Rumors

by Phil M. Williams

  “I knew it! Well, I didn’t really know, but I suspected.” She grinned. “I know now.”

  Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you leave now, we can forget about this. Nobody has to get into trouble.”

  “Don’t you think I’m pretty?” She pouted with those luscious lips.

  “You are a pretty girl—”

  “Then why did you block me?” Ashlee asked. “Didn’t you like the picture I sent you?”

  “I blocked you because you’re a child. There’s nothing between us.”

  She winced as if she’d been slapped. “A child? I’m more of a woman than my mother, yet you fucked her.”

  “Ashlee, stop this right now. I want you to leave.” He pointed to his bedroom doorway.

  “You gave me a ride and your phone number. I see how you look at me. I know what you’re thinking.”

  Rick clenched his jaw. “You’re delusional. You have two choices. You can walk out of here, and we can forget all about this, or I’ll drag you out myself.”

  “You are so hot when you’re angry.”

  “What’s it gonna be?”

  “You could have me.” She bit the corner of her lower lip. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  Rick moved to the bedside. “Get up.”

  “We can do it standing up.”

  Rick grabbed her under her armpit and pulled her from his bed. She fell to the floor.

  She giggled again, sitting on the floor now. “So forceful.”

  “Get up. It’s time to go.”

  Ashlee took off her fleece, revealing a tight T-shirt, displaying her ample cleavage. Rick blew out a breath and stepped closer, reaching to grab her. As he did so, she opened the overlap of his towel, catching a glimpse of his penis.

  “Goddammit, Ashlee. Stop it,” Rick said, hoisting her to her feet.

  “Nice package,” she said, smiling, still in Rick’s grasp.

  Rick grabbed her upper arm and pulled her from the room.

  “Ow, stop it,” she said, her face twisted into a scowl. “Let go. I’ll walk myself.”

  Rick released her arm.

  She walked down the hall as if she were window shopping, looking at the framed photos that decorated the hallway. Mostly pictures of his mother and football photos from his playing and coaching days. She stopped in front of a cluster of photos from college.

  “Let’s go,” Rick said. “I’m not messing around.”

  She plucked a photo from the wall. Rick, a freshman in college, shirtless with two of his buddies after practice. “Can I keep this?”

  “Put it back.”

  She ran toward the door, laughing.

  Rick didn’t chase her. He knew that was what she wanted. She stood in the foyer, the frame now on the floor, the photo nowhere to be found.

  “Gimme the picture,” Rick said.

  She pursed her lips. “It’s in a safe place. You can come and get it, if you want.”

  Rick grabbed her arm and pulled her to the front door.

  “Ow, you’re hurting me,” she said.

  When he opened the door, he had to reach around Ashlee, almost like an embrace. She took advantage of this, planting a kiss on his lips.

  CHAPTER 44

  Janet, the Photographer

  Janet had been careful, following far behind, cutting her lights where possible, not worrying about losing him, given the nonexistent traffic. She’d followed Rick from Garden Grove to school, then to the Toad’s Stool, then to Gwen’s after that fat fuck cop let Rick go. That had really pissed her off. She’d slammed her palms on her steering wheel and screamed, “Motherfucker!” Then Gwen and Rick had had that syrupy-sweet kiss. Janet had imagined their heads exploding, like a watermelon at a rifle range. Not that she’d ever seen a watermelon at a rifle range or even been to a rifle range. She was antigun.

  On the way to Rick’s house, she’d gotten a little too close. Janet hadn’t realized how slow he was driving. He might’ve seen her car as he’d turned into his neighborhood, but so what? Other blue BMWs were on the road. Janet had driven past, then turned around, before entering Rick’s neighborhood. She’d parked down the street from his house, her lights off, with a decent view of his driveway.

  Janet had hoped to find out if he was seeing someone other than Gwen. If so, Janet would take pictures and ruin their cute little relationship. It wasn’t uncommon for attractive men to have respectable dates followed by a booty call. Janet had fiddled with her iPhone, reducing the exposure levels to help with the possible nighttime picture.

