by Karen Young
“Dinah should be back from Kroger’s now,” she said shakily, looking at his chin. “So—”
“Look, I’m sorry if I seemed a little intense just now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but you caught me cold saying there was something Jack wrote floating around, if we could just find it. That’s more than I ever hoped for.” He picked up her wineglass from the counter and put it back in her hand. “Add to that the fact that it may offer a clue to his state of mind and…well, I know I came on strong. I apologize.” His laugh had an ironic ring. “It must seem I’m always apologizing to you.”
“It’s okay. I understand. And if Jack’s writings are still intact, we’ll find them,” she told him, pushing wayward thoughts deep down and out of reach. “But please don’t get your hopes up too high. Marta may have kept them, but she may not.”
“Yeah.” Taking her hand, he gently urged her back onto the window seat, reached for the wine and refilled her glass, then dropped down beside her. “Okay, it’s your turn to share about your ex. Could a nice dialogue between you and Ted bring you two together again?”
She had to smile. “First of all, Ted doesn’t want us to be together. Nor do I now. He’s told me why he wanted out and he’s blabbed on ad nauseam about Francine and her superiority as a lover and mate until I know far more than I care to. So, the answer is definitely no.”
“Good. Because he’s not worth recycling.” He stood up and reached for her hand. “Will you stay for dinner…such as it is?”
She let him pull her to her feet, wondering at how often he expressed his dislike of Ted. Did it matter to him whether or not she’d washed her hands of her ex? “I really should get back and help Dinah fix dinner.”
“Not necessary. She’s bringing home a pizza,” he said, nudging her toward the table.
She gave him a startled look. “She is?”
“She called as you were walking over. Said to take your time.”
Lips pursed, Rachel stopped in her tracks. “Why do I get the feeling that my mother is as chummy with you as my kids? It’s your own fault. I can’t lecture her as I do them—remember, I’m the One Who Lectures—but I can’t keep them from bugging you if you keep on acting like their kindly old bachelor uncle.”
“No objection to being their kindly bachelor uncle,” Cam said, seating her at the table, “although strictly speaking I’m no bachelor. But I resent being called old. Hold on a minute.” He went to the kitchen, donned two oven mitts and lifted the dish of piping-hot lasagne from a warming tray. When he set it on the table and inserted a serving piece, the aroma, a blend of basil, oregano, fragrant tomato sauce and cheese, made her empty stomach growl in anticipation. At least, she told herself, it was the anticipation of a tasty meal stirring her up and not Cam himself. She sat with her hands in her lap as he plucked a huge bowl filled with garden greens and other salad ingredients out of the fridge and sat down, not across from her, but at the end of the table, within touching distance. “Let’s toast,” he said, lifting his wineglass.
“Why not?” she said, deciding to enjoy herself and damn the risks.
“To the success of Pete’s plan.”
“I thought we’d done with that subject for the night.”
“We are, but just in case…” He took a sip, watching her over the rim of his glass as she did the same, then added, “And to Ted and Francine. May they get all they deserve.”
She burst out laughing and took a big drink of the excellent cabernet.
“Now…” Cam said, rubbing his hands together, “how hungry are you?”
Seventeen
The Sims’s place on the lake was no cabin, Nick thought, staring at the low, sprawling structure materializing at the end of a long lane. Sitting in the back seat of Robbie’s Expedition beside Will Smythe, he decided that since it was made of Texas hardwood logs, that had to be the reason Robbie called it a cabin. Tucked in a setting of tall pines on the shores of Lake Ray Hubbard, the place was awesome and screamed money, money, money.
The wraparound porch was outfitted with Adirondack chairs and tables to match, and hanging at both corners were a couple of swings. Really neat. Flower baskets swung from the eaves all around the porch, and on the grounds, in keeping with a Texas theme, were a lot of rocks and cacti. He could imagine hanging out on the porch early in the morning when nothing but birds and squirrels stirred, and he thought longingly for a moment of his family’s lake house. Unfortunately, with his dad hanging out there now with Francine, it was generally inaccessible to the rest of the family. But he didn’t want to think about that. He was here for a party. Hot damn!
