Chasing Serenity

by Ashley, Kristen

  “Don’t take it on,” Judge repeated.

  “I had court ordered representatives come and inspect this home six times,” Jamie declared.

  “Dad, do not take this shit on.”

  “How didn’t I know this?” Jamie shouted.

  “Granddad paid them off, and I couldn’t leave her, Dad. I’d clean up and hide shit because I couldn’t leave her. I wanted to live with you. But if I did, who’d take care of her?”

  “Not you!” Jamie exploded with such force Rix pulled me two more steps away. “Not fucking YOU! Jesus fucking Christ,” he swore, wandering away from his son, tearing his hand through his hair. “Jesus…fucking Christ.”

  “Dad, I got out.”

  Jamie pivoted to him. “You were with her for twelve years.”

  “Once I was fourteen, fifteen, I was never here. My friends’ parents knew how it was. They looked out for me. She’d lost hold, that’s when I could go spend more time with you. I was always somewhere else. You know that. I told you.”

  “Who gives a fuck, Judge?” Jamie bit out. “Who gives a fuck? Do you know how Dru grew up?”

  “Dad—”

  “Her father was a different kind of piece of shit, and she went to private school and she got a diamond tennis bracelet for her sixteenth birthday—”

  “Dad, don’t—”

  “And we were all busy, Dru with her music and Rosalind with her practice and me with work, but Rosalind demanded we sit down as a family at least three nights a week, so we sat down as a—”

  “Dad, stop.”

  “And you were listening to your mother get fucked? Coming to me two weeks every summer, every other Christmas, every other spring break, and that was all I got to give to you?”

  “You had me more later, Dad,” Judge reminded him quietly.

  “And that was all I got to give to you?” Jamie repeated.

  Father and son grew silent.

  Jamie broke it.

  “I wanted to give more to you.”

  “Stop it, Dad.”

  “I wanted to give you tennis lessons and take you sailing—”

  “Dad, stop it.”

  “I wanted to be a father to you.”

  “Dad,” Judge whispered.

  “Time to go.” Rix was whispering too.

  He was right.

  Jamie’s voice had fractured on that last statement.

  Rix and I hurried out the door.

  We were barely down the three front steps when Rix grunted. “Come here.”

  “I—”

  “Sweetheart.”

  I protested no further.

  I fell into his arms, and I let the tears flow as quietly as I could, because if Judge heard me, he’d come, and this was not about me.

  When I could speak, I asked, “Did you know it was that bad?”

  “Nope,” he answered, tucking me closer to his wide chest, that syllable a rumble of feeling that beat into me.

  “God, Rix.”

  I said no more.

  “Yep.”

  He understood.

  He then tensed.

  I did too, tipping my head back to look at him.

  But he had his attention focused beyond me, to the road.

  Wiping under my eyes, I twisted to look.

  A very big white truck was headed our way.

  “Three guesses,” Rix muttered.

  “Oh no,” I whispered.

  “Chlo—”

  I tore from his arms and marched down the cracked walk.

  Rix was on my heels.

  We stood at the end of the cement that should have been dug out years ago and replaced with attractive pavers, me at the tip, Rix behind me, and watched AJ Oakley arrive, park and hoist his old man’s ass out of his ridiculously large truck.

  We then watched him saunter our way on his short, slightly bowed legs, like he owned this house, the land around it, and the entire state of Texas.

  He was in cowboy boots.

  With a white cowboy hat on his head.

  I would have selected black.

  I’d recently spent quite a bit of time in a place where there were real cowboys, and they could set even my city girl’s heart to tripping a faster beat.

  This man?

  “I’d like you to turn around, get in your truck and drive away, please,” I called.

  AJ looked from me, to Rix, took in Rix, and wisely halted his progress.

  “You wanna tell me who you are?” he asked Rix.

  Not little ole me.

  Rix.

  Rix didn’t make that first noise.

