The Hookup

by Kristen Ashley

  “I know,” she replied.

  Right then, a police car pulled up the lane.

  “Right, out,” Cary said into the speaker at his shoulder.

  He looked back to Johnny.

  They were alone outside Izzy’s house.

  “They caught him on 36. High speed chase. He lost control, ended up in a ditch, tried to run through a field, they ran him down. He’s in custody. And to get back to what we were talking about, he’ll be goin’ down for kidnapping, vehicular theft as well as bank robbery, Johnny. But he’d have been doing that last before you shared what you just shared. We knew.”

  Johnny stared into his eyes.

  “The bank teller he was doing came in the day after. She wasn’t sure, but since he wrote her a note she thought was about him disappearing, but then reconsidered, she suspected. Shandra took off, leaving you, we looked into shit, gathered the evidence, of which that moron left plenty, we knew,” Cary went on.

  Johnny jerked up his chin.

  “But I’m glad you told me,” Cary said low, referring to the conversation Johnny had been having with him before his radio squawked. “It wouldn’t have meant anything. Hearsay. You had no physical evidence. It would have just sealed a deal on a slippery felon who’d already had the deal sealed on him. Though I wish you’d have come forward earlier.”

  “Shandra gonna get fucked in this?” he asked.

  “That’s for the DA to decide. She aided and abetted a bank robber. But no one was harmed during the robbery and everyone knows how screwed in the head that family is. Shandra’s the only decent one in the lot. Everyone thought she’d make her way clear bein’ with you. Pretty much everyone reckoned, Stu disappeared, she did too, he dragged her down all the same.”

  “For what it’s worth, she tried to get him to turn himself in.”

  Cary nodded. “I’ll talk to the chief and the DA. Chief’s lived in Matlock thirty years longer than me. I reckon he knows the tale of woe of Shandra and Stuart Bray. She might get slapped on the wrist. Worst, community service. But I doubt that, since she got Brooks Forrester and called it in, giving up her brother. Two wrongs don’t equal a right. But one wrong and one right makes you even.”

  It was Johnny who nodded then.

  Cary looked to the house. “Glad this had a happy ending.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Johnny muttered, even though “glad” was not the word he would have used.

  Cary looked back at him. “No, Johnny. For that baby, goes without sayin’ I’m glad he’s home safe. But I’m also talking about another happy ending.”

  Johnny just stared at him.

  Cary grinned. “She as sweet as they say?”

  “She’s the world.”

  Cary blinked.

  Then he smiled.

  Then he clapped Johnny on the arm and headed to his cruiser.

  Johnny watched him get in and drive away.

  And he watched Izzy’s empty lane, assessing the calm of his heart, making sure it was still there.

  He felt her arm curl around his waist and her weight lean into him.

  He lifted an arm to wrap around her shoulders and kept his eyes on the lane.

  “You told him, didn’t you?” she asked.

  Fuck yes, he did. If it meant just a month more on Stu’s sentence, he was going to spill.

  “Yup.”

  “Are you gonna get in trouble?”

  “Nope.”

  “Angry you didn’t get the chance to beat the crap outta him?”

  “Yup.”

  “Me too,” she whispered.

  That was when he looked down at her.

  She lifted blue eyes up to him and gave his waist a squeeze.

  “It’s all good, häschen, let’s go inside.”

  “All right, baby.”

  She didn’t move.

  She called, “Johnny?” like she wasn’t staring straight at him.

  “Yeah?” he answered anyway.

  “Ich liebe dich auch.”

  He kept looking at her.

  Then he busted out laughing.

  But while doing it, he curled his Eliza to his front and he kissed her.

  I’m a Dreamer

  Johnny

  IT TOOK A lot out of Johnny to watch the man walk into the room in his shoelace-less sneakers and orange jumpsuit.

  And bile raced up Johnny’s throat at seeing the excitement in his face as his eyes darted back and forth between Johnny and the woman standing beside him.

  He sat in the seat on the opposite side of the glass and swiftly yanked the telephone that was there out of its cradle.

  Slowly, Johnny sat in the chair in front of him and lifted the phone at his side.

  He put it to his ear, and Stu said instantly, “Are you guys back together?”

  Christ, it was like the guy didn’t remember he’d kidnapped Brooks just a week and a half ago and just how insanely messed up that was.

  Johnny didn’t get into that.

  “Do the right thing,” he stated.

  Stu blinked at him.

  Then his face got shifty. “Johnny, I was in a bind. You know me. I get that was extreme. But I had no choice. If there was another way, I’da—”

  He wasn’t going to listen to this shit.

  “Do the right thing,” Johnny repeated.

  Stu leaned into the glass and whispered desperately into the phone, “I’m dyin’ in here, brother.”

  “Do the right thing, Stu.”

  “Been trapped all my life, my parents, their shit. I can’t be trapped, man.”

  “Stu, fucking do the right thing.”

  Suddenly, as it was with Stu when he wasn’t getting what he wanted, his demeanor changed.

  He sat back and started sneering.

  “You don’t get it,” he spat. “Johnny Gamble of Gamble Garages. Hot shot. Big man. Money to burn. Dad that thought his shit doesn’t stink. You never felt trapped. You’ve never been fucked over in your whole life.”

