Lady Luck

by Kristen Ashley

  I did all this because I would do all this (eventually) but I did this as a matter of priority because Ty asked me to make certain that “those assclowns got no shit to fuck with you with”.

  I saw the wisdom of this advice and didn’t delay.

  Bessie had politely declined our offer but did not decline keeping the cash I earned from my Charger, cash I left behind with her. She promised me, once she got on her feet, she’d pay me back. I let her promise me that and when she tried to pay me back, I would decline. I knew she’d take care of me for free, I knew she’d take care of me no matter what but I needed to give her that. It didn’t cover what I owed her for pulling me together after I fell apart but then again, nothing would. But it would be something.

  Then she left Panama City Beach and headed to Miami. She’d never been there but she heard it was a fun place to be and was going to check it out. The last word I had from her (which was yesterday) was that she liked it, wanted to give it a shot and was currently looking for a job.

  I had mixed feelings about this. Dallas was a one day, very long haul from Carnal. Miami was a lot fucking further. But she’d been in a shit situation and unhappy almost as long as I had been with Ronnie. It was good she was making this change and if she liked Miami then I would like Miami for her.

  And anyway, it would be fun when Ty and I could visit her there.

  Things had changed for Ty and I and when I say that I mean for the better. There was nothing between us now, it was out there, open, talked about. He shared more, I got to listen more. Day to day, he relaxed more, he smiled more, he laughed more and my man was fucking funny so I laughed more too. We’d weathered one hell of a storm but we did not come out with nicks and dents. We came out tougher, stronger, closer.

  But even though home life was good, great, the best, the sun shining all the time not only because it was August in Colorado but because there were no clouds over our life, Carnal was different.

  There were clouds over Carnal, big, black, threatening thunderclouds. Everyone felt them, everyone was being cautious, quiet, braced and waiting for that first crack of thunder and bolt of lightning, hoping they weren’t too close when it struck.

  Although the news travelled slow, the murder of Misty Keaton, allegedly by Officer Rowdy Crabtree, sent low, buzzing shockwaves through the town.

  I thought Ty would at least receive suspicious glances but this did not happen. Ty had been gone awhile but Ty was well-known, well-known enough that folks knew that was not his style.

  But the town was humming with gossip and at the salon, as it had a tendency to be at salons, that hum was fast, furious and prolific.

  Therefore I learned, not surprisingly, that Misty was not well-liked. No one had much against her five plus years ago, though she was known as a gold-digger intent on making a good marriage. But public opinion of her plummeted when she lied about Ty’s alibi then took another significant drop when she married Chace Keaton. This was because many guessed the connection and, to my surprise, I learned that many liked Chace and didn’t like him saddled with the likes of Misty. When she married a town cop who happened to be in line for a large inheritance, she instantly decided her shit didn’t stink and let everyone know she felt that way and they should too. This behavior was further frowned upon. After that, what was left of her popularity took a nosedive but she didn’t care much seeing as she had a hot guy in her bed, his ring on her finger and his Daddy’s fortune on the way, all she had to do was wait for the old man to die.

  Through salon gossip, I also learned that this didn’t work out for her as she had planned. From the beginning, Chace made it blindingly and publicly apparent that he was not blissfully married. He put up with her. He went through the motions. But he didn’t like either. And because he could barely stomach the sight of his wife, when he needed to get him a little somethin’ somethin’, he went elsewhere and did this openly.

  By the time Misty Keaton had walked into Carnal Spa that day I met her, she’d spent five years living with a man who could barely stand the sight of her, didn’t hide that and cheated on her repeatedly and blatantly. Salon buzz said that, as year slid into year and Chace didn’t come to heel, Misty became more and more beaten. Salon buzz said that, even though she was what she was and did what she did, she actually loved her husband and his continued hatred of her was wearing her down. Salon buzz said that even before Ty was released, Misty was rethinking her actions. Salon buzz said that Misty was coming to the conclusion that Chace’s Daddy’s millions weren’t worth that. And salon buzz said that Misty bought it because the authority knew this and needed to assure she didn’t do something they wouldn’t like much.

  And salon buzz said that Rowdy was set up to take the fall mostly because he was an asshole. In a long line of local cops that people did not like or trust, Rowdy stood out prominent because he was not only the dick I knew him to be but a serious dick. He used the authority his position provided him as a weapon, his badge and uniform as a shield. He regularly and randomly fucked with citizens of Carnal and he did this for shits and giggles.

  Although no one believed Rowdy took Misty Keaton to Harker’s Wood, shot her and left his weapon, primarily because he had no motive to do this and wasn’t stupid enough to leave that kind of evidence seeing as he was a cop, just a dirty one, still, no one really cared if he went down for it.

  “What comes around, goes around,” Avril stated, smiling gleefully and leaning against the high front of my reception desk, in for a mani/pedi and also gossip.

  But underneath all this gossip and speculation, there was fear. A woman was dead. No one liked her much but that was pretty extreme. Whoever was spooked was seriously spooked and the citizens of Carnal were worried about what was next.

