by Tracey Ward
“Is that for us?” I ask anxiously.
“Probably, but keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, alright?”
“Oh really, Skeeze? I shouldn’t go confess to the cops that I just blew up three goddamn trailers full of meth in the desert? You think that’d be a bad idea?”
“Fuck you.”
“Eat shit,” I growl, getting grumpy.
I’m tired, I’m stressed out, my drugs have worn off and I hurt like a son of a bitch. It feels like this night is never ending.
I pull out my phone to call Harlow and see if she’s still at the club, if she knows what’s going on, but I’m immediately hit with a million messages.
All of them are from Golden Meadows.
“The fuck?” I whisper.
“What?”
I hit redial, calling them back and ignoring Skeeze.
They answer just as we close in on the club and I can see that the lights aren’t in the parking lot. They’re on the bridge beyond it.
“Golden Meadows Retirement,” a woman answers tiredly.
“Hey, yeah, this is Josh Stratford. My grandpa, Russ Stratford is a resident there and I’ve had several missed calls from you tonight. Is something wrong? Is he okay?”
The woman shakes her fatigue, immediately going into business mode. “You’ll need to talk to the manager on duty. Let me page her. Just one moment.”
“No, don’t put me on ho—”
She puts me on hold.
“Ah, you bitch,” I mumble angrily.
“Something wrong with your Pops?” Skeeze asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I don’t know yet. She didn’t tell me anything. It could be he fell out of bed trying to go to the bathroom. He’s done it before.”
We pull into the parking lot behind the three bikes ahead of us. I watch out the window with interest, eyeing the busy bridge. Two cop cars and an ambulance have clogged the small space. Flashlights spark off the surface of the water below. Men in yellow emergency vests scale the steep side of the bank, wrangling a dark gurney.
The sight makes me dizzy.
“Mr. Stratford,” a woman speaks into my ear. “Thank you for calling me back.”
I snap out of my haze, looking away from the bridge. “What’s happened?”
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you—”
“What happened?” I demand sharply, my chest burning like acid.
My anxiety spiked with the gurney on the bank, some part of me connecting the dots that I haven’t even seen yet.
“Your grandfather left the home tonight,” she explains gently, her voice going muffled. Distant, like I’m underwater. “We don’t know how or why, but he walked out of town.”
“He went to the bridge.”
She pauses, stunned. “How did you know that?”
“Because I’m here.” I fall out of the truck, walking numbly toward the road. “I’m at the fucking bridge. I can see the ambulance.”
“Mr. Stratford, I’m so sorry. I can’t explain what happened. I don’t understand why he would leave like that. Why he would go to the river of all places.”
“Strat!” Bear shouts after me.
“Is he dead?” I ask the woman on the phone.
“I’m told the paramedics did everything they could to revive him, but he—”
I drop my phone on the ground, letting it slide from my shaking fingers as I step onto the solid surface of the road. It feels like it’s pitching and rocking, like a boat at sea trying to cast me off. The lights flash against my eyes painfully. The guys shout behind me, asking me what’s wrong, but I can’t answer them. I can’t remember how to talk. How to think. How to breathe. How to live. All I can do is stare straight ahead at the black bag being pulled up the bank. The bag with a body inside.
“Strat!” Bear shouts in my face, his hands on my shoulders. “What’s wrong with you, son? Where do you think you’re going?”
“The bridge,” I whisper.
“No. You’re not going to the goddamn bridge. It’s swarming with cops and you stink of gasoline.”
“He’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?”
My legs go out from under me. Bear grunts as he takes on my weight, lowering me slowly to my knees. He goes with me, his eyes holding mine.
“Who died, son?” he insists, his voice almost gentle.
“Pops.” I gag on my own throat as it closes in on itself, everything inside me caving. Crashing down. Tears spring in my eyes, burning like smoke. “My pops is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Harlow
“How’s Josh holdin’ up?” Lila asks curiously. “I haven’t seen him in here since it happened.”
I glower at her over the bar. “His dad died a week ago. He hasn’t been getting out much.”
“Jesus, Harley,” she pouts, pouring pepper into an empty shaker. “I was just asking.”
I take a slow breath, telling myself to calm down. I’ve been short lately; a byproduct of losing Pops and losing sleep. I can’t remember the last time I got a full eight hours. Or even five. It’s obviously been too long.
“Josh is doing better now,” I relent, softening my tone. “He’s working again. It’s a good distraction.”
“Raw said he wasn’t talking to anyone but you for the first few days,” Vanessa says sympathetically.
I shake my head loosely. “No. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t eat. He barely slept.”
What I won’t tell them is that Josh cried constantly in those first three days after Pops died. For the first forty-eight hours, I was terrified to leave him alone, even if it was just to go to the bathroom. It was hell, but I’d go through it again a million times for him if I had to. He needed me and even though I’m exhausted, I’m proud of the fact that I was able to be there for him. I’m not a stable person. I’m not a rock you can lean on, but for Josh I tried and I still can’t believe I succeeded.