  “I’m Chloe Pierce, Judge’s girlfriend,” I answered.

  AJ’s aviator-sunglassed gaze swung to me.

  “Well, always knew m’boy had good taste,” he drawled, his shades giving me a once-over.

  Disgusting.

  “I’ll repeat, I’d like you to leave.”

  “Now, gal, I think you know there’s been a loss for this family, and my guess, you’re here, then Judge is here, and I’d like to see he’s okay.”

  “It’s my understanding that you know, as your son made this request, that he and Judge need some time to process what’s happened without unnecessary interruptions.”

  “I do know that,” he retorted impatiently. “I just don’t give a shit.”

  I didn’t give a shit that he didn’t.

  “The funeral is Wednesday at three,” I shared. “You can see Judge and share your sorrow at his loss then.” I finished pointedly, “Be informed, we will not be holding a reception after.”

  AJ had just that much patience for me, I knew, because when he was at the end of it, he started forward again, not having an issue walking through the weed infested (snake infested?) lawn.

  Rix didn’t have a problem shifting into it either, and he did this to block AJ’s path.

  AJ came up short and peered up at Rix.

  “And who might you be, big fella?”

  Good Lord, did he study tapes of JR Ewing so he could act this much of a cliché?

  “The lady shared plans for Ms. Oakley’s service and asked you to go,” Rix rumbled, and even though I wouldn’t admit this to him, I was already halfway to adoring him. That sped me the rest of the way. “I ’spect we’ll see you Wednesday around three.”

  “And I’m askin’ you to stand aside,” AJ said.

  But before Rix could answer, a dread noise sounded.

  The door to the house opening.

  AJ stretched his neck to look around Rix.

  I released a frustrated sigh.

  I then turned and moved as quickly as my silver python Tom Ford ankle-wrap padlock pumps (that I lamented I’d worn that day for a variety of reasons) would take me up the walk.

  “We’re taking care of this,” I announced.

  Both Oakley men were out of that damned house.

  That was the good.

  The bad, I had eyes on Judge, who had his on Rix and his grandfather.

  A fatal error in judgment.

  I should have had eyes on Jamie.

  He took off like a shot, and in high heels, and with shorter legs, and utterly no intention to wade into that “grass,” I had no hope.

  Fortunately, Judge’s legs were as long as his father’s.

  He wasn’t scared of snakes (like Jamie wasn’t).

  And Rix was there.

  Rix got to Jamie first, a gentle butt of the chests and a quiet, “You don’t wanna do that.”

  Okay, yes.

  Adored that man.

  It was just the moment Jamie needed to get a handle on himself. He stepped back, eyes locked to his father, and Judge, quickly prowling through the weeds, took his back.

  “Go home, Pop,” Jamie demanded.

  “Now, Jameson—” AJ tried.

  “I’m buying the gulch,” Jamie announced.

  Judge went straight.

  Something very much not happy wafted from AJ.

  My eyes shot to Rix.

  Hi
s came to me.

  I raised a brow.

  He did a slight shake of his head.

  Damn, he didn’t know what that meant either.

  “I’m starting there,” Jamie went on.

  “Now, Jameson—” AJ repeated in an entirely different tone.

  “Tell Jeff to get his shit straight,” Jamie warned. “I won’t be covering his ass like you do.”

  “Jam—”

  “You, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of in your final years. You can live in that house.” Jamie jerked his head to Belinda’s house. “I’m sure your latest wife will enjoy making it suitable for the two of you.”

  “You mistake the way things are, Jameson,” AJ stated.

  “I know exactly the way things are, Pop,” Jamie returned. “I’ve known it for a long time. The only thing that held me back was Rosalind. She said life’s too short for ugly emotions like payback and revenge. She was right. Her life was.” An exceptionally timed pause then, “Mine isn’t.”

  AJ said nothing, but he didn’t take his shades from Jamie.

  “You left the door wide open, you old fucking fool,” Jamie said in a low, terrifying voice I was instantly fond of.

