One for the Road

by Lynne Marshall

  “How many jobs did you apply for?” She patted Dexter’s head and tickled his ears.

  “One,” he said.

  “One? Randy, you’ve got to flood the job market with applications.” Her hands went still. The dog looked at her with expectant eyes.

  “Mom, if you’re going to start your usual lecturing, I’m hanging up.”

  She held her breath, bit her tongue, and ached to be a guiding light for her floundering son. “Okay, okay.”

  “While I have you on the phone,” he said, “you might like to know Dad was doing day trading with other people’s money.”

  “What?” She lost her breath and fumbled for a chair to sit on.

  “Dean and I have been doing some research on all those computer files he found. Dad was getting money, working it in the market, making big profits, paying the investors back including a healthy profit, and pocketing the rest.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. Pretty cool, huh? They probably didn’t have a clue he was skimming off the top. We think he must’ve had some insider trading tips to make such big hauls.”

  How could the man who managed to pick the worst retirement portfolio in history be a day trader in the recession weary stock market? An embezzler?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. He paid these people their money back, with a huge profit even, but kept some for himself. Pretty smart.”

  Anger hit her in a burst. “No it is not pretty smart. It’s illegal and cagey.” What else had Reese been hiding from her? “Are you sure we’re talking about your father?”

  “Oh yeah. We’ve got the files.”

  “Who are the investors?”

  “That’s the thing, he doesn’t identify them, like he was protecting them or something.”

  Who were they? She remembered the blanket over her head, how she couldn’t breathe, the cord tying her hands and cutting her skin. And she remembered, above all else, the fetid smell of fear. Whoever it was, was most definitely not a friend.

  ****

  Tyler practiced his Buddy Holly hiccup on the Sheila song and was in mid, A-hey, hey, a-hey, hey, when he noticed Mutt and Jeff appear in the doorway of the rehearsal room. He dropped his guitar and motioned for the guys in the band to follow him.

  The shorter of the two stumbled backward with a noticeable hobble.

  The taller one held up his hands. “Now hold on here,” he said. “We’re just trying to deliver a message, not pick a fight.”

  “Ripping up an RV and scaring an innocent woman near to death is your idea of delivering a message?” Tyler said, jaw tightly clinched.

  The men looked at each other, bewildered. “What woman?” said Mutt.

  “What RV?” said Jeff.

  “Don’t play dumb with me.” Tyler made a fist and felt his ears go hot with anger. He reached for the taller one’s shirt. Jeff backed away, escaping his grasp.

  “Now hold on a minute here. Dwayne Hudson sent us to offer you guys free recording time in his studio, that is if you’re interested in signing on with him.”

  Bear had his arm pulled back and fist ready to punch, when he stopped cold.

  It was Tyler’s turn to be confused. “Huh? What’re you saying?”

  “Dwayne Hudson, of Sundown records in Nashville. He cain’t match whatever that fancy female record promoter from Dallas might offer. But he thought the independent label might suit your style better. He wants to do business with you and the band, Mr. White.”

  “Well, why the hell didn’t he just call me?”

  “He cain’t get around too good anymore. Wanted us to tape one of your concerts so he could hear you, first.” The shorter man with a bum leg jumped in. “He called your answering machine several times, but you’d already left for Memphis. Don’t you ever check your messages?”

  Tyler scrubbed his face and remembered how tender his cheek and eye were. Okay, so he hadn’t checked his phone messages since leaving Nashville. He glanced back at the odd duo. Come to think of it, they didn’t look like thugs. Hell, the taller one was so skinny Dee could probably wrestle him to the ground.

  “So, why the hell didn’t you just tell me?”

  The round-faced guy turned red and looked frustrated. “We’ve been trying. We was always a half hour too late, or didn’t know where you were. And when I tried to talk to you before the concert in Abilene, that one there,” he pointed to Bear, “broke two of my toes!”

