The Gossip

by Nancy Bush

  She thrilled a little, every time she recalled his words, which she had countless times over the last few weeks. My God, he was wonderful and he wanted her.

  Now Q-tip was moving off and Gray Hair was slipping into her place. Gray Hair was definitely more spunky, had her credit card in hand, thank God. And she had a helluva lot more than just produce going on there. Was that a bag of Chips Ahoy tucked in with the carrots, celery, and apples? You’re never gonna lose weight with those, honey.

  Rayne was really over old people. Her short-lived stint at Ridge Pointe had cured her of them.

  Rayne still hadn’t told Chas that she’d let Bibi in on their secret romance. He was death on anyone breaking into their perfect world. That’s what he’d said, anyway, and she’d believed him. But it hadn’t stopped her.

  “No, what’s he really like?” Bibi had demanded. “Where did you meet him? Why is he so secretive?”

  “He’s not secretive,” Rayne had hotly denied. And then she’d gushed on about him. His looks. His intelligence. The way he made love. “He’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life,” she’d told her friend, tears standing in her eyes. Bibi had given her that look that said, “I’ve heard this before,” and Rayne had rushed to let her know that this time it was different. Really it was. It worried her that Bibi would somehow ruin this for her. Bibi had demanded more information, but Rayne was purposely lean on details. She couldn’t tell her that she’d known Chas for years but under a different name. It would be a no-no in Chas’s book, and, well, she was also kind of embarrassed about how much of a dweeb he’d been back then. He’d left around freshman year, maybe junior high, she thought. She hadn’t even missed him.

  Bibi had finally eased off with the questions. She was on the edge of divorce herself, so she was somewhat distracted. She’d also been drinking too much and trying to live her life through Rayne. Rayne had desperately wanted to tell her absolutely everything, but she had to be careful what she said about Chas. He’d been very serious about keeping their relationship under wraps and she wasn’t going to blow it. No way. Uh-uh. Not until he was ready. She wanted a ring on her finger so she could wave her hand in front of her butthead older sister’s face. And she wanted to get married, too, of course. She’d left her shitty apartment with rent due three days ago and had filled up her trunk with her belongings while she figured out what to do. Camping out at Mama’s house was no answer, so she’d been living in her car and using the shower at Good Livin’, even with Patti’s glare knifing into her back whenever she entered. Her subscription to the club wasn’t up for a few more weeks, but Patti sure as hell wanted to kick her butt out. All because of Seth. Well, fuck her . . . and him, for that matter. She had a much brighter future ahead than either of them. They could have each other.

  She glanced down at her belly, protruding against the red silk of her blouse. She could admit she’d gained a couple of extra pounds since high school herself and well, she wasn’t old by any means, but at thirty-two she kinda thought she’d better get on with it. The world could change in an instant.

  If she and Chas had children . . . they would be smart like him, and cute like her. She was still cute. Even Bibi remarked on it. She just was a little pudgier than she’d been, although Chas had breathed in her ear as he’d squeezed her flesh, pinching her until it almost hurt, that all he wanted to do was be inside her, be enveloped by her.

  “God, you make me hard,” he’d whispered.

  Thinking about him, Rayne felt desire zing right to her core. Man . . . Lord . . . was she about to orgasm just at the memory? Right here in the checkout line?

  She fought a giggle and Gray Hair shot her a dark look. She wanted to stick her tongue out at the woman. She wanted to tell someone. Shout her love for Chas from the rooftops!

  “Our secret . . .” he’d said.

  Finally Gray Hair bagged up her groceries and left and it was Rayne’s turn.

  “ID,” the checker said, giving Rayne a hard look as she scanned the bottle of wine.

  Rayne already had slipped her small wallet from the back zippered pocket of her pants, a leather black-and-white-striped Kate Spade purchase that had cost her dearly. The wallet only had enough room for her driver’s license, a few folded bills, and a credit card, if she should happen to possess one, which she didn’t. She’d brought the Hobo bag for her purchases. Pulling out her license, she waited as the girl examined it closely. It might bug some people to be carded, but Rayne always liked it. Reminded her that she was still fairly young. Her whole life in front of her.

