He caught her still opened car door as she folded herself in it, her hand shooting out to the handle and he pushed back as she pulled in.
“Rocky, hang on a second,” he said, crouching in the open door.
She kept her eyes glued to the steering wheel. “You should go in.”
“Look at me.”
“You should…” She took a deep breath and then turned to him with a bright, totally fake smile. “Thanks for dinner. It was nice. My treat next time.” She looked to the house then back at him before she said softly, “You should go in, Layne. She probably feels like an idiot. You need to talk to her.”
“Roc –”
“Go in,” she whispered, her voice suddenly trembling so much it was hard to hear in more ways than one. She was losing it. “Layne, please get out of my door and go into the house.”
He started to lift a hand to her face saying, “Baby –”
Her head jerked forward and her eyes squeezed closed. “Don’t! Please, please just go in.”
He stared at her profile and clenched his teeth. Then he straightened, stepped out of the door, slammed it, she fired up her car and backed out fast, accelerating forward even faster.
He watched until he lost sight of her car then stalked into his house, the look of Rocky, tears and pain in her eyes, burned on his brain, and he threw open the storm door, the front door, slammed it and moved through the house, taking the steps two at a time.
Melody was in his bedroom quickly yanking down a t-shirt. He saw her bag on the floor and she couldn’t have been there more than two hours and the fucking thing had already exploded. There were two glossy shopping bags from her store lined against the wall.
“You know I was shot nine weeks ago,” he bit out.
She didn’t look at him when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“That coulda had a different ending, I thought for a second before I walked into this goddamned house that someone might have broken in and I came in armed.”
She jerked her head toward him. “Tanner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”
“No, you didn’t. Fuck, even in LA, you pulled that shit, that coulda happened. You know better.”
“I know!”
He kept at her. “It coulda been Jas comin’ home from his date and gettin’ an eyeful.”
She shook her head and rushed to her bag, dropping to her knees and shoving things in.
“Things have changed, Melody, from when it was you and me and sun and a population of people with bleached teeth in LA.”
“I know, Tanner,” she told her bag.
He stared at Melody but all he could see was Rocky.
Fuck! Why couldn’t he get that fucking look on Rocky’s face out of his goddamned head?
She zipped her bag closed and he watched her. Melody was tall, lean, great tits and they were real. Thirty-five. Long, dark hair. Blue eyes. She was also funny and sweet.
Fuck him.
Layne made a decision.
“DeeDee, come here,” he said softly and her head shot back.
“I saw,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head and looked down at her bag and, slowly, she straightened.
She had grace, she was in tune with her body, but she wasn’t fluid.
She turned to look at him.
“I didn’t get it, I didn’t understand why you… with me, why you wouldn’t…” She shook her head and took in a deep breath then continued. “I looked through your stuff. I found the envelope. I saw the pictures. I know who that woman is.”
Layne’s anger had ebbed out of him but it came back, slicing through him like a blade.
He didn’t speak because he couldn’t without yelling.
“Some of them had her name on the back,” she whispered. “Rocky.”
“That was not cool,” he said low.
“I know,” she replied quietly then tilted her head to the side. “Are you back with her?”
“No. We’re workin’ a case together.”
“She’s a detective?”
“She’s a teacher.”
She stared at him a second, thrown, then she smiled and it wasn’t a happy smile.
“A teacher,” she whispered.
“DeeDee –”
“Even with that case with that drug guy who shopped at my store, you didn’t let me work it with you and I begged you to let me help.”
“That wasn’t safe.”
“Is this?” she asked but she knew. She’d called a couple of weeks after he was shot and he’d told her because he figured she’d eventually know. Since he’d left LA, she visited him during her vacations and he definitely didn’t wear a shirt the entire time she was there. Even though she couldn’t know it was the same case, she sure as fuck knew his work wasn’t always a trip through the light fantastic. “You want to be with her,” she surmised.
“It isn’t like that,” he returned.
