by J. D. Mason
A few minutes later, Abby walked him to the door.
“I hope that you can find whatever it is you’re looking for, Jordan. I mean that.”
He towered over her by at least a foot. Jordan wasn’t ready to leave, but he wasn’t quite sure how to let her know that he wanted to stay. It was an odd revelation. He reached for his wallet, pulled out a business card, and held it out to her. A gut feeling was telling him that this wasn’t over, whatever this was.
“I appreciate your time, Abby,” he said as she reluctantly took it.
“Oh, it was no problem. I wish I knew how to help you find what you’re looking for. I’m sure it’s frustrating.”
“Maybe there’s nothing for me to find. Maybe what went on between those two is none of my business.”
She smiled. “Well, have a safe drive back to Dallas. And it was good meeting you. I mean, the real you.”
He nearly smiled, turned, and left. But Dallas was the last place he wanted to be. Jordan would make his way back to his ranch and try not to think about when he might see this woman again.
Just Look
“… THE SAME THING. He’s like him.”
“I can’t know that. How can I know? What?”
“Buried. Buried deep.”
“But where?”
* * *
Abby’s dreams these days were fragmented and cryptic. In the dream she had last night, she vividly remembered talking to someone about something that seemed so urgent and profound, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember who or even what the conversation was about. Morning came, and everything that had been so crucial while she slept had become a blur.
After meeting Jordan, she spent the next few days just surfing the Internet about him. The notion that a man like him had been sitting in her living room was absolutely unbelievable. Jordan was worth hundreds of millions of dollars according to Forbes. The Forbes. He was forty-nine, though; she’d have never guessed he was that old by looking at him. He was the same age as her brother Wesley, except that Wesley looked every single one of his forty-nine years. Actually, he looked like he’d had a couple of extra ones thrown in for good measure.
Jordan had been married for over five years before his wife died. She’d committed suicide. Abby had even found pictures of his mother, Olivia, and she was a beautiful woman. The difference between her and Ida was definitely night and day. Julian Gatewood did a whole one-eighty when he chose Ida, who apparently died a very sad and lonely woman. Abby’s heart broke for her.
During Julian’s murder trial, Ida was painted as the harlot, the sleazy other woman who did everything she could to steal him from his wife, Olivia. Looking at her in those old photographs from the newspapers on the Internet, Ida looked like a broken woman and so sad. The man she loved was dead, and her only daughter, a very young woman named Desdimona, was charged and convicted of his murder. So, not only did she lose him, she lost her, too. Years later, before her daughter was released from prison, Ida died alone in this house. No wonder it was haunted.
Jordan was a Taurus. She wasn’t surprised. He seemed like a Taurus. Determined and solid, he had a strong air about him. But in the little bit of time that the two of them had actually talked to each other, it was obvious that he desperately needed to find this connection to his father. He didn’t even fully understand why, and maybe he wouldn’t until or unless he found it. But it was important to him. Things like this just proved that money wasn’t everything. To Abby, it was simple. Julian Gatewood came to this house and spent all that time with Ida because he loved her. She added value to his life that wasn’t there before, despite everything else he had. Love was like that. At least, that was Abby’s best guess. She still hadn’t ever really found it, only managing to skirt around it a few times, but she’d never experienced the full-blown, head-over-heels love.
Jordan Gatewood, on the other hand, only needed to open up those muscley arms of his, and love would fall right in them. She’d seen so many pictures of him with so many beautiful women, it was a wonder that he had time to be looking for any damn thing. Between running a whole, entire corporation and going out on dates, the fact that he had time in the day to come down to Blink chasing history was absurd to Abby. There had to have been at least ten women standing in line waiting to be the next Mrs. Gatewood. If she ever spoke to him again, she might suggest that he slow down a bit and pay attention to what he had available at his fingertips. Maybe then he’d understand what his father had seen in Ida.
* * *
“Hey, Auntie Rue.” Abby smiled and wrapped both arms around that woman as soon as she walked into her father’s and stepmother’s house.
“Hey, baby.” Rue laughed and patted Abby warmly on the back. “Oh, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Abby sat down next to her. “How was your flight?”
Rue was her father’s oldest sister, and she lived in Virginia with her daughter and her daugher’s husband. She was in town for the next few weeks visiting family.
“Too damn long. Next time, y’all need to come see me. I’m getting too old to be flying down here every year.”
Abby shook her head. “Ain’t nothing old about you.”
“Tell that to my knees and hips.” She laughed.
“You bring that drill, Abby?” her father said, coming into the living room.
“Yes, sir. It’s in my truck. Want me to go get it?”
“No. I’ll get it.”
“I heard you bought another house,” Rue said, impressed.
“Yes, ma’am.” Abby smiled.
“How many you got now?”
“This is my fourth. I just finished renovating it—well, most of it. There are still a few things to do on the outside, but I’ve got most of the inside done.”
Rue shook her head and smiled. “Chile, you are just like yo’ momma. Between you and me, she was the smart one in that marriage to my brother.”
