"Okay," Slade said, and heaved a sigh. "I'm in." "Great," Travis said. "Gage?"
Gage cleared his throat. "I can't."
"Dammit, Gage, if Slade can, and I can-"
"I can't, I'm telling you! I've got-I have things to take care of. Important things."
"It's just a weekend," Slade said.
"Well, I don't have a weekend to spare."
"Listen here, brother," Travis snapped. "If I can manage the time and Slade can manage the time-"
"Good," Gage snarled. "Great. I'm proud of the two of you. But I'm busy. Too busy for this kind of nonsense. I have some sensitive things going on here. You guys understand that, or do I have to put it on a billboard?"
He heard the harshness, the anger, of his own words echoing around him. His brothers were silent and he shut his eyes and put his fist to his forehead. He could almost see the looks they'd be sending each other if they were in the same room.
He took a deep breath.
''I'm sorry," he said, his voice near a whisper. "But I can't be there. I just can't."
"Sure," Travis said after a minute. "Understood," Slade said a beat later. "Well ... "
There was silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.
"Well," three voices said at one time, and then there were hurried goodbyes, good wishes ...
The phone went dead. Gage sat staring at it, waiting-and smiled a little when it rang.
"Listen," Travis said without bothering to say hello. "If there's a problem on your end..."
"I'm okay. 'Yeah, sure you are, but if there should be a problem, whatever-'
"I'll call you," Gage said quietly.
"Yeah," Travis said, cleared his throat, and hung up. The phone rang again, almost immediately.
"Gage?"
Gage sighed. "Yes, Slade."
"Look, if you, ah, if you need anything-" "I'm fine."
"Yeah, sure, but if you should need anything, somebody to talk to, whatever-"
"I'll call you," Gage said softly.
"Right." Slade cleared his throat and hung up.
Slowly, Gage put down the telephone. He forgot, sometimes, what it was like, having a family that loved you. Maybe Natalie had forgotten, too. He was her family, after all, just
as she was his. Maybe all she needed was for him to sit her down, tell her how he loved her ...
The phone rang again. Gage rolled his eyes and picked it up.
"Listen, you guys, I swear to you, I'm perfectly fine.
There's not a thing troubling me. You got that? My life is perfect. I'm just too busy to take time out for a weekend of sentimental claptrap."
"You don't have to convince me," Natalie said. "I know all about how busy you are, Gage."
"Natalie?" He shot to his feet. "I didn't realize-" "No," she said, her voice trembling. "No, you never did.
I just hope you're not too busy to take down this phone number. "
"What phone number? Nat, listen-"
"My phone number. I've left you, Gage. I took an apartment off Lincoln Drive."
"Huh?" Gage ran his hand through his hair. "But the last thing you said this morning was” "I changed my mind."
"Natalie, baby-"
"And I've spoken with Jim Rutherford. I think you should speak with your attorney, too."
Gage's eyes narrowed. "All this," he said slowly, "in one morning?"
"All this, in one morning."
"How long have you been planning this, Natalie?" "I haven't. I've thought about it, but-"
"Thought about leaving me? Thought about it?"
He shut his eyes, remembering the nights she'd feigned sleep, the times he'd taken her in his arms anyway and felt as if she were made of wood. Was that when she'd thought about leaving him? When she lay beside him, when she lay beneath him, in the darkness?
"Well," he said, his voice a growl, his heart trying to break and harden at the same time, "I've got news for you, baby. I thought about it, too. For months. I just didn't know how to tell you but I can see, I needn't have worried."
Natalie put the back of her hand to her mouth, biting hard on her knuckles so she wouldn't give this man she'd once loved the satisfaction of hearing her weep. "If you don't know how to swim, don't jump into the deep end," Liz Holcomb had pleaded after Natalie had poured out her heart over endless cups of black coffee. "Oh, Natalie, don't do anything too quickly. Wait. Think. Give it time."
But she had waited, for what seemed years and years. She'd waited for her husband to look up and notice that he'd forgotten who she was, that she was at least as important as his hotels, his meetings, his money.
And then she'd looked at him in the Holcombs's garden last night and she'd realized that the only thing Gage wanted from her anymore was what she could give him in bed.
The knowledge had broken her heart, but it had given her the resolve she'd needed to turn her life around.
So she'd called Jim Rutherford, phoned a rental agent because, despite the threat she'd made, there wasn't a way in the world she wanted to stay in that house. She'd done everything she had to do ... and all the while she'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, a miracle might happen. Gage might suddenly see how serious this was, how much they each were going to lose when they lost each other.
"Natalie," he'd say, "don't leave me. I love you, I've never stopped loving YOU .. ."
"Actually," he said coldly, ''I'm glad the charade's finally over."
