by Tara Lain
Everyone drank but him. Conversation resumed as Merle stared into the middle distance. Laila’s voice sounded in his ears—Don’t be a fucking idiot—while his mother’s praise of René echoed behind it. Just one more rock and hard place.
The vibration of his phone in his pocket made him jump. He grabbed for it and looked at the screen. Ru. He glanced at the assembled group, who all stared at him. “Excuse me. This could be important.” He walked to the door of René’s bedroom and stopped as he clicked the phone. “Hi, dear. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to call you so late there, but I wasn’t sure when you were coming home, and I didn’t want you to get here and freak when you didn’t find Mist at your house.”
“What? Why?”
“Tom had to leave. Apparently his father showed up with some other man at the house where Tom and Lily live and took Lily back to Fresno. Tom was worried and decided to follow them. So Gray and I have Mist. She’s so great you’ll be lucky to get her back.”
Merle barely heard the last part. Tom in Fresno with those fucking no-good, deplorable people! “I’m coming.”
“What?”
“I’ve got to go to Fresno, Ru. Those people are awful. God knows what they plan for Lily, which means Tom could be in this mess up to his earlobes. He saved me. I can’t leave him with those people.”
“Okay, baby. I get it.”
“What I don’t know is where they live. Do you?”
“No, but maybe Billy does. I’ll call him.”
“Okay. Text me. I’m running to get my stuff and find a flight right now. If Billy hasn’t got it, I’m not sure what to do. Try an online directory? I’m only guessing they have the same name.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find it.” Ru’s voice sounded so certain.
“Okay. And I might need a lawyer. Can you find me one that can do family law shit in California?”
“You got it.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “But not as much as you love Tom.”
Ru hung up. Merle stood there with the phone to his ear. Love Tom?
Merle turned and stepped back into the large room. Tableau. His mother’s head was thrown back, and she laughed like—like someone who wasn’t his mother, while his dad smiled at her with indulgent affection. Laila literally wore a lampshade, and René looked up at Merle with a smile that held more than casual friendship.
I could have all this—a comfortable, successful life with parents who care, witty, urbane friends, max opportunities. Fuck, I could be the envy of everyone.
“Everything okay, Merle?” René held out a hand.
His mother stopped laughing. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“I—I—” Some jigsaw of the heart filled in a giant piece. Rock one. Hard place zero. “I have a friend who’s in trouble. I’m so sorry, but I have to leave.” He knelt beside René’s chair. “If you need me for makeup shots, just text. I’ll come back as fast as I can.”
René covered Merle’s hand with his own. “Don’t worry. We should be fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. But thank you.” He kissed René on the cheek.
René smiled softly. Yes, he knew a goodbye kiss when he felt one.
Merle sprang up and leaned over and hugged his mother. She tensed at first, then hugged back. “Are you sure you have to go? Can’t you handle the problem from here? People tell me everything can be done remotely these days.”
He smiled. She wanted him to stay.
She leaned in and whispered, “This doesn’t seem the best time to be leaving René.”
His jaw clenched. Knew she’d fuck it up. He stood. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.” He shook his dad’s hand, kissed Laila, and nodded to Aaron, then took off out of that room like the hounds of intellectualism snapped at his heels.
He’d never packed so fast. Hauling his suitcase, he ran out of the hotel and hopped in a cab. “JFK.” On the drive, he searched flights on his phone and managed to find one with a stop in Phoenix. Fucking trip took forever, but he had all night. He just needed that address.
His phone rang, and he clicked. “Justice.”
“Hey, Merle, it’s Jerry.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
“I got a call from the producers on your series. They’re doing a big party for the press to tease the new season and, of course, want to be sure you can be there.”
“Yeah. I just finished shooting, so after I sleep for five straight days, I’m footloose.” He didn’t bother mentioning he might be killed by religious rednecks before then.
“Footloose. Hmm, you’d be great in a remake of that film.”
“Yeah, if I could just dance like Kevin Bacon. So when’s the party?”
“Friday night at a rented house in the hills. I’ll text the particulars.”
“Thanks.”
“So where are you?”
“Headed for the airport.”
“Jesus, man, isn’t it kind of late to be flying? You so desperate to get away from your folks you have to resort to the red-eye?” Jerry laughed. Merle had explained his black sheep status to Jerry one night over drinks, and Jerry loved to tease him.
“Something like that.”
“Okay. Get some rest and see you Friday. Look fabulous and come prepared to impress the hell out of all the movers and shakers.”
Jesus, the idea made him tired. “See you Friday.”
He got to the airport, sailed through security since it was so late, and boarded his flight in good time. As he flew, he whipped back and forth between thinking and not thinking. During the not-thinking parts, he listened to books on his phone since sleeping was too big a reach. During the thinking, he wondered if Ru had called him on purpose to see if he’d run to Tom’s rescue. Mostly he worried about what the hell Tom was going to do when he got to his parents’ house. As for the L word Ru had used—what the hell difference did it make? It didn’t change anything. Did it?
On his stopover in Phoenix, no text appeared, and he paced the waiting area at the gate until his fellow passengers glowered at him. He dialed Tom’s cell number but got no answer. Damn!
