Closing The Gap (Dangerous Pasts, #1)

by Colleen Charles

  She washed her makeup off and brushed her teeth after slipping into a pale pink silk nightie that felt cool and soft against her skin. Grateful for her Tempur-Pedic, she sank into the memory foam. People hit by trucks probably felt better than she did at this moment. She laid her phone by the Tiffany lamp on her night stand, soothed by its muted light and colors. The phone went off and two texts came in one after the other. Lake smiled. Summer must be checking up on her. She picked the phone up in her hand and raised it up to her eyes as she stiffened. Of all the nerve!

  We need to talk.

  Not bloody likely, jerk! Go home and screw Lauren over and over until your penis falls off. You owe me nothing and even if you did, I don’t want to hear it!

  Lake’s inner voice raged through her head.

  One date does not require trite explanations. Even if you have the best lips ever and perfect hands that could make me come apart in an instant.

  In spite of her anger, she pictured Lauren in her mind’s eye. The resulting image her brain conjured up was the antithesis of herself. She ignored that text and went to the next one which made her smile.

  I am so happy I met u and can’t wait to see u again. Will u be my honorary sister? I’ve always wanted 1. BTW, he’s a stupid MF’r and I told him so 2 his face! See, I can be a great brother, very protective. Let’s keep in touch, I miss u already! RR

  Lake clutched the phone and hit the reply bubble and her fingers flew along the letters.

  RR – that’s like R squared. I think I already have a nickname for u adopted ‘lil brother. Thanks for checking in and I’ll talk 2 u soon. Night R2!

  Lake rolled over with a smile on her face and let sleep overtake her. For once, happy she’d ingested enough liquor to help her drift away or she imagined she would have spent the entire night tossing and turning. Thanks to The Trashman, her perfect night had turned into a refuse and it reeked like piss.

  ****

  “You suck ass old man!” Roberts showed no mercy as Josh’s fairway shot sliced and sailed into the left hand bunker of the sixteenth. “Rough night last night?”

  “Yes, Josh. You haven’t mentioned much about how things went last night. Did you and Lake have a good time on your outing?” As he stared at him, Chuck waited for a response. His dad sported the same expression he wore right before the one that advertised to one and all his disgust to have him for a son. Josh could have put his mind at ease hours ago and the fact that he hadn’t done that silently admitted what had happened without speaking the uncomfortable words.

  Josh’s stomach rumbled with unease. Why hadn’t she answered his text yet? Of course she wouldn’t answer his text. She thought he was a first class asshole and sex fiend! If one brief glimmer of hope flickered in this bizarre situation, Lauren’s subject matter had bathed his bedroom skill set in a positive light. Thank God Lauren hadn’t said that he sucked. That would have been the height of embarrassment, making the actuality pale in comparison.

  Why did Lake’s opinion of him mean so much all of a sudden? Not quite understanding the overwhelming need to explain himself, he still knew that he had to, some way and somehow. Searching his mind for an idea on how to approach this situation, he’d flopped like a fish on top of the mattress until the wee hours of the morning. He didn’t hold out much hope for his golf game and dreaded the inevitability of spewing the sordid truth.

  “We had a wonderful time skating and at dinner. Then, something happened and she left the restaurant.” Embarrassed beyond belief, he avoided Chuck’s eyes but still felt compelled to tell him the truth. As he stared at his dad’s white patent golf shoes and plaid pants, he delayed the inevitable. Chuck bore a striking resemblance to Arnold Palmer while standing next to the golf cart and he choose to focus on that until his dad forced him to speak. If he tried to sugar coat it, Roberts would throw him straight under the bus. He could tell Roberts remained pissed at him. Lake and he had formed some type of immediate bond and Roberts waited for a chance to call him out in front of his dad.

  “What on earth, Joshua! What happened to make her leave the premises?” Josh recognized that tone and sucked in a ragged breath. A severe set down that would cause him a week’s worth of sleepless nights would follow.

