The Player Next Door: A Novel

by K. A. Tucker

  Shane clears his throat. “Actually, Scarlet and I dated back in high school. I used to pick her up from there almost every day.”

  “Huh. I had no idea. Though, she never told me much.” My mom takes another sip of her wine. She’s like a baby with a bottle. “And that last year before she left for college was a disaster. Do you remember that, Scarlet? I’ve never seen a more sullen, moody girl. You were miserable. I couldn’t say a word without having my head bitten off. Anyway, yes, I’m still at Brillcourt but I’ve started looking elsewhere. The building has been falling apart for years. It’s impossible to get anything repaired. It’s a complete shithole.”

  “Mom.”

  “Hmm?” She peers at me, oblivious.

  “Language?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” She waves off my soft reprimand as if it’s nothing. “Anyway, why don’t you tell me how you two ended up together again after all these …” Her words trail, her attention on something—or someone.

  I lean closer to catch her line of sight. When I see Penelope stalking down the narrow aisle toward us, followed by Travis and an older couple I recognize from the newspapers as Penelope’s parents, I desperately wish we’d listened to my gut and stayed home.

  Twenty-Seven

  The vein in Penelope’s forehead pulses as she glares at Shane.

  “Hey, Mom!” Cody chirps, but his eyes dart around the table, gauging everyone’s moods. He senses that something is off.

  Shane’s flat expression doesn’t fool me. He’d rather be anywhere than here. “Hey, Pen.” He nods at Travis.

  Meanwhile, my mother has been struck momentarily speechless as she stares at her ex-lover, Peter Rhodes. I know they must have crossed paths at some point over the years. The town is small, his accounting firm is a prominent business, and Mom is social. But how long has it been? My guess, based on both their startled faces, is a good while.

  I haven’t seen him in years. He’s aged greatly since his picture made the local newspapers on the regular eighteen years ago. He must be in his late fifties now, maybe early sixties. Miraculously, he still has a full head of hair, though it has turned white-gray.

  “Peter,” my mother manages finally. “Good to see you again.” She sounds somber rather than her usual playful.

  “Yes. You look wonder—” He clears his throat before the rest of that sentence has a chance to escape. His blue eyes are oddly bright. “I see you’ve met my grandson?”

  “Your grandson.” Mom’s gaze flickers to Penelope, then to Shane, as the pieces click together.

  Melissa eases in to claim the crammed spot beside Peter. She has always been an attractive woman—the source for Penelope’s looks, though not her fiery-red hair—but she has aged considerably too. Her face wears cracks and crevices; her once-long auburn hair has been cropped short. Her body, though still slender and graceful, has succumbed to the effects of gravity.

  She hooks her arm through his and hugs it tight to her. It’s a possessive move. Given the malice with which those tight green eyes—sage, like her daughter’s—regard my mother, I’m not at all surprised she feels the need to stake her claim. By comparison, Dottie Reed looks every bit the evil temptress, at least fifteen years younger and intent on luring men of weak fortitude such as her husband.

  Worse, she has the track record to prove she can do it.

  With a small horde gathering by our booth, we’re beginning to attract casual looks, but I don’t think anyone has noticed the storm cloud brewing yet.

  “Penelope, I trust you’ll deal with this accordingly,” Melissa says. I see where her daughter gets that condescending tone from. Shifting her harsh gaze to her grandson, her face softens instantly. “Why don’t you come have dinner with us?”

  Cody looks to Shane, then to Penelope, as if waiting for one of them to speak or guide him. “But … I want to stay with my dad and Scarlet.”

  I guess we’re a package deal now.

  Oh, shit.

  Penelope’s eyes flare with a mixture of rage and hurt.

  “You know what, I think I’m going to shift over to the bar.” In a rare moment of reading the room correctly—and probably a desire to remove herself from family strife that she knows she’s a key instigator of—my mom collects her purse and glass of wine and shimmies out of our booth. With a polite nod to her ex-lover, she sashays to the bar.