  The girl gave her a long look, slowly handed the license back, and checked her through. Rayne paid, then hurried outside, tucking the bottle in the woven gray bag, holding it close to her body against the light drizzle of rain. No, no, no. The weather needed to hold so they could go to the lookout.

  Rayne climbed in her Nissan with the bent fender that hadn’t been her fault. That woman in the parking lot of the Olive Garden had just backed into her without looking. What a fight that had been. Luckily, Mama had helped out with Rayne’s finances after a lot of bitching about her “inability to hold a job.” Well, she’d been at the Coffee Club for a while, hadn’t she? Ever since she’d left Good Livin’ and she’d been there since Ridge Pointe. It wasn’t like she didn’t work!

  But who knew . . . maybe she wouldn’t have to work much longer anyway.

  She drove like a madwoman to the parking lot at the base of the trail, the one in the strip mall that was right next to Ridge Pointe. Grabbing up her phone, she tucked it in her back pocket, then glanced inside the Hobo. Tucked in beside the bottle of wine were the two paper cups she’d taken from Starbucks and the wine opener from her mom’s messy utility drawer. She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed across the blacktopped lot toward the trail that ran behind it. Luckily, the rain was holding off. She wasn’t wearing a coat. She wanted Chas to see her blouse and how good she looked in it.

  There were small sticks and leaves littered over the trail as its popularity had waned over the winter. Also, the construction of the three big houses built around twenty years earlier and situated about halfway to the outlook had gotten rid of a lot of the naturalists. Oh, man. The brouhaha that had taken place in River Glen over the sale of that land . . . the freaking out over the demolition of the massive house that had stood there as a landmark for years . . . the screaming nutjobs who couldn’t handle any change . . . they’d all gone totally batshit crazy. Rayne’s own father had howled about the injustice of it all. The neighbors had practically gotten out their pitchforks and chased down the builder, but then he’d moved on to that big development on the west side, Staffordshire Estates, and the whole thing had finally died down except for some of the oldies around town who still held a grudge. Q-tip and “only produce” Gray Hair were likely in that camp.

  But, Chas!

  It was crazy how she couldn’t get enough of him. All she wanted to do was make love over and over again. Had she given herself to him too freely? Nobody cared about that anymore except . . . he’d made one comment about liking a challenge and she hadn’t been sure if he meant her or not.

  We’re made for each other.

  He’d said that, too. And they were. They really were! And if she could give up her job at the Coffee Club and live off his income—he’d told her he’d made a fortune in the stock market and been smart enough to know just when to get out and cash in—they could be happy forever.

  She thought about telling her sister she was engaged. She could just imagine the look on her face. Elise had always treated Rayne like she was an idiot when she was the one who always screwed up. Elise was so easy to mess with. She grinned, but then she thought of what her mother would say when she found out and it kind of killed Rayne’s joy.

  “Three weeks? Not even?” Mama would say. “Rayne! Use your brain, girl. What are you thinking?”

  “But I love him. And he loves me. HE LOVES ME.”

  She made a sound of frustration and pic
ked up her pace. She passed the side path that led to the three houses above. A massive wrought-iron gate blocked access from the trail to the path that wound up the hill. Her eye followed it to a ridge above the trail before it disappeared through trees and brush. A line of Douglas firs had been planted into the hillside to screen the underlying structures of the houses from the hikers, trees that spread out at the base but were meticulously pruned higher up to keep from obscuring the views from windows that looked over the river.

  Now Rayne was huffing and puffing as the trail grew steeper. The lookout was a helluva lot farther along than Chas had made it sound. It was apparently on the same upper height as the three houses but it was a good quarter of a mile along the trail past them. Jesus. Her chest burned and her thighs were killing her. She’d never been to the lookout. She hadn’t been on this trail but once. She wasn’t really into hiking.

