Golden Trail

by Ashley, Kristen

  So did Gabrielle, but Stew was nowhere to be seen.

  Some of the crowd was waiting around to see what Layne would do. The rest of them were likely there to give moral support or, perhaps, set up the ladder for Layne to climb in order to swing Cosgrove’s noose around a stout branch.

  The folks in that town liked their football but they also looked after their kids. Cosgrove’s abuse of Tripp had been widely witnessed and an unpopular man struggling to keep his footing in that community had not only slipped, he’d come crashing to the ground.

  Most of the players had come out when Jasper and Tripp came out together. When they did, Layne saw that Jasper was so close to his brother, he was crowding him but Tripp didn’t notice. His mind was elsewhere. He’d stayed benched the second half and he’d been humiliated in front of his friends, his schoolmates and half the town.

  Jasper saw Layne first and he started with surprise, his eyes darted to his Mom and then came back to Layne.

  Gabby closed in on Tripp.

  “You okay, honey?” she asked.

  Tripp took a quick step away from her, not wanting to be mothered, not anytime at fourteen years old and especially not then.

  “Yeah, Mom,” he muttered.

  Layne approached but Rocky stayed clear, standing in a huddle with Josie Judd, February Colton, Violet Callahan and Violet’s extremely pretty daughter, Keira.

  The minute Layne met Keira between the third and fourth quarters when the women had decided that they’d given it enough time, they’d borne down on Rocky and infiltrated the boys long enough to pull Raquel aside for a quick, voices lowered discussion before they all returned and hung out with the men, Layne could see why Jas had been hooked.

  He stopped close to Jasper, Tripp and Gabby and said, “Good game, Jas. Tripp, sweet tag and great run, Pal.”

  Tripp tipped his head back just enough to look at his father under his brow and then bent his neck again.

  “Great catch, kid,” Cal said, coming up to Layne’s side, Tripp shrugged, not looking at him then Cal went on. “You Jasper?”

  “Yes sir,” Jasper replied.

  “Layne says you’re goin’ for pizza,” Cal remarked.

  “Yeah,” Jasper answered.

  “Keira wants to go. You think you could get her there, bring her home?”

  This was something Keira had finagled during the fourth quarter (giving cause to her hanging out with the adults) through a girl gang ambush of Cal that included her mother, Feb, Josie and Rocky while Cal stood, arms crossed on his chest, his eyes to the heavens. Rocky had not been wrong. Keira Winters definitely liked Jasper and it was evident she was tired of waiting around for him to make his move. Layne knew this because, during her finagling, she and her posse had succeeded in enlisting Cal for the maneuver he’d just delivered.

  Tripp’s head jerked around to look at his brother but Jasper looked toward Rocky, Keira and the other women then he looked back at Layne.

  “Why’re you hangin’ around, Dad?” he asked.

  Layne didn’t delay in replying. “Waitin’ for Coach.”

  Tripp’s body got tight and Jasper’s face got hard before he looked at Tripp then to Cal then to Keira.

  Then he yelled, “Hey Keira, can you wait a sec for pizza?”

  “Yeah,” Keira shouted back.

  “Cool,” Jasper yelled in return.

  “Jas, dude, what’re you –?” Tripp began.

  Jasper interrupted him. “Waitin’ with Dad.”

  “But –”

  “Waitin’ with Dad,” Jasper said more firmly and Tripp looked to Layne.

  “Dad, it wasn’t that –”

  “It was, Pal.”

  “But –”

  Layne leaned into him and got in his face. “No one puts his hand on my boy. Not like that. Get me?” Tripp looked uncertain and Layne repeated, “Get me?”

  Tripp stared him in the eyes, heaved a sigh, nodded once and muttered, “Got you.”

  Jasper and Tripp stayed close, so did Colt, Morrie, Cal and Gabby as well as the milling crowd. Finally, Cosgrove left the locker rooms.

  Layne moved right in, Cosgrove saw him and lifted a hand.

  “Don’t need this Tanner, those boys are my boys on the field.” And he moved to walk by Layne but Layne got in front of him and stopped him with a palm flat on his chest.

