Golden Trail

Chapter Nineteen Wisdom, Compassion and Strength

“Hi Tanner! You here to see Rocky?”

Sharon Reynolds had seen him when he walked in the front doors of the school and she’d hightailed it away from her desk to greet him before he even hit the office door.

Layne smiled at her. “Sharon. Yeah. She free?” he asked but he knew she wasn’t.

“Nope, she’s teaching in the auditorium,” Sharon answered.

“Need to talk to her, it’s kind of important. Can you get a message to her?”

She waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh no, don’t worry about that. I’m sure the kids won’t mind you interrupting.” She leaned in and gave him a wink. “Just go on to the auditorium. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, do I need to sign in?”

She smiled big at him. “I’ll do it for you. Just promise to stop by to visit the girls in the office and sign out, okay?”

Layne smiled back at her, just as big and her eyes locked on his mouth.

“Promise. Thanks, Sharon.”

“Right,” she whispered, still staring at his mouth and Layne didn’t hesitate, he turned and walked down the hall.

It was Wednesday and it was To Kill a Mockingbird week. Between working his cases, both paid and unpaid, talking to his mother, keeping an eye on Gabby’s place as well as Stew, hosting two teenaged girls at his house every night and trying to fit in catching up with Rocky, the week had already been staggeringly busy and he hadn’t had time to sneak in and watch Rocky teach.

Luckily, Sharon Reynolds made the sneaking in part easy.

The rest of it hadn’t been so easy.

Layne spoke to her but apparently Vera wasn’t ready to lay down her weapons, but at least now her shots were fired wide rather than Vera gutting Rocky with the bayonet.

Jasper had got Layne the make, model and color of TJ Gaines’s car but no address. As far as Jasper could gather the intel, no one knew where he lived and no one had been there. Layne had cruised the church a dozen times in two and a half days and never saw a blue Honda sedan in the lot in order to stake it out and follow him home. He’d also cruised by the teenage kids’ hangouts and still no go with the Honda. This meant Layne was on duty that night to wait for Gaines to leave Youth Club and follow him from there.

Layne found out that Jasper wasn’t wrong and Keira was a nut and she liked boy bands and Jasper liked her enough to let her play boy band music in the house and do it loud. Layne did not see good things in the future because Tripp didn’t like boy bands, Vera definitely didn’t like boy bands, Devin seriously didn’t like boy bands and Rocky detested them nearly as much as Layne did. Jasper was going to have to shut that shit down soon or there was going to be all out war.

And Monday night Layne discovered Giselle Speakmon was the pretty blonde sitting next to TJ Gaines. She also clearly thought of Raquel Merrick as her idol and her parents did too seeing as Giselle’s younger sister had some kind of very shitty cancer that was far shittier than cancer was on the whole and Roc had done some charity event that made money for a house for parents to stay in close to the hospital. The house was about to be closed down and Rocky’s event had saved it. Giselle’s parents didn’t live far but what amounted to two hour trip every day for months was a burden they couldn’t bear on top of having a really sick kid as well as a healthy one at home. That house was next door to the hospital and one or the other got to stay in it for six months while their daughter had inpatient treatments which made life a whole lot easier and they fully credited Rocky with this saving grace.

The sister was now in remission and the Speakmon family was in awe of Saint Rocky. Therefore, because Rocky was there, their sweet, very quiet, painfully shy daughter was allowed to hang with Tripp at Tripp’s house. The parents dropped her off and Rocky took her home. Monday night, she’d been silent except she spoke a little to Rocky and a little to Keira. She gave Vera a wide berth, probably because Vera was trying too hard with Giselle at the same aiming bullets at Rocky. Jasper, Layne and Devin openly scared the shit out of her. But she seemed at her most comfortable huddled with Tripp and Layne knew why. Tripp made her laugh and there was something about the kid, something that made Layne’s gut get tight, because seeing her laugh he suspected she didn’t do it often, as in, at all. Tuesday night, she started coming out of herself, letting Vera in but Layne knew for the rest of them it was going to be a painful process.

With a house full of kids, his mother and Devin, Layne and Rocky didn’t find much time to connect, at least not the way he wanted to connect. They had zero chance to talk alone and by the time they hit the sack, she was out within minutes. Luckily, his dream Rocky hadn’t abandoned him. She woke him in plenty of time for Layne to turn to his real Rocky and wake her with his hands and mouth. It wasn’t as much as he wanted but it was always great, it kept getting better and it was a whole lot more than nothing so he wasn’t going to complain.

Stew, at least, was keeping his distance and Gabby, at least, was doing what she was told. She’d deposited the two K and she was laying low with her friend Brandy.

Layne turned right at the end of the wide front hall and walked down the corridor to the auditorium. Quietly, he opened the door, entered and kept his hand on it so it would just as quietly close behind him.

Then he stood at the back and watched Rocky do her thing.