Finally he flew the last hop to Fresno. He’d wangled a seat close to the front and powered off the plane so fast the flight attendants had barely secured the door. Clicking his phone on as he ran, he gave a little yip when he saw the address in the text from Ru. Good man!
His bag had been too big to carry on, so he trotted to the rental car desk while he waited for it to arrive. A bright-eyed young woman smiled at him. “We’re low on cars, but I can fix you up with a beauty if you’re open to it.” She fluttered her eyes and gave him a once-over that clearly left all his clothes on the floor.
He grinned. “Lay it on me.”
Her expression said she had other things she’d lay on him if available. “It’s a silver Mercedes.”
“Sold.” That suited him fine in case he had to impress the fuck out of Tom’s family.
She prepared the paperwork, chatting the whole time. “Be sure to see the Old Fresno Water Tower. It’s really cool. It was designed by George Washington Maher, and it’s on the National Register of Historic Places.” She sounded like a brochure.
“Thanks. I probably won’t have time this trip.”
“It’s right on your way on Fresno Street. All you have to do is look up.” She grinned.
“That I can probably manage.”
She marked a map and handed it to him. “Come back any time.” She cocked her head.
“I appreciate your help.” He grabbed the paperwork, waved, then hurried back to the baggage claim and hauled his luggage outside where the rental cars were parked. The silver Mercedes shone in the parking space. He slid into the front seat, fiddled with the seat controls and mirrors, input the address from Ru into the GPS, took a deep breath, and started driving.
It was so damned early, it was still dark. No way he could “drop in” on the Henrys at 5:00 a.m.—even if his s
tomach was clutched into a ball of fear—so he didn’t drive fast. Shit, he couldn’t drive fast. Fog crept thicker around his car with every mile he got from the airport, gray and ominous in the increasing light of morning. Tulle fog, they called it. He remembered that from some script he’d read.
Through the soup, he could make out that the neighborhoods he drove through got plainer and less cared for.
“Your destination is ahead on the right.”
He hit the brake but only slowed as he passed the single-story tract house with a rusted car pulled off the side of the driveway and chipping paint on the eaves. No lights—and no Tom’s truck. Not sure if that’s good or bad. Turning right at the corner, he drove around the block and parked about four houses up the street. The flashiness of the car would definitely attract attention in this neighborhood once the fog cleared and people started getting up, but nothing he could do about it. He powered the seat back and settled in to rest and watch.
Ru had texted the address plus the name of a family lawyer he said came highly recommended. Too early to call a law office, plus it was Saturday. Perfect timing. Shit. Merle pulled out his phone and started searching issues relating to child custody in California, because faking it seemed to be on the agenda—to the extent that he had any idea what to expect. What if Lily’s not there? What if she doesn’t want to leave? What if Tom’s been there and gone already? Jesus, give it a rest.
Chapter Twenty-eight
FOR A couple of hours, Merle dozed and watched and dozed some more. While his lids drooped, he heard a car, and his eyes flew open. A black Camaro pulled in to the driveway of the house. Merle held up his phone and looked at it as if he were consulting it about something while his gaze followed a stocky, dark-haired man who climbed out of the car, walked to the front porch, and rang the bell. For a second the man looked at his watch; then the door opened and a thin woman wearing a bathrobe opened it. She smiled big, clutched the pink terrycloth garment to her chest, and opened the screen to let in the guy.
Who is that? Merle looked around. Where the hell is Tom? He might have already gotten Lily and left. Or he could be inside, but where was his truck? How scary are these people?
One more time, he dialed Tom’s cell. It went straight to voicemail, and he fought the urge to throw the phone through the window. I could just leave and go home.
Okay, not without knowing what was happening to Lily. He liked the smart, snarky little female.
Wing it. He started the car and drove to the front of the house, pulled to the curb, and parked. Plastering on his jauntiest expression, he opened the car door and slid out, pocketing his phone, then approached the house, tossing his keys for casual effect.
Here goes. He pushed the doorbell.
Nothing.
He pushed it again.
Slowly the door opened and a balding man looked around the edge. When he saw Merle, his eyes widened. He glanced beyond him at the Mercedes, then back to Merle’s face. “Can I help you?”
Merle flashed his most ingratiating smile. “Hi. I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s early, but I’m looking for Lily Henry, and this was the address she gave me. I just happened to be in town, and I didn’t want to miss the chance of seeing her.”
The man frowned a little, but his eyes kept flitting from Merle’s face, to his clothes, to the car. “How do you know Lily?”
“Carl, who’s there?” A woman’s voice came from behind the door, and the opening got wider as the thin woman looked out. She’d switched the housecoat for a pair of polyester pants and a print blouse. “Hi, who are—” Her mouth widened into a large O. “Oh my God, you’re that guy from TV. The vampire.”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. My name’s Merle Justice, and I’m one of the stars of Blood on the Boyfriend Jeans.”
She flicked a look at her husband. “Of course, I’ve never seen the show myself since such depraved fantasy is against the Word, but I sure know a lot of people who just think you’re great.” Her eyes counted this woman among them.
“That’s nice to hear, ma’am. Uh, I was hoping to get to see Lily.”