  “It’s your boy’s legacy,” AJ snapped.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it intact for him,” Jamie assured.

  They went into a staring contest that I knew Jamie would win.

  I was correct.

  AJ turned his gaze to his grandson and said, “You look good, boy.”

  “Thanks, Granddad, but maybe you should give me and Dad some space, yeah?”

  My man, so polite. So respectful. Even in these trying times.

  I smiled, and I didn’t care that it was smug.

  AJ glanced through me, took in Rix, then back to Judge.

  “See you Wednesday.”

  Fabulous.

  He ambled off and none of us moved, just watched as he got in his truck, did a three-point turn in Belinda’s drive, and rolled away.

  Immediately, I turned to Judge and called, “Darling, get out of that jungle. You’ve no idea what’s slithering in those weeds.”

  “Baby, I got boots on.”

  I glared at him.

  He studied me, his lips tipped up, then that disappeared when he looked at his dad.

  “What was that about?”

  “Please don’t talk about this when you’re so far away. I can’t hear you,” I stated.

  I could.

  I just wanted Judge, and Rix, and Jamie out of that grass.

  Because, honestly, anything could be in it.

  All the men, being gentlemen (even Rix), shifted to the walk.

  I met them and we huddled.

  Jamie shared.

  “Your grandfather is in trouble.”

  “Financial?” Judge asked.

  Jamie nodded.

  “Serious?” Judge pressed.

  “Maybe not,” Jamie allowed. Then continued, “If he had time. Which he doesn’t. And I didn’t want to crush him. Which I do.”

  “Dad,” Judge said quietly.

  Jamie shook his head. “No, son.”

  “Dad,” Judge clipped.

  “Were you in there just now?” Jamie asked in another voice I instantly adored, ominous and angry.

  “He’s an old man,” Judge pointed out.

  “The wells dried up under his tenure. If he was smart, he’d have gotten into wind or solar. He has the land for it. He wasn’t smart. No gambler is smart, Judge, and he’s the worst kind there is. One who doesn’t know when to fold.”

  “Dad, your entire career is based on gambling.”

  “My career is based on data and projections and calculated risks I, and my clients, understand. Those risks have levels, low, moderate and severe. You wade in severe. You embrace moderate. And you play the long game with low. That is not what your grandfather was doing. Cap that with paying ten million to every woman he bought after he wants to throw them away because he regards females as accessories that reflect on his manhood, rather than as the people they are. Women who needed thirty-thousand-dollar handbags and eighty-thousand-dollar earrings just to stomach sleeping with him. He’s pissed away that legacy he likes to brag that he’s giving you. He’s leveraged to his cowboy hat, Judge. His debtors are unhappy, and the point has come they’re willing to take anything they can get. He’s got no choice but to lose the only real asset he has left. The land. And he’s going to be losing it to me.”

  “That’ll kill him,” Judge stated.

  Jamie’s response was silent.

  And eloquent.

  He merely turned his gaze to the house behind us, then back to his son.

  “Right, as much as I’m enjoying Bobby finally getting his back from JR in a Real Oil Barons scenario, this place is shit, and I need lunch,” Rix declared. “So we need to go get Dru and find somewhere that has a mountain of food. And booze. There’s nothin’ you want here, Judge, and since there isn’t, there’s no reason to be here. So let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “That wasn’t Bobby versus JR, that was Bobby versus Jock,” I educated Rix.

  Rix turned to me. “Whatever.”

  “Or not Bobby, Gary. He was the smart one who got the hell out of Texas and went to Knots Landing,” I carried on. “Though, that had its own troubles.”

  “Who cares, Chloe?” I didn’t get to answer that he should get his soap opera metaphors correct before Rix asked another question. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m always a tad peckish,” I replied.

  Rix looked to Judge. “It’s good she’s gorgeous, bud.”

  Judge was staring at me.