She was sitting on the edge of the stage, her ankles crossed, her kids in the auditorium seats in front of her, one of them talking.

“You think Atticus Finch is hot, Ms. Merrick?” the girl asked and Rocky smiled at her and rested back, her palms on the stage.

“Oh yeah,” Rocky answered, Layne grinned, leaned a shoulder against the wall of the entryway to the auditorium, settled in and listened.

“He doesn’t even have a woman,” a boy called out.

“A man doesn’t need to have a woman to be hot, Dylan. He just has to be a man,” Rocky replied.

“Yeah, I can see it,” another boy put in. “He shot that dog. That’s all man.”

“No,” Rocky shook her head. “That wasn’t. But why he shot the dog was.”

The kids were silent, waiting for Roc to impart wisdom and she didn’t disappoint.

“You see, I read this book when I was young. I’d read it before I even had to read it, like I’m making you do,” she told them. “When I read it the first time, it was all about Boo.”

“Boo’s cool!” a girl cried out. “I love Boo.”

“Lots to love,” Rocky said. “Boo’s pure all the way through.”

“What do you mean pure?” another kid shouted.

“What do you think I mean?” Rocky asked.

“He’s a good guy?” the kid asked back.

“Yep,” Rocky answered.

“He’s kind,” a girl yelled.

“Right,” Rocky stated.

“He’s shut up in that house but he still cares about Jem and Scout. He lives his life through them,” a boy called out and Rocky nodded. “He looks out for them, keeps them safe.”

“All kids need folks to look out for them,” she told her class. “But motherless kids, well, they can have a great dad and they can have a great brother but, in the end, Jem and Scout were lucky they had Boo.”

At her words, Layne felt his chest seize and the auditorium got deathly quiet. She hadn’t talked about that when she was telling him why she loved To Kill a Mockingbird twenty years ago.

“Did you…” a girl started then paused, calling up the courage to go on, “did you have a Boo, Ms. Merrick?”

The auditorium grew silent again, this time it was uncomfortable because it was a personal question, asking too much.

But Rocky didn’t hesitate with her response. “No, Brittany, I never had a Boo. That’s why, when I first read To Kill a Mockingbird, it was all about Boo.” She leaned forward and put her forearms on her thighs. “See, that’s the beauty of books. We get to take what we want out of them and it can be different for everyone. You get a good one, you may even find what you need. I needed Boo when I read that book the first time and I got him, so, in a way, I did have a Boo. The Boo. The second time, I needed my mind opened. The third time, I needed Atticus. That’s why this is such a brilliant book. Firstly, because it is brilliant. Secondly, because every time you read it, you get something new out of it.”

“You needed your mind opened?” a boy yelled.

“Yep,” Rocky answered. “You taste injustice, even if it’s fictional, really taste it, it has a way of doing that. Sometimes, you can never put the shoe on the other foot. We can’t go back in time and know what it was like to be a black person then.” Her eyes scanned the all white faces of her class and she went on. “Even today, when things are supposed to be so much better, not one of you can understand what it’s like to be black, to live with the knowledge of what happened to your ancestry and still face injustice. But that book makes us taste it and, reading it, we know how bitter that taste is and we know we don’t like it. But that bitter wakes you up, and when you wake up, you open your mind to things in this world, you make yourself think. Then you’ll decide you don’t like the taste of injustice, not for you and not for anyone, and you’ll understand that even though all the battles can’t be won, that doesn’t mean you won’t fight.”

“Like Atticus,” a girl called out.

“Like Atticus,” Rocky repeated on a smile and sat straight. “Atticus Finch is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met in print. He’s a good dad and he does what’s right, not what’s safe, not what’s popular. What’s right. He’s gentle. He’s smart. He’s strong. He’s decisive and he’s willing to follow through with his decisions, no matter what the odds. Even if it means doing something heinous, like walking into a street and putting down a rabid dog. Taking the life of another being to put it out of its misery and make people safe. If you only read that one scene, you’d know the beauty that is Atticus Finch. Lucky for us, we had that whole book to get to know him.”

“Is that why you think he’s hot?” a boy asked.

“Yes, Zach, that’s why I think he’s hot,” Rocky answered.

“I liked it when he sat outside the police station and faced down the crowd,” another boy called out.

“That’s good too,” Rocky told him on a smile.

“I liked the courtroom scenes,” a girl shouted. “They rocked!”

“Yes, Luanne, they did. Except for the verdict, they definitely rocked,” Rocky agreed.

“The verdict sucked,” a boy yelled.

“Did it make you angry?” Rocky asked him.

“Well, yeah,” he answered.

“How angry?” Rocky asked.

“It ticked me off,” the kid returned. “I had to quit reading for awhile.”

Rocky smiled at him and asked, “And why did it tick you off?”

“Because it was wrong,” he replied.