  Finally, up ahead, she saw Chas leaning against a tree. He straightened when he saw her and signaled her to hurry up. She did, though her heart was pounding. Maybe from seeing him. Maybe from the unaccustomed exercise.

  “You brought a bottle of wine,” he observed with a smile, though it didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes. Her heart flipped painfully. Maybe he didn’t think it was such a good idea.

  She glanced down at her bag. The top of the wine bottle was visible. “I thought we could toast at the lookout,” she said a bit anxiously.

  “What are we toasting?” he asked.

  “Us. Three weeks . . . almost.”

  “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  Rayne opened her mouth and tried to lie but couldn’t say anything. Chas’s face shuttered and she knew he’d recognized the tell. “Not really.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ve kept it secret, like you said.”

  “You told someone,” he accused. “Your family?”

  “No, of course not. I just . . . I just mentioned I was seeing someone to my friend, Bibi. I didn’t tell anyone else. Promise.”

  “What did you say?” he demanded tersely.

  “Nothing! Really. I just said that I was . . . falling in love with you.”

  “Did you tell her my name?”

  “No . . .”

  “Rayne.”

  “Just your first name,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. Is it really that much of a secret?”

  His whole body was tense. He tore his eyes from hers and stared out toward the overlook, which jutted above the river about ten yards from the trail. Rayne also gazed at the small spur of land that ended in a railed arc above the river.

  Chas drew a deep breath, exhaled, and shook his head. “It’s fine. Let’s open that bottle, huh?” He smiled with an effort and reached a palm toward her. She handed him the bottle with the Starbucks cups upside down on its top, worried, needing him to say everything was all right. She shouldn’t have said anything about Bibi. She should have kept it secret, secret, secret until he was ready to let the world know. God, could he have a wife somewhere? Was there some reason that had real consequences attached to it? She wanted to ask him, but bit her tongue. Now was not the time.

  They walked toward the edge of the overlook and stood at the semicircle of the wrought-iron rail, both gazing across the chasm to more Douglas firs and a line of native white dogwoods that dotted the opposite bank. The East Glen River wound slowly along far below, its surface ruffled by a light wind that didn’t reach upward where they stood. Chas kicked a small pebble off the edge and it rattled down the side of the cliff toward the river.

  Rayne pulled the wine cork and her phone from her pocket, handing him the former. She set her phone on the ground as he gave her back the Starbucks cups, then expertly opened the wine, peeling back the foil and loosening the cork. It was a pinot noir that she’d paid dearly for, money she’d actually stolen out of her sister’s purse because it was open and just there.

  She held out the cups and he poured several inches in the bottom of each one.

  “To us,” he said.

  “To us.” She glanced down at her phone, her heart pounding hard. How she wanted to take a picture and share it on social media. Man, she would love to be an influencer, someone everyone else followed. But she felt kind of uncertain with Chas. Things were a little odd.

  “You want a picture,” Chas said, reading her mind as he took a sip.

  “I know you don’t want them. It’s okay.”

  “This is our secret. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  She just didn’t know why it had to be soooo secret. The thought that he could be married again made her heart jerk painfully. But even if that was true, she wasn’t giving him up. She couldn’t. She gulped her wine.

  He bent down and picked up her phone. Immediately she wanted to snatch it from his hands, afraid. She realized she’d never seen him use his phone, though its outline was in his back pocket.

  “Okay. Just one,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Hold up your glass . . . no, wait . . . stand back here.” He pointed to the railing as she’d automatically moved several steps forward. She resumed her position against the rail as he set down his cup, moved back, and aimed the phone at her.

  “I want one with the two of us,” she protested.

  He made a face. “Let me get one of you first.”

  She was ecstatic. He’d never allowed a picture before, which was silly, because he was in her junior high yearbook, maybe even her high school one from freshman year, for God’s sakes. He hadn’t been as averse to photos then.