All passengers piled out of the Expedition and waited as Robbie signaled a second SUV, driven by Mack Turner, to an area around the side of the cabin. Mack, another varsity player, parked beside a Chevy Suburban, but as the daylight was fading, Nick was not able to identify the vehicle. Whoever it belonged to must have already gone inside.
“Wow, this is some place,” Will said, looking as dazzled as Nick. “What kind of job does Mr. Sims have?”
The two had dropped back, following at some distance behind Robbie and Kyle Burgess, who’d been in the front seat. “Something in politics,” Nick said. “Mom told me he’s big in Austin.”
Will dropped his voice. “Why’s he living in Rose Hill? Why doesn’t he live in Austin?”
“He does, but he and Robbie’s mom are divorced. They came back to Rose Hill ’cause her folks live here. C’mon, let’s catch up with the others.”
Some of Nick’s pleasure faded when he saw that Ferdy Jordan and B. J. Folsom were passengers in Mack’s SUV. By his tally, there were about ten guys on hand for the party, not counting whoever drove the Suburban. That was a big enough crowd to make it easy to avoid two assholes.
Inside, they entered a huge great room with exposed beams of rough-hewn wood. Suspended from the roof peak was a light fixture made of a ton of deer antlers. Somebody was a hunter, big time, Nick thought, looking around. Trophy animals had been mounted and placed here and there on the walls. He ventured closer to the vast mantel where a big spotted cat lay with one paw dangling over the edge. Jeez, a leopard.
Then, straight through the back glass wall was a view of the pool that Robbie had mentioned. It looked to be Olympic-size. Nick had his swimsuit in his duffel and was itching to hit the water. But it looked as if most of the guys were heading first for the bar. Robbie was already stationed there, setting out long-neck beers. Plenty of takers, too, Nick thought, as music blasted from the surround-sound system. Mack, Kyle and Leo Smallwood all snagged a bottle each. He looked around, wondering where the adults were, expecting if not both Robbie’s parents, then at least his dad, but there was nobody but Robbie’s guests. Adults were probably in another part of the house.
Will scooped out a handful of peanuts from a dish set on a low table. “You gonna have a beer?”
“Later,” Nick said, helping himself to pretzels. He wasn’t comfortable with this group yet. He still hadn’t quite figured out why he’d been invited. These players were the coach’s core elite. Was he here because he’d kissed off Coach Monk’s special treatment? If not that, then why?
“Nick, my man.” Robbie’s arm went around his shoulders and a beer was shoved in his hand. “Time to party! Ferdy!” He yelled across the room where Ferdy Jordan stood sorting through CDs. “Man the bar for a while. I’m gonna show Nick around.” Ferdy didn’t appear pleased, but he did as Robbie asked.
Now that the beer was in his hand, Nick thought he’d probably look like a wuss if he didn’t drink it. “You’ve got a nice place here,” he told Robbie.
“Yeah, but don’t be too impressed. My old man’s company owns it. They use it for sucking up to politicians and VIPs. Actually, a couple of presidents have been wined and dined here.”
The beer was good, cold and crisp on his tongue. He glanced back and saw that Will had bellied up to the bar and was drinking like everyone else. What the hell. It wasn’t as if they needed t
o stay sober to drive. Nobody was going anywhere tonight.
“Want to check out the pool? It’s heated.” Robbie pushed a glass door open and went outside. “There’s a cabana with towels and stuff.”
“Great, I brought a suit in my duffel.”
“Well, it’s not a problem if you don’t want to use it. Mostly, the guys just go in buck naked. Do whatever you like.”
“I was hoping to maybe shoot a lion first,” Nick said.
Robbie laughed. “Cool, Nick. But you have to prove your manhood in a different way here.”
“Yeah? What way would that be?”
Robbie opened another gate and waited for Nick to pass through. “It’ll be a surprise, but it can wait. Let’s go check out the Jet Skis.”
Nick fell into step with him as they made their way past the pool and onto a path that led to the boathouse on the lake. “Did your dad get here yet?”