Yes," Natalie whispered. She swiped the back of her hand at the tears that were streaming down her face. "So am I. It's-it's good that we've both decided to be honest about what we want."
"Out," Gage snarled. "That's what I want." He slammed down the phone, snatched it up again and dialled Slade's number. "Slade? I've changed my mind. I'll be at Espada for Jonas's birthday party. Yeah, well, I just-I shifted things around, that's all. Do me a favor, call Travis and let him know. Oh, absolutely. We'll have a blast. Uh-huh. Just like old times."
Just like old times, Gage thought bitterly as he hung up the phone.
And wasn't that one hell of a thing to be looking forward to?
CHAPTER FOUR
GAGE was beginning to look forward to his father's birthday party.
Going back to Espada, visiting with Caitlin and his brothers, seeing old friends, would be fun. It might even be okay, seeing the old man again. Jonas was tough to get along with but he was definitely an interesting character.
And he had Natalie to thank for making his choice an easy one.
He hadn't heard a word from her recently. The silence, as his old man used to say about some of his ex-wives, was deafening.
Like father, like son, Gage thought as he tossed a handful of T-shirts into the suitcase. His father certainly knew all about divorce.
Gage's lips compressed into a tight smile. He and the old man had never had much in common except half a set of chromosomes. Well, now they'd have something more. Jonas could look down that eagle beak of his, go into his "I told you so" routine and say, "Didn't I tell you not to marry that girl, boy?"
Oh, yeah. The two of them could have a long heart-to-heart now, and wasn't that a winner of a thought?
Gage dumped a bathing suit into the suitcase. He'd need it, for the pool, but maybe he and Slade and Travis could ride out to the creek the way they used to, when they were kids, and go skinny-dipping. The memory turned his smile into a real one. Skinny-dipping, and then, when they got older, sitting on the red rocks above the creek, still naked as jaybirds, popping the beers they'd chilled in the water, telling each other tall tales and maybe even some truths.
It was going to be one hell of a weekend.
Caitlin would probably do things up right. There was sure to be a barbecue, some music, a lot of old friends coming by ... and no wife hanging over his shoulder to spoil things. Not that Natalie had ever done that but there was something to be said about spending a few days just being a good ' boy, no female company whatsoever. Excluding Caitlin, of course, but Catie never g
ot in the way. She was one of the guys herself, damn near, and always had been.
Gage took a critical look at what he'd packed, took out a pair of trousers and substituted a second pair of jeans. Yessir, this long weekend might be just what he needed, a chance to get away from his problems and relax.
Not that he had any problems. The more time that passed, the more certain he was that Natalie had done them both a favour. If they hadn't had a fight, if she hadn't moved out, who knew how long this sham of a marriage would have dragged on?
"Forever," Gage said, and shut the suitcase.
Forever, because even though he wasn't happy, he wasn't unhappy enough to have done anything about it. He'd just have let things continue as they were, and that would have been a big mistake. He was still young, he had worlds to conquer and things to do. And if Natalie didn't want to share his life, so be it.
There were other women out there. There always had been.
A man had to be dead not to notice how many beautiful females smiled a certain way when they met you. He'd long ago stopped being amazed by how often a secretary or a flight attendant would tuck a bit of paper containing a hastily scrawled name and telephone number into his hand, and he knew damn well that many of the women who handed him a business card didn't have anything resembling business on their minds.
Just because he'd never followed up on aily of it didn't mean it was too late to start.
Gage carried his suitcase out to his car and tossed it in the back. There might even be some interesting women at Espada this weekend. Not that he'd do anything about it. He'd have to tell his family about his upcoming divorce and he wasn't ready to do that yet, plus it just wouldn't be ethical. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but he wouldn't feel free to date until the lawyers had worked out a formal separation ..., which reminded him, he really had to get in touch with Grant. Or maybe just somebody local. It wasn't as if he needed an old pal to hold his hand through what lay ahead.
Gage slid behind the wheel of the Vette and stepped on the gas. Yes, as soon as he had a minute, he'd start the ball rolling. Natalie certainly hadn't wasted any time. Jim Rutherford had called yesterday, sounding brisk and efficient, and asked who was representing him. Gage had said he had no time to discuss things right then.
"I'm going out of town," he'd told Rutherford. "Look, you have my assurance that I'll continue to meet my wife's obligations and that I'm willing to assume all her debts until we get this matter settled. I'll have my lawyer contact you when I get back."
Jim had seemed surprised by what he'd said but there was no reason not to be civilized about this thing, considering that he wanted out as much as Natalie did. Oh, it was going to be fine, being a free man again. Amazing, how easily he'd gotten used to the idea.
Gage checked his mirror, then shot onto the highway.
Yessir, he'd made a damned fine adjustment.