  “An X-rated text from a filthy whore is what happened, Chuck. One that even made my face burn!” Couldn’t that annoying little prick ever keep his mouth shut? Roberts happily relayed his biased explanation of the situation. Lying sack of shit, Josh had heard worse from his own lips in the past thirty days. He imagined him standing over his boiling cauldron, rubbing his hands together as he chanted the spell that would ruin his life.

  “Joshua Charles Adams! I have never been as disappointed with you as I am in this moment. Did you not listen to one word that I said to you Friday! How am I ever going to face Lake Wednesday night knowing this? Can’t you keep your pants zipped for one night and your sluts on lockdown? You are almost forty years old. Stop acting like you are eighteen!” The tongue lashing was so severe, his dad hadn’t even stopped to take a breath. “I suggest you fix this and fix it right now. I’ve had enough. I can’t even keep looking at you to finish this round. You need to go home and not even think about coming back here until you’ve made this right. I’m not even going to watch your sorry ass on television!”

  Chuck jumped in the cart and drove away as Josh and Ryan stood in the middle of the fairway.

  “You made Chuck Adams say a swear word, pinhead. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  “Any more bright ideas, Benedict Arnold?”

  “Not off the top of my head and besides, you had it coming. Obviously, you ate paint chips as a kid. She answered my text last night and I even have a new nickname.” That smug bastard bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, doing a little happy dance. “I’m stoked. I’ve never been given a nickname by a woman before that didn’t involve a dirty word. It’s much better than Tree Rat. I signed my text RR and she has now dubbed me ‘Rsquared’.”

  When would he stop gloating? “While she typed that text and fantasized about me she probably wore a skimpy negligee or maybe even laid in bed, stark naked. Most likely touching herself to see how wet I made her. I bet she had to put the phone in the freezer to keep from sending me dirty texts all night long. Did you see that she has a phenomenal rack and an ass made for fucking? I could have her at a moment’s notice if I really wanted to.” Roberts grinned from ear to ear, praising his one-upsmanship.

  “Quit talking about her like that, douche!”

  “Just performing a reality check to see if you really give a shit. Now, I’m duly convinced and inclined to help your pathetic ass. This is the first rise I’ve ever gotten out of you over a woman so you’re pussy whipped before you’ve even actually seen it. Let me consider it and see if I can come up with a grand apology that won’t send her running for the hills. There might be hope for you yet, old man. You’re turning forty this year so it’s a good idea for you to settle down now or you’ll end up with the Clap.”

  “The only person who’s going to end up with the Clap is you, Larry Flynt.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Buck Hoeff leaned against the counter of the equine vet clinic with his most charming smile plastered across his face. He hated smiling. Today, he hated it more than ever. Moving his mouth that way caused the fake hair of his disguise to tickle him under his nose. The disguise looked good. He’d double checked before entering the building. The local community theater costume departments could be very handy. This particular task was too important not to be planned out perfectly in advance.

  “I’m here to pick up a prescription for my horse, Trigger. The name is Larson, Bill Larson.”

  “Yes, here it is Mr. Larson.” The receptionist slid back in her chair and used the wheels to propel herself over to a two drawer file cabinet. Pulling out a slim file and opening it, she glanced up at him. “This appears to be the first time we’ve treated Trigger, Mr. Larson. For our records, what kind of horse is he an
d how much does he weigh?”

  Shit. Buck concentrated, hard, remembering back to the years living on the old farm in Minnesota with his ex-wife. He’d kept horses his entire life but never show horses. Not until he’d married that gravy sucking pig. Nothing he did was ever good enough for the likes of her. Now, what to say that would seem plausible?

  “He’s a buckskin Quarter Horse and he weighs about 1100 pounds. He’s a real calm, wonderful guy that Trigger. I’m very blessed. I sure hope this medicine can help him. He’s not been feeling real well of late and it’s affecting his performance in the show ring. Trigger is a champion in the western division and he’s just been off lately, really high strung. It’s hard to keep his head in the bridle.”

