T's Trial: A Bone Cold--Alive Novel (28 page)

The Boat Patrol! She felt all the color drain from her face, even with the nearness of the grill. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sally scoop Tib’s breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him as she lingered over the dishes. She felt Sally's eye on her, as the cook thumbed through a stack of napkins under the counter. “Lyla, we got any more of these in the store room?”

“I’ll check.” She hastily left. Rounding the corner, out of sight of the counter, she clutched at her chest and stifled a cry. Damn! Wouldn’t that have been a fine mess? She and her houseguest caught
in flagrante delicto
by the Oklahoma patrol! There were no winners in that scenario, not herself, not T, certainly not Tib. Guilt washed over her in waves. What exactly did she think she was doing? This had to be over. She’d call and tell him. No, that wasn’t really fair. She’d go up. To be safe, she’d take Bertie with her so nothing untoward would happen again. She’d—

Lyla straightened up, brushed at her apron, went to find the napkins. Hell, maybe she’d fall into his arms and they’d teach that old piano a new song.

Oh, Lyla Lee, she thought as she made her way back into the store, you’ve just pushed that elevator button to Hell.

*  *  *

By two o’clock, the lunch counter was clean for the day. “Feeling better now, Lyla?” Sally's tone was solicitous as she untied the apron and hung it by the stove. “You looked right pale this morning, dear.” She waited for an explanation and Lyla knew she waited, knew all the details would come out in due time, but it wasn't going to be now.

“Fine, Sally. Thanks for—”

“Covering for you?”

Lyla nodded at her savvy. “That would just about cover it, yes.”

“Need to run any errands? I don’t have a thing to do until five. Harrison and I’ll bake cookies or something when he gets in from school.” She stood at the end of the counter and watched Lyla.

“Thank you.” Lyla hesitated for only a breath. “I’ll be back by five.”

Lyla threw the Jeep into gear and raced toward the house. She bumped over the cattle guard, still unsure of what she was going to say or do. Fletch had probably already read T the riot act about the Oklahoma patrol. So, they’d discuss that. Otherwise, she was sure the house needed straightening.

Parking the Jeep under the shade of the bois d’arc tree, she hesitated between the dock and the house. She chose the dock first. Even standing at the top of the bluff, she could see movement inside. She was halfway down the steps when Fletch appeared at the sliding door. “He’s up in the house.”

“Not doing his share of the work?” She decided to keep her tone light. Fletch’s mood had been sharp this morning.

“No, he’s been here. He’s fetching lemonade.” Fletch leaned on the doorjamb. “He’ll see the Jeep, bring you a glass, I’m sure. Meantime, why don’t you come on down and let’s talk.”

Lyla’s skin prickled on the back of her neck. “Sure you have enough time?”

“I’ll make the time.” He stepped back to make room for her, even though she still balanced on the steps.

There was nowhere to run. Lyla went on down, balanced herself as she lightly sprang to the deck. She tried to keep herself calm as she stood just inside the doorway, her arms crossed atop her breasts, her weight balanced on one foot, a stance promising to be skeptical about everything Fletch had to say.

He sat at the table, casually leaned back toward the countertop and grabbed a baggie full of metallic packages. “Yours?” He tossed the condoms they’d left in the bedside table. Sheepishly, she took them and stuffed them into her shorts pocket. Her cheeks reddened a little.

“That all? You could have given them to Sam.”

“Are you going to persist in calling him that?”

When had she and Fletch become adversaries, Lyla asked herself.

“That’s what he asked me to call him. I know he’s Eddie T.”

“And do you know all that Eddie T stands for?”

“I think so.” Just to be sure, she’d read the fanzines between customers. To her amazement, she’d still wanted to come. Couldn’t wait. The closer she was to him, the more she wanted him. She was wasting time down here. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to clean house once she got up there. Lyla pushed away from the opening.

“And how do you see this ending?”

“I don’t.”

Fletch raised his eyebrows. “You don’t see an ending? This isn’t a walk down the aisle and happy-ever-after, Lyla. This is three weeks tacked onto the end of a rigorous detox session.”

“I know that. I meant, I haven’t thought this through to an end.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who doesn’t think her actions through to all of their logical conclusions.”

“Very astute, Fletch. This just caught me off-guard. To be quite honest with you, I don’t believe what I feel is any concern of yours.”

“If it concerns T, it concerns me.”