  “Let her be free.”

  Stu fell silent.

  “She’s the principal witness in your case,” Johnny told him something he knew. “She can’t leave town. She can’t get clear. She can’t be free. And you’re forcing her into a situation where she has to testify against her own brother.”

  He was.

  Stu had pled not guilty to all charges.

  He’d done it even though there were witnesses everywhere. The lady across the street at the daycare center. A female clerk in a Gamble Garage, of all fucking places, where he bought a jar of baby food, holding a crying Brooks to him, this caught on security film.

  There were also his fingerprints at the shack. And getting in a high-speed chase in a car he’d stolen. Not to mention, striking up a relationship with a bank teller in a town where he didn’t live, but he did have enough good in him (and stupidity) to write her a fucking note that said, I’m sorry, baby, before he fucked her and her kid over, robbed her bank and skipped town.

  Last, there was his sister who he forced to be a material witness to all of that . . . and more than likely a lot more Johnny and the cops didn’t know about.

  Shandra stood at Johnny’s back for one purpose.

  To put the heat on her brother to do the right thing.

  For once.

  “You fight this, I talked to Cary. They’re pissed at your plea, Stu,” Johnny told him. “You take county resources to try you, you’re gonna lose and the judge is gonna throw your ass in the joint for a sentence that’ll mean you’re trapped for a long fucking time.”

  “I’m comin’ out of my skin in here, Johnny,” Stu whined.

  “Then you shouldn’t have robbed a bank, stolen a car and kidnapped a baby, Stu,” Johnny pointed out the obvious.

  Stu did the darting of the eyes thing again between Johnny and Shandra standing behind him then said, “I screwed you over. You and her. But she’s the only thing I got.”

  “She was the only thing you had but just like you made it for
me, you lost her.”

  Stu read the wrong thing in that and leaned in again, eager, fierce. “She loves you,” he whispered in the phone. “She never quit.”

  “We’re not talking about that.”

  “At least I can go down knowin’ I fixed one thing I broke.”

  Johnny felt his jaw tighten, he gave it a beat, and only when he had it together did he speak again.

  “This world, Stu, does not revolve around you and your hurts and your bullshit and your anger and your fuckups. This is not about you. This is about your sister. She has to get out of this town. She has to get out from under your shit and your history and your anger. She has to get away from those two predators who call themselves your parents. For once in your miserable life, think about someone other than you. Think about someone who laid it all on the line for you.”

  Stu sat back. “So you want me to think all this,” he swept his hand in front of him to indicate Johnny with Shandra, “isn’t about that new piece you’re tagging.”

  Johnny fought his jaw tightening and bit out, “No. You’re in there and you’re going down whether you fight it or not and the nightmare you forced them to endure is done. Yours is just beginning, and as usual you’re dragging your sister right along with you. Now you got a choice and I’ll put this in terms you’ll understand. Cary says if you change your plea, they’re still open to bargain with you. It’ll mean a reduced sentence. You got an hour to make that call. That hour’s up, you go on trial and the cops and the DA are so pissed, Stu, they’re gonna come at you with everything they’ve got and they’ve got a lot. They’ve shared with me that the kidnapping charge will get you twenty years. The robbery charge, since you used a gun, will get you twenty-five. And the DA is gonna push for those being served non-concurrently, which, not taking into account the car you stole, means you’ll get out when you’re seventy-seven years old.”

  Dread filled Stu’s face but Johnny wasn’t done with him.

  “And not that you give a shit, but they’re so pissed, they’ll consider Shandra going on the run with you as her not only receiving but concealing money taken from that bank, and she’ll go on trial and face ten years.”

  Stu jerked forward in his seat so violently, the cop at the door watching him went on alert, putting his hand to the baton on his belt.

  “They can’t do that!” he shouted.

  “An hour,” Johnny said. “Your call.”

  He started to put down the receiver but heard Stu shouting agitatedly, “Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!”

  He put the phone back to his ear.

  “Let me talk to my sister,” he demanded.

  “She’s done with you.”

  “Please, brother, let me talk to my sister.”

  Johnny stared into his eyes. “You’re wasting time.”

  Stu stared back, he did it almost desperately, like looking at Johnny could make all he’d done disappear.

  Then he said, “I’ll change my plea.”

  Thank Christ.

  Johnny nodded.

  He put down the phone.

  He got out of his chair.

  He turned to Shandra, put a hand to her elbow and guided her out of that room and the jail.

  They stopped at the front steps and turned to each other.

  “He’s gonna change his plea,” he told her.

  Her shoulders sagged and he had a feeling they sagged not because she was now free, but because Stu would suffer less.

  He got that. He loved Toby that much, if Toby had turned like Stu had done he’d feel the same way.

  Those desperate hours not knowing where Brooks was, he also didn’t get it at all.

  “I gotta go,” he told her.

  She tensed and seemed to lean toward him.

  “Johnny.”

  “This gets sorted, Shandra, get outta town. Find your happy.”