  Grasping at straws and old memories, Buck beseeched the heavens to help him make horse sense so no red flags would fly. He must get out of this clinic with the injection. Glancing upward, he reassured himself that she’d bought what he’d sold her. He eyed her white, plastic nametag so he could address her on a personal level and make her more comfortable. Angie. It never hurt to do everything possible to gain the trust of those you were trying to manipulate.

  “Angie, how do I administer this supplement?”

  “Well, Mr. Larson, we’re going to give Trigger magnesium sulfate. It’s an injectable supplement that you should administer about an hour before he goes in the ring. We’ll try this protocol first as it works well as a calming agent in western show horses. Remember, don’t give him more than the recommended dose or that can cause severe diarrhea and even be fatal in older horses or those with kidney trouble.” Angie slid forward to hand him the medicine.

  Handing over cash, so the transaction remained anonymous, he pulled his baseball cap down lower over his head and traced over his fake beard and mustache again with his fingertips making sure they hadn’t shifted or slipped out of place. Angie didn’t react so he grabbed the receipt, thanked her and proceeded to walk out to the parking lot where he’d left his rental car. He’d rented it after flying in this morning under the false identification he had bought off the street in Minneapolis for William Larson, a common Minnesota name. The stupid fuckers at TSA couldn’t even tell it was fake. It had sure turned out to be worth the thousand dollars cash he had forked out to the man selling it. That guy was genius. He’d paid cash with Enterprise too. They had wanted a credit card on file but he gave them a large cash deposit in case of vehicle damage and they let him go. His confidence reigned supreme. No one would ever catch him.

  He knew her schedule. He’d had someone following her. Anticipating his next move, all he had to do now was wait for the Mexican bitch to go to sleep in the guest house and Zorro the gay blade to head home from the office at five. The Mexican kept her TV so loud a coyote could be howling outside her window and she wouldn’t hear it. His ex-wife went to a board meeting on Wednesday and she always went out for drinks afterward with some old dude. She probably spread her legs for that wrinkled, saggy balled, geezer.

  Buck hadn’t flown all this way for nothing. Everything would come together just as he’d planned. Next month at exactly this time, the chestnut nag would be dead on the ground feeding flies and the blonde shrew wouldn’t know what hit her. After he executed the first one, he’d work on the second.

  Content for the first time in months, he sailed down the freeway singing to the radio at the top of his lungs. For good measure, he whipped off his disguise and pitched it out the window into oncoming traffic.

  However much you give, Josh, more than that will be given to you.

  Take the bait~

  The Universe

  Chapter Fourteen

  A soothing voice came over Josh’s car speakers. “Hello.”

  On the plane ride back to Chicago Sunday evening, Josh came up with a great idea on how to apologize to Lake. With his local charity work over the years, he had connections with great artists in the community. He remembered one from a benefit last year that specialized in animals, Jane Allen. Glad to be back in his own vehicle, he asked his car to dial her number from his contact list and spoke into the factory installed blue tooth device.

  “Jane, this is Josh Adams. I don’t know if you remember but we met at the Snap Gala last year.”

  “Josh, of course I remember you. You’re not easy to forget.”

  “I recall you’d done a gorgeous sketch drawing of a little girl and her horse. We had a nice conversation about that piece and how your niece inspired you with her love of all things equine.”

  “Unfortunately, I sold that piece at that benefit and it’s a one of a kind. I don’t sell any reproductions.”

  “Actually, that’s not what I’m looking for. Do you have time to do a custom piece on a rush basis? I’ll pay whatever you feel is fair. Your time is very valuable. It’s imperative that I get this done right away. I deeply hurt a woman’s feelings and want to say I’m sorry with a gift. It wasn’t intentional but I need to make amends.” It couldn’t hurt to lay it on thick. Maybe Jane would take one for the sisterhood.

