you doing to her?”

“I don’t want to
do
anything to her. I want her to love me back. I think she will.”

“You are missing the point. What happens in two weeks, even if she’s madly in love with you? What happens when she finds out about the bet or that we sneaked a peak at her sanctum sanctorum? What happens when she finds out who you are? Does she give up everything she’s ever known in order to follow BCA around the country? Lyla does not strike me as an Eddie T groupie.”

“What about an Eddie T wife?”

Fletch straightened up. “Now I know you’ve still got chemicals in the brain. Marriage?” He was practically shouting. “How many of you guys have been successfully married? Huh? How many, T? Let me tie a knot in my tail for every one of them!”

“Well, at least, you realize that a successful marriage is the only kind I’d want! Every union BCA has had, benefit of clergy or no, has ended in disaster. I know that! I don’t intend for that to happen with me.”

“No one ever does. I have experience to back me up on this.”

“But I’m strong now and have better judgment than the rest of that callous crew. I’m the only one that’s never gotten involved. I determined when my folks divorced that I’d not put anyone else through that. That’s a commitment—a lifetime commitment, I might add. I am capable of that.” He was stood and punctuated his sentences with his finger in Fletch’s chest. “You leave if you want. I don’t care. Place is paid for, for two more weeks and by God, Fletch, I’m staying. I’m having this interlude in my life. I’m going after this woman. Everyone deserves a shot at happiness, and as strange as it may seem, you have given me mine. You’ve sobered me up and you’ve protected me and now you get to watch what happens next!”

“Okay, T, what happens to you when she refuses you? What if lover boy Wilson came back last night and they made up and this morning you are out on your proverbial ass? Or what if you’re just a hormonal blaze for Lyla? A two week interlude? What if she’s using you to put the squeeze on old Tib and make him propose? After all, why should he have bought the cow when he could milk her through the fence for free?”

T punched him. Hard, in the jaw. Fletch dropped to the floor, his head barely missing the edge of the nook. He slowly raised his head off the floor, tenderly placing a hand over the already swelling lip. T still stood over him, his right hand clenched tightly. “Oh, God, Fletch, I’m sorry!” He threw his head back and stumbled a little before coming to the floor to Fletch’s side. “Are you hurt? What can I get you?”

“Help me up, T.” The older man extended his hand and T braced himself and got the two of them lifted. He helped settle Fletch in his former seat, then put ice in a kitchen towel, securing it and bringing it to him. He moved back to his seat, as Fletch held the makeshift ice bag to his face. They eyed each other warily. “I’m sorry, T.”

“No, Fletch…”

“Hear me out. We’ve been together over ten years. It’s been a successful partnership. Not always smooth, but successful. But any partnership has its times when the partners are different things to each other. They are never equal. At times, I was your father and BCA my sons.” A sheepish look briefly crossed his face. “You were my favorite. The prodigal.” He straightened his features, the moment of confession over. “In more enlightened days, we were married. Sometimes, we were all business partners. We constantly switched back and forth in the roles of teacher and pupil. I’d like to think we’ve all learned from each other. But there were always boundaries, personal boundaries. And I just stepped over one of them. I apologize. I’ve known Lyla a week and hell, boy, if I were younger, I’d give you and the warden a run for your money, and I’d win. I have experience.” He winked at T, then grimaced at the pain caused to even casually close an eye. “Wilson’s obviously not doing much. That husband’s been dead five years and she’s still single.” Fletch warmed to the role of theoretician. “Maybe there’s some weird kind of pension arrangement. I doubt that. Maybe they tried sex and it just wasn’t compatible, but I doubt that, too. Maybe he has a wife somewhere he’s not talking about. I like that theory. I doubt it’s true, but I like it.”

T smiled at Fletch’s absurdity, let him talk on.

“Personally, I think they’ve just settled down into a nice, complacent relationship.” He took the ice away from his jaw. “As to milking the cow,” he leveled his gaze at T, “I don’t think Lyla’s the kind of woman who’d kiss you if she were happy and secure elsewhere. He wouldn’t have dogged your steps if he were. We’ll stay, let you have your interlude. Just please do it with your eyes wide open. Keep in mind, T, some symphonies are best left unfinished.”

*  *  *

Lyla expected Dub to return after he delivered Harrison to school. Eight forty-five, the breakfast crowd now down to three weekend fishermen, he strolled back in. Mar-Mar had gotten a ride home from Norm, Sally’s only comment being to wish herself a fly on their dash.

“Lyla, got time for a cup of coffee with your old father-in-law?” A smiling Dub, one wanting to shoot the breeze, was to be avoided.

“All the time in the world, Dub.” She headed out the back door to the parking lot.

He followed and glared at her from under the bill of the marina gimme cap. “Bit public here, isn’t it?”

“It’s here or behind the counter. I’ve had all the upstairs confrontation I want for one day, Dub. Now have your say and be gone.”

“Damn, Lyla! Eat snake for supper?” He took a sip and grinned mischievously. “I knew that place had unusual cuisine, but rattlesnake?”