He hardly thought about Natalie at all. Okay, maybe he hadn't slept any better last night than he had the previous nights, but that was to be expected. His life was changing. All he needed was time to adapt.
Too bad he'd never saved any of those phone numbers he'd been handed but there were plenty of fish in the sea. Just as soon as he had a legal separation, he'd start dating.
Natalie would, too. Gage frowned.
Once there was a legal separation ... She'd wait for that, wouldn't she? Not that he really cared. It was just that it was the right thing to do.
"Hell," he growled.
He glanced in the mirror, sped across three lanes of traffic, and headed for the exit.
Natalie's apartment was in a section of town that had flip-flopped more times than a politician ducking an issue.
One glance at the building itself was like taking a quick tour through the history of Miami Beach.
It had probably once been elegant, with its Art Deco trim and its marble steps. But the steps were dirty and the trim was chipped, testament to what changing tastes and populations could do to a place. Sometime in the sixties, number South Egret had become a haven for old folks from the northeast who were looking to live their golden years in the sun. Then the Golden Oldies had given way to Cubans fleeing the politics of their island. The blood-hot beat of salsa had served as counterpoint to the staid waltz time of Lawrence Welk.
Now, the building was caught midway between the past and the future. And the future, Gage thought as he stepped into the vestibule, was anybody's guess.
Someone had done a handsome painting of palm trees and sunshine on the inner door but someone with less artistic sensibility had scrawled a short, ugly word over one of the palms.
The art critic had also punched out the lock.
Gage glanced at the row of names and call bells on the wall. There was no point in bothering with the bells, not when the door swung open at a touch. The name cards were interesting, and read like a veritable United Nations: Romero; Smith; Davidowitz; O'Brien; Dellatorre; Greenberg; Cruz.
And Baron, in Apartment . Well, that was something.
He'd half expected Natalie to have given up her married name with her marriage.
The stairway ascended through a symphony of smells, the piquant scent of island spices mingling with the less exotic smell of frying chicken. It wasn't unpleasant but it was a long way from the vanilla potpourri Natalie used-had used around their house.
She'd begun using potpourri a long time ago, in that first little apartment in New York. He still remembered coming home from work one night to find her sitting cross-legged in the middle of their bed because there really hadn't been anyplace else to sit, filling a tiny wicker basket with what looked like dried leaves and twigs.
His brows had raised in question, but when he'd bent down to kiss her and gotten a whiff of the stuff, he'd smiled.
"Mmm," he'd said. "Nice. Who'd have ever figured vanilla could be a turn-on?"
Natalie had laughed and called him silly, which was true enough because the real turn-on was her. And he'd proved it by tumbling her back on the bed, scattering the potpourri so that they made love on a sea of vanilla ...
Gage scowled as he reached the last landing.
"So what?" he muttered. This wasn't a walk down memory lane. He'd come here to--to--
To what?
He paused outside Natalie's door, his finger an inch from the bell.
Why had he come here? He should have been in his plane by now, flying over the Gulf instead of standing here, staring at the graffiti-scarred door of his ex-wife's-his almost wife’s-apartment.
Gage leaned closer. He could hear music playing, something with lots of violins and cellos. Chamber music, Natalie called it. The house had always been filled with the sound. Not lately, of course, and it occurred to him that he missed it. He'd have to check the CDs in the den, figure out what it was she used to play, put the disks on ...
His scowl deepened. What a ridiculous thought! He'd never liked chamber music, he'd only pretended to. He'd tolerated it for Natalie's sake, which only went to prove what nonsense a man could go through trying to convince himself he still loved his wife, but that was over and done with. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing, standing around-
The door swung open. Natalie, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a shocked expression, stared at him.
"Gage?"
He frowned, cleared his throat, and tried to figure out what in hell to say.
"What are you doing here, Gage?"
"I, ah, I must have leaned on the doorbell." "I mean, what are you doing here?"
A door creaked open across the hall. Natalie peered past his shoulder, rolled her eyes, and stepped aside.
"Well, don't just stand there," she said impatiently.
"Come on in."
He nodded and moved past her, into a narrow hallway. "Nice," he said automatically.
It wasn't. The light was dim but he could see the cracked linoleum floor and the paint peeling from walls. Natalie shut the door, locked it, and led the way into a living'room the size of a gro
cery carton. He took a quick look around. The walls were painted a sickening dark pink. The carpet, if you could call it that, was stained and frayed. Except for a sagging chair, a beaten-up old table and a small stereo, the room was bare. .
Natalie marched to the stereo and hit a button. The music stopped. She turned and faced him, arms folded.
"I don't remember inviting you here."
Gage forced a smile to his lips. "I could say I was in the neighbourhood and decided to drop in."
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