  Tyler glanced at Bear who looked a titch sheepish. Relief tickled Tyler, making him want to snicker. “Well, shee-it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I feel edgy,” Dee said, the minute Tyler walked through the RV door. “I’m going for a power walk.” It was just after midnight and she was dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and sneakers.

  “Not by yourself, you’re not.” He put his guitar case on the floor. Tyler resented the money tying her down to the RV. Whether he realized it at the time or not, Reese had left one hell of a burden on Dee’s back. Tyler had no doubt she was strong and could handle it. It just didn’t seem fair.

  The guys had dropped him off and turned around to head back to a watering hole in Lubbock. They hadn’t bothered to ask Dee, just used the Rabbit as if it belonged to them. They didn’t seem to mind the ridiculous license plate or the cramped driving space, as long as the car ran.

  “Let’s go,” he said, wanting nothing more than to sit down and put his feet up after a long rehearsal.

  On the way home, his mind had raced overtime trying to figure out what to do about his career and the offer to record for a small, independent label. Opportunity didn’t knock often in his life. He figured there was another potential contract waiting down the line and decided to wait until after the show in Vegas to make up his mind. And then there was Dee to consider and his growing attachment to her.

  She wore a face fit for a sassy teenager— impatient, restless, and perky.

  “You’re not going like that are you?” She pointed to his boots. “Don’t you own any tennis shoes?”

  Tyler cast Dee a snotty look and snorted. “Just give me a minute.” He crossed to the suitcase tucked behind the cockpit seat, yanked it out, and opened it.

  Once again, Dee had taken it upon herself to do everyone’s laundry. Four different piles of folded clothes sat on the couch for everyone’s inspection.

  He searched through a small hill of socks for a white pair.

  The last time she’d washed everyone’s clothes Tyler recalled hearing Bear say, “By gosh, I could get used to this.” Ricky-Bob said, “Gina never gets my whites this white.” And J.T. said something like, “You didn’t shrink anything, did you?”

  “You’re gonna spoil us,” he said, feeling tender.

  She poked at the small kitchen rug with the toe of her cross training shoe. “I’m trying not to call Theresa or the boys for a while, so I needed something to keep busy.” She peeked up at Tyler. “The nights get pretty long, you know?”

  “You shouldn’t have done all this laundry.” Tyler fought the urge to hug her. He found an old T-shirt, white socks and some shorts. “But I’m glad you did. Give me a second.” He looked for his ancient sports shoes.

  Dee went out the door. Through the screen, he could see her bend over to stretch her legs. She grabbed her ankles and hung with her head upside down, gently bouncing her spine. Dexter looked on with interest. The titillating view caused Tyler to speed up.

  He caught her in the same position when he sprang out the door and found it hard not to stare. After a long, appreciative look, he tore himself away to more pressing business, like tying his shoes.

  “What’re we gonna do about the money?” he whispered.

  “Pay me what you owe me.” She crossed her eyes at him and lunged to the side on one leg, hands on her hips. Dexter sniffed her hand. She tickled his nose and smiled at him.

  He knew he was behind with her salary, but planned to catch up after his next paycheck. Tyler cocked
his head toward the RV. “Think it’ll be okay, smart ass?”

  “Right now, I don’t give a crap.” She scanned him, head to toe. “I just need to walk.”

  Tyler smiled at her. “Then let’s live dangerously. Hell, it’s your money.”

  “Whatever.”

  He loved the California head toss she did whenever she uttered that word.

  After locking up the RV, they strode away like bad guys from the scene of a crime, looking furtive and in a hurry.

  Dead quiet compared to the bustle of day, the night had cooled down and grown calm. His skin felt alive and his head seemed to clear. The air hinted of an early fall. Leftover barbeque smell and smoke from the adjacent campsite settled in his nostrils. Yellow camp lanterns and the white of Dexter’s coat scouting the way made the dirt path easier to navigate. It led downhill toward a larger road. The only sounds were toads, crickets and the soles of their shoes crushing the dirt. His eyes slowly adjusted to the deep velvet night, and he keyed in to Dee.

  “What makes me think you’ve got something on your mind, Slick?” He kept looking ahead.