“It was more than wrong, Will. It was injustice,” Rocky jumped off the stage, the movement liquid, landing gracefully on her high heels and she walked to stand close to the class. “Open your minds and learn from this tale. Do not stand still for injustice. If you know something isn’t right, find your strength and stand against it. I’m not going to kid you that it’s easy, it’s not. If you think Atticus Finch went home at night and slept easy because he knew he was doing the right thing, you’re wrong. He worried. He worried for his children. He worried for himself. He worried for his town. He worried for the world he lived in and his children were growing up in. He worried for the man he was trying to defend. And he knew he was going to lose. He knew it. But that didn’t stop him. Because even one voice in a wilderness of ignorance is a voice that is heard by someone. Because every woman and man, no matter their color or their religion, is entitled to a good defense. And because Jem and Scout would grow up to be like their father, spreading his wisdom, understanding his compassion and sharing his strength which are the only, the only weapons we have against injustice.” She walked along the front of the class but her eyes scanned the kids while she did it and her gaze was focused, piercing every last kid. “If you’re nothing else in this life, be wise, be compassionate and be strong because those three things are everything.”

There was utter silence until the boy named Dylan shouted, “I’m strong, Ms. Merrick, I can bench press two fifty.”

The other kids hissed, called insults, some threw wads of paper at him and one yelled, “You’re so full of it, Dylan, you can’t bench press a Barbie.”

Rocky was standing in front of the class, arms crossed on her chest and a smile was on her face.

“Dylan,” she called and the kid yelled back, “Yo!”

“Hard not to see you’re ripped,” Rocky commented and Dylan immediately stood and cut some poses, flexing his muscles while more wads of paper were thrown at him and comments were shouted. Dylan ignored them, kept posing and Rocky spoke over them. “That kind of strength, I bet any bully you saw in the halls doing stuff and saying stuff they shouldn’t, you called them on it, they’d stop. That’s strength and compassion.” She grinned. “Now you just have to pass my midterm and maybe you’ll add wisdom to that.”

The class burst into laughter, Dylan grinned back at Rocky, sat down and another kid called out, “Don’t hold your breath, Ms. Merrick!”

The bell rang and Rocky held up her hands. “All right, more Jem, Scout, Boo and Atticus tomorrow and Friday because we’re watching the movie and I’m introducing you to Gregory Peck so be prepared to get your socks knocked off. But remember, Friday, I want you all to bring in the title of your favorite song. We’re talking lyrics, not music, people. And if one of you brings in the title to a boy band song, automatic detention,” she threatened, there was more laughter and she turned toward the stage, saying, “Dismissed.”

The kids shot up and filed out and as they did, Layne realized that every one of them had read the damned book. There was mass participation but even though he barely tore his eyes off Rocky, he’d noticed even the kids who hadn’t called out comments or questions had been totally engaged.

He stepped into the auditorium from the entryway, the kids saw him and some of them stared, some grinned, some nudged others and avoided his eyes.

But when Dylan saw him, he turned back and shouted helpfully, “Mr. Layne is here, Ms. Merrick!” and a bunch of girls giggled when he did.

Rocky had been picking up her papers but she whirled at Dylan’s comment, scanned the back and her eyes locked on Layne as he strode forward. She dropped her papers and started up the aisle toward him, meeting him halfway with a smile.

“Hey,” she said softly through her smile.

“Hey,” he replied and tore his gaze off her dimple to look in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Wanted to watch you do your thing,” Layne answered.

The smile faded but her lips parted and she stared up at him with something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read.

So he guessed.

“Baby, I was only there for ten minutes. I didn’t –” he started to explain but she cut him off on a whisper.

“You wanted to watch me do my thing?”

Layne studied her face, still couldn’t read it so he kept explaining. “You made me want to reread that book and the way you did it made me appreciate it in a way I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t loved it so much. You told me you were teaching it and…” Layne stopped talking when she looked down and to the side and he lifted a hand to curl it around her neck. “Roc.”

Her head twisted back, her eyes locked on his and she whispered, “Jarrod didn’t discuss my kids, my work, none of it. He had zero interest. None. And you’re spread so thin it’s a wonder you aren’t transparent and you find the time…”

She suddenly trailed off, bent to the side, dislodging his hand and looked around him as he heard the sounds of kids entering the auditorium.

“Up front, center, first three rows,” she called to the kids. “Kayla, do me a favor and tell folks when they come in. Mr. Layne and I need a minute.”

“Sure, Ms. Merrick,” Kayla called back and Layne wasn’t sure what was going on in Rocky’s head, even though he figured it was good, but he was fucking thrilled the “Ms. Merrick” thing had caught on.

Rocky grabbed his hand, her fingers wrapping strong around his and she tugged him down the aisle and along the front of the seats. She kept hold of his hand as she led him up the steps at the side of the stage and then ducked backstage with him.

