Guilty As Sin
Page 4
He glances over my shoulder as if looking for the reporters I mentioned. “Get yourself inside.”
I come in and head straight for his percolator to help myself to some coffee. Magnus watches as I take the first sip and release a sigh of relief. Coffee is life, and I’m hoping it’s going to miraculously turn this day into less of a shit show. It’s a long shot, but I’m willing to try.
“You gonna tell me what kind of situation we got now that involves those news vultures?”
I take a few more sips of coffee before I tell him what little I know about the news article Lincoln shoved at me on his phone. Being mindful of Commodore’s warning, I stick to the basics, including the fact that I’m not the executor of Ricky’s estate.
“Sounds like someone got a little greedy and wants a piece of the Riscoff pie. Can’t say I blame them.” He holds out his coffee mug for a refresh, and I oblige. As he sips, he eyes me. “So, whatcha gonna do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“The timing seems awful coincidental. I don’t remember much about your mother-in-law. She the type to try to make you look bad?”
Renee Rango is the last person I want to think about right now, because all I want to do is run her over with Commodore’s Escalade for creating this shit storm.
“You could say that she and I never really bonded.” It’s the politest understatement I can make.
“Single mom with an only child?”
I nod.
“She probably wouldn’t have liked anyone he picked.”
I laugh. “Ricky was her little prince. He could do no wrong. But none of that matters now. I need to talk to her because she has a hell of a lot to answer for.”
“You think you could trust her word? Don’t know that I would.”
He has a good point, and it reminds me of what Commodore said about trust. Namely, that I do it too easily.
Magnus keeps talking. “If I were that asshole Riscoff, I’d make her pony up evidence before I’d give her the time of day.”
I don’t want to wait for Renee to dig up evidence. I just want it all to go away.
“I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing this for more than just the money.”
“What do you mean?” Magnus asks.
“Maybe she’d back off if I slipped out of town and disappeared.”
He leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “You gonna keep letting other people decide how your life goes? Or are you going to figure out what it is that you want?”
Again, the old man’s question reminds me eerily of the man he claims to hate. Maybe they’re both right. Maybe I’ve been letting people push me around for so long that I don’t know how to stop.
Magnus apparently thinks I’m taking too long to answer his question. “It sounds to me like all you want to do is keep running from your problems and hoping they won’t follow you. Let me be the bearer of bad news, kid—that ain’t gonna work.”
“Bringing my problems back to Gable didn’t exactly work either,” I reply in an attempt to defend myself.
“Your problems started in Gable. It’s the running that didn’t work. You ever think about staying in one place and facing them, and see how that goes down?”
I clasp the mug in my hands and bring it closer to my body, trying to absorb some of the heat. “Won’t staying just make it worse? The press won’t leave.”
He shrugs. “You won’t know until you try. It seems like you’ve made the same mistake a few times. Why not make a different one and see how it feels?” Magnus leans forward, resting his elbow on the counter. “When you get to be my age, you realize life is a whole lot of bullshit peppered with a few important things. But until you’re my age, you’re gonna mistake a whole lot of that bullshit for the important things. You need to figure out what you want out of this life, kid. Find the people you want to share it with and hold them close. That’s one of the few things that actually matters.”
I soak in the wisdom I didn’t expect to hear this morning and turn it around in my head, looking for flaws. I can’t find any.
“How’d you get to be so smart?”
“I’m almost ninety years old, and I live out here alone because I learned all that the hard way. Don’t do what I did. Don’t hang on to something that doesn’t matter so hard that you can’t let it go to reach out and grab what does.”
Is that what I’m doing? Holding on to the past so hard that I can’t grasp what’s happening in the here and now?
What happened a decade ago between Lincoln and me colors every moment of our present. We talked about a fresh start, and then everything went to hell moments later when we actually needed to communicate with each other about something important.
With the benefit of some distance and a little fortifying coffee, I think about this morning’s situation.
Did we both just overreact?
Lincoln’s words were most definitely an accusation . . . but from the way that article was written, how could he come to any other conclusion? Any outsider looking in would assume I was the one in charge of Ricky’s estate.
And Lincoln has been taught not to trust anyone.
“And the last piece of advice I got for you—if you think life is going to hand you nothing but shit to eat, that’s all you’re ever going to see on your plate. You gotta look for the good to recognize it, kid, or you’ll miss it completely.” Magnus points out the window and up at the sky. “I could see that blue sky, or I could focus on the one cloud hanging there. When you get to be my age, you don’t have time to let a few drops of rain ruin your entire day. It might be your last.”
He has a point. In my parents’ house, everyone was always looking for the bad. Probably so much that we missed out on a lot of the good. It’s a habit I’ve never truly broken.