She smiled. “How on earth does a big TV star know our girl?”
“Her brother was working on my new home in Laguna Beach, and he brought her there with him. I was checking the design of the house and happened to meet Lily.”
The woman put a hand on her hip in a monstrous parody of flirtation. “And you were taken with Lily, I gather.” She glanced at Merle knowingly.
“She’s a lovely person. So is she here? I don’t have that long, so if I’ve missed her, I’ll just head on to the airport.”
The man leaped in this time. “Oh no, of course not. Please come on in.” He stepped back to let Merle enter. “Ellen, go get Lily.”
Ellen frowned. “She was sleeping last I checked.” She seemed to be trying to send some kind of code to her husband with her glaring eyes.
“Well, wake her, woman!” He turned back to Merle. “I’m Carl Henry, and the one with the mouth is my wife, Ellen.”
Ellen frowned again but turned and walked down a hall as Carl led Merle into a small living room furnished with a large phony leather recliner with a rip on the footstool, a sofa covered in a blanket, which couldn’t be cleaner than the upholstery unless the couch actually housed bubonic plague, and a rickety-looking dining room chair that had been added to the conversational grouping. Seated on the couch—maybe perched was a better word—was the dark man Merle had seen go in earlier.
Carl said, “This here is Hector Farmiga. He’s kind of a friend of Lily’s too.”
Merle tried to stop his frown at the implication, then decided it might pay to look jealous, so he scowled more thoroughly. He could practically hear Carl’s mind conducting the auction for the highest bidder.
“Let go!” Lily propelled out of the hallway, ripping a shoulder from her mother’s grasp. “What the—” Her big eyes got even wider. She shrieked, “Merle!” then ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“Hi.” He cleared his throat and looked at her with a message in his eyes. “I just happened to be in Fresno, and I thought I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you, so I used that address you gave me.”
Smart girl. She nodded. “I’m so glad you did. Have you met my parents?” She couldn’t keep the disdain totally from her voice.
“Yes. And Hector.” He glanced up. The Henrys and Hector all stared at him, the former with greed all over their faces and the latter glaring hate. He hid his shudder.
Lily wore jeans and a ratty sweater, her long dark hair pulled into a messy tail at her neck. He’d never seen her looking unkempt.
Carl said, “Why don’t we all sit down?”
It wasn’t clear how that was going to happen considering the space available, but Hector plopped back on the sofa. Lily hung back. She clearly didn’t want to sit near Hector, so Merle scooted in and sat by him and patted the next spot for Lily. Carl took the recliner—obviously “his chair”—and Ellen perched on the rickety dining room chair.
So here they all were. Now what? He’d been playing it by ear up until now. More to come.
Carl leaned back and the recliner squeaked. “So, Merle—right, it’s Merle? I’m saying that right?”
“Yes. Merle Justice.”
“So what brings you to Fresno?”
Acting time. “I was on my way back from filming a new movie in New York—”
Ellen’s face lit up. “Oh, a new movie! How exciting. What’s it called?”
“Truth Bites.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the name of the film. Truth Bites. We just finished shooting, so I expect it’ll be another six to twelve months before it’s released.”
Lily said, “But people are already talking about it and saying it’ll probably be an award winner. Haven’t you seen it in the magazines, Mama?”
Ellen’s eyes widened. “No. I missed that. Well, how exciting.”
Carl wasn’t quite so eas
ily distracted. “Fresno’s not exactly on the way back from New York.”
Ellen snapped, “How do you know where Merle’s going?”
“Fresno’s not on the way back from anywhere.” Carl laughed.
Merle joined in. “You’re sure right about that. I had to scout a location for the director, René Montrose.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Really? What’s that?”
Think fast. The car rental girl’s bright eyes flashed in his mind. “That water tower downtown. I guess it was designed by that famous architect, uh, George Washington something. Anyway, it probably won’t work since I doubt they’ll move the visitor center stuff out for René to shoot.”
The answer seemed authoritative enough to satisfy Carl, and he relaxed against the chair back.
Hector spoke for the first time. “So you and Lily are friends?” The question sounded menacing, and Lily pressed her leg against Merle’s a little tighter.
“Yes. Lily’s been teaching me about dogs.”
“What? What does she know about dogs?”
“A lot.” He smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture noted by Carl. Okay, enough pussyfooting. Puppyfooting. “Actually, I know Lily was really happy living with Tom, and I’m wondering why she’s back here?” Lily tensed next to him. “Since she pretty much schools herself.”
Lily’s tension was multiplied by the three adults times a hundred. If they decide to bury my body under the porch, who will know?
Ellen plastered on a smile. “No, Lily goes to private school.”
He met her eyes. “Very private. A school of one. Actually, I was thinking she could benefit a lot from a year at Laguna Beach High School. That way she’d make friends and have some fun while she’s studying.”
Ellen swallowed visibly and looked at Carl, who folded his hands over his slight potbelly. “So you were thinking about Lily having fun, were you? She’s gonna have a lot of fun here when she marries Hector.”
“Fuck that!” Lily half rose from her seat, and Merle grasped her hand and pulled her back.