  “Josh, you’re in luck. I just finished my only commission this spring so I could put you first in line for a custom sketch. If I work on it as much as I can and provided what you want isn’t super large or detailed, I should be able to have it framed and ready to ship in about a month.”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks so much, Jane. I’ll get the information and photos to you tomorrow. I appreciate you helping me out. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call.”

  ****

  Days later, Josh sat in his condo as he searched the web for the right words to express himself in his apology note. He’d have to dig deep to recover that side of himself but Lake had inspired him to tender and protective feelings, long buried. The whole thing was creating major frustration. He wanted to fix it and fix it now. He hated to bother him but his brother was much better with words so he picked up his phone and dialed.

  “Hey, Josh.”

  “Jason, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m in a shit storm.”

  “No problem. Lisa took the boys to a birthday party so I’m here alone watching ESPN. What’s up?”

  “You know that woman that won my date at the bachelor auction, the one I told you about Saturday morning?”

  “Yeah, the gorgeous blonde, dad’s friend? You never said how it went. Judging from dad’s reaction when I talked to him last week, I bet you fucked it up. Dad seemed pretty pissed at you but didn’t spill the details and stayed pretty tight lipped. Did you do something to her? Please don’t say it was another one-nighter.”

  “No, I’d never even try that with her. I like and respect Lake. She’s not trying to manipulate or push me like all the other women I’ve dated. You’re right though. I screwed it up royally. Every guy on that auction is supposed to be bachelor without a wife or girlfriend. Dad has every right to hate my guts. I embarrassed him. Roberts and I were with Lake at the Capital Grille having a great time. I’d gone to the men’s room and left my phone on the table. Lauren sent me a dirty text and Lake saw it.”

  “That sucks, bro. Hasn’t Lauren been over for months? Why the hell was she sending you suggestive text messages? Did you leave any doors open when you broke up with her?”

  “I didn’t think so at the time but she must be confused. I wish Lake hadn’t been drawn in to Lauren’s games. I had Jane Allen do a custom sketch of Lake’s favorite mare from some photos dad found on the internet as an apology gift. I need to Fed Ex it to her. It’s worth thousands to me if it can get dad to stop sounding like he wants to beat the piss out of me. I’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours and I can’t think of the right words for my note. Any ideas?”

  “How do you feel about her?”

  “Of course, I don’t know her that well yet but I can’t stop thinking about her. I’d like to peel her clothes off layer by layer.”

  “Don’t say that, degenerate! You’ll scare the shit out of her. She’s probably already worried about your reputation.”


  “I know but I want her in my life, not just in my bed. Romantic words have never come easily to me and I haven’t even tried since Shelly. I’m at a loss here. I need some Trashman approved, ‘I’ve fucked up’ verbiage. Dad mentioned Lake has an honors degree in English from a swanky private college. I barely passed English. I’m not going to be writing the next great American novel. Hell, I’d have a hard time putting something legible on a Post It note. I’m going to come up lacking in her eyes when I really want to impress her. Can you see the dilemma?” He didn’t admit to Jason that he wanted this woman more than any other before her, how his body ached to see her again and touch her skin. He didn’t understand why the universe conspired against him.

  “I would do what any other red blooded male feeling inadequate would do. Something I’ve done countless times throughout my marriage.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Plagiarize.”

  “That’s a great idea. Unfortunately, Walt Whitman doesn’t reside in this Chicago condo.”

  “Song lyrics work great. Listen to the radio or your iPod while you work out. I guarantee that will inspire you and you’ll think of something that will fit the bill.”

  “Thanks, Jason.”

  “My pleasure. Let me know how it goes.”

  Josh called his dad later that night with his tail between his legs. Chuck offered to do damage control by treating Lake to lunch and trying to sneak in an explanation about Lauren and the motives behind her porno texts. Lake needed to realize that Lauren belonged in the past. In fact, Josh had run into her in the lobby of their building soon after he’d returned home. While in the elevator together, he’d told her she should be ashamed of herself. He’d fibbed about leaving his phone on the charger at his dad’s house and how she’d shocked a sixty-seven year old man with her racy messages.