Lyla crossed her arms. “I don’t know who’s funnier, you or Tib. So cut to the chase.”

“Lyla, take this advice in the spirit it is offered. And, I might add, it comes from Red and me. What took me so long getting back here is I stopped and made sure we had a united front.”

Lyla raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at him. If he’d checked with Red about what he was about to say, she should listen carefully. Very, very carefully.

He spread his legs apart and got a firmer stance. “You are fixing to bite off far more than you can chew. You don’t want to get mixed up with these kind of people. Up front they’re living a lie. That old fag told you they were in hiding! And I think they are fags, too, no matter what he told you!”

Lyla rolled her eyes. Why didn’t she just put an ad in the paper. Tib had the same effect!

Dub continued. “These are not our kind of people, Lyla. They’re not simple country. They’re not honest! Honey, you’re gonna get nothing but hurt out of this! You know we want only what’s best for you and Harrison. Do you doubt that?”

“Never, Dub. I have never doubted that. But what you don’t know is that I am old enough to determine that for myself and for Harrison. I am not a teenager. I am not inexperienced.”

“Hon-ney!” He pulled the word out. “This is a different kind of man than you’ve ever known!”

“No, Dub, I have run into his kind before. I have not always lived here. If circumstances had been different, I’d have been far away from here for a while or for forever. But they weren’t, and I wasn’t and I’m not, so I’ll just have to rely on four years of a state university and ten years behind a gas station counter for my worldly experience. The artsy world I knew is different from anything you know. I ran into men whose lives were music, men who would do anything or betray anyone for their music. But Sam is not that kind of man! I feel it! You are going to have to trust me on this. My judgment doesn’t slip very often.” Unspoken words, unbidden memories hung between them. “Just because I kiss a man at the end of a wonderful evening does not mean I am,” she ticked the possibilities off on her finger, “a-in love with him, b-going to hop into bed with him, or c-going to make a fool of myself and my family. Now you trust me, you hear?”

“I hear.” He emptied the cup onto the pockmarked pavement and fumbled for his next words. “Okay, let’s cut a deal.” He crumpled the Styrofoam in his hand. “I’ll not say anything else about these guests of yours. I’ll trust your worldly experience. I’ll even get Tib off your back. You know I can do that.”

She squinted even more in the sun. It might just be worth a deal to see that happen. That the two didn’t care for each other was no secret. That Dub could intimidate Tib sufficiently to leave her alone was an option up for grabs.

He practically snarled out his next words. “In return,” he pointed at her with the remnants of the cup, “these two are your last guests. I’m tired of wondering what’s happening up there. You’re worried about Harrison’s education? Hell, Lyla, I’d always planned on paying for it as we go. It’s not like there are any other heirs! But you want it up front—fine! Just tell me what size trust you want and we’ll make it. Hundred thousand—you got it! Damn, I don’t care. I just want the two of you safe!”

Lyla was impressed. She already had a sizable nest egg for Harrison. Hundred thousand would look good on top of it. It could draw interest, compound, turn over, and given the ten years she had before Harrison went to college, well, then he could just pick from wherever he was smart enough to get into. “No more complaining about Sam and Fletcher?”

“None.”

“I really don’t think you can keep Tib straight. As to Red—”

“Now you trust me.”

“Deal. And a hundred thousand would be just fine.” She strode back into the store, leaving Dub standing in the morning sun.

*  *  *

“How’s your jaw?” T wandered back into the kitchen after showering and shaving. He was dressed in a collared knit shirt and pleated khaki shorts. His hair was finally beginning to grow and he had managed to comb it down and get it to settle into place. On top of that, he smelled better than he looked.

“It’ll survive.” Fletch shifted his weight in the breakfast nook and pushed the laptop away. “Going courting rather than waiting for her to show up?”

“I think she’ll feel more comfortable if there’s other people around. That way she can tell me to bug off and the witnesses’ll make it stick.”

“Morning-after jitters, huh?”

“Big case.” He glanced at the kitchen wall clock and then his watch, readjusted the latter to match. Ten fifteen. Talk about a slow morning. “I don’t recall being this nervous. Ever.” Fletch’s speech had worked its way into his soul. T knew there was a closeness between them now that only shared secrets and resolved anger could weave. “I don’t know that I’ve ever properly courted a woman. You got any hints?”

Fletch smiled. “I’m a three time loser, remember?”

“Surely experience counts for something.”

“Let her make the next move.”

“So I shouldn’t go down there?”

“I’m not saying that. More like, don’t expect a big hug and kiss.”

“I can live with that.” He glanced down at himself. “Maybe I need to put on baggier pants?”

Fletch laughed. “Why don’t you bring us back a hamburger for lunch?” He tossed him the keys. “Now get out of here!”

*  *  *

The parking lot was empty when T pulled in. Lyla was behind the counter cleaning up a condiment spill, in the middle of a loud ach-choo! when he came through the door. She didn’t seem to hear nor see him till he leaned over the counter. “Still open?”