“Yeah?” She tipped her head again and then pointed to the floor. “A girl knows, Tanner, and during that scene, you didn’t take your eyes off her. And after it, you went after her. You told me to get dressed then you went after her.”
“She just fell to the fuckin’ floor, Melody,” he reminded her, crossing his arms on his chest.
She stared him in the eyes then she whispered, “You went after her.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he clipped.
She bent double and grabbed the handle to her bag, lifting it up, she hooked it on her arm and walked to him.
Her hand came up, fingers fiddling with the lapel on his jacket, her eyes watching them.
“I knew this would look good on you,” she whispered. “But then, anything would look good on you.”
“DeeDee.”
“What’s in those bags,” she jerked her head back to indicate his room, “they’re for you.”
He uncrossed his arms and both hands went to her waist. “DeeDee,” he murmured and her eyes lifted to his as her hand came to his neck.
“I hope you get her back.” She was still whispering and Layne’s hands got tight on her waist. “In those pictures, you looked happy. Even when you’re laughing, you don’t look completely happy, but in those pictures…” She stopped and her fingers squeezed his neck. “I hope you get her back and she makes you happy like that again.”
Then she pulled away from his hands and walked to the stairs and, when she did, Rocky’s face came back into his head.
So Layne stood there and listened to the front door slam.
Then he heard her car door slam.
Then he heard her car driving away.
And he let her go.
Chapter Eight
You Fit
“Do you get it?” Rocky whispered in his ear.
He was on top of her, still inside her, all four of her limbs wrapped tight around him, skin against skin, her body soft underneath him.
“Get what, baby?” he whispered back.
Her limbs squeezed.
“Why I left you?”
* * * * *
Layne’s eyes opened.
He was on his stomach in his bed in his dark room.
He rolled to his back, muttering, “Christ.”
* * * * *
His back was to the weight bench, feet to the floor, he cocked his elbows, taking the weights down then, on an exhale through his teeth, Layne pushed them up.
Tripp came out of his room and Layne’s head turned to the side. He saw his son scratching his ass and shuffling to the bathroom.
“Hey Dad,” he mumbled.
Layne cocked his elbows, “Hey Tripp,” then he pressed the weights up.
He heard the bathroom door close.
* * * * *
Showered, shaved, Layne stood at the island watching Tripp sitting opposite him eating his fourth donut, his eyes across the room on the TV. Blondie, Layne knew even though he couldn’t see her, was lying at the foot of Tripp’s stool licking up
powdered sugar residue that fell from Tripp’s donut onto the floor.
Layne held his cell to his ear and heard for the third time that morning, “You’ve reached Rocky’s voicemail… leave me a message.”
He flipped his phone shut and muttered, “Fuck.”
Tripp’s eyes came to him. “What?”
“Nothin’, Pal.”
Layne looked at the clock over the microwave. It was ten after ten. They were supposed to be at her old place at ten. She was supposed to be at his house at twenty to ten. She had the boxes in the back of her Merc, they were taking the Suburban.
She didn’t show.
Layne tagged his keys off the counter and told Tripp, “I gotta get to Rocky’s. We gotta do something at her old place. I don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll be home by the Colts game.”
Tripp was still looking at him and asked, “Where’s Melody?”
Layne had started to turn to leave, he stopped, looked his son in the eye and answered, “She’s gone, Tripp.”
Tripp kept looking at him. Then he asked, “Gone gone?”
“Gone gone,” Layne confirmed.
Tripp nodded and murmured, “I liked her.”
“I did too, Pal.”
Tripp nodded again, swallowed and looked at the TV. Then he whispered, “Like Rocky better.”
“Tripp –” he started to warn.
Tripp’s eyes came fast to him. “I know what it is but you two fit.”
Layne stared at his son, thrown. “We fit?”
“She does what she believes in too,” Tripp explained.
“What?” Layne asked softly.