  Leaving us to clean up her mess.

  “Can I speak to you outside?” Penelope hisses, glaring at Shane.

  Shane sighs heavily. He wipes the hot sauce off his fingers with his napkin. “Hey, buddy, you stay and eat your dinner with Scarlet, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He slides out of the booth. “He’ll be staying where he is,” he says calmly, to Penelope or Melissa, or both.

  “I’m not comfortable with—”

  “Too bad,” he snaps. His temper is being tested now.

  Penelope clamps her mouth shut.

  Melissa shifts that hateful gaze to me but doesn’t argue, tugging on her husband’s arm.

  Travis watches his potential in-laws hustle to their table but doesn’t follow them. He looks as happy as Shane does. “I’ll be at the bar,” he informs Penelope in an aloof tone before strolling away.

  I don’t blame him. If I didn’t have Cody with me, and I wasn’t worried about this compelling urge to throttle my mother, I might join him.

  What a disastrous turn this night has taken.

  I watch Shane’s rigid back as he follows Penelope out the door and to the side street where he and I had our own fight months ago, and then I turn attention back to the boy caught in the middle of this mess.

  Cody studies a chicken wing before tossing it back onto his plate. His shoulders are slumped.

  “You okay?” I ask softly.

  He nods but after a moment says, “They’ve been fighting a lot.”

  “They have?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

  “Almost every time my dad drops me off. And I hear them on the phone too.”

  I school my expression. Shane didn’t tell me they were still fighting.

  “I just don’t get why she’s so mad.”

  There are so many answers I could give right now—would love to give—that would be accurate but also wrong. How the hell do I navigate this without being dismissive?

  Honesty, I guess. “That’s one of those topics you have to talk about with your dad. I can’t say much.”

  “Because you’re my teacher?”

  “Yeah. And your dad’s girlfriend.” I can’t speak disparagingly about his mother, even though she’s a raging bitch who deserves it.

  He nods slowly, as if he gets it. He searches out his grandparents, who are thankfully sitting on the other side of the restaurant. “My grandma’s mad too, isn’t she?”

  “Seems like it.”

  “I don’t really like going over there after school,” he admits quietly, picking at another chicken wing. “She’s always mad at him.”

  And maybe Peter Rhodes deserves her lingering bitterness, for his part in the affair. But why take him back, then? Why give him a chance to redeem himself if you have no intention of ever forgiving him? Wouldn’t it have been better for all involved if they’d gone their separate ways?

  I’m beginning to think it might have been better for Penelope to not be brought up in a household where resentment and mistrust loitered. If an eleven-year-old boy is still sensing the residual anger, eighteen years after the act … Why stay? And why would Melissa bring her child up in that environment?

  Shane told me that Penelope claimed she cheated on Shane because she wanted his attention, because she felt him slipping away. Is that what she learned about relationships from watching her parents’ marriage debacle take shape? That to keep a stronger hold of your loved ones, you need to inflict pain to remind them you’re there? That you can hurt them and they’ll stay?

  I don’t know what to think of the Rhodes family dynamic, but it seems I’m now tied to it, whether I like it or
not.

  My phone is ringing inside my purse. I check it quickly to see that it’s Justine and then set it on “silent.” I’ll fill her in on this shitshow tomorrow. “You have to eat, Cody, or you’ll be starving, and there’s not much in your dad’s cupboards.”

  “Or I can just take these home and heat them up later,” he counters.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s another option.” I pick at my Cobb salad, not overly hungry either.

  I steal a glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Travis is settled in next to my mother, showing not the slightest interest in any responsibility over his girlfriend’s son. Mom has tipped her head back to laugh about something, and the smile on Travis’s face is wide and genuine. Though this is only my third time seeing him, I know I haven’t seen him smile like that before.

  It’s in direct proportion to the scowl that tightens Melissa’s face as she watches their interaction. Perhaps the Rhodes women do have a valid case against the Reed women out for their men.