Abby laughed. “She said the same thing.”
All day long, cousins and aunts and uncles filtered in and out of the house to see Rue. Food appeared out of nowhere like magic. They laughed, joked, and teased one another. It was one of those unexpected treats in life that would linger with Abby for weeks afterward. She loved her family and being close to them. Of course, the question of her social life always managed to come up in these situations.
“You seeing anybody?”
“Why not?”
“Having your own business is nice and all, but…”
“You a cute girl. It shouldn’t be that hard to find anybody.”
“Ever think you might be too picky?”
“I’d like to see a grandbaby or two before I die, Abigail.”
Abby was a master at deflection. So, whenever the conversation turned to her and her love life and her empty womb, she changed the subject. After everyone had eaten, Abby found Rue sitting outside on the porch with some of her old neighbors.
“Auntie Rue, do you know who she is?”
Abby had taken Shou Shou’s warning to heart. She didn’t dare ever take that picture of Ida Green out of that house again, but she did take a snapshot of it with her cell phone. Back when Rue used to live here, she knew a lot of people. Abby hadn’t intended on asking her about Ida. She’d meant to ask her father, but she decided to start with Rue.
Rue stared down at the phone through her reading glasses. “That Ida?”
Abby’s heart thumped hard in her chest. “You do know her?”
Rue adjusted her glasses. “That’s an old picture.”
“I found it in my house.”
Rue looked at Abby. “That house you bought?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You knew her?”
She passed the phone to one of her friends. “That’s her, all right,” the other woman said. “Where’s the rest of the picture?” she asked, looking at Abby.
Abby shrugged. “That’s all I found.”
That old woman handed it back to Rue,
who studied it some more. “This look like it was taken at Smitty’s.”
“Smitty’s?” Abby asked.
Rue laughed out loud. “Boy, did we have a good time at Smitty’s.” She looked at her friend, who lowered her head and pressed her lips together, like she was trying to keep the secrets from running past them.
“What’s Smitty’s?” Abby asked.
“An old disco off Smith Road, all the way down to the end near the lake.”
“There’s a building back there?”
“Probably not much of one anymore, but yes. There used to be a building back there.”
“And we partied our asses off,” the other woman finally said, laughing, too.
Okay, so Abby had to sit here and accept the fact that these old broads hadn’t always been old, and to surmise that from the twinkles in their eyes, they’d done some things she was probably better off not knowing about.
“It looks like the picture has been torn in two,” Abby explained.
Rue sighed. “Julian was probably in the other half,” she said dismally.
Abby played dumb. “Julian?”
“Some old rich man she was fooling ’round with.”
“You couldn’t tell her nothing,” the other woman said. “She clung to him like lint on a black sweater.”
“Naw. She did try to break it off with him, but he wouldn’t leave her alone,” Rue explained.
“I still think she’s the one that shot him,” the other woman said. “That girl of hers just took the blame to save her momma. That’s what I think.”
“That could be,” Rue said introspectively. “But I do think she loved him too much. He knew it. And he took advantage of her because of it.”
The Calm I Feel
“HEY, BABY,” ROBIN PURRED OVER the phone.
Jordan had been driving lazily through Blink for the better part of forty-five minutes when she called. “Hey, you,” he responded warmly. “I was going to call,” he lied.
“Oh, really? When were you going to call me?”
“Soon,” was all he’d say.
“Well, since I beat you to the punch, how about you come and pick me up and take me out for a drink, talk about our busy weeks, and then come back to my place?”
He sighed. “I’d love to, but I’m not in town.”
She paused. Knowing Robin, she was probably setting up a task on her phone to call his assistant in the morning to find out where he was. “I thought you were just going to your ranch.”
“Yes.”
Her hesitation was a sign that she expected him to elaborate.
“I could come there.”
“I’ll see you in the office tomorrow, Robin. Bright and early.”
Of course, her mind was reeling. A part of him felt as if he should’ve been willing to just tell her the truth, but Jordan didn’t want the questions; he didn’t need the attention or for Robin to try to psychoanalyze him and his daddy issues. And she was the type to do just that.
“Is everything all right, Jordan? Are you all right?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“You just sound a bit distant, preoccupied. That’s all.”
“No, I’m fine, Robin. Like I said, I’ll see you in the morning, and after work, I’d love to take you out for that drink.”
“Promise?” she asked seductively.
“Of course.”
* * *
This town forced him to drive too slowly. The very air here was saturated with an unhurried pace. He almost felt high off it, but he wasn’t complaining. After leaving Abby’s, Jordan had stopped at a corner store and picked up some essentials, a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, soap, and a newspaper. When was the last time he’d actually bought a newspaper?
The clerk at the counter was an older woman with perfectly coiffed curls, pink lipstick, and faded blue eyes. “The weather’s real nice today,” she said engagingly as she took her time ringing up his items.
“It certainly is,” he felt compelled to say, surprised that he actually meant it.
“Will that be all?” she asked, taking the time to stop, look up at him, and smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely.