“All the work you do for people. Dina Kempler’s Dad, he was a jerk, her Mom couldn’t get rid of him, jackin’ her around all the time even though they’re divorced and you helped. She told me. She told me her Mom found out about you because you helped her Mom’s friend too. You’re practically famous at my school. You don’t think kids talk?”
He knew kids talked he just didn’t know Dina Kempler’s Mom Kim would talk to her daughter about that.
“Tripp, don’t –”
“Mrs. As… I mean Rocky, she spends a whole week making kids listen to rock music. She says lyrics are poetry. She says some of the greatest storytellers are rock stars. They tried to get her to stop but she fought and she won and they still listen to music. It’s not the same but it is. You know? You fit. Melody sells clothes. Her clothes are sweet and she’s nice but you and Melody, you don’t fit.”
Layne studied his son knowing his boy was sharp but thinking he’d vastly underestimated him.
But he couldn’t have this conversation now. Not that he ever wanted to have it but he couldn’t have it now.
“I gotta get to Rocky, Pal,” Layne said quietly.
After he said those words, Tripp eyes stayed locked to his.
Then he grinned. “Tell her I said hi.”
Yes, he’d vastly underestimated Tripp.
Layne grinned back and headed to the garage.
He was about to pull out when Jasper came tearing through the garage door wearing a wife beater and sweatpants that had been cut off at the knees, what he wore to bed. His hair was a mess, sleep still in his eyes but his manner seemed urgent.
“Dad!” he shouted and Layne put the truck in neutral and set the parking brake.
Jasper raced to the passenger side door, climbed up and settled in, slamming the door.
“God! Glad I caught you. I heard the door go up and –”
“Jas, I need to get to Rocky’s.”
Jasper nodded then said, “You were busy with work yesterday and I didn’t know how important this was so I didn’t want to bug you but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Layne felt his neck muscles contract. “Know what?”
“Know that before Tripp and I took off for the game, some guy came over. He was over for, like, one second but Stew gave him one of those yellow envelopes, the ones with thick paper, but it was small, like a normal envelope and it was stuffed full. The flap was folded in so I couldn’t see what was in it but it was stuffed full, Dad.”
Shit.
“You get a good look at this guy?”
Jasper nodded again. “You said, if I got a bad vibe, I should tell you and this guy, he was Mr. Bad Vibe.”
Fucking shit.
Jasper went on. “Tall, big pot belly, black hair, white dude. He was wearing sunglasses and it was dark, Dad. And he was wearing a lot of gold. Necklaces. A couple of rings. And he had piercings, the top of his left ear, both earlobes and the left side of his bottom lip.”
“You ever see him before?” Layne asked.
“Nope,” Jasper answered.
“Never, not anywhere?” Layne pushed.
“No, Dad.”
Layne nodded. “Good work, Bud.”
Layne could swear he saw Jasper’s chest expand.
Then Jasper asked, “Do you know him?”
Yeah, Layne knew him. He also knew that Stew bet the dogs and obviously wasn’t any good at it.
“Yeah,” Layne answered.
“Am I right? Is he Mr. Bad Vibe?”
Jas was right. Carlito was Mr. Bad Vibe and it wasn’t a good sign a loan shark was showing up at the house to make collections.
“You see this guy again, Jasper, you’re invisible, so’s your brother.”
“What about Mom?”
“Was your Mom there?”
“No, she was still at work.”
“You tell me if he ever shows and your mother is there, yeah? In fact, you tell me if you ever see him again at all, I don’t care where you are.”
Jasper nodded. Then he asked, “Will you…” he paused, “will you take care of it?”
Layne nodded. “Yeah, Jas. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ll take care of Mom?”
Layne drew breath into his nose. Then he answered, “I’ll take care of your Mom.”
That golden light came into his son’s eyes and he whispered, “Thanks Dad.”
Jasper started to turn to the door but Layne caught him by calling his name and Jas turned back. “How was your date with Keira last night?”