  “I like your mom. She’s nice,” Cody says. “And funny.”

  “She can be.” Especially when she’s three chardonnays into the night, and didn’t make your childhood a living hell.

  Fifteen minutes later, our food is officially cold and there is still no sign of Shane or Penelope.

  Cody squirms in the booth, his glances over his shoulder to the window frequent. “Where’s my dad? Why are they taking so long?”

  I search the dark beyond the glass for any hint of Shane and Penelope, but I see none. “I don’t know. They should be back soon, though.” Assuming she hasn’t shanked him in a fit of rage.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Melissa Rhodes slide out from her booth. I assume she’s heading for the restroom until she veers toward our table. I stifle my resigned sigh.

  She smiles extra wide at her grandson. “Cody, why don’t you come and join your grandfather and me for dinner?” Her voice is saccharine.

  “But my dad told me to stay with Scarlet.”

  “Yes, well, they’re taking longer than he expected. Maybe you can rejoin him when he returns.” She enunciates each word, and I don’t miss the “maybe” in there. As in, it isn’t a guarantee that Cody will be entrusted to his father’s care again after they’ve discovered him cavorting with heathens.

  And here I thought Penelope was a hateful woman.

  Cody’s gaze darts to mine, and I see his silent plea for help.

  My chest swells even as my gut clenches.

  Here we go. Conflict of interest fully engaged. “We’re good. Shane should be back shortly.” And my guess is he won’t appreciate his wishes being trumped by this sour-faced woman, even if she is Cody’s grandmother.

  Melissa Rhodes’s lips press together, forming a thin line, as she regards me. “I thought I was done with Reed women worming their way into my family’s lives.”

  I bite my tongue, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the restaurant. Meanwhile, I’m clenching my fists beneath the table.

  But Melissa doesn’t seem to be able to guard her temper as well. “I realize you may not know that what you’re doing is wrong, given your role model, but let me make it clear: Just because there isn’t a formal rule stopping you, it is wrong. You are putting my grandson in a position of embarrassment and ridicule.”

  “I think you’re the one doing that at the moment.” I give a meaningful look around us as my cheeks heat, at nearby tables enraptured by the growing scene. Melissa’s voice has risen above the regular hum of conversation. From across the space, I sense Jenny Byrd and her parents watching, and my face grows hotter. Even if Melissa Rhodes paints herself a lunatic, I won’t walk out of here unscathed.

  Melissa’s eyes dart around us, noting the attention she’s drawn. She clears her throat and drops her voice a touch. “You should not be engaged in a relationship with Cody’s father while you’re teaching his son. It’s despicable for an educator to behave in this manner and, if we have our way, you won’t be teaching at all. Come, Cody. Come with me.” She beckons him as if he were a dog.

  “I don’t want to,” he mumbles, shaking his bowed head.

  But she ignores him, reaching across the table to collect his food.

  Short of yanking the plate from her grasp and being accused of causing a physical altercation—with witnesses—that will surely cost me my job, there’s nothing I can do to stop her.

  I offer Cody a soothing smile. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’re going to leave as soon as your dad’s back.”

  “He won’t be going anywhere with you,” Melissa declares haughtily.

  Cody explodes. “Just stop!” With tears streaming down his cheeks, he scurries out of the booth and takes off running out the door, his grandmother hollering his name after him.

  “I hope you’re happy now,” she snipes, smoothing her wrinkled hand over her blouse, stealing furtive glances at the surrounding families. At least she has the decency to look ashamed.

  Shaking my head, I slide out. Now that Cody’s gone, I have no reason to guard my tongue. “Why don’t you go back to your table and keep an eye on your faithful husband before he ends up in a janitor’s closet again,” I hiss, quiet enough that no one else can hear, and then I march out into the chilly night after Cody.

  I find the three of them standing in the shadows on the sidewalk. Penelope is huddled in her jacket, her back to me. Cody’s face is buried in his father’s chest.

