Overheated

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You’re not what she needs,” Dean continued. “And you know it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d have punched my lights out ten minutes ago.”

  Larry didn’t answer his brother. Instead he stared straight ahead and tried to pretend that Dean wasn’t right, that Dean wasn’t echoing the doubts that had been inside Larry’s head for the past two weeks.

  After a long minute’s silence, Dean cranked the radio back up, and Kent’s voice filled the air.

  “The folks at Maximus Motorsports and Vittle Farms have done an outstanding job of supporting the team this year. And the No. 427 team just keeps getting better and better. I don’t know if you saw my pit stops in Dover, Tammy, but we didn’t lose a second in the pits.”

  “Well, I saw those Dover pits stops,” came the host’s voice. “And your crew was on fire. Our next caller is from Boise, Idaho. Go ahead, Jack.”

  “Great to talk to you, Kent,” said the caller.

  “Hello there, Jack,” came Kent’s jovial reply.

  “Can you talk a bit about family rivalry? I see your Dad’s got the pole position for tomorrow’s race. How does that play into your strategy?”

  “We’ll be chasing Dad and the No. 414 car along with everybody else. He may be wily, but I’m eager, and I don’t plan to be in his rearview mirror for long.” Then Kent’s voice got more serious. “The Cargill Motorsports team is having a phenomenal year, and I’ve no doubt it’s going to be a great race.”

  “What about rumors of his retirement?” asked the host.

  “You’ll have to talk to Dad on that one,” said Kent.

  The host left a split second of dead air, then obviously accepted that Kent wouldn’t say anything further.

  “He’s doing a good job,” Larry said to Dean.

  Dean nodded. He was a veteran of many interviews, and he obviously knew they could get tricky, particularly when they were live.

  “Next caller. We have Patrick from Charlotte. A hometown fan.”

  “Hello, Kent?” came the caller.

  “Hi there,” said Kent.

  “I know there’s a lot of money involved in NASCAR. I wonder if you worry about scam artists.” The caller paused.

  “I don’t follow you,” said Kent.

  “Gold diggers,” explained the caller, his voice going hard. “Who take up, for example, with your uncle, who should know better than to be conned by a young, pretty face.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence, both on the air and at the barbecue. Larry met Crystal’s gaze and saw the hurt in her green eyes.

  He swore under his breath, rising from his chair to go to her.

  “If you’re suggesting some of the team’s wives and girlfriends are beautiful,” Kent’s voice followed him, “I’d have to agree with you. My fiancée, Tanya, for example is a knockout. Love you, honey. And my spotter’s new fiancée could stop traffic-even at 180 miles an hour. As for the money in NASCAR, I think it’s a well-documented fact that racing is expensive. That’s why we appreciate the support of sponsors like Vittle Farms and, of course, Dawson Ritter and Maximus Motorsports. We couldn’t race without them.”

  “We have to take a short break,” the announcer put in. “For some words from one of our favorite sponsors.”

  “That was outrageous,” Patsy hissed.

  Crystal’s lower lip trembled, but she put on a smile. “Kent did a great job deflecting. We’ll have to thank him for that. You have a very intelligent son.”

  Larry drew Crystal into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries,” she said, pulling back, and turning her attention to the table, brushing off some imaginary dust and straightening a fold that didn’t need straightening.

  “Why do people have to fixate on age?” said Patsy vehemently.

  “You’re joking,” came Dean’s dry voice as he joined them, opening the barbecue and picking up a pack of matches.

  Patsy glared a warning at her husband.

  He glared right back. “You’ve done nothing but fixate on my age for months.”

  Larry was too stunned to immediately react. His brother and sister-in-law looked genuinely furious.

  “Not now,” Patsy said, and Larry snagged Crystal’s elbow, easing her away from the married couple.

  Dean slammed down the barbecue lid.

  Patsy glanced around at the group of people studiously concentrating on other things. Obviously mortified, she fled into the motor home.

  “Should I go after her?” Crystal asked Larry in a worried voice.

  “Probably give her a minute.” He tilted his head to look at Crystal. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “We should talk about this.”

  “About what?”

  He drew a sigh. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know your IQ, remember?”

  “It’s one wing nut’s opinion. Patsy’s the one with the real problem.”

  Larry sat down on a lawn chair, drawing Crystal sideways between his knees. “We can talk about it later.”

  She crouched down to perch on his thigh, sending him a smoldering gaze. “Talking’s not what I’d planned to do later.”

  IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL WEEKEND for Crystal and everybody else. Kent took third in the Pocono race, while Dean settled for fourth. Dean barely missed being caught up in a Bart Branch instigated pileup, which probably upset Patsy. She left the track before the end of the race.

  By the time Crystal realized she was gone, it was too late to go after her, and nobody heard from her before Crystal and Larry packed up for home.

  Saturday night had been glorious in Larry’s arms, but he’d been strangely quiet all day Sunday. And now, pulling up to Crystal’s staircase, he shut off the engine and angled his body to face her in the car.

  “I promised myself I’d do this before I dropped you off,” he said.