  He explained why by inquiring, “Have you been crying?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “You have to know your makeup is messed up.”

  Damn!

  I pulled my purse off my shoulder and dug in it for my compact.

  “We’re definitely getting out of here,” Judge proclaimed. “We are definitely getting Dru. And we’re definitely getting drunk. I don’t care if it’s only eleven.”

  I gave up on the compact because I was at one with that plan and I could fix my makeup in the car.

  We started moving out, Judge commandeering my hand when he did.

  I pulled on him to hold us back, and when the others were what I hoped was out of earshot, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  I stopped.

  He stopped with me.

  “I’m okay,” he answered. “Dad’s okay. I’ll tell you about it later. Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  He bent and touched his mouth to mine.

  Then he guided me to the car and opened my door for me so I could climb inside.

  I didn’t get right to fixing my makeup.

  I looked at the house with its sprawling Texan vistas on all sides.

  I’d seen only a portion of the inside, there was a great deal more that I didn’t discover, and I didn’t wish to.

  But there was a great deal more.

  Bedrooms. Perhaps a den. A home office.

  Then there was that pool.

  Jameson Oakley had bought that house for his ex-wife to raise their son in, with good furniture, plenty of room, a big kitchen to cook holiday and birthday meals in, a place for him to have pool parties with his friends out back.

  He had then been blocked at every pass, and lied to, stepping back because he thought it was best for his son.

  When it was not.

  He should never have quit fighting.

  But he did.

  That could not be changed.

  As Judge said, now was now.

  Father and son were together.

  They had a future.

  And as Jamie drove us away from that house, sitting beside Judge in the backseat, I reached out to take his hand and vowed that was the last time he’d ever visit.

  His future was bright.

  And he was going to live it.

/>   Free of that past.

  Chapter 27

  The Family

  Chloe

  Late that afternoon…

  “I’d be scared of snakes too, Chloe,” Dru declared.

  After a gargantuan meal of some Tex-Mex food (heavy on the Mex) at Judge and Jamie’s favorite restaurant, this accompanied by copious beers for the men (except Jamie, who was driving), margaritas for Dru and sangria for me, we were back in what I had decided was our safe harbor hangout.

  The living room of Judge, Rix and my suite.

  Jamie was finding a place very close to my heart considering he made clear that he didn’t bother with mini bars.

  Instead, he’d placed a call and ice buckets filled with bottles of beer, a carafe of margaritas, another of sangria, heavy old-fashioned glasses and a bottle of Blanton’s had been delivered to the room.

  It seemed the Oakley men had taken my “always a tad peckish” comment as a challenge.

  I’d eaten so much food at the restaurant, I didn’t need to eat for a week, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else would either.

  Even so, Jamie had also had a large cheese plate, fruit and crudité platter, and some bowls of nuts, olives and pickles brought up.

  As far as I was concerned, we were set for the night.

  Especially considering Judge and I had one couch, and I got to lie on my back on it with my head on his thigh, his legs stretched out, stocking feet on the coffee table.

  Dru and her dad were on the couch opposite us, Dru curled up in a cute red-headed-girl ball in the corner, Jamie stretched out just like his son, with Rix in one of the two armchairs at the ends, facing the coffee table and couches.

  I was not drunk, but I was so mellow, and so happy that Judge was with this small group of people who cared about him, who had not used him as a pawn or neglected providing him loving care, and he was away from that house, I did not care the men were handing me guff about being scared of Belinda’s lawn.

  I had no qualms I was scared of that lawn, because it was scary.

  They were the ones who needed to have their heads examined because they were not.

  “I suppose only a true man is one that’s survived a dose of venom,” I drawled.

  “That’s part of it,” Rix said, chugged some beer, then added, “You also gotta tame a lion, drink your weight in whiskey without puking and carve at least three dozen notches on your headboard. And don’t give me that look.” He aimed that last at me at the same time pointing my way with the neck of his bottle. “I didn’t make the rules.”