  The wind is biting and Shane is in nothing but a T-shirt. He must be cold, though nothing of his posture as he cradles his son’s head in comfort suggests that. “We’re going home now, buddy, I promise.”

  “We’re not finished with this conversation, Shane,” Penelope warns.

  He sighs. “Yeah, we are. At least I am.” He sees me standing there and gives me a “thank God you’re here to rescue me” look.

  “I’ll go pay the bill and grab our jackets,” I say.

  Penelope turns to shoot a glare my way that matches Melissa Rhodes’s so perfectly, I’d think mother and daughter have practiced in a mirror together.

  It doesn’t faze me. I’m so tired of dealing with the Rhodes women tonight. But then I note how Cody peels away from Shane’s body in time to catch his mother’s face. How long before he begins to despise her? Or, worse, what if her toxicity infects him as Melissa’s venom bled into Penelope?

  Something deep inside compels me to try to make peace, for his sake if nothing else. “If it makes you feel any better, my mom showing up was a total fluke and I doubt it’ll happen again.” Dottie is where she is most comfortable—at the bar, flirting with men. Currently, that man is Travis, and I have no interest in being here when Penelope discovers that.

  “You know what would make me feel better? You staying the hell away from my son!” Penelope yells.

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Shane counters.

  “I’ll talk to her however I want to. She is not a part of this family.”

  “Not yet,” Shane says evenly.

  Under different circumstances, his words might excite me. Now, though, they’re as dangerous as pouring gasoline onto an open flame.

  Penelope’s mouth gapes. “Why are you doing this to me? After everything her mother put my parents through.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you.” Shane releases his grip of his son to throw his hands in the air. “I’m just trying to be happy. Scarlet makes me happy!”

  As Penelope and Shane yell at each other, oblivious to the pedestrians who are slowing to watch the spectacle, Cody backs away. “Stop fighting,” I hear him say, his eyes wide with distress as they ping-pong back and forth.

  Neither of them hear him, too busy seething at each other.

  “Fine! So make a choice. It’s either her or your son,” Penelope demands.

  “Fuck you! I don’t have to make that choice,” Shane roars, all semblance of calm vanishing.

  “Stop fighting over me,” Cody shrieks over them. He bolts.

  A blood-curd
ling “No!” rises from deep inside my chest as I watch his gangly body dart across the side street just as headlights flash and a car whips around the corner.

  Shane moves fast after his son.

  But not fast enough.

  Twenty-Eight

  I must be on my fiftieth lap around the Polson Falls ER waiting area when the doctor steps out. I hang back while I watch Shane, Penelope, and both sets of grandparents gather to listen to her update on the boy they rushed here by ambulance hours ago.

  Not until Shane’s head falls back with the words “thank God” shaping on his lips, and Penelope’s hands press against her chest, do I allow myself a breath again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry …” Penelope’s mouth forms the words over and over again, shame and regret contorting her beautiful face.

  Shane gathers her into his strong arms, cradling the back of her head with affection as they console each other.

  I feel a prick, deep inside. A part of me—a jealous, insecure part—wishes I were the first one Shane reached for.

  Behind them, the grandparents whisper and hold relieved palms to foreheads and shake their heads, chattering amongst each other with familiarity. But of course, there is familiarity between them. Cody has made them family. Their love of that boy has bonded them for life.

  And I will always be an outsider in that regard.

  Travis is an outsider too, hanging back, watching it all unfold. Does it bother him that Penelope and Shane will always have this deep connection?

  “There you are.”

  The sound of my mother’s voice behind me replaces my relief with trepidation. I spin around. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.” I hear my despair as I glance over to make sure Melissa or Penelope hasn’t noticed her yet. The last thing anyone needs is another screaming match, this time in the hospital.

  She holds up my black purse and my jacket. “You left these in the booth.”

  I sigh, collecting them from her. “Thanks. I wasn’t thinking.” I hopped into Shane’s truck with him and we raced the ambulance here. I’m more than a little mystified that she would make the effort to deliver them to me.