  She swiveled to face him, bracing her back against the car door, making out his face in the stark white of the parking lot lights. “Do what?”

  “I think…” He paused and pulled his hand over his chin. “I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

  Crystal’s stomach plummeted, and her entire world shifted beneath her. “What?” she barely rasped, desperately hoping she’d misunderstood.

  But he nodded his head. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.” He choked out a self-deprecating laugh. “A hell of a lot of thought.”

  Crystal struggled to understand his bombshell. “Is this because of the call-in show?”

  “It’s because of a lot of things.”

  “The guy was a judgmental jerk.”

  “But he hurt you.”

  “He didn’t hurt me,” she protested. “He’s a total stranger.”

  “I saw it in your eyes,” said Larry.

  “You were thirty feet away.”

  He gripped the steering wheel, focusing out the windshield. “I’m not the right guy for you.”

  Real fear gripped Crystal. “Yes,” she insisted. “You are.”

  He shook his head. “You want children.”

  “Not that badly.”

  He looked at her again. “You deserve children. I’ve seen you with Jennifer and David, and you’ll make a great mother.”

  “And you make a great father. That doesn’t mean-”

  “I am a father. That’s the difference.”

  Crystal stared in silence at his implacable face. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t do this to her. She loved him. She was completely and desperately in love with him, and she couldn’t imagine her life going forward any other way.

  “I don’t understand,” she tried.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She shook her head in denial. “If you loved me-”

  “Because I love you, I’m walking away. I’m not what you need.”

  “You’re exactly what I need.”

  He reached for her hand across the dim front seat. “You need someone younger. Someone in the same sp
ace of life as you.”

  She gave a cold laugh, yanking her hand away from his. If she was forced to endure his gentle touch, she’d burst into tears. She had to stay strong here. She had to somehow convince him he was wrong.

  “And what space of life is that?” she asked.

  “Starting a family, not finishing one off.”

  She felt a spurt of anger. “Is that how you see yourself? Finishing off.”

  “I’m fifty years old.”

  “Yeah, you’re fifty, not eighty-five.”

  “Crystal.”

  “Don’t Crystal me. There are two of us in this relationship. It’s not all up to you.”

  “It’s for your own good.”

  “If you loved me, you would fight for me.”

  “I am fighting for you. And the person I’m fighting is me. I’m walking away so that you can have the life you deserve. If you think this is easy for me-”

  Panic clawed at her chest. “Then don’t do it.”

  “I have to do it.”

  “No.” She shook her head frantically. “You don’t.”

  Larry took a deep breath. “You’ll thank me-”

  Anger overcame everything else. “I will never thank you. Leave me if you have to, but don’t pretend it’s for me. There’s no younger version of you waiting on the next street corner. There’s you and there’s me, or there’s nothing at all.”

  He reached for her again, but she shrank back.

  “That’s simply not true,” he told her. “There’ll be other men.”

  “Other men? You can actually visualize me with other men?”

  Something flashed in his eyes. Sorrow, hurt, rage? She couldn’t tell. But it changed instantly to determination. “If I stay, then I’m a selfish son of a bitch.”

  The fight went out of her, and tears threatened. “You truly believe that?”

  His hands twisted convulsively on the steering wheel. “I know that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her voice nearly broke.

  He shook his head. “You’ll thank me, Crystal. I know you will.”

  Her eyes burned, and she was forced to blink rapidly. He thought he was saving her, and there was no way to talk him out of it. She stared into his eyes, remembering last night, remembering every single, joyous moment they’d had together.

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  He gazed lovingly into her eyes, and she thought she had him. He remembered. He got it. He knew they were meant for each other.

  But his voice broke, and he answered her. “I have to.”

  She closed her eyes, while the world spun. Groping blindly, she clutched at the door handle. Her overnight bag was in the back, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of the car, and she had to do it now.

  She wrenched open the door and fled up the stairs.

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, Crystal didn’t look back. Her hand shook as she inserted the key into the lock.

  Her phone was ringing in the kitchen, and for one wild, optimistic moment, she thought it might be Larry’s cell, that he’d changed his mind, that he was calling her back.

  But Amber’s number flashed on the screen.

  “No,” she wailed. Not now. Please, not now.

  But she picked up the call. It could be Jennifer. Or something might be wrong.

  She took a breath. “Hello?”

  “Crystal? Oh, Crystal. Where have you been?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I called and called,” said Amber, a slur apparent in her voice. “I needed to talk to you,” she hiccupped.

  “Where are you?” asked Crystal. “Where are the kids?”

  “I’m home,” Amber sang. “They’re sleeping.”

  “Are you sure? Are they all right?”

  “I’m sure.” Amber gave a big sigh. “I had a fight with Zane. He left.”

  Crystal couldn’t help the surge of relief. “Did he leave town?”

  “I think so.” The tears came back into Amber’s voice. “Oh, Crystal. I’m so messed up.”

  Crystal swiped at her own tears with the back of her hand, ripping a tissue from the box and crossing to her couch. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “Who?”

  “Zane.”