  Janet had surfed her phone while she waited. She’d clicked the Facebook notification from the West Lake Watchdog. She had to admit. She loved the West Lake Watchdog. Janet had read the post, bashing Rick’s play calling in the first half of the Garden Grove game. The author had speculated that Rick didn’t make the calls in the second half and was, once again, benefitting from the team’s great talent, and the kids were being held back by poor coaching.

  Janet had heard the rumble of an engine. She’d looked up from her phone to see a white Jeep park in Rick’s driveway. Janet knew of only one white Jeep. It had been the talk of the town when Ashlee Miles’s rich daddy had bought it for her.

  Janet had felt a wave of euphoria and excitement. She’d exited her car and hurried to his house, hiding behind a tree with a good view of the front door. She had hoped for a picture of the girl’s arrival, but Ashlee had already gone inside. Thankfully, the porch and garage lights had been on. Janet was no stranger to the difficulties of nighttime photography. When she had suspected her second husband was cheating, she had contacted a private investigator, but they were too expensive, so she’d had to DIY the investigation.

  She’d followed her second husband to his whore’s house. Janet had gotten great shots then but had learned the hard way about nighttime photography. None of the pictures had shown up, so she’d had to do it again. The second time had been much better. She’d learned that you had to have some light and you had to lower the exposure on the camera or the light you did have would turn the picture into a big white blurry mess.

  But this time she had been ready and waiting. In fact, she had been poised for the shot, because she had heard Ashlee cry out. She had said something like, “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

  When the door opened, Janet started shooting. Janet’s eyes widened at Rick in his towel, and Ashlee planting a kiss on his lips. Rick pushed Ashlee onto the stoop and slammed the door in her face. Janet continued to take pictures. Ashlee stood, shoeless, wearing a tight T-shirt and jeans.

  “Hey, I need my boots and my fleece,” Ashlee said, banging on the door. She took a step back, her hands on her curvy hips. She pounded on the door again and said, “Oh, Rick, you felt so good.” Then she said it louder, nearly shouting. “Oh, Rick, you gave it to me so good.”

  “Shut up,” Rick said, from the other side of the front door. “I’ll get your stuff.”

  Janet thought about switching to video, but she’d never tried to video at night. She worried it wouldn’t come out, so she stayed silent, mostly shielded by the tree, but poised to shoot again when Rick showed his face. But he didn’t. Rick simply opened the door just enough to toss a pair of boots and a fleece onto the stoop.

  Janet watched Ashlee put on her boots and drive away in her Jeep. Janet crept back to her car and scrolled through the photos. A wide grin spread across her face. Gotcha!

  CHAPTER 45

  Gwen and a Change of Scenery

  Leaves rustled overhead. To their left, ducks bobbed in the lake, dunking their heads and letting the water roll down their backs. Gravel crunched under their feet as Gwen and Rick walked on the trail. They were dressed for the occasion in jeans, hiking boots, and sweatshirts. Rick wore his worn WL Football hat.

  “Look at the turtles,” Gwen said, pointing and smiling at the four turtles sunbathing on a floating log.

  Rick smiled at Gwen. “I used to come here all the time, but I haven’t been in years.”

>   “Why not?”

  Rick shrugged. “Who am I gonna ask? Bob? I doubt he’s up for a romantic hike.”

  Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Is that what this is?”

  Rick turned beet red. “You know what I mean. I’m not even sure I’d invite him over to watch football at this point. He’s been acting really strange. I had to call the plays in the second half of Garden Grove. He’s been different ever since I benched Shane.”

  “Maybe he really likes Shane?”

  “As far as I know, he doesn’t have a close relationship with Shane. Unless …” Rick stopped in his tracks.

  Gwen stopped, facing him. “Unless what?”

  Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unless Janet has something to do with it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but, after I left your apartment on Friday, I swear I thought I saw her blue BMW.”

  “Do you really think she’d stalk you because you benched her son?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “So, you think she’s putting pressure on Bob somehow?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Bob’s under a lot of stress. He has a new baby at home. I know he worries a lot about money.”