Maybe Pops was right. Maybe I’m stronger than I feel.
“You said that his dad died,” Lila complains, “but I thought it was his grandpa.”
“It was,” Vanessa replies for me, God bless her. “But his grandpa raised him. He was like a father to him.”
“Didn’t he raise Harley too?”
“Sort of.”
“Yes,” I answer firmly. “He was like a dad to me.”
Lila frowns. “Then what does that make your dad?”
“A cocksucker.”
“Oh.”
“How are you holding up?” Vanessa asks gently, her eyes swimming with concern.
I take a step back from her, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m alright. It happened so suddenly… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m… I’m fine.”
“You look tired,” Lila tells me sympathetically. “Have you just been crying non-stop? I would be.”
“I haven’t cried.”
They both stare at me, wide eyed with shock.
“Not once?” Vanessa presses.
“I’m not much of a crier.”
“Huh,” she says slowly. “Well, if you need anything, we’re here to help, okay?”
“Great. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I had to plan my sister’s funeral,” Lila tells us suddenly. “She and her boyfriend died two years ago in a car crash. It was a mess. My mom couldn’t stop crying and my dad just drank all the time. I ended up handling all of it and then they bitched about it afterward.”
“What’d they bitch about?” Vanessa asks.
“How much it cost. They said I went crazy.” Lila scoffs in disbelief. “I mean, I bought the things they told me we needed. A casket, flowers, an obituary, fliers. The embalming cost over five hundred dollars and they don’t let you bury them without doing it. What was I supposed to do?”
“Nothing. It’s a racket. When my gram died, they did the same thing. They totally take advantage. Who needs to put out an obituary in a town like Opal? Everyone knows who died the day it hap
pens.”
“We’ve just barely started with that stuff,” I tell them quietly. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened.”
“Didn’t he drown?” Lila asks frankly.
Vanessa puts a salt shaker down with a heavy thud, casting her a warning glance. “He died in the river, but she means no one knows why he was there. He left the nursing home in the middle of the night, walked six miles to the edge of town, and disappeared into the river. It’s fuckin’ weird.”
“Naked,” I add numbly.
Vanessa hesitates. “He was naked?”
“As the day he was born. That’s the part I can’t get my head around.”
“Did they find his clothes?”
“Yeah, at the home. He got undressed in his room, folded his clothes on the bed, and walked out bare ass naked.” I shake myself, a shiver running through my body. “Don’t tell anyone that, okay? Josh doesn’t want the world knowing about it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“We won’t say anything,” Lila promises.
Vanessa nods in agreement. “We swear. Not a word.”
I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if it matters. None of this matters.
“Where are you staying now, Harley?” Vanessa asks, mercifully changing the subject. “If you need to, you can stay with us.”
“Thanks, but I’m staying with Josh.”
Lila gapes at me. “You’re staying next door to your dad? The cocksucker?”
I smile mildly, the reaction a reflex. “Just for now.”
“How long is ‘just for now’?”
“I don’t know yet. We haven’t talked about it. I was going to stay at Bear and Angela’s but then we lost Pops and Josh was so devastated…” I shrug, capping a pepper, my eyes burning from the spice. “He needed me so I stayed.”
“Wow,” Vanessa whispers in amazement. “You’re stronger than I am. I couldn’t live next door to him after what he did to you.”
“I was a kid. It’s in the past.”
“Still, though.”
My phone rings in my back pocket. I pull it out, feeling my body lighten when I see Josh’s name on the screen.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey,” he replies unhappily.
My body is instantly lead again, weighing heavily into the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I ask anxiously.
“I just got off the phone with the insurance company. They got the death certificate but they won’t pay out Pops’ policy until next month. I’ll have the bill from the funeral home to pay before then. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that.”
“Shit, Josh, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? I have a little savings, but it’s not much.”
“No, fuck,” he groans miserably. “I wasn’t trying to hit you up for money, baby. I just needed to vent. I talked to the manager at Golden Meadows again today and she didn’t have any new information. Not a single answer about how he just walked out of that place without being seen. They have security and someone at the front desk at all times. How did no one see Pops waltz out the front fucking door?”
I shake my head helplessly. “I don’t know.”
“I know. I just… ugh,” he groans again.
“You’re just venting,” I echo.
“Yeah. I’m doing that a lot lately. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re going through a nightmare right now.”
“So are you,” he reminds me softly. “I know that you lost him too. I shouldn’t keep piling on you.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Really?”
I lick my lips, breathing in carefully through my nose. “Hey, look, I gotta go. I have some errands to run before I come home.”
“Right. Me too. Raw and I have an order.”
“It’ll be good for you to get out of the house.”
“Probably. I’ll see you at home later?”
“I’ll see you there.”
“I love you, baby.”
I smile softly. “I love you too.”
When I turn around to face them again, Vanessa and Lila are grinning at me with big, doe eyes.
I scowl at them. “What?”
“You’re in love,” Lila whispers happily. “I’ve never seen you in love before.”