When they were out of eyesight, she stopped, kept hold of his hand and stepped into him so their bodies were nearly brushing.

“Okay, well, it goes without saying if a hot private investigator can’t make out with me at a football game, I can’t lay one on a hot private investigator in the school with my class assembling fifty feet away so you’ll just have to make do with the knowledge I really, really want to make out with you right now, Tanner Layne,” she announced and he grinned as he stifled a laugh.

He dropped her hand and put both of his to her hips, bringing her the inch forward he needed for their bodies actually to be brushing while he murmured, “Sweetcheeks.”

She rested her hands on his chest and asked, “Was it okay?”

“Was what okay?”

“The lesson. There’s just so much to say with that book, you can’t get to it all so I have to melt it down. I mean, we could talk about it for a month and not –”

Layne cut her off. “It was okay.”

She stared into his eyes. “You sure?”

He dipped his face closer to hers and whispered, “Baby, they were eatin’ it up.”

She instantly blew off his compliment. “It’s a good class. Those kids are bright.”

“No, Roc, you’re a good teacher. Those kids might be bright but you make it interesting and I reckon you changed a few lives in there today, or at least the way they look at things.”

“You think?” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Layne whispered back.

She smiled, eyes bright with dimple and, fuck, but he wanted to kiss her.

“You need to negotiate a new contract, sweetcheeks,” Layne informed her and she burst out laughing then tilted her head down and pressed the top into his chest above her hands before she leaned back and looked up at him.

“Guess what?” she asked, the laughter still playing about her lips.

“What?” he asked back, watching her mouth.

“Adrian Cosgrove called in sick Monday and yesterday,” she stated and his eyes went to hers.

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Well, he didn’t call in sick today.”

Layne’s brows shot up. “No shit?”

She shook her head. “No shit. You haven’t heard?”

“Been busy, baby.”

“Then you should call Colt or Merry and get the lowdown because he barely stepped in the door when the principal called him into his office. Then, about five seconds after Principal Klausen suspended him, Chris Renicki and Marty Fink arrested him for assault and battery.”

Layne grinned. “Day’s lookin’ up.”

Rocky grinned back. “Definitely.” Then her grin faded and she stated, “He’ll make bail.”

Layne shook his head. “Don’t worry, Roc, Paige and Seth will stay where they are until they’re safe. They’ll be covered.”

She nodded and asked, “Did Jas call you during lunch?”

“Nope,” Layne answered. “Everything okay?”

She nodded again and said, “Yeah. Apparently Tripp negotiated a double date.”

“Come again?”

“He asked Giselle if she’d ask her parents if it was okay, after football practice but before Youth Group, if Giselle could go out with Jas, Keira and him for pizza and then Jasper could take her home and they said yes.”

Layne smiled. Jas was right. Religious or not, the parents had caved.

“Why are you smiling?” Rocky asked.

“Nothin’, sweetcheeks.”

She let it go and announced, “That means I’m heading home tonight.”

Layne’s smile died. “Why?”

“The boys won’t be at your place, you told me you have to work late and then you’re staking out Gaines’s car so you won’t be there and as much as I like Devin, without you and Jasper and Tripp running interference, I don’t know if I could take a night of mostly full on Vera while waiting for you to come home.”

It was definitely time to have another chat with his mother.

“Roc –”

“Anyway,” she interrupted him. “It feels like I haven’t been home in ages so it’ll be good to go through mail, make sure no lab experiments are fermenting in my fridge and watch something other than football and cop shows.”

“There’s something other than football and cop shows?” Layne asked and she smiled.

“Yes, celebrity dance contests,” she answered, Layne tipped his head back to look at the ceiling and tipped it down when he felt her press close. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. I hate those shows. I much prefer football.”

His hands gave her hips a squeeze, the bell rang and her head turned to the side.

“Key,” he said quickly and she looked back at him.

“Sorry?”

“Drop your extra key at my house or in the mail slot in the door to my office. Text me where you put it. I’ll come over when I’m done and spend the night at your place tonight.”

She looked to the side again as the noise the kids were making unsupervised got louder and then back to him.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What about Jasper and Tripp?”

“They’re not kids anymore, sweetcheeks, and anyway, Vera and Devin are there. Devin can have a bed. He’ll be fuckin’ thrilled.”

She looked to the side again and whispered, “I have to go.”

“Roc. Key,” he ordered on a squeeze of his hands at her hips and she looked at him.

“Mail slot at your office. Just in case Devin isn’t home when I stop by.”

Yep. He definitely needed another chat with his mother.

“Right,” he said.

She made to move away from him, repeating, “I have to go,” and Layne released her.

“Baby,” he called when she’d walked three feet away and she turned back. “You owe me a make out session.”

She grinned. Then she disappeared.

Layne found the backstage door and headed down the side hall to the corridor and then to the office where he signed out and made nice with all the office ladies, keeping them sweet because he figured, with Rocky working there, one day he’d need it.