  She hesitated for a second then took a breath. “Dean told me the final results of Reese’s labs showed some sort of lethal combination of drugs. Which means he was either dumb…” She looked at Tyler. “…which he wasn’t. Or, he did it on purpose. Since he left the note, I guess it’s pretty clear he killed himself.”

  She didn’t seem sad or mad, just resigned, and it puzzled him. What could drive a man to kill himself and leave his family in jeopardy? “They say money is the root of all evil. I’m inclined to agree.”

  “I don’t have good vibes about the money at all,” she said.

  Neither did he. They walked on in silence.

  Tyler wanted to ask about her life before this summer. Had she been happy with Reese? A great girl like Dee deserved to be treated right. Had Reese taken her for granted? How did she act back home in California? He wondered if she’d ever be caught dead with some old cowboy country singer in her own world, but figured he already knew the answer. The only thing that brought them together was her desperate situation. Still, he was glad to know a woman like Dee, so different from all the others.

  “How much longer you gonna wear that?” He nodded to her hand.

  She followed his gaze and searched her ring finger where a simple wedding band still claimed its stake. Dee fingered it, put her hand in front and looked at it as though evaluating a new purchase.

  “What’s the point, huh?” she said. “I mean, he’s not coming back.” She stared into the night with a bleak, thoughtful look. “Truth is, I don’t think I can get it off.”

  He wanted to help her try, but fought the urge.

  Mildly winded from their pace, Tyler figured he better cut out cigarettes for good. Dee seemed to have sped up since Reese entered the conversation. She chugged along the path, using her arms like a locomotive. He took longer steps to keep up.

  “I wanted to leave it on until I got home, so the boys would see it and not think I was horrible. They couldn’t come out to Nashville when he died. I promised to bring him back.” She stopped abruptly and searched his eyes for something. “I should be wearing my ring when I do.”

  Tyler took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed each knuckle in a tender, accepting sweep. “Reese was a lucky man, Dee.”

  He looked into her eyes, waiting for her to say something. An owl made its haunting call in the distance. Dee didn’t pull her hand back, so he kissed it again.

  She sighed and went limp. He brushed her hand across his cheek and reached for her waist.

  She backed away.

  “Tyler. I’m not the one for you.”

  He stepped forward, used both hands to capture her hips. “Who says? You?”

  He edged her closer, felt little resistance, so he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She looked at her shoes, avoiding his eyes. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, kissed the exposed ear, and felt her tremble. She moved her face just enough to caress his cheek with her own, like a shy girl taking a chance. She felt warm and soft, and he wanted more of her. He dipped his head and placed a light kiss on her neck, smelled that heavenly body lotion, and took a quick taste of her skin. Sweet.

  “I’m an old busy body,” she said. “You sure don’t feel like one.”

  Her hands crept up his chest. “You’d get tired of me telling you how to run your business all the time.”

  He pulled her closer. “Maybe I need someone to be a partner in my career.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’d be on the road all the time.”

  He scooped her up and nuzzled her neck with his nose. “I’d bring you with me.”

  She stretched her neck giving him free reign. “I could never live in the limelight.”

  He kissed his way up to her earlobe. “I’m not exactly runnin’ in that crowd.”

  She stood perfectly still as he feathered her jaw with kisses. “What would I tell my kids?”

  “That you met a man who wants to make you happy and you deserve some happiness.”

  “How do I know you don’t like me only for my dough?”

  He took her face into his hands and kissed her forehead. “ ’Cause I had a crush on you the first time I saw you, long before I knew how rich you were.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You believe me?” He kissed her lips tenderly, then backed off.

  She seemed dazed. “Totally,” she whispered.

  Her breath sent a shiver across his neck. He wanted her. Now.

  “Let’s go somewhere where I can prove it, Slick.” “Now?”

  He pulled her close again. “Remember when you were a kid, and it didn’t matter where, just how quick you could get there?”

  Dee laughed. “Oh, God, yeah.”