“It’s really sweet,” Vanessa agrees.
“No.”
“No what?”
“We’re not doing this. We’re not girl talking about my relationship.”
“Come on,” Lila pleads collapsing onto the bar theatrically. “We earned this.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but I really want it. You’re all soft lately because of Strat. It’s adorable.”
“Fuck yourself.”
“Not too soft, though,” Vanessa chuckles.
I wipe my hands on a towel briskly, shaking my head. “I’m going home. You guys can finish this on your own.”
“I’m going to doodle his name on cocktail napkins and tell him you did it,” Lila shouts after me. “I’ll dot the ‘i’s with little hearts.”
“There are no ‘i’s in his name, idiot!”
“Mr. and Mrs. Josh Stratford!”
“You’re a whore!”
“Mrs. Harley Stratford!”
“She’s gonna kill you,” Vanessa laughs.
The back door slams closed behind me, shutting out their voices. Shutting out everything. In a split second it’s just me and the desert wind, hot and relentless. Silent and sorrowful.
I pull my keys from my pocket, spreading them in my palm. I push aside the key to the club. To the truck. The spare to my dad’s house that I’ve never gotten rid of, just another part of myself that I can’t begin to understand. I shove them all out of the way until the tarnished green initials are alone in the center of my hand; the keychain Pops and Josh gave me for my birthday, giving me their name. Their love. Inviting me into the first family I ever had.
And just like that, the world I’ve been running from all week catches up with me. Hard.
I cry. I don’t know where the tears come from, but they’re unstoppable once they’ve started. They cascade into my palm, pooling around the initials and blurring my eyes until I can’t see it anymore. I can’t see him because he’s gone, and I didn’t understand it until just now. I haven’t cried for him until this moment, and I worry with the flood that’s rushing from my eyes and nose that I’ll never stop.
I fall back against the wall, slumping down to the ground in a gasping, blubbering mess of emotion. I don’t understand all of them – probably not even half of them – but they don’t care. They course through me, wringing me dry until I’m heaving and shaking silently, fruitlessly, aching with agony in every bone in my body.
I don’t see or hear where Devo comes from. All I know is that suddenly he’s there sitting on the ground next to me, the leather of his jacket creaking as he puts his arm over my shoulders. I try to quiet, to compose myself, but when he pulls me into his side and lets me rest my head on his shoulder, I fall apart all over again. The tears return, the sobs audible and painful, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay. He doesn’t tell me he’s there for me. He just is, and it’s exactly what I need. Exactly what he’s always been for me, no matter what.
My friend.
Chapter Thirty
Josh
Raw looks at me sideways, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and the winter sun shining bright in his blond hair. “You’re looking thin, brother.”
“I know.”
“Harley got you eatin’ anything yet?”
“She made lasagna last night.” I squint into the shadows, scanning the park for our buyer. I’m relieved that the bruise around my eye aches a little less than normal. My body is on the mend, in more ways than one. “It was burned but it was still good. I ate a whole plate of it.”
“She seems like she’s doin’ okay. I’ve seen her working behind the ba
r and she’s all business as usual.”
“Yeah, she’s alright,” I mutter vaguely.
The truth is, I’m not sure how she’s doing. Harlow doesn’t handle emotions very well and this one, losing Pops, is a big one. An ugly one. I’ve asked her if she’s okay, if she wants to talk, but she always turns it around until we’re talking about me and how I feel. What I need. She’s avoiding it and I don’t know if that’s a good thing for her or not. I’m in uncharted water here and my captain is gone. Lost in the current that floated him away without warning, way before I was ready.
“She’s a tough one,” Raw comments.
“With her dad, she had to be.”
“That son of a bitch,” he snarls. “I’d love a shot at him.”
“You and me both, brother.”
“Sometimes I look at Ava and I think about what Harlow’s old man did to her with the closets and shit, and I get so fuckin’ mad I can hardly see straight. I can’t understand doing that to your daughter.”
“I’ve had dreams of all the things I’d do to him if Harlow took the leash off.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks interestedly. “What you got?”
“Something special I’m working on. It’s not ready yet, but hopefully soon.” I nod to the west where a guy in a red hoodie is headed toward us. “That’s our man.”
The dude is built. A wide body on squat legs that probably make him a powerhouse of a defensive lineman, and I know that’s what he is the second I see the Winslow Football logo on the right breast of his hoodie. He pushes back the hood to nod to Raw and I, and I have a weird sense of déjà vu. I don’t know who he is but I know him. I just can’t think of how. And I can’t think of why the sight of him pisses me off so damn much.
“What up?” he says, stopping a few feet from us.
His voice makes the déjà vu even worse, sending the hair on my arms standing straight up.
Raw nods to him. “‘Sup, man. You Teddy?”
“Yeah. You got the shit?”
“Shake my hand and find out.”
Raw moves in close to shake hands with the guy. He comes away with a fistful of wrinkled dollar bills.
I keep my hands in my pockets. My fingers wrapped around the handle of my gun.