  As for me, it was difficult to admit, but I felt a sense of calm settle over me as all this gossip filtered into my brain.

  While my husband was serving a sentence for a crime he didn’t commit and, to that day, after I went to sleep, he got up and jacked up the AC so high I woke up with a frozen nose every morning and he did this because the heat, stench and feel of that place had beat into his bones and he needed that cool, clean air to beat it back, I liked knowing that Misty wasn’t living the dream she’d lied her way into.

  Sure, I couldn’t say I wanted her dead. But I could say I felt that maybe there was justice at work out there in the universe knowing she’d lived her own version of five years of hell.

  And it made me feel better that, if she’d lived, she wouldn’t have what Ty and I had.

  So she’d betrayed him and used him and when he was down, she stepped right on him to haul herself up to what she thought was the next level of life and bought herself misery, heartbreak and, eventually, being dragged to a wood in the middle of the night and shot to death.

  She definitely deserved misery and heartbreak, if not being murdered, so I felt that yes, maybe there was justice at work out there.

  And I just hoped it kept working so my man could eventually really breathe free and live with a clear name.

  I left the tees where they lay and headed out to the mailbox thinking about what I was going to do the rest of my day. It was late morning and considering I got up at an ungodly hour to shower with Ty, after he left, I’d cleaned the house and done the laundry. Then I’d gussied up to go into town. We needed some groceries. I wanted to stop by La-La Land to get a latte and maybe something for dessert because Shambles made the best of everything sweet, Ty had a sweet tooth and he’d told me the day before that he’d been home now for months but had yet to wander into La-La Land and I felt it a moral imperative to introduce him to their goods which were good. I was also thinking of going to the mall and getting some fabric to make curtains for the guest bedroom. There were horizontal blinds in there but the room needed color, the walls were an eggshell white but it was utilitarian. Maybe I’d head to the hardware store and get some paint chips. In fact, Ty and my room could use some work. I’d get some paint chips for that room t
oo.

  I was thinking all this as I got the mail and brought it back. When I started sifting through and opening mail, my head was filled with possible colors, color combos, maybe a new comforter cover and sheets for Ty and my bed, not to mention, looking into filling our room a bit by setting up a reading area because winter would be on the mountains soon and I’d need it when I lost my deck.

  So I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing until I slid my finger into the side of an envelope, tore it open, pulled out and unfolded a tri-folded sheet of paper, turned it over, saw it was handwritten, looked at the salutation then the closing signature and went still.

  I realized my error right away. I’d opened Ty’s mail accidentally.

  But I couldn’t stop myself from reading it.

  Ty,

  I did wrong, I did bad and I know I’m going to pay.

  But before I do, I have to do right.

  I sent this to a girlfriend of mine in Maryland. I told her, if anything happens to me, to put it in the mail to you. I also sent her some other things. They’ll go to other people.

  And they say that I lied about not being with you that weekend. They explain that Arnie came to me asking me for a favor and that I’d be compensated. I won’t say how and the other stuff won’t say how either. That doesn’t matter and it would hurt another good man who got caught in the net.

  I’ve done enough of that.

  But in that stuff I said straight out that I lied and Arnie Fuller asked me to do it and compensated me for doing it. I was with you that weekend, all weekend. You didn’t attend a poker game and you didn’t kill a man because that whole time you were with me.

  I would say I’m sorry but I expect you don’t care if I am. I would explain why I did what I did but I expect you don’t care why either.

  But I will say that I’m glad you’re happy. I met your wife and saw her with you at the garage so I know that to be true. I talked to Stella and she said you’re doing great and moving on. You were always a strong guy and I guess I figured you’d make it and I wasn’t wrong.

  I still wish I didn’t do what I did to you and not just because I have to write this letter and what it means that you’re reading it. I’ve been thinking about it for years, five years, and I thought it would be worth it but it wasn’t.

  I hope what I’ve done will be enough to clear your name and right the wrongs done to you.

  And that’s it, I guess. There isn’t much more to say.

  I made a lot of mistakes in my life, you were always a good guy and the biggest mistake I ever made was doing what I did to you.

  I hope you live free and happy.

  Misty

  By the time I was done reading it, I didn’t know how I managed it because my hand was shaking so hard.

  But I managed it and when I was done I managed to move across the kitchen to the side counter by the stairs to get to my purse and grab my phone. Then I managed to find Ty’s number, hit go and put it to my ear.

  Three rings then, “Mama.”

  “Ty,” I breathed, moving back to the letter and then I couldn’t figure out what to say.

  “What?” he barked in my ear, I jumped at his harsh tone and realized he’d mistaken mine.

  “No, no, it’s not bad, baby, it’s not…” I sucked in breath. “Okay, now, listen. I was thinking about paint chips and curtains and going to La-La Land to get you some dessert for tonight and so I wasn’t –”

  “Babe,” he bit off, clipped and impatient.

  “Right,” I whispered, sucked in more breath then went on. “I accidentally opened your mail and what I accidentally opened was a handwritten letter from Misty Keaton that lays it out that she lied about not being your alibi.”

  Silence. A very long silence. A very long, very heavy silence.