  Cosgrove looked down at Layne’s hand, his face got red and his head shot back but before he could say a word, Layne removed his hand and spoke.

  “You got this weekend to come up with a good excuse to tell the School Board when they investigate the formal complaint I’m lodging first thing Monday morning.”

  “Those boys are mine on the field,” Cosgrove clipped.

  “I agree, to coach, to motivate, to teach, to train. I get discipline. What I do not get and will not tolerate is you takin’ out your frustration that you will not live your dream through your kid by puttin’ your hand on my kid in anger.”

  Cosgrove’s eyes narrowed. “Who do you think –?”

  “I think I’m a man who watched another man slap and shove my son with such force, he had no choice but to physically retreat.”

  “He was padded!”

  “Yeah, but I counted, Cosgrove, you hit him seven times. Seven times for lookin’ into the crowd. He just tagged a pass most college kids can’t tag, ran over forty yards and you hit him seven times for smiling into the crowd.”

  “He was padded, Tanner!” Cosgrove bellowed.

  “Good luck with that at the School Board hearing.”

  “I do not need this shit,” Cosgrove muttered and moved to pass him, Layne moved to block him and Cal and Colt flanked him.

  Cosgrove looked around the men, all three taller, leaner and fitter than him and halted.

  Then his eyes narrowed and his voice dropped low. “Don’t cross me, Tanner. That same School Board is lookin’ for reasons to lose your new girlfriend and, you get in my face, I’m thinkin’ I might find some.”

  Layne pulled in breath to control his anger.

  “Maybe we should give him a shovel,” Morrie, standing behind Layne, suggested. “It’ll make him diggin’ that hole he’s diggin’ a whole lot easier.”

  Cal chuckled but Layne stared in Cosgrove’s eyes.

  “You do not wanna take me on,” he said quietly. “I’m givin’ you good advice, Coach, you do not wanna take me on.”

  Then before Cosgrove could reply, Layne turned, saw Jasper was close to Morrie, his eyes on his old man.

  “Go get some pizza, Bud, yeah?” Layne ordered.

  Layne stared at his Dad as he said slowly, “Yeah.”

  “Good game,” Layne muttered, stopped himself from clapping Jasper on the shoulder and walked by him to Tripp who was standing with Gabby.

  Tripp he slapped on the shoulder, his fingers curling around, he gave his son a few gentle jerks.

  Then he said, “Go have fun, Pal.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Tripp whispered, looked at Layne for three beats then peeled off and followed Jasper who was walking side by side with Keira out of the grounds.

  Layne looked around and, still not spotting Stew, he asked Gabby a question he really did not want to ask.

  “You need a ride home?”

  “I’m good,” she said softly and the way she spoke made Layne focus on her. “Wish they had that all their lives, Tanner,” she went on and Layne felt his neck muscles contract before she finished on a whisper. “But it’s good they have it now.”

  Then she hurriedly turned and just as hurriedly walked away.

  Morrie clapped him on the back as he walked by, Layne tipped his chin up at Cal and Colt as they made their way passed him toward their women and he gave Dave, Ernie and Spike the high sign which made Dave nod and all of them begin to move away while Rocky approached.

  “How’d that go?” she asked, her eyes going beyond him, indicating she was referring to the showdown with Cosgrove.

  “I’m not thinkin’ good,” he
replied and she got close and bumped him with her shoulder.

  “Tell me over pizza,” she invited. “All this talk about pizza and I’m starved. I think it’s my turn to treat.”

  He looked down at her to see she was talking in a light way but her eyes were intense, studying him and trying to read him without showing she was.

  “Sweetcheeks, we got two pizza places in this ’burg and both of ‘em will be crawling with kids.”

  “We’ll get Reggie’s, take it to Merry’s.”

  That sounded like a plan.

  “You’re on but I’m buyin’,” he said, turning and throwing an arm around her shoulders, pointing her to the exit.

  “It’s my turn,” she repeated, sliding her arm around his waist.

  “Baby, you just put down first and last and a deposit. I’ll get pizza.”