  Maybe he’s on the run.

  Bullshit.

  “Okay, stay there.” He touched her arm, lightly grabbing her wrist. “Yeah. Good.” He held up the phone again.

  “You’re too close,” she said. He was right in front of her.

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  He peeked over the top of the phone mischievously, then leaned in for a deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and he pressed himself against her. She could feel his hard-on and said, “Mmmmmm,” against his lips.

  He pulled back and laughed.

  “Now, take the picture so I can get one of you,” she said.

  He gave her an “Oh, you . . .” look accompanied by a small smile.

  He lifted the phone, then slowly lowered it again.

  “Chas!” she complained on a laugh.

  “I just can’t leave you alone.”

  He suddenly tossed the phone behind himself and it hit the ground hard.

  “Be careful!” she said, shocked.

  His smile froze. “What did you say?”

  “I just didn’t want you to throw my phone like that. I just . . . don’t want it to break.”

  “Don’t you mean, be careful, Mr. Toad?”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that what you said?”

  She blinked. “I don’t know—”

  “I hate people who talk about me,” he said with heavy disappointment.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t really say anything. I’ll tell Bibi we broke up. She doesn’t even hardly care. She just—”

  He moved so swiftly she didn’t have time to catch her breath. Bending down, he grabbed her by her knees. Hoisted her up. Flung her over the rail. She inhaled, barely had enough air to shriek, “Chas!” as her foot caught in the rail. Her arms flailed. Her cup flew out of her hand. Then her head smacked hard into the cliff side and she saw stars.

  Through a haze of pain, she felt him grab her snagged foot. She moaned and vaguely swatted around to grip the rail.

  “Chas . . .” she murmured brokenly.

  “Goodbye,” he said with a sigh of regret. He shoved her foot through the rail. Rayne’s fingers scrabbled wildly, touched the metal rail, never gaining purchase. She hurtled headfirst over the cliff’s edge, hitting the edge of the headland once, then again, bouncing against hard dirt and rock, spinning and tumbling the long way down into the slow-moving river f
ar below.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When are you going to learn not to take on something you don’t want? Why did you listen to Bibi? You know she’s teetering on the edge of crazy. C’mon, Mac. Be smart.

  Mackenzie Laughlin looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the Waystation’s bar. She lifted her glass of neat vodka to her mouth and wetted her lips. She wanted to appear like she was drinking, but she couldn’t afford to get inebriated. She’d told Bibi she would look into Rayne Sealy’s disappearance and so here she was, day drinking at the Waystation while keeping an eye on the couple at the table in the corner, Rayne’s ex and his latest girl.

  “Hey, Mac!”

  The unwelcome shout from down the bar caused her to stiffen. Someone had recognized her? Just what she needed.

  Mackenzie cautiously slid a look out of the corner of her eye. The guy just strolling into the bar was tricked out in cowboy gear complete with Stetson, which he pushed higher onto his head with one finger as he caught her gaze and winked. She inwardly groaned. Donnie Gillis. She’d picked him up for DUI twice while she was still with the force and now he’d caught her in the middle of her surveillance. Well, shit. Pulling her gaze away, she picked up her drink again, refocusing on the mirror behind the bar, noting her own sour expression.

  “You on duty, copper?” Gillis asked gleefully, sliding onto an empty stool next to her. He was tall and thin and wasn’t terrible looking, but his weak chin was right on full display as he leaned toward her.

  She had to force herself not to move a stool over. “That’s when I drink the most.”

  “Hah. Funny. You’re funny.”

  He’d asked her out both times she’d taken him into the station. She’d told him she was in a relationship, which was a lie, but Donnie Gillis, known as Dobie to his friends, from the title character in an ancient television show, which was sometimes changed to Doobie because of one of his favorite choices of recreational drugs, was no slouch when it came to persistence.

  “I’m no longer a cop,” she informed him.