Jas was playing it cool. During pizza, he’d asked her but waited until the next Saturday to take her out. Last night was their second date. That didn’t mean they didn’t text each other seven hundred times a day and hang together during pizza after subsequent games but they met there then Jasper took her home. He was playing it cool, his kid was good.
A slow smile spread on Jasper’s face and, watching it widen, Layne knew exactly how the date went.
Then, surprising him, Jasper shared. “She’s a nut. She cracks me up. She’ll do anything, say anything. But I reckon I gotta keep on my toes. When I say she’ll do anything and say anything, she’ll do anything and say anything.” Layne knew by the look on his boy’s face that this was in no way a bad thing. Jasper’s smile changed before he went on. “It’s good she hooked up with me, she such a nut, she needs a badass to take her back.”
Layne chuckled.
Even at his age, Jasper had serious experience with girls but Jasper had no idea what he was up against with Keira. Layne hadn’t spent a lot of time around Keira Winters but he figured his son was not wrong and therefore Joe Callahan’s life was likely a living hell with that teenaged spitfire in it. If Cal got it that Jasper was taking his girl’s back, Jasper wouldn’t have any problems with Cal. Fuck, Cal might even be grateful to share the load.
“When’re you goin’ out with her again?” Layne asked.
“I thought, if you’re cool with it, and Rocky’s cool with it, I could ask her over for pasta bake this week, sometime Rocky’s here. Keira totally digs Rocky. She thinks she’s the bomb. I’d score huge if I made her dinner when Rocky was here.”
He would score huge with that. The problem was, after what happened last night, Layne wasn’t certain Raquel Merrick Astley was even in the country.
Even so, Layne muttered,
“I’ll have a word with Roc.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Then Jasper didn’t delay in throwing open the door and jumping out of the truck. But he treated Layne to a half wave before he disappeared into the house.
Layne stared at the door to the garage for a few beats after he lost sight of his son realizing that Jasper just shared, he’d done it without any coaxing or pushing and he’d done it openly.
Layne drew in breath then smiled as he backed his truck out of the garage.
He drove to Rocky’s, punching in the alarm code at the gate hoping they hadn’t changed it. They hadn’t. He drove to her unit and saw all three parking spots for apartment three were empty. He nevertheless swung into one, exited his SUV, jogged across the pavement and up the steps to her door. He pressed the buzzer and waited. Then he did it again. Then he knocked. No show, he didn’t even hear movement in the house.
Slowly, the tranquility he’d felt after his talk with Jasper fading, another less enjoyable feeling invading, he walked back down the steps, pulling his cell out of the back pocket of his jeans and he called Dave.
“Hello?”
“It’s Layne.”
“Well, hey there, son,” Dave greeted.
“Listen Dave, Roc and I were supposed to go pick up some shit from her old house. We got our wires crossed. I thought she was meeting me at my place but she didn’t show. She’s not at her place either. I figure she went over there already and Astley’s over there with his girl. Do you have the address?”
There was silence, then, “He’s over there?”
Layne bleeped the doors on his truck. “Yeah.”
“He was supposed to take off so she could do what she had to do,” Dave informed him.
“We ran into him at dinner last night and he decided he didn’t want to be so cooperative,” Layne explained.
There was more silence, then, quietly, “That guy’s a piece of work.”
“Yeah, Dave. Do you have the address?” Layne asked as he swung into the driver’s seat.
“One three three Greenbriar. The Heritage.”
“Got it, thanks,” Layne said and flipped his phone closed, started up the truck, backed out of his space and headed to The Heritage.
He’d never been to Rocky’s place but he’d been to The Heritage. He had a couple of clients who lived there. The development was exclusive, the lots large, the houses huge, the estates spread-out. The space of The Hermitage was vast but there weren’t a lot of homes in it. One couldn’t say that the ‘burg didn’t have its elite but there weren’t that many of them and even fewer who could afford a place on The Heritage. Most of the occupants of The Heritage worked and socialized in Indy, some of them even commuted to Chicago.
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