Golden Trail

by Ashley, Kristen

  “See you later,” she replied through a giggle.

  “Later, sweetcheeks.”

  He flipped his phone shut, looked at Devin and felt his neck muscles contract again when he caught the look on Devin’s face.

  “What?” Layne asked when Devin didn’t speak.

  Devin shook his head.

  “What, old man?”

  “Just thinkin’, thinkin’ about a man who’d walk out a door and never turn back. Thinkin’ about where he went, what he did and how it could never be worth losin’ what he left behind. Your father is a grade A, one hundred percent, jackass, boy, turnin’ his back and never knowin’ the man you would become.”

  Layne didn’t speak, his throat was burning, his chest was frozen and that golden trail was searing through his system.

  Then he found his voice. “You gonna kiss me?”

  Devin rolled his eyes.

  “A hug?” Layne suggested.

  Devin’s eyes narrowed.

  Layne stared into them. Then he said, “Thanks.”

  Devin replied with, “Right.”

  Moving on.

  “I need you to get to Jeremy,” Layne stated.

  “We need more time,” Dev surmised.

  “We’ve run everyone in her crew and they own no property. Phone records show calls to her crew but she must use a disposable to talk to clients. She’s not leadin’ us anywhere. Merry interrogated Jeremy before we let him go and he doesn’t know shit about her operation outside his part in it. She compartmentalizes. Everyone has their job and only their job. Even if we picked one of them up and they rolled, they couldn’t give us anything. The location of the photo shoot was a day rental. Jeremy has been unable to find what she’s got on Rutledge. Merry’s chompin’ at the bit to put pressure on Rutledge and he’s stepped out. Confronted Rutledge about the missing person call for Giselle he didn’t report he took on his own and then didn’t follow procedure. Colt and Sully backed him up on that. All their asses are swinging out there now. Rutledge had a bullshit excuse and he’s full of bravado. Merry and Colt thought he’d run scared but he’s keepin’ his shit together. We’re not getting anything. We need time and we need Jeremy to dig, get her talking in the apartment and to do that, he’s gonna need a coach. That coach is you.”

  “I’ll pick him up.”

  “You gotta play that smart, Dev. We want him scared but we don’t want him to fuck up.”

  “Don’t have to tell me that, boy.”

  Layne nodded. “I wanna know who her clients are, who she has lined up for the party. We pull one of them in, they’ll probably roll over.”

  “You think she’ll give that up to Jeremy?” Devin asked, his eyebrows up.

  “No, but we gotta try.”

  “Desperate times,” Devin muttered. “But even if we get one, the event hasn’t taken place nor is it goin’ to.”

  “Nope, but we could use them for a set up. They could act impatient enough to want something, even if it isn’t fresh, and she’s got a stable of girls, she could give it to them. They could at least lead us to that.”

  Devin nodded. Then he put his hands together in front of him in prayer position and pressed them against his lips as his eyes grew intense.

  Layne knew what that meant.

  “You’ve got a bad feeling,” Layne noted.

  Dev dropped his hands. “You don’t?”

  “I do.”

  “In my gut, boy. This is gonna go south and not them slippin’ through our fingers. I can’t shake the thought that we’re missin’ somethin’.”

  “Vigilance.”

  “Yeah.”

  They held each other’s eyes then Devin stood as the beep came and both men looked at the monitors to see Vera walking up the stairs.

  Devin’s eyes came to Layne. “Like her a lot more, she’s not bein’ a bitch to Rocky.”

  “Someone made me the man I am.”

  Devin nodded his head but whispered, “True enough, to a point. Men like you aren’t made, though, Tanner. Men like you just are.” His eyes turned to the monitor as Vera nearly made the landing and he remarked, “But, gotta say, boy, your mother can fuckin’ cook.”

  With that, he walked out of Layne’s office as the outside door opened and Vera walked in.

  “Devin!” Layne heard her cry. “I’m glad I ran into you. Flo and Helen are coming over tonight. I’m making my beef and noodles. You’ll love it.”

  Oh shit. Vera was matchmaking.

  His Aunt Flo and Vera’s friend Helen were both single. And, unlike his mother, who got burned bad enough she never went there again, they were both on the market. His Aunt Flo had been married but Layne’s Uncle Gene died seven years ago. His mother’s friend Helen had been married as many times as Devin. Flo turned Dev’s eye, he’d think he’d died and gone to heaven, good food, lots of attention, a listening ear and no questions asked about his activities. Helen turned Dev’s eye, he’d be in a world of hurt because she was seriously high maintenance. Flo looked, acted and dressed like his mother, she was far from hard on the eyes, made an effort, had style, knew herself and was comfortable with who she was. Helen looked, acted and dressed like a woman who wanted attention and a lot of it. That said, she was a beautiful woman, even at the age of sixty-three.

  If Layne had to place a bet on which one Dev would pick, it would be Helen.

  “Don’t know when I’ll be home, woman,” Devin said to Vera.

  “Oh, even if you’re late, we’ll keep it warm for you,” Vera replied.

  “Right,” Devin muttered and Layne knew he was leaving because he heard Vera call, “See you later!”

  Devin made no reply.

  Vera came into the office.

  “Hi honey,” she greeted and Layne stood as she rounded his desk and he bent so she could kiss his cheek.

  “Hey, Ma,” Layne murmured.

  She squeezed his arm, turned and bustled away and Layne resumed his seat as she sat opposite him.

  “I just got off the phone with Rocky. Tomorrow after she gets off work, we’re going furniture shopping,” she announced, plonking her purse on her lap.

  “What?” Layne asked.

  “You need a dining room table. You also need something for that front space. I’m thinking a reading area. Chaise lounge. An elegant table. A floor lamp.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Ma –”

  She cut him off. “I’ll be in the office tomorrow during the day. I talked to Dave. He said you need listeners and I’m a good listener. I can do some office work while I’m at it.”

  He wasn’t going to turn that down.

  “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 b
e 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.”