Magnus whacks his mug down on the counter. “We got company.” He grabs the shotgun and makes it to the front door quicker than someone his age should be able to move.
“What are you—”
When he swings the door open and fires a few rounds into the air, I scream, spilling my coffee all over the floor. With my ears ringing, I stare at him like he’s lost his damned mind.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Magnus?”
He holds out the shotgun to me, barrel pointed up. “You want to take some potshots at the feller coming up the driveway? Bet you haven’t tried that yet.”
I peek out the window. Sure enough, Lincoln’s walking up the gravel drive with both hands over his head.
10
Whitney
The past
The whole world passed me by while I retreated into my fog where nothing felt real. Some days, I felt like I’d stepped outside my body and was watching life as a play while other people acted it out.
How can my parents be gone?
I was starting to wonder if it would ever feel real. Part of me hoped not. That might be more than I could handle.
I heard Asa on the phone with the bank. Dad hadn’t paid the mortgage since they bought the house, and they were going to foreclose. The only way we could stop it was if we paid off the entire loan. They wouldn’t even listen to reason about letting us catch up on the payments.
Asa’s temper snapped as soon as he hung up the phone. “It’s because Commodore motherfucking Riscoff is on the board. They won’t cut us any fucking slack.” He said it to Aunt Jackie, but I was pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard him.
So now I’m going to be homeless.
Our parents didn’t have life insurance or a single dime of savings. Mom and Dad were supposed to be buried in their plot at the cemetery, but Asa only had enough saved up from his army pay to cover a cremation. Aunt Jackie offered to take out a second mortgage to buy caskets, but Asa wouldn’t let her.
His reasoning? “What do they care now, anyway? They’re dead. We can bury their ashes instead. There’s no point in making you go into debt to buy a box where they can rot.”
Even though his crude words ha
d made me cry, he’d had a point. It still hurt to know that the choice was taken from us because of money. But right now, everything came down to money. Mostly the fact that we had none.
I was a coward for letting Asa and Jackie deal with everything, but what help could I really offer in this situation? None.
So instead, I stared at the light green wall of Cricket’s bedroom from where I was curled up on her bed. I crushed her pillow to my chest and wished I could live anyone else’s life but my own.
I’d almost managed to doze off, but the front door of the house slammed and Asa yelled.
“Get the hell off our property, motherfucker! You aren’t welcome here.”
My chin jerked up as my entire body started to vibrate. There was only one person who would piss Asa off that badly solely by existing.
I rolled over on Cricket’s bed, and it was the fastest I’d moved in days. I ran to look out the window, and sure enough, Lincoln stood in the driveway.
Asa stalked toward him, using the rifle in his hand to point at Lincoln’s truck, and his voice was loud enough to filter through the single-paned glass.
“You get back in your truck and get the hell out of here, Riscoff.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Well, I’m the one with a gun. So, fuck no, you aren’t seeing my sister.”
“I—”
“Rango already told me all the bullshit you spouted off at him. Whatever you think you had with Whitney? It’s just as dead as our folks and your dad.”
I winced, hating how cruel Asa was being. Lord, if he knew I’d run down the cabin’s gravel drive barefoot after Lincoln threw me out, he’d shoot Lincoln dead right where he stood.
The tragedy that followed might have relegated our fight that night to the level of doesn’t matter at all in the grand scheme of things, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the sting of the sharp side of Lincoln’s tongue.
He made me feel like trash, and I never want to feel like that again.
If there was any thought in my head about leaving the house to battle with Asa in order to hear what Lincoln had to say, that thought stopped me.
“You can’t keep me from seeing her. Not forever,” Lincoln said, and Asa let out a harsh laugh.
“Maybe not forever, but for long enough that it won’t matter anymore.”
I didn’t know what my brother meant by that, because his leave wasn’t going to last much longer.
Lincoln stood his ground until Asa raised the gun and sighted in on his head.
Oh Jesus. No. My heart seized and I grabbed the latch of the window, prepared to throw it open and scream down the neighborhood.
I can’t bear to lose him too. I didn’t know where the thought came from, but Lincoln took a few steps back toward his truck.
“That’s right, Riscoff, you keep on fucking walking. And remember, I know a hundred ways to kill you that don’t need a gun. You ever try to talk to my sister again, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“You can try,” Lincoln said. “My family would bury you.”
Asa stepped toward him again. “Come back here, and I’ll bury you first.”
Lincoln climbed into his truck and drove away. I sank to the floor, tears I didn’t remember crying tracking down my face.
11
Lincoln
Present day
“You looking to die today, son?” Magnus Gable calls from the door of his house, shotgun in hand.