  She walked one foot crossing in front of the other so her weight pressed into him, taking them both off stride and he remembered she’d do that too, all the time, just to horse around when they’d walk close together.

  That new bullet scored through his gut but he was able to handle it when she yielded.

  “Okay, Layne, you’ve convinced me. You’re buying.”

  * * * * *

  “Let me get this straight,” Rocky started, sitting cross-legged facing him on Merry’s couch. “Stew Baranski is screwing over your ex-wife; I’m getting divorced from a cheating asshole; I just took on an apartment that costs about double what I can afford if I have to live on my own salary; Coach Cosgrove, who’s a jerk all the time, by the way, not just tonight, has thrown down, threatening to get me fired; you’re lodging a formal complaint against him on Monday; and you and I are faking a relationship in order to uncover a dirty cop who, nearly seven weeks ago, almost got you killed.”

  Layne, lazing back into the corner of Merry’s couch, his feet on the coffee table next to the closed box that contained the remains of a decimated pizza (when Rocky said she was hungry, she did not lie and he made a mental note for the future that a concession stand hotdog would not cover it for Roc), replied, “That’s about it, sweetcheeks.”

  She listed to the side and rested her head on the top of the couch, muttering, “We’re fucked.”

  He grinned. “We’ll be fine.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  Layne kept grinning. “I keep sayin’ that because we’ll be fine.”

  Rocky closed her eyes and sighed.

  Layne lifted a leg and nudged her knee with his shin before returning his foot to the coffee table.

  Rocky opened her eyes.

  “Cosgrove got reason to be cocky?” he asked quietly.

  She looked over his head then back at him.

  “Let’s just say that I don’t adhere entirely to the School Board approved curriculum.”

  His grin got bigger as he muttered, “Baby.”

  She lifted her head from the couch.

  “It’s boring, Layne, and the kids don’t learn shit. If they get Halsey, the ones who want the grades do the work but they don’t get anything out of it. The ones who don’t care, I kid you not, they sleep. They sleep through his class. Literature is art and art is about passion, it’s about drive, it’s about beauty. How can you slide through a semester of that and not be moved by it?”

  Layne watched her and he knew this was dangerous territory. He knew it by the light in her eyes, the passion, the drive, the beauty of it and he was moved by it. He was moved that even after eighteen years, when she had that same light in her eyes when she was studying to be a teacher, it hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. And he didn’t need Rocky to move him that way. She was moving him enough.

  Even knowing that, he didn’t do a fucking thing about it.

  “Do what you do and fuck ‘em,” Layne advised.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered, reaching out to grab her bottle of beer, she brought it back, took a pull, dropped her hand and then her eyes went back to him. “You didn’t just pay first, last and put down a deposit on a luxury apartment tonight.”

  “They won’t fire you,” he assured her.

  “No? I’ve worked for that school for ten years, Layne, and I’ve been hauled in front of the School Board four times.”

  “Why?”

  “Uptight, ignorant parents pissed about shit they don’t understand. Do you know, I had a complaint lodged against me because I make the kids memorize Poe’s Annabelle Lee and some parent thought ‘sepulcher’ was a sex palace?”

  Layne burst out laughing.

  “No joke!” she shouted over his laughter. “They thought it was about underage sex!”

  Layne forced himself to quit laughing and looked back at her. “How could they think that?”

  “I was a child, and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea; but we loved with a love that was more than a love – I and my Annabelle Lee,” she quoted, those words struck deep, all humor fled and Layne stared at her as she went on softly. “It’s the most beautiful, bittersweet, sad love poem ever written, Layne. When I first introduce it, I take them to the choir room, which is soundproofed and has no windows. I turn out the lights, light candles and make them put on blindfolds and I recite it to them, shutting out everything and making them hear the words of a man broken when he lost his bride.” She closed her eyes. “But our love was stronger by far than the love of those much older than we, of many far wiser than we, and neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.” She shook her head and opened her eyes. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “Even the boys cry. I even get through to the boys. I’m teaching beauty, Layne, how can that have rules?”