“He canceled. Had to go to D.C., I think. Or maybe L.A. His company has offices in both places. But even if he was in Austin, he’d think of a reason not to be here.” Robbie picked up a stone and sailed it out over the water with the kind of force he used on the mound. “He’s too busy fuckin’ around with his assistant to remember his own family.”
“He’s having an affair?”
“He’s always having an affair.”
They’d walked out on the pier past the boathouse to the end and now stood looking out over the water. Nick turned back, looking at the boathouse, which was as elaborate in its design as the cabin. Robbie told him it housed a couple of boats and two Jet Skis, which they’d launch into the water tomorrow.
“If you’re wondering about it still being a little chilly, we have wet suits.”
Wet suits. Of course. Couldn’t heat the lake. Something caught his eye and he turned, thinking he saw movement. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Bending to tie his shoe, Robbie had missed it.
“Is there anybody in the boathouse? I thought I saw somebody.”
“There’s plenty of wildlife moving around the lake at night. You wouldn’t want to look too close.”
Nick laughed. “Just tell me that leopard on the mantel was shot in Africa and not out here.”
“On a genuine safari,” Robbie said, adding sarcastically, “an excursion with some bigwigs in Austin and D.C., plus Dad’s current squeeze.”
Nick heard and understood. Coach might be right, he thought, swigging more beer. According to him, half the kids at Rose Hill High knew about divorce firsthand. Made him wonder at the way grown-ups got married before being certain they had the right partner for the long haul.
“Hey, I’m ready for a refill,” Robbie said, finishing off his beer. At the end of the pier, he tossed the empty into a conveniently placed trash barrel. “I just wanted to mention one thing.” He turned to head back. “There’ll be a couple older guys at the party. They usually drop in when word gets around we’re having a party out here.”
“Are they driving the Suburban?”
“Yeah. There’s a workout room and stuff in another wing of the cabin. A sauna and hot tub, the whole works. They probably headed there when they arrived.”
“Or the boathouse,” Nick suggested.
“Could be. Like I said, they show up and we’re nice to ’em. Doesn’t hurt to be nice, right?”
“Right. Sure.”
He glanced at Nick’s bottle. “You about done?”
Nick quickly finished off his beer and tossed the empty. Then he turned and followed Robbie back the way they’d come.
Hours later, he’d lost count of the number of beers he’d drunk. The party was rowdy and loud and, except for peanuts, popcorn and pretzels, had no real food. Robbie and his buddies were a lot of fun, and the more beer Nick drank, the more relaxed he felt. He’d even stopped caring that Ferdy and B.J. were still assholes. And even though the older guys Robbie had mentioned were kinda weird, Nick made it a point to avoid them the same way he dodged Ferdy and B.J. There was only one thing missing at the party and that was girls.
He didn’t count the cheesy females in the porn video that was now playing on the big-screen TV, which had been tuned to ESPN earlier. Jeez, he’d seen some porn before, but this stuff was in a class by itself. A couple times, he’d been…like, embarrassed. But nobody else seemed to be.
Sex made him think of Ward. Slouched deep in the cushy sofa in front of the fireplace with his beer resting on his middle, he wondered how Ward was making out with Kristin. If there was a God, Ward was a happy man right about now and Nick had definitely done his part to help the cause along. Yes sir, he sure hoped ol’ Ward was taking advantage of a golden opportunity.
As he stared blearily at the fireplace, someone moved into his line of vision. One of the old guys. Robbie had introduced a couple of them, this one and somebody named Malcolm. No last names.
“Hello, I’m Joseph.”
What was it with these weirdos not telling their last names? Nick lifted a finger of the hand that held his beer. “Hi. Nick.”
Joseph smiled, letting his gaze linger somewhere in the vicinity of Nick’s beer. “What’s your position, Nick?”
“I’m a conservative Republican,” Nick said, deadpan.
“No, no, I mean, what position do you play as an athlete?”
“First base. Junior varsity.”
“Junior varsity,” Joseph repeated, standing with one hip cocked. “You must be very good.”