  “You may want to talk to him about it.”

  “Yeah.” Rick nodded. “It may come to that, but I can’t imagine he’d admit it.”

  They turned and restarted their hike, walking side by side. A blue jay chirped on a low-hanging branch. Rick’s hand barely brushed against Gwen’s as their arms gently swayed.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked.

  Rick took Gwen’s hand, gently in his, not breaking stride. “It’s been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.”

  Gwen smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up for a second. “Me too.”

  They crossed a wooden footbridge, the creek underneath flowing into the lake, a bit of white water created by the submerged rocks. Gwen and Rick stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning on the railing and taking in the view.

  “This is my favorite spot,” Rick said.

  “I can see why.” Gwen took in the scene: the green leaves overhanging the creek, the flowing water, the expanse of blue lake in the backdrop, the sounds of squirrels scurrying on the forest floor, and the quacks and honks from the waterfowl. “It must’ve been wonderful to grow up around all this natural beauty.”

  “It’s not all creeks and ducks and turtles. We also have meth, poverty, and small-town politics.”

  “I don’t know that suburbia’s any better. I grew up with cookie-cutter houses, strip malls, and fast-food restaurants. Probably why I was overweight as a kid. I could’ve used a little more time outdoors.”

  Rick turned to her with a furrowed brow. “You were overweight?”

  She nodded. “Sad but true. I know I’m a healthy weight now, but I still see that fat girl in the mirror.”

  “I see a woman who’s beautiful, inside and out.”

  Gwen looked down, her face hot.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

  She looked back to Rick. “Don’t apologize. It’s sweet of you to say. Of course, I’m the one who needs to believe it.” She took a deep breath and stood up straight, still gazing at the creek flowing into the lake. “What about you? What was it like being Mr. Football?”

  “I was hardly Mr. Football.”

  Gwen had a crooked smile. “That’s not what I heard.”

  Rick smiled back. “I see you’re fitting right into rural life. Gossiping with the townies.”

  Gwen bumped her hip to his. “I wasn’t gossiping. … Well, maybe a little. Lewis told me that you were like a football God around here.”

  “Lewis is exaggerating. I guess I was decent for around here. Everybody thought I’d be the first kid to get a D-one scholarship, but there wasn’t much interest. I got a partial scholarship to Wingate College in Charlotte. It’s a Division II school. Even at D-two, I wasn’t prepared for the competition. I was used to being the big fish in a small pond. I did win the starting job my junior year, and I had a decent season, but I tore my rotator cuff in the first game of my senior year. That was it.” Rick snapped his fingers. “Just like that, it was over. I never threw a football again.” He blew out a heavy breath and leaned forward, his hands on the railing. “After I finished my degree, I came back home, my tail between my legs.”

  She put her hand on top of his. “You played football at a very high level. You finished your degree, and, from all my gossiping, I heard you’re a really great teacher and coach.”

  “I suppose that depends on who you talk to.” Rick forced a smile. “It all worked out in the end. The high school PE teacher was retiring, and I got the job. It was for the best anyway. My mom got sick, and I was here to be with her when she died.”

  “I’m sorry. … I didn’t know about your mom.”

  “It was years ago but thanks.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Yes and no. My parents divorced when I was five. My father remarried, had a couple kids, but they were never really in my life. For the most part, it was just me and my mom. She never married after my father left.” He paused for a moment. “What about you? Are your parents in Philly?”

  Gwen frowned for an instant. “They live in King of Prussia.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “One sister.” She was blank-faced.

  “You don’t seem too enthusiastic about your family. Is that why you’re here?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I guess I needed a change of scenery.”

  Rick nodded.

  After an awkward silence, Rick pushed off the railing and stood up straight. He held out his hand to Gwen. “You ready?”

  She placed her hand in his, flashed a brief smile, and they continued on their hike.