Layne was headed out the front doors when he heard his name called and he turned to see Nick Fullerton jogging down the hall toward him.

“Heard you were in the school. Glad I caught you,” Nick said when he made it to Layne.

“Hey Nick, everything all right?” Layne asked and Nick grinned.

“Yeah, got promoted officially to head coach today,” Nick answered.

Layne shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Way you called the second half of the game Friday, they made the right choice.”

“Thanks, man,” Nick was still grinning. “Anyway, been spendin’ the last coupla days in Adrian’s office, goin’ through stuff. Just wondered if there’s a reason Jas isn’t talkin’ to the scouts. He decide he’s not goin’ to college or something?”

Layne felt the muscles in his neck contract. “What?”

“Scouts,” Nick said. “From Ohio State, Illinois and Ball State. They’re interested in Jasper. They know he’s got the goods even if he isn’t handling the ball. He’ll make all-county and, he performs under me, maybe all-state. He doesn’t have great grades but he’s scored high on the SATs and he’s a class officer.”

Layne felt a muscle jump in his cheek before he said low, “Nick, far’s I know, Jasper hasn’t heard word that any scouts have come forward and declared interest. We knew they were scoutin’ but nothin’ after that.”

Nick stared at him hard.

Then he said, “I’ll return some calls.”

“Obliged,” Layne murmured, Nick nodded and turned to jog back down the hall.

Layne watched him for three beats until his neck relaxed and his temper was under control.

Then he turned and walked out the door.

“Merry, you been dodgin’ me for three days. You get this, you call me. I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, I hunt you down,” Layne growled into his phone and snapped it shut.

No sooner had he closed it when it chimed in his hand and he looked to see he had a text from Rocky. He opened his phone and read it.

Going to bed early. Have a headache. You don’t need to come over. See you tomorrow?

Layne clenched his teeth and hit the reply button with his thumb.

I’ll be over.

He hit send, flipped the phone shut, tossed it on the seat beside him and looked out the windshield of his truck toward the side doors of the church.

Youth Group should be out any minute now.

He wanted to get this done. He wanted to shut Gaines down; find a way to make Adrian Cosgrove pay for beating his wife and son and fucking with Jasper’s future; rest in the knowledge his ex-wife was safe in her own home; take down Rutledge and whoever was pulling his strings; bring Jarrod Astley low so he’d be out of Roc’s life; talk his mother into getting her shit together or getting her ass back to Florida; and he wanted to talk to Merry so he could sort Rocky out.

Then he wanted to go on vacation.

With Rocky.

And maybe his boys.

His phone chimed, he looked at it sitting in the seat, its screen lit and he picked it up and flipped it open. Another text from Raquel.

Okay, baby. You have dinner?

He smiled at the phone, his earlier irritation evaporating, and texted back.

No but I’m good.

He sent the text, flipped the phone shut and started upending and twisting it in his fingers as he looked back at the doors to see kids coming out.

Youth Group met in the old sanctuary, the church that had stood there for fifty years before they built on the new, modern sanctuary which was four times the size and the new build included a Fellowship Hall, kitchens and offices. They still used the old sanctuary for church business, like Youth Group, and rented it out. The new church wasn’t new, as such. It had been built when Layne was a kid. But it didn’t resemble the old church at all, even if it was attached to it. The new church was attractive but the old church had charm, it fit the ‘burg. Even when he was a kid and his mother took him there, Layne never understood why they built it that way. The two buildings were attached but they didn’t match. Two different styles, two different eras and the new church, even though it dwarfed the old one, never seemed like it belonged.

He watched Jasper, Giselle and Tripp leave the building and head to the Charger. He also watched Tripp say something that made Jasper throw his head back and laugh and Giselle turned hers to smile a big smile at his son. Then he watched Tripp take advantage of the smile and grab her hand. She couldn’t hide being startled by the contact but she didn’t pull away either and walked to the Charger holding Tripp’s hand.

Layne’s lips tipped up. Tripp was definitely learning cool.

His phone chimed and he had another text from Rocky.

There’s a plate in the oven. Remember to turn it off, will you?

Got it. Go to sleep. Layne texted back, flipped the phone shut and tossed it back to the seat.

Then he watched the kids drive away in their cars or with their parents who had come to pick them up. Then he waited for Gaines to leave. The Honda and a red Ford Focus were the only cars left in the lot.

Then he waited longer.

Then he waited even longer.

Finally, he saw the lights streaming through the stained glass windows of the old sanctuary go out and, five minutes later, Gaines walked out with a young girl. Pretty. Tall. Thin. Dark, long hair, so healthy it gleamed in the lights of the parking lot. Layne knew she was sixteen since she could drive, maybe seventeen. But she didn’t have the confidence of a senior, she didn’t hold her body in that way that hinted at the woman she’d become. She still had girl in her.