Anonymity was a treat that most people took for granted. Jordan’s life had played out in the public for as long as he could remember. He’d been in Blink since yesterday, and he was no one special. Had it been that way for Julian? Did he relish this small pocket of the world where he was just a man and no one in particular? Small towns had a way of wrapping themselves around the residents like blankets, keeping them warm and safe. A brief stay here could be comfortable, but too long would be stifling.
* * *
Jordan had stayed the night because he wasn’t in any hurry to get home. He’d spent most of that first night and today using his cell phone to check some e-mails from work. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Abby Rhodes. He wasn’t crazy. There was something about her—Jordan had just decided to get back on the road and head home. He’d told Robin that he wouldn’t be home until Monday, but Jordan needed time alone and alone in the comfort of his own home instead of some cramped hotel room.
Just then, his phone rang. “This is Jordan.”
“Hi.”
Hi was not the kind of greeting he was used to when he answered his phone. “Hi?”
“This is Abby.”
“Abby. Hello.” Needless to say, he was certainly surprised. Pleasantly.
“So, I spoke to my aunt Rue,” she began.
Immediately, he wondered what her aunt Rue had to do with him. Jordan pulled over to the side of the road and put his truck in park.
“She knew Ida Green, and she knew Julian.”
Jordan was caught off guard. “You spoke to someone else about this?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mention you. I didn’t think that would be a good idea. I just … well, I had Ida’s picture, and so I … I don’t know. I just thought I’d take a chance and ask her if she knew her. They’d be about the same age, and Aunt Rue knows everybody in Blink. Just about literally.”
Jordan felt a sense of resentment that she’d take the liberty to talk to anyone about this. Then again, he found himself appreciating the fact that Abby hadn’t let go of this quest—of him completely. Perhaps she was just curious about the relationship between Julian and Ida. A part of him hoped that it was more than that, though.
“I could take you somewhere,” she reluctantly offered.
Her statement caught him off guard. “Where?”
“It’s kinda silly, really, but, well, it might help you to get a feel for your father and how he may have been when he was here. I don’t know. He didn’t just sit up in the house with Ida when he came to Blink. They weren’t a secret, Jordan. Not here.”
Jordan thought about it before responding. “I don’t know if that’s going to be much help, Abby.”
“You’re probably right,” she said much too anxiously. “I just thought I’d at least mention it. But yeah. I agree. It’s silly, like I said.”
Was it silly? He’d been driving through town wondering how it must’ve felt to Julian driving through these streets. Maybe that’s what he’d been doing all along, trying to retrace that man’s steps.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked.
“Well, when you get back into town, there’s this place where he and Ida used to frequent. It’s a night club. Probably barely standing anymore, but I know where it is, and if you want, I can take you there or give you directions.”
Julian Gatewood, multimillionaire, partying with his mistress in an old club in the backwoods of Blink, Texas. Sounded like some kind of bad comedic skit, and he was suddenly very curious.
“I’d appreciate it if you could take me.”
“Well, just let me know when you’re in town again and—”
“I’m in town now.” Jordan pulled away from the curb. “On my way to your place.”
* * *
Smitty’s was lit
erally just a shack, deep in the woods on the edge of a lake. It couldn’t have been more than two thousand square feet of space inside, at the most.
“Wow,” Abby said in awe, following Jordan inside. She laughed. “Can you believe this place?”
The few windows in the place were broken out. Wood floors creaked with each step, the parts that weren’t rotted out.
“Be careful,” he warned her.
“Oh, I’m being careful.”
There was a dilapidated bar against the far south wall, topped with peeling linoleum, and behind that were empty shelves where liquor bottles had probably sat. Old and broken wooden chairs and tables were scattered throughout. It was almost as if she could still smell stale smoke and beer over the mildew.
“This must’ve been the dance floor,” Abby said, standing in a small open space covered with the same material that covered the bar top. She looked at him and smiled. “I’ll bet you can’t even imagine your daddy in a place like this, doing the bump and the robot, or whatever dance they did back in those days.”
She was right. He absolutely could not. Julian was tuxedos and polished shoes, elegant dinner parties and the theater.
“They probably had live music,” she continued, slowly walking over to one corner of the room with a small platform. “Do you think they’d have a DJ?” she asked, turning to him. “Playing records?”
He found her question amusing. “We’re talking eighties here, Abby.”
“Eighties?” she asked, stunned. “They had records in the eighties. Right?”
“They did,” he said nonchalantly. “When were you born?”
“Seventy-nine.”
He stared at her. She was twelve years his junior. Young enough for him to almost feel like a dirty old man.
“Aunt Rue said that this was the place to be back in the day. There were nicer discos, but folks preferred this one because the music was old-school. You know. Like music from the sixties and seventies.”
Jordan found himself mesmerized by the sound of her voice and her description of the place, almost as if she had been there.
“She said that they’d get here early, around six for happy hour, on Fridays, mostly, and start off by playing cards and dominoes.”