  She shook her head and said solemnly, “You have to know how sorry I am for everything. Really everything, Johnny.” Her face started to crumble but she was Shandra. She’d lived through a lot, too much. She didn’t crumble easy. So she sniffed through her nose, pulled it together, and whispered, “Everything.”

  “I know that, Shandra,” he said quietly.

  “I really did love you,” she told him.

  “I know that too,” he replied.

  “Not to . . . I mean, I know you’ve moved on, so not to make this anymore awkward than it already is, which seems impossible, but here it is. I always will. I’ll always love you, Johnny Gamble.”

  He dipped his chin and whispered, “You get out from under all of this, start somewhere fresh, find your happy, you’ll find someone else to love.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely. Just . . .” he drew in breath and put his face closer to her, “use what we had and do it better next time.”

  She rubbed her lips together and nodded, and he remembered he used to think that was cute. If he had his shot, he would always kiss her after she was done doing that.

  It was still cute.

  And he hoped the guy that came next would think that too.

  “Stay safe and be happy, sweetheart,” he murmured.

  “You too, baby,” she murmured back.

  He looked into beautiful eyes, what seemed a very long time ago he thought he’d be looking into until his dying day.

  Then he smiled at her and walked away.

  Twenty minutes later, he drove up Izzy’s lane to see her rocking in her wicker chair on her front porch with three dogs lazing around at her feet.

  She had a chilled glass of something on the table next to her, her colored pencils out and a book on the knees she had lifted up with her heels in the seat.

  He knew that book.

  His Izzy was coloring.

  That was Izzy. She didn’t rock away the time, anxious for his return, worried about him knowing what he had to do, waiting for him in quiet reflection, wasting time where she could be using it, even if she was using it to color in the lines.

  She had to be doing something.

  The dogs raced to him, Ranger in the lead, as he stopped his truck beside her dusty Murano.

  He got out, handed out pets, and walked slowly to her with his eyes on her.

  She didn’t move from her chair and she also didn’t move her gaze from him.

  When he was standing on her porch two feet away, looking down at her, she asked, “How’d that go?”

  “He’s changing his plea.”

  She grinned up at him.

  Now that . . .

  That was kissably cute.

  “Can you do anything, Johnny Gamble?” she asked.

  He just shook his head and hitched his lips.

  Her face got serious. “How’s Shandra?”

  “If she’s smart, finally free.”

  She nodded gravely.

  Then her head tipped to the side. “We had rather a drama fifteen minutes ago when Brooks decided he would prefer Kelly’s fur yanked out of her furry kitty body and Kelly decided she liked her fur where it was, so she swatted at him and caught him with a claw. The scratch is about half an inch long so not bad but she drew blood. Brooks wasn’t a big fan. Addie bathed it and shared with him that some lessons need to be learned the hard way. I have a feeling Brooks can’t understand English, but he understood that. Kelly’s still miffed.”

  “Addie’s right,” Johnny declared.

  “Yes,” Izzy agreed.

  “Iz?”

  “Yes?”

  “It gonna take until we’re eighty for you to get with the program?”

  She looked confused for a second before she set her book aside, pushed out of her chair, moved her body into his and slid her arms around his neck.

  “Sometimes you can kiss me when you get home, you know,” she whispered, eyes to his lips.

  “You’re right,” he replied.

  And then he did just that.

  Izzy

  “That is absolutely, one hundred percent not going to wo
rk,” I said decisively.

  “Are you serious?” Johnny replied, not hiding he was getting angry.

  I threw up both my hands. “Yes, I’m serious.” I leaned toward him where he was standing five feet away from me in front of his couch in his living room/bedroom/dining room/kitchen (part of the point!) and reminded him, “I have horses, Johnny.”

  “That isn’t lost on me, Izzy,” he retorted.

  “And I kinda like them,” I went on. “I also like having them outside my back door, not fifteen miles away.”

  “Iz, you got three acres. I got twenty-seven.”

  I felt my eyes get big at this news. “You have twenty-seven acres?”

  “Baby,” he growled, “you have got to get over me being loaded.”

  I felt my eyes narrow. “I had no problem with you being loaded last week when I came home and you handed me that box with brand-new, nude Louboutin pumps in it.”

  His head twitched and his brows came together. “You call that beige color nude?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s beige,” he replied.

  “It’s nude, Johnny.”

  “Christ!” he exploded. “We’re not gonna fight about the color of your shoes when we’re fighting about where we’re gonna live when we move in together.”

  That was what we were doing.

  I’d barely walked through the door after work and we were fighting over where we were going to live when we moved in together.

  I didn’t know when that would be, we hadn’t made that decision.

  But we were fighting over it anyway.

  It was October. We’d now officially been seeing each other for five months (I was starting from the day we hooked up, which I considered our beginning).

  Some might think this was too soon to be discussing moving in.

  Though my mom wouldn’t.

  And Addie just plain didn’t because she told me so.

  Neither did Deanna (she’d told me so too).

  And Margot, just the other night at dinner at The Star said chidingly, “You two children and this back and forth, and packing and repacking bags and extra expense on toiletries. It’s ridiculous. You need to settle, for goodness sakes.”

  So I had a feeling she didn’t either.

  But Johnny had just declared no way in hell he was moving into the acres.