Which made their farewell turn Layne’s stomach.

They were right under an overhead light but she still placed her hand on Gaines’s chest and got up on her toes and he bent his head, put his hand to her waist and kissed her neck.

“Son of a bitch,” Layne hissed at his windshield.

So much shit was going down, he was off his game. He should have had a camera ready mainly because he’d promised Rocky he’d get a photo of Gaines to Merry but now because, if Layne had shots of it, that kiss would make the Youth Minister need to answer uncomfortable questions. He had one in the glove compartment but he didn’t have it out.

Even so, he would never have imagined Gaines would stand in the parking lot of the fucking church and kiss a teenager’s neck for any driver in any passing car to see.

This guy was bold which meant he thought he was untouchable.

There had to be a reason for that. There had to be leverage. He had to have something.

Layne pulled out his camera and took shots and watched as Gaines smiled at her all the while she waved as she went to her car. She got in and took off and Gaines got in his Honda and left the lot. Layne waited while Gaines turned right on Green then he tossed his camera to the passenger seat, rolled out of the secluded, tree shrouded, unlit back area of the lot and kept his eyes on the Honda, flipping on his headlights and turning right with three cars between them.

Gaines turned right again on 56 and so did one of the three cars between them. Layne followed.

And he followed him straight to The Brendel where Gaines turned right into the entrance and Layne had no choice but to turn right with him.

Jesus. He either lived at The Brendel or he was visiting someone there at ten at night.

Layne slid through the gate Gaines opened and Gaines took the first right while Layne went left, toward Rocky’s place. He parked in one of her spots, grabbed his smokes from the glove compartment, his small digital camera from the seat and got out of the car. He walked into the road, tucking the camera in his inside jacket pocket and looked toward where Gaines turned.

No Honda in sight.

Layne took a swift moment to survey the area. Muted lighting but it was good. It didn’t invite strangers. There weren’t many dark corners. The streets were well lit so you could make your way. Someone came there wanting to do something they shouldn’t, they’d think twice because there was nowhere to hide and it was easy to see.

Good for the tenants. Bad for Layne.

He shook out a cigarette and walked to the sidewalk in front of Rocky’s unit. Then he lit it and took a stroll. A man outside having a smoke and a walk, he moved passed the unit next to Rocky’s and jogged across the wide entrance road to the complex. Then he hit the sidewalk on the other side. Four units in, just around a curve, he found the Honda parked next to a sporty, red Mazda.

Unit K.

Apartment one, lights out. Apartment two, lights on behind blinds. Lights on in apartment three, up the stairs and facing the small field that separated The Brendel from the next development, wide windows and a long balcony, twice the size of Rocky’s but without the two story windows. No curtains or blinds closed but Layne had no reason to stand there and watch.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lifting his smoke, taking a drag and exhaling as he dropped his hand, staring at the license plates on the cars and memorizing them. To save time so he didn’t have to do it in the morning, he was considering jogging quickly to the parking spaces to check their apartment number with the hope no one spotted him when he glanced back to the window and saw him.

Gaines at the window to close the blinds. Jacket off. Shirt untucked. Bottle of beer in his hand. He was home or at least in for the night.

He lived at The Brendel.

No Youth Minister could afford The Brendel.

The blinds started swinging closed and Layne made his way back to Rocky’s.

Tomorrow, unit K, apartment three officially went on radar.

Layne flicked the butt in a drain in the street ten feet from Rocky’s stairs. As he jogged up them he pulled out his keys. He’d already put Rocky’s on his ring.

He let himself in. A light by the couch lit. The under cabinet lights in the kitchen lit. Soft but welcoming. The smell of something in the air, fruity, like berries. One of her candles she’d put out but the smell lingered.

He took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair. Then he went to the fridge, saw bottles of Bud and smiled. He took one out, twisted off the cap and took a slug then pulled open the door to the oven. Homemade macaroni and cheese with bits of hotdog.

At the sight, his smile got big. When they were living together she’d made it her mission to make the best homemade macaroni and cheese on the planet and she mostly did this because he loved her first try and told her, so she twisted herself in knots to make it better. It was fucking tasty by the time she left him. It was probably heaven on a plate if Astley stooped low enough to eat mac and cheese with cut up hotdogs.

Layne stood in the kitchen, hips against the counter, eating it and drinking beer. He was about to go to the fridge to see if she had leftovers he could nuke for a second helping when the loud knock came at the door.

“Rocky, open the fucking door!” Layne heard Jarrod Astley shout.

Layne stood in the kitchen with his empty plate in one hand, the fork resting on top, his bottle of beer in his other hand, he stared at the door and decided to count to ten.

He got to three when the knock came back and he heard, “I know he’s in there too, you stupid slut! Open the fucking door!”

Layne’s beer hit the counter with a thud and his plate with a crash and he was at the door in less time than it took him to count to three.