What the hell is it with Gables and meeting people with guns? I’ve braved one before to talk to Whitney, and I’ll do it again and again.
“No, sir. I’m here to talk to Whitney. I was on my way to her aunt’s house when Commodore told me I’d find her here instead.”
“Don’t know that she wants to talk to you, boy. She might shoot you, though.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take, but before she does, I need to tell her I’m sorry for this morning. I’d really like to apologize face-to-face.”
Commodore told me everything he’d learned about Ricky Rango and his mom from Whitney, but I didn’t need to hear the details to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wouldn’t have come back to try to snake a piece of the Riscoff fortune. She could have had it before, but she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me or it.
In fact, Whitney’s the only woman I’ve ever met who wanted me despite my last name and our money. But I fucked that up in the end too.
When I called Commodore, he warned me to leave her alone. I don’t give a shit what the old man says or threatens. I’m not letting him manipulate this situation anymore. I’m going to fix what I broke this morning, and pray Whitney will give me a real fresh start, even if I don’t deserve it.
Last night is burned in my mind, and so is the softness in her eyes this morning before I blew it all to pieces.
“Might want to say that a little louder, son. Not sure she can hear you.”
At any other time, this might be embarrassing, but I put aside my pride. “Whitney, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she yells. “Being an asshole?”
I take a few more steps forward, even though I’m making myself an easier target. “For not waiting to hear what you had to say before I jumped to conclusions.”
“You mean never trusting me?”
I look up at the sky. She had to go straight for the kill.
She’s right. I have trust issues, especially when it comes to women. My father and Commodore instilled them in me from the time I was a kid. They made it clear that every woman would want something from me because of my last name.
But Whitney was never like that.
“Yes. I should’ve trusted you.”
“Why should I believe you now?”
“Oh, that’s a good question, girl. I like it,” Magnus crows from the doorway where he acts as the peanut gallery while blocking Whitney from my view.
I wish I was doing this without an audience, but when you fuck up like I did, clearly you don’t get that luxury. “Because I wouldn’t put myself out like this for anyone else.”
“I don’t think that’s a good enough explanation,” the old man says.
“Please, Blue. You don’t have to believe me yet, but I’m going to prove it to you. I want to protect you and your family from whatever comes out of this mess. I’ve got rooms for all of you at The Gables. The press won’t be able to get to you there. You’ll be safe and have your privacy back.”
I hear a humph from Magnus before he steps to the side and Whitney’s dark head peeks out of the doorway.
“My entire family?”
“I ain’t goin’. I can take care of myself,” Magnus says, gesturing to the sky with the shotgun.
“Everyone you can talk into coming. I already have Hunter and Cricket working on your aunt and your cousin.”
Whitney’s expression is skeptical, and that’s fair. I can work with skepticism—as long as there are no bullets flying in my direction.
She glances at Magnus. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
He eyes me shrewdly. “You try anything shady and I’ll pepper your ass with buckshot, boy.”
“I understand, sir.”
Magnus backs up, and Whitney comes out of the house to meet me in the driveway. It kills me when I see she’s still barefoot.
“I’ve got your shoes in the car. I’m so fucking sorry, Blue.”
“Screw the shoes, Lincoln. What’s the catch?”
“What catch?”
“Riscoffs never do anything without an angle or a motive or strings attached. So, what is it this time?” The woman who trusted me this morning has been replaced with a more cautious and cynical one.
“I deserve that. No angle, except for keeping you away from the press, which is why you left LA to begin with, right?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
I jerk my head back. “Is that what you think of me?”
Buckshot would have been less painful than Whitney’s swift and efficient delivery of the truth.
She’s right about everything.
I may have aged ten years, but my knee-jerk reaction this morning shows that I haven’t learned a damn thing. I don’t want to be another guy on the list of people who hurt her. I want to be the man to protect her from the world.
“I know I fucked up, Blue. I don’t deserve another chance. I’m not even going to ask for one this time. Right now, all I want is to give you a safe place to go while I try to figure this out.”
She watches me, her somber expression creasing in confusion. “Why even bother then?”
“Because I have something to prove—to you and to myself,” I say, and I’ve never meant anything more.
12
Whitney
I don’t know what Lincoln’s game is, but I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze dead on. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the courage to stand up for myself, and making that speech, telling him how much he hurt me, gives me confidence I didn’t know I could have.
He may have something to prove, but so do I.
I’m done being the girl who lets the rest of the world dictate her future. It’s time to figure out what matters to me and own it.
Lincoln’s offer is probably the best possible solution for avoiding the media shit storm Ricky’s mom unleashed, but I don’t trust him not to change his mind.