  “Uh, no. I don’t think so.” Something rustled in the background. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You can’t remember?” Crystal cringed. This was worse than she thought. “Are you sure the kids are okay?”

  The couch springs squeaked. “I’m walking-oops.” Amber giggled. “I’m walking to the bedroom.”

  “Don’t wake them up,” Crystal warned.

  “Shh,” Amber slurred into the phone.

  “Sound asleep,” she announced.

  “Both of them?”

  “Uh-huh. They’re so beautiful. My babies.”

  “Yes, they are,” Crystal agreed. “And they need you.”

  “They need me.” A sob escaped from Amber’s throat. “I’m not a good mommy.”

  “You’re a fine mommy.” Sometimes. Most of the time. At least when Zane wasn’t in town.

  “I’m not,” Amber disagreed. “But you’re great. You’re the best auntie in the world.”

  Her words were close enough to Larry’s that Crystal’s chest started to burn. Larry was gone. He was out of her life, and she had to find a way to carry on.

  “You should sleep,” she managed to say around the lump in her throat.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m so messed up, Crystal.”

  It was the second time Amber had used that phrase, and a horrible thought crept into Crystal’s mind.

  “You didn’t do anything…Uh, something other than alcohol, did you?”

  “A little weed.”

  “Amber!”

  “Just a little. I was sooo…” She drew out the word. “Zane wanted to, and he was mad. Oh, Crystal. He’s mad. He left. He said…”

  Crystal battled the urge to rush over to her sister’s house. But the kids were asleep, and Zane was gone. And if her state was anything to go by, Amber would soon fall asleep as well. Jennifer had her own cell phone. She’d call if she needed help.

  “Amber?”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “No, honey. You’re not stupid. You need to get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

  “Zane says I am.”

  “Zane is stupid. And he’s gone. Did you lock your door?”

  “Isss locked.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Check for me, okay?”

  “I’m standing up-whoops-again.”

  The sound of fumbling and tapping came through the phone.

  “All locked up,” said Amber.

  “The deadbolt and chain?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.”

  More rustling. “I love you, Crystal.”

  “I love you, too. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “He’s gone,” Amber sighed.

  “That’s a good thing,” said Crystal. “You don’t need him. I want you to lie down.”

  “Lying down. He’s gone.” And her voice faded away.

  “He’s gone,” Crystal repeated, thinking of Larry, hitting the off button on the phone. Her eyes instantly welled up with fresh tears.

  AT FOUR IN THE MORNING, Larry was a raw mass of pain. He knew he’d done the right thing, but he also knew that if he stuck around Charlotte, he’d be rushing back to Crystal, begging for her forgiveness before the day was out.

  He threw some clothes into his suitcase, sent an e-mail to his assistant, asking him to stop by and water the plants, then he checked the weather report to make sure he could land at Myrtle Pond.

  His cell phone rang and, for a frightening moment, he thought it was Crystal. He hated the way his heart lifted, and he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to tell her goodbye a second time. But it was his brother’s
number on the display. Dean, who knew full well Larry was always up by four.

  He pressed the talk button. “What’s up?”

  Dean’s voice was hoarse. “You haven’t, by any chance, heard from Patsy?”

  “What?”

  “She never came back to the track. And she didn’t come home last night.”

  Patsy would normally take the team plane back to Charlotte. But if she was avoiding Dean, she might have found another way home.

  “Maybe she’s on her way,” said Larry. “Maybe she booked a commercial flight.”

  “Yeah,” said Dean. “That’s probably it.”

  “Did you try her cell?”

  “I left a few messages.”

  “Dean,” Larry paused. “How bad is this?”

  His brother was silent for a few beats. “I think she might have left me.”

  “For refusing to retire?” That didn’t sound like Patsy.

  “I said some things to her Saturday night.” Another pause. “It was our biggest fight. Ever. We both lost our tempers…”

  Larry stepped back in. “Maybe she just needs a day or so. She loves you.”

  “Maybe,” said Dean, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Will you call me? If you hear from her?”

  “Of course,” said Larry. “Have you talked to Kent?”

  “Yeah. We’re trying to keep this quiet. We don’t want the tabloids getting wind of it. Do you mind checking with Crystal? She and Patsy seemed close on the weekend.”

  Larry hesitated. “That’s not a real good idea.”

  “Why? Is she there? If she’s there-”

  “I can’t call Crystal.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we broke up last night.”

  There was silence on the other end. “You-”

  “Don’t say a thing,” Larry warned. “Not a thing. I’m going to Myrtle Pond for a few days. I’ll call you if I hear from Patsy.”

  “Thanks. Larry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hang in there.”

  Larry shut off the phone.

  He pictured Crystal’s laughing face.

  He could get in his car. Drive to her house. Get down on his knees and beg her forgiveness. Tell her he’d stay with her every day, hour and minute if she’d let him.

  Or he could fly to Myrtle Pond and let her find another man and get on with her life.

  His hands curled into fists. He clenched his jaw. Then he cursed a blue streak while slamming the lid down on his suitcase.