He pulled it open and filled its frame.

“What the fuck?” he asked an openly furious Jarrod Astley.

Astley barreled forward, hitting Layne in the chest with his shoulder and shoving him to the side all the while saying loudly, “Get out of my way, asshole.”

Layne stepped away from him, threw the door to and turned to see Astley in the middle of the open space between kitchen and living room, looking around him. Then Astley shouted toward the stairs, “Rocky! Get your ass down here!”

Layne moved, going direct to him and gripping his upper arm, he yanked him around.

“You got two seconds to leave, you don’t, I’m puttin’ you out,” Layne clipped low.

“Fuck you!” Astley bellowed.

“Roc’s got a headache,” Layne ground out. “You got somethin’ to say to her you wait until she’s feelin’ better or you say it through your attorneys. You do not come bustin’ into her home fuckin’ shoutin’.”

Astley pulled sharply at his arm, demanding. “Take your hand off me!”

Layne yanked him forcefully in the direction of the door, Astley stumbled but righted himself and Layne ordered, “Get out.”

“Take your goddamned hand off me!” Astley roared, twisting his arm, lifting a hand and shoving it in Layne’s chest.

Layne braced so Astley’s shove only rocked him back and then he pressed forward, turning to crowd Astley and force him to the door when they heard from the stairs.“Jarrod?”

Both of them froze and looked to the stairs.

Rocky was at the middle, hair down and around her shoulders, a King’s Island nightshirt could be seen, the closed banister hiding the rest of her. Her face was pale and she looked visibly hazy, not from surprise or upset.

This wasn’t a headache. This was one of her headaches.

Fuck.

“Baby, go to bed. I’ll deal with this,” Layne called to her.

“Fuck that and fuck you!” Astley yelled and yanked his arm free, skirting Layne and taking two steps toward Rocky which were two steps to Layne’s three. Layne rounded him to stand in front of him and stood firm to block his way, bringing Astley up short.

“Get out,” Layne ordered.

Astley ignored him and kept his eyes pinned on Roc.

“Get your ass down here, you bitch!” At that, Layne put a hand to his chest, wishing he could put a fist to his face and Astley’s eyes sliced to him. “Do not touch me!” he shouted. “I know what she,” he jabbed a finger at Rocky, “put you up to. I know!”

Devin clearly had been busy.

“You need to go someplace and calm the fuck down,” Layne warned quietly.

“And you need to go fuck yourself!” Astley shouted then looked at Rocky. “You’re with him a month. A month and it’s like you spent ten minutes with me. You’re back to nothing. A piece of shit.”

Layne’s mouth got dry but his palms got prickly and he took two quick steps forward, forcing Astley back with his hand and his body.

“Layne,” Rocky called and Layne stopped and pushed Astley back another step with his hand but didn’t step back himself.

Astley glared at him, angry and stupid enough to stay in Layne’s space and Layne felt Rocky come up to his side and her hand curled around his bicep.

“What are you talking about?” she asked softly, her voice as hazy as her expression and pinched with pain.

Layne’s patience, already strained, slipped.

“Blackmail,” Astley spit out.

“Blackmail?” Rocky whispered, her hand clenching spasmodically on Layne’s arm.

“Yes, Rocky, blackmail. Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Astley returned.

“She doesn’t,” Layne put in and Astley’s eyes shot to his as he felt Rocky’s hit him. “That was all me.”

“Bullshit,” Astley snapped.

“It’s true. She has no fuckin’ clue,” Layne replied. “Now, seein’ as you’re a doctor and all, and considerin’ you spent the last ten years with her, I reckon you can take one look at her and know she’s not in a good way so, I’ll tell you again, get… the fuck… out.”

“And I’ll tell you again… fuck you!” Astley bellowed.

And then Rocky wasn’t there. Layne turned and watched her racing up the stairs with her hand over her mouth.

Shit, she was going to be sick. The pain was so bad, she was nauseous because of it.

And her ex-asshole was shouting.

Layne locked eyes with Astley then followed her, taking the steps three at a time.

He found her in the hall bathroom, on her knees in front of the toilet, one arm on the seat, one hand clenched in her hair to pull it back, head in the bowl, retching.

He grabbed a washcloth folded in a triangle over a towel on the rod and tossed it in the sink. Drenching it with cold water, he rung it out and crouched beside her.

He gathered her hair in one fist, gently pulling it from her hand then set the cool cloth on her neck and murmured, “Baby.”

She spit then moved to rest her forehead on her arm as her back bowed with the effort to hold back her gags and Layne reached out and flushed the toilet.

“I hate this,” she whispered on a heavy breath.

“I know, honey,” Layne held her hair and pressed lightly on the cloth at her neck then she moved back over the toilet and heaved again.

She was back to resting her forehead on her arm, her back bowing and arching with the deep breaths she was taking when Layne heard Astley’s voice.