“If it concerns T, it concerns your pocketbook.”

“Are you concerned about yours?”

“I have a very stable lifestyle. I’m comfortable. And I will be so, no matter what inevitable conclusion this brings.” She started to turn. “I’m a little old for gold-digging.”

“Don’t be naive. It’s been my observation that a woman’s never too old. Or too young, for that matter.”

“How about a man? You stand to lose any money on this?”

“I’ve already lost more than you’ll ever make. He shot an album deal to hell and back. Two concerts canceled. No studio time. Cost us all a damn fortune.” There was an edge to his voice. “Not to mention the adverse publicity.”

Lyla smiled. “Come now. I wouldn’t have thought any publicity was too adverse for Bone Cold—Alive.”

Fletch shrugged. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He bounced his hands on the table, made to rise.

“I take it, I’m dismissed?”

“Go, Lyla. Sin no more.”

She shook her head. “Fletcher, you’ve got a real ass-y side to you.”

“You think I can be an ass. Just wait.” He pointed in the direction of the house.

“I’ve seen his, remember? Figuratively and literally.” She jumped from deck to dock and started up the steps.

Chapter Twenty-Two

L
yla opened the front door and cautiously entered. The piano was open, staff paper strewn all about. The bench was pushed out as if the player had had to distance himself from the keyboard in order to take stock. The rest of the living area was no better nor worse than it would have been had she and Harrison been in residence. “Sam?” she called, letting her voice rise at the end.

“Hi,” his face was as hopeful as his voice as he came in from the kitchen. “Saw the Jeep, went back for another glass to take down.” He came over to her, stood balancing the tray with both hands. His eyes asked for a kiss, even as his lips bent hesitantly to receive it.

Lyla reached on tiptoe to bestow what he silently asked for. She didn’t touch him otherwise. The pitcher trembled on the tray. Pulling back, she took the tray from him, opened the front door and set it on the top step. She came back in and locked the door behind her. “Let Fletch fetch.”

“Been doing it for years.” He scooped her up, lifting her as if she were a bride. “I thought you’d never come!” He carried her to the loveseat, sat with her on his lap. His right hand massaged the outside edge of her thigh while his left cradled her back. She twined her fingers up his neck. “I don’t know what to do first.”

She laughed. “What are your options?”

“Kiss you, make love to you physically, kiss you, leave you here and make love to you musically, kiss you, find out if it’s true what Fletch said about the Oklahoma patrol.”

“Every word.”

“Oh, Lyla.” He pulled her to where their foreheads touched. “Did we avoid the big one, or what?”

“You have no idea, Sam.” She whispered. “It would have been the same as taking out an ad in the paper.” She tentatively kissed his lips. Tears threatened. She blinked once and they spilled onto her cheeks.

He wiped the tears with his thumbs. “Hey,” he breathed the word out. “What-ifs won’t get us anywhere.” He caught her to himself, rocked her like he would a child. “No one found us. And they won’t.”

She pushed away from him but still remained on his lap. “The Osprey moves only by daylight. That was the easy decision.” She wiped at her eyes.

“And with all hands on board,” he added. “And all hands showing.” He waved his hands in the air, noted her still somber air. “But that’s not the hard decision, is it?” She shook her head. “Let me guess, ol’ Fletch just played party pooper.”

Lyla nestled against him, circled her right arm behind him, laid her cheek on his shoulder. “He asked me if I’d thought this through to its logical conclusion.” She felt his heart rate increase through his shirt.

“And?”

“And I told him no.”

“And he told you there was only one logical conclusion.”

“Basically.”

“And?”

“And he’s right.”

T held her even tighter. “We love each other. We can find other logical conclusions. Remember last night? We’re adults.”

“Well, adult mentor Fletcher is not on our side.”

“Fletch only has one side. It’s dollar bill green. How about adult mentor Bertie?”

“Didn’t seem pleased the Osprey was night fishing. Other than that, she disappeared after biscuits and hasn’t been seen. I thought she might have ended up over here.”

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen her.”

“She’s plotting away somewhere.” They were silent together. Lyla broke it. “You been working on the music?”

“Some.” He ran his hand up her side until he cupped her breast. “But I’m running low on inspiration.”

She smiled against him. “In other words, we are wasting valuable time you could be spending composing.”