  “Teach how you teach, Rocky,” he said quietly. “You don’t like their rules, break ‘em.”

  She stared at him and she did this a long time before something unpleasant passed across her face and she looked to the side, hiding her expression from him.

  “Roc,” he called.

  “You know,” she told the wall, her voice quiet. “Jarrod always told me to do what they say, play by their rules. He never got what I was trying to do. He never told me to break the rules.” She looked back at him. “Eventually, I quit talking to him about it. It annoyed him that I didn’t listen. He knew so much more than me.”

  He knew by her face and the tremor in her voice that this was bigger than her husband cheating on her. This cut deeper than infidelity.

  “He knew more than you?” Layne asked.

  “Well, yes, of course, Layne.” Her tone suddenly held the sharp edge of sarcasm. “He’s a surgeon. A medical doctor. He’s nearly a decade older than me and he’s had at least that much more schooling than me. He’s from the city, not a cowtown. His family lived in Paris for three years. He speaks fluent French. Of course he’d know more than me.”

  The bastard made her feel small. Stupid and small.

  Christ, but he was going to enjoy getting in that guy’s face.

  “I take it Jarrod’s problem wasn’t just that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants but he wasn’t much fun at home either,” Layne remarked.

  “No,” Rocky answered on a whisper, her eyes glued to his. “He wasn’t much fun at home.”

  They both fell silent and held each other’s eyes and Layne knew she was thinking the same thing he was thinking.

  They had fun at home. Even when they were fighting, they had fun. They were young, they were in love, they had fantastic sex, he made decent money, she had a bright future, they both weren’t afraid to work hard, they got along and when they didn’t they fought clean, they made each other laugh and life was just fucking good. He had never, not once when they were living together, dreaded going home. When work was done or when he’d be heading home after drinks with the guys or doing an errand, he looked forward to going home to Rocky.

  And now he knew she felt the same.

  Slowly, his body tensed with expectation, and, fuck him, anticipation, as
she began to lean toward him, saying, “Layne –” when they heard a key scrape the lock and she sat back and twisted her neck to look at the door.

  Fuck!

  His eyes went over the back of the couch to see Merry walk in.

  “Sorry,” Merry said, closing the door behind him. “Saw your truck, brother, but to get to my bed, I gotta walk through this room.” He walked to the dining room table and tossed his keys on it, finishing with, “Hey Roc.”

  “Hey Merry,” she replied and Layne looked at his watch.

  It was nearly midnight and he needed to get his ass home, not just getting the fuck away from a Raquel Astley with passion in her eyes, or pain, but because his sons’ curfew was midnight and he needed to make sure they didn’t break it.

  He lifted his feet off the coffee table and pushed up, muttering, “Gotta go.”

  Merry was shrugging off his leather jacket. “Don’t mind me. I’m wiped. I’m goin’ straight to bed.”

  Layne rounded the couch as he heard Rocky get up. “Gotta be home for the boys.”

  Merry had wrapped his jacket around the back of a dining room chair and his eyes came to Layne.

  “Heard the ‘dogs won,” he remarked.

  “Yep,” Layne replied, coming to stand a few feet from Merry.

  “They got talent this year,” Merry noted.

  “Yep,” Layne agreed.

  Merry’s eyes grew sharp. “Heard about Tripp, big man.”

  “Figured that was makin’ the rounds,” Layne stated.

  Rocky burrowed into her brother’s side until he slid an arm around her shoulders and she did this whispering, “It was bad, Merry.”

  Merry looked down at her upturned face and nodded then looked back at Layne.

  “You gonna do somethin’ about that?” he asked.

  “Formal complaint,” Layne answered.

  Merry shook his head, mumbling, “That isn’t what I’d do.”

  No, Layne knew, that wasn’t what Merry would do. Merry had control, just not very much of it.

  “There are times, man, when you gotta play it smart. This is one of those times,” Layne replied quietly.

  Merry’s eyes fell to Layne’s gut, showing Layne they’d both learned the lesson about playing it smart. Then he looked back at Layne and nodded.