  CHAPTER 46

  Caleb and Ice

  It wasn’t hard to find Aaron Fuller on Instagram. Drew Fuller, his brother and the team’s best defensive player, was followed on Instagram by most of the football team, and Aaron also followed his big brother. Caleb figured the Fuller brothers probably conducted business via DM on Snapchat, given that messages were deleted after they’re viewed by both parties. The only problem was, Caleb didn’t know Drew or Aaron’s Snapchat username. Fortunately, Aaron used the same Snapchat username that he used on Instagram. So Caleb sent Aaron a DM.

  CalebMiles245: This is Caleb Miles. We played FB together freshman year. I need some stuff from Drew.

  Caleb wasn’t sure what to call drugs, but he knew it would probably piss off the Fuller brothers if Caleb mentioned “drugs” online, so he went with “stuff.” He wasn’t sure when or if he’d get a response. Did drug dealers work on Sunday? A response came a few minutes later.

  AaronDowntoClown: You a narc?

  CalebMiles245: ??? No. Just need stuff

  AaronDowntoClown: You got money?

  Caleb had eight dollars and some change.

  CalebMiles245: Some

  AaronDowntoClown: Come to my house at 7 tonight. Knock on back door. Know where it is?

  CalebMiles245: No

  AaronDowntoClown: 230 Riverside Drive West Lake

  CalebMiles245: I’ll be there

  AaronDowntoClown: You better not be wasting my fucking time

  CalebMiles245: I won’t

  Caleb sat on his bed, the afternoon sun shining through his bedroom window. He set his phone on the bedside table. He heard Ashlee shut her bedroom door, followed by her footsteps down the hall. He heard her exit their double-wide trailer, then the roar of her Jeep. The trailer was quiet now. Caleb stood, stepped to his bedroom door, opened it, and peered down the hall. His mother’s door was shut. She was at the gym. Caleb walked down the hall and entered Ashlee’s room, shutting her door behind him.

  The walls were painted lavender. The king-size canopy bed, with the thick purple comforter, dominated the room. Her dresser and
vanity were made of real wood. Not that pressboard shit he had. He looked through her drawers, under her bed, in her closet, but he didn’t find any money. He opened her jewelry box. It was filled with gold and silver necklaces, bracelets, and gemstone earrings. Caleb had never seen Ashlee wear this jewelry. Caleb had no idea how much the jewelry was worth, but her dad had bought it for her, so it must be worth something. He took a gold necklace near the bottom of the box. Hopefully she won’t notice that it’s gone.

  Caleb went back to his room with the necklace in the front pocket of his jeans. Riverside Drive wasn’t that far away. Caleb figured he could walk there in fifteen minutes. He checked the time on his phone—5:37. Caleb went to the living room and turned on his PlayStation. He had bought the PlayStation 2 a few years ago off a guy on Craigslist. Paid twenty bucks for a twelve-year-old console, but the guy hadn’t used it in a long time, so it still worked. He even threw in the games. Caleb played Grand Theft Auto. He stole cars, assaulted and murdered innocent bystanders, ran from the cops, and drove wildly through the mean streets of Vice City.

  An hour later, Caleb left his trailer with eight bucks and a gold necklace. The sun was orange and low on the horizon. His stomach twisted in knots as he pounded the pavement. By the time he reached Riverside Drive, he began to sweat, the smell of fear emanating from his pores. It wasn’t that hot, but he felt warm and nauseated.

  Caleb continued on Riverside, finally stopping in front of house number 230, a rusted single-wide trailer. It looked like a shipping container with windows. Caleb checked the time on his phone—6:57. He walked around back, the smell of dog shit intensifying. A pit bull barked and jumped on the chain-link fence. Caleb flinched, stepping back. Drew Fuller lay on a bench, pushing a mountain of weight off his chest, seemingly impervious to the barking and growling. On his last repetition, he was red-faced, veins popping, as he slammed the barbell on the rack. Drew sat up, shirtless, the blood draining from his face, his chest and shoulders covered with tattoos. He glared at Caleb or maybe the dog and stood. He was average height, but he had a commanding presence and a bodybuilder’s physique.