  So I called, “Ty?”

  “You’re shittin’ me.” That was a whisper.

  “No,” I whispered back.

  “You’re shittin’ me,” he repeated.

  “No, honey.” I kept whispering. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I picked it up, my hand still slightly shaking and I read it to him.

  My hand dropped to the counter when I was done and he murmured, “Shit.”

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Fuck,” he murmured in answer.

  “That’s not an answer, honey,” I said gently.

  Silence.

  “Ty? Honey, talk to me.”

  “Right now, Lexie, take that upstairs and put it in the safe.”

  I grabbed the envelope with the letter and immediately started walking to the stairs saying, “I don’t know the combination.”

  “Twenty-four, fourteen, thirty-three, sixty-seven.”

  “Um… is there a bunch of right and left rolling with that?”

  “Mama, it’s a keypad.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  “Twenty-four, as in, two then four, then hit the enter key, one then four, enter key and three then three, enter then six then seven, enter and open. You with me?”

  “I think I can negotiate a keypad, honey lumpkins, but my locker at school you had to do all this winding around, back and forth and eventually I had to learn how to pop it because I could never get the fucking thing open.”

  “This isn’t your locker at school. It’s a fucking expensive fireproof safe with a keypad.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered then said, “I’m here, hang on.” I squatted, punched in the numbers then turned the handle and it opened. I put the letter in on top of Ty’s wads of cash, his gun, clips, ammo, the envelope with our marriage certificate and my boxes of diamonds then I closed the safe. “It’s there.”

  “Good, baby. Gonna call Tate and see how to play this. Obviously, I can’t waltz into the Carnal Police Station so it needs to be safe until I know what to do with it.”

  “She said she sent other stuff.”

  “Well, I’m not feelin’ like waitin’ while that shit processes it’s way to someone who’s gonna pull their thumb outta their ass and turn the wheels of justice so my name is cleared. I’m a priority to me. She sent that shit in the mail, who knows what the fuck’s gonna happen to it but whoever reads it isn’t gonna know who the fuck I am and since they don’t know, they aren’t gonna care as much as me.”

  I grinned into the phone and muttered, “I see your point.” I listened to his soft laughter then asked, “Do you think this will do it?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “I think we should send a copy to Angel,” I suggested.

  “Definitely one of the plays we need to make. But I wanna talk to Tate and I want him to have a look at it. Sit tight, mama, I’ll call you.”

  “I was going to go to the grocery store and, um… other stuff.” I didn’t elaborate because I was thinking Ty was not in the mood for a paint chip and new curtain discussion. “Do you need me to stay at home or close to town, just in case?”

  “Close to town but you don’t gotta stay home. Do what you gotta do in town. The other stuff can hold. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything and he also didn’t disconnect.

  So I sat on my ass in the closet and asked quietly, “You okay?”

  “This could be it.”

  “Yeah, baby, this could be it,” I whispered.

  “Toxic pussy knew her number was up, spurred her finally to do right. Took that to finally make that bitch do right. Still, she did right. So I guess I can lose that sour taste in my mouth every time I remember I slid my cock inside her.”

  “Another bonus,” I muttered and heard him chuckle.

  “And she’s dead and I’m alive and breathin’ and able to slide my cock inside you.”

  That got a couple of tingles but I ignored them and on another mutter said, “A bigger bonus.”

  “Got that right, mama.”

  I smiled at the phone.

  Then I ordered, “Go, call Tate, let’s get th
e wheels of justice turning to clear my man’s name.”

  “Right. Later, babe.”

  “Later, honey.”

  I heard him disconnect and I stared at the safe.

  Then I got off my ass and hustled out of the closet, the bedroom and the house. I had groceries to buy, dessert to procure and then I had to get home so I could be available to get the wheels of justice turning to clear my man’s name.

  * * * * *

  The Charger growled through the development and I was riding high on a day that included the delivery of kickass Team Walker tees, a letter from beyond the grave from bitch-face Misty that exonerated my husband, the discovery and purchase of two bottles of not-cheap champagne I found at the liquor store and the fact that Shambles had an entire lemon poppy seed cake with drizzle icing and a thick layer of lemon cream frosting in the middle that I could buy to end the fucking fantastic celebration dinner I had planned.

  So I did, I bought the whole cake.

  But as I neared our house, I saw a beat up, rusted, old model SUV in our drive and leaning against the side sucking on a cigarette was a petite, older, white woman with shoulder-length hair that had a lot of frizz. At the end of the SUV and out in the street, for some reason staring up the hill into the wood, his back to me, was a very large, very tall black man.

  Hearing my approach, he turned to face the Charger and I noticed he was older too though he only had a hint of white in his hair to indicate this and didn’t look near as old as the woman.

  He also looked a lot like Ty.

  Shit.

  I pulled in beside them in the drive, feeling their eyes on me the entire time I parked, switched off my new baby, pulled out the keys and folded out of the car.

  “Hey,” I greeted as I rounded the trunk, seeing they were still where they were when I drove up, woman against the SUV, man at the end. Firm distance between them.