“I try.” Remembering Robbie’s admonition to be “nice,” Nick resisted an urge to get up and head for anyplace else. Instead, he drew in a long breath and asked politely, “What is your line of work…ah, Joseph?”
“I’m a cinematographer. I make videos,” Joseph said. “And I would just love to put you in a video. Your cheekbones are marvelous. And those exquisite amber eyes.” He put a hand over his heart. “Have you ever done any modeling?”
Modeling? Doing a swift body curl, Nick got off the sofa, feeling a sudden craving for fresh air. At the door, he stood swaying as the effects of too much beer kicked in. He swallowed hard when it threatened to roll up in the back of his throat.
He didn’t know Joseph had followed him until a heavy arm settled around his shoulder. “Are you okay, Nick? You look pale. Let me—”
“I’m fine. I’m good,” Nick said. Stunned and sickened, he shrugged off the man’s hand. Joseph had made a move on him! He imagined one of his teammates being cornered and having to fend off the other creep’s advances, Malcolm No-Last-Name. Worse yet was the realization that Robbie must know what these guys were. That’s what he’d meant when he told Nick to be nice to them.
His head spinning, he looked around to see if he was the only one freaked out. The room was crowded with people. A heated game of darts occupied half a dozen athletes, and far in the back, others were playing pool. More were clustered near the bar. Outside, a bunch were horsing around in the water, all buck naked. Music pouring out of the surround sound was deafening. It seemed to magnify the effect of the alcohol and he wished fervently that he’d stayed sober. Worse, he wished he’d stayed home.
Gulping fresh air as he stumbled outside, his mind raced, thinking what he should do. No way was he going to stay the night in that house. He thought he could find his way out of the area, but it was a hell of a long walk. He couldn’t call his mom, either. All he needed after this was to have her say I told you so. Even if she had been right to be suspicious. Maybe Marta…but no, she’d tell Mom in a heartbeat and they’d both head out here and it was already way past midnight.
Shit!
He lifted his head suddenly at faint sounds of people talking and he made out two people coming from the boathouse. Most likely one of the guys from the team. The other, tall and muscular, was a big guy. Nick didn’t make much of an effort to stay out of sight, but they wouldn’t have noticed, anyway. They were too busy arguing. In easy earshot now, Nick dropped his jaw as he suddenly realized who it was.
Jason Pate and Coach Monk
.
“I mean it!” Jason exploded, facing Monk with his arms straight at his sides, fists clenched. “I’m quitting. I’m getting out of your whole stupid sports program. It’s not worth it.”
“Aw, Jace, not that again…” Tyson put out a hand to comfort him, but Jason flinched and avoided his touch. “You know you don’t mean it.”
Suddenly Jason was crying. To Nick’s astonishment, he saw the Mustangs’ star athlete cover his face with both hands and dissolve into hard, gut-wrenching sobs. Jeez, he’d never seen anybody cry like that. Coach’s reaction was almost as surprising to Nick as Jason’s sobs. Monk just rolled his eyes and looked off in the distance as if bored to death. After a minute, he said, “Knock it off, for God’s sake! You want the guys to see you sniveling like a baby?”
It took a while, but Jason somehow stopped and drew in a long, shuddering breath.
“You do this every time,” Tyson said in disgust.
“I hate you,” Jason said fiercely, facing Tyson head-on. “One day I’m gonna kill you.”
Nick, watching spellbound, could see Jason’s face as a whole host of emotions, mostly anger, contorted his features. Then Jason cleared his throat and wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m going out to the lake,” he told Tyson. “I’ll be in later.”
“Damn right you will. And knock it off talking about quitting. You know it’s not happening.” With that, Tyson stepped to the door and, to Nick’s amazement, laughed. “I guess I’d better get inside before Joseph puts the make on somebody he shouldn’t.”
Eighteen
It was not late when Rachel settled in the front seat of Cam’s SUV, sated with barbecue ribs done to perfection by Pete and the excellent red wine provided, she learned later, by Cam. The man professed not to know much about vintage wines, but she was quickly coming to know better. What she now had to be cautious about was letting him ply her with enough wine to impair her judgment when she was with him. And she was not thinking about her ability to drive.