  “That’s how you make me feel, all hot and ready.” He blew steamy breath over her ear, squeezed her arm, pulled her closer, felt her tense up.

  “That’s because it’s still summer.”

  “Nah, it’s you. I’m wearing tennis shoes for you, woman. How the hell else am I supposed to prove myself?”

  Dee chuckled. Her hands slipped passed his waist and over his hips. She took a firm grip of each cheek through the sports shorts. He felt suddenly optimistic.

  “You like what you got there, lady?”

  “Mmm,” She looked up with a wicked smile.

  He’d never seen that look on Dee’s face before. She wanted him, too. He liked it. On impulse, Tyler bent over, swept up her legs, and carried her into a grassy knoll behind some bushes.

  He knelt down with her in his arms, but his knee hit a rock.

  “Ouch! God damn!” He dropped Dee the rest of the way to the ground. She thumped. He groaned and grabbed his kneecap in pain. He tensed his back and it went into spasm. “Ow! Sonofabitch!”

  Dee rose up onto her elbows. “Are you okay?” “Shee-it no!”

  Tyler rolled onto his back and tried to distract himself by staring at the perfect black sky filled with stars and half a moon hanging like a smile in the night. The pain let up a tiny bit. Dexter checked him out with a curious, wet nose, making sure he was okay. Dee snorted and snickered. He turned his head in her direction and joined in with a deep laugh rolling out of his chest.

  “Hell, I guess we ain’t kids anymore,” he said.

  Dee giggled and got up on her knees. She covered her mouth, but chortles and more snorts escaped. When she recovered, she said, “Well, I could have told you that.”

  Moving closer, she plopped down beside him on the grass, laughed outright and looked at the sky. “Ahh, it sure is beautiful out tonight, Ty.” She settled down on the ground. “That laugh felt good.”

  He lay on the grass with his knees bent to ease the pain in his lower back. “It sure as hell wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’m glad something felt good.”

  He searched for Dee’s hand and she held on.

  They stargazed in silence for a few moments until Dee sat up.
Her hand swatted and swiped at the air.

  “Ew! I think a mosquito just flew in my ear!” She brushed at her head and jumped to standing, ran around in a little frantic dance with Dexter following. “I hear it buzzing.”

  Tyler log-rolled to his side and eased up to his hands and knees, slowly pushed off the ground. He somehow managed to make it to a stand, at long last ready to save the day for his lady.

  “Oh, it’s gone.” She quit gyrating. “Yeah, I think it’s gone.”

  He shook his head and took her hand. “Are you ready to go home, Slick?”

  “Totally.”

  ****

  The next morning D’Anne and Tyler strolled hand in hand like high school sweethearts, taking in the Buddy Holly Walk of Fame. A huge cement statue stood in the center of a circle with a good likeness of the famous rock and roll star, glasses and all.

  “Hey look, Tyler, it’s Mac Davis. I didn’t know he was a Lubbock boy.”

  They stood on Mac Davis’ slab and looked across to Dan Blocker’s section and then on to Roy Orbison. She adjusted her new cowboy hat and the floppy Dalmatian backpack she carried. She smiled about how smart Tyler thought he was by putting the whole hundred grand inside, though they’d had to open the lining and take out the stuffing to make it all fit. The forty cashier’s checks got divided, rolled up, and pushed inside the dog’s dangling legs.

  “No one will have the slightest idea, Dee. Come on try it,” he’d said that morning at the tourist Emporium where an assortment of canine backpacks hung like droopy rags on straps. They raced back to the RV, kicked the band out of bed and sent them to the showers so they could dig for the gold, knowing full well the guys probably thought they were doing it in broad daylight.

  She grinned, remembering how he talked her into wearing the dumb thing. Right about now he could talk her into anything. And if it hadn’t been for the rock last night, she may have already found out what making love with Tyler White felt like. His black eye had toned down a shade and the sunglasses he wore made him look handsome as hell. She couldn’t hide her attraction to the tall, blond man, so why even try? He walked straight and proud, a cowboy through and through.