“I’d rather be inspired.” He dipped his head to hers. He tasted of lemonade. She moved out of his arms until she straddled him. T ran his hands under her shirt and unhooked her bra. His fingers traced her breasts. Their breathing quickened.

“I pay the electric bill, you really could turn on the air conditioner.” She pulled his tee up and leaned over so they were bare-chested together.

“You mean you’re hot?” He felt her hips, found the baggie of condoms. A smile quirked his lips. “I like a woman who is always prepared.”

“Leftovers from last night. Fletch wanted to make sure I had them.”

“See, he can be an adult.” T’s hands rested underneath her panties on her bare bottom. He splayed his fingers, touched her.

Lyla caught her breath. “You’re going to either have to stop what you’re doing or make love to me now.”

“Stopping wasn’t one of my options. Guess that just leaves this.” He kissed her, tracing the interior of her mouth with his tongue, using his hands to draw fire from her.

Lyla broke the kiss. “C’mon.” She wriggled free of his embrace, stood above him, held out her hands to him. He took them, let her pull him to his feet. She headed down the hall to his room.

Once inside, he slammed the door joined her on the bed. This was easy lovemaking, natural, fulfilling, fun, like they’d been practicing for just this moment. “I love you,” escaped their lips at the same time.

“Well, are you inspired now?” Lyla balanced her chin on his chest. T lay on his back, stroking her side.

He narrowed his eyes. “I could finish the Unfinished Symphony.”

She laughed as she pulled up to her knees, sat watching him. “Well, I’m inspired. I think I’ll go back to the store and clean the apartment.”

“It’s obvious you haven’t peeked in our bathroom.”

“I don’t have to peek in the bathroom to know what it’s like. Somebody didn’t housebreak you.” She tweaked his nose, then reached for her underwear. “I’ll clean Fletch’s side. You do your own housekeeping.”

He lazily watched her dress. “How come I feel there’s something Pavlovian in all this? Except it works in reverse. I’m not being rewarded for being inspiring.”

“I was inspiring. You were inspired, remember?”

He reached for her. “I never took you for the ‘wham, bam, thank you, sir’ kind.”

Lyla shot him a smile, then leaned over the bed to him. “What are you doing about midnight?”

“Getting laid?”

“Only if you have a clean bathroom.”
“Lady, you drive a hard bargain.” He sat up, started pulling on his clothes. “You going to come check, or take my word on it?”
“Bud, we are going to have inspection.”

“I’ll see about drowning Fletch before then.”

*  *  *

Fletcher didn’t come back to the house all afternoon. T whistled his way through the housekeeping chores, halfway hoping Fletch would show up and see that he could do something other than make a mess. The bathroom was spotless, the living room straightened, the kitchen swept, the clothes in the dryer when the doorbell rang at five thirty. Taking a fast look out the kitchen window, T recognized Bertie’s old car. He got to the door just as she was pushing at it.

Her arms were loaded with grocery sacks. “Whoa!” T grabbed the one that dangled from her hand and was threatening to crash to the floor. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Owe you one. Promised Fletch tomato relish.” She was in the kitchen before he caught up with her. “There’s a cooler in the car. Better go get it.” T set his bag on the table. A quick inspection found a new can of shortening and a bag of cornmeal.

“Fletch know you’re coming?”

“No.” She didn’t turn toward him as she continued to empty the sacks. “Wanted to make it a surprise.”

“I’d say you did that.” T left, found Fletch coming up the front steps. “Bertie’s fixing us dinner.”

“Did we know about this?” Their tones were stilted, the air still full of their angry words. Fletch turned toward
T as the younger man opened the rear door of the car and picked up a cooler.

“She says not.” He rejoined Fletch on the porch. “Says she owes us one. Looks like we’d better enjoy it.”

Fletcher composed his features on the way into the kitchen. He’d spent the afternoon trying to figure a way out of T’s predicament. Lyla was committing an inspiring bit of self-delusion if she thought she was just in this for the physical ride and could walk away unscathed. T was more hung up on her than Fletch had ever seen him with anything except music or drugs. At the end of three hours of deep thought, he’d concluded that she must be T’s newest substitute for addiction. Detox began anew for T in three days and he’d cold turkey in nine if Fletch had anything to say about it. Bone Cold—Alive had survived many upheavals. This was just one more. In the meantime, he was going to play along and try to keep the peace. Bertie’s appearance just reaffirmed his intentions to do so beginning tonight.