“Has she taken a pill?”

Layne looked to the door to see him standing in it, staring down at them, his face cleared of anger, something Layne didn’t have the focus to read replacing it.

Roc didn’t move.

“Her pill?” Layne asked.

“I took it,” Rocky whispered into the toilet.

“When?” Astley asked.

“Not too…” big breath, “not too long ago,” she answered. “I thought I could fight it.”

Astley sighed loudly before he said, “I’m always telling you Rocky –”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Where are they?” Astley asked.

“Bathroom in my bedroom,” she answered and Astley disappeared.

Layne looked down at Raquel. “Baby, what pill?”

She took in a deep breath and sat back on her calves. He let go of her hair, flushed the toilet again and she looked up at him.

“There’s a pill I have now. Jarrod knew about it. It works, if I take it in time. Sometimes even when I don’t take it in time, if it doesn’t end up in the toilet, like that one did.”

Layne took in this information and moved the cloth from her neck to her face, wiping her brow and sliding it down to clean her mouth last.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes still foggy but pointed at him.

“Anytime, sweetcheeks,” he grinned at her, “you know that.”

Her mouth got soft and her lips parted right before her eyes slid from him and he looked over his shoulder to see Astley at the door, watching them. He had a glass of water in one hand, the other hand balled in a fist. He took one step into the bathroom and put the glass on the basin of the sink and dropped a light blue tablet next to it.

“Give her that, she keeps it down, she’ll be better in an hour,” he stated then he walked out of the room.

Layne listened while he helped Rocky to her feet but he didn’t hear the door downstairs close. He kept listening as he gave Roc the tablet and handed her the glass. She gulped it down, he took the glass from her, set it on the basin and he led her into her room knowing Astley still hadn’t left.

She went direct to the master bath off her bedroom and he leaned against the doorjamb and watched while she quickly brushed her teeth. Then he stepped aside as she wandered in her pain-fuelled fog to the bed, gingerly entered it and just as gingerly laid down on her side, curled her knees into her belly and pressed her head into the pillow.

He walked to her, pulled the covers over her and let them drop lightly on her. Then he leaned in and shifted her hair off her neck. He wanted to kiss her but if it was as bad as it seemed, she wouldn’t want that so he left her in the room and closed the door behind him.

He found Astley standing and staring sightlessly out her huge windows.

“Astley –” he started.

Astley cut him off. “Tell her to tell her attorneys what she wants. I’ll consider it and counter if it’s inappropriate.”

Fuck, he was caving.

“You’re gonna settle?” Layne asked, Astley turned and gazed at him.

He did this for awhile and Layne held his gaze, waiting. Then Astley looked away and walked to the front door.

Hand on the knob, he turned to Layne. “I want you to know it’s not because of your antics.” His eyes slid to the stairs then back to Layne. “It’s because of her.” He stared at Layne a beat that fed into five. Then he whispered, “You’re not the only one who can love her, you know.”

Layne felt his body lock, his temper flare and his patience ebb. “Fuckin’ strange way of showin’ it, man.”

“You think that then you’ve never loved someone so much, wanted someone’s attention so badly, you’d do anything to get it,” Astley shot back. “You think I’m an asshole. She’s been cheating on me for twelve years, since our first date, sitting across the table from me and wishing I was you.”

His chest got tight at Astley’s words but he still returned, “You’re wrong. She wanted to love you.”

Astley shook his head and looked back to the stairs.

Eyes on the stairs he whispered, “I didn’t stand a chance.”

Then he opened the door, stepped through and was careful to close it quietly.

Layne didn’t hesitate and walked across the room to turn the lock and flip the latch.

He stood with his hand still on the latch not thinking about Astley’s final words. He wasn’t giving headspace to that asshole. Instead he was thinking one down, half a dozen to go.

Then he walked to the fridge to find Roc’s leftovers.

Forty-five minutes later, Layne quietly entered Rocky’s bedroom.

“I’m awake and I’m better,” she said softly from the bed.

Layne walked to her side and sat on it. She was still curled into a ball, her back to him and she didn’t move. This wasn’t unusual. He remembered, after she’d battled the pain, she wasn’t herself, not in a fog but she’d lose a hint of lucidity.

He leaned over her and put a forearm into the bed in front of her.

“You need anything?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she answered.

“That pill obviously works wonders, sweetcheeks, I remember sometimes it’d be hours and it was only sleep that brought you peace.”

“Yep, it’s the wonder pill,” she whispered.

“So why do you wait to take it?”

“Because I’m an idiot?”

She was joking and he laughed softly, leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then he moved away from her, rounded the bed, closed the curtains she’d left open, pulled off his clothes and joined her.

He reached out, gathered her in his arms and she snuggled closer.

“All right, Roc, no jokin’ around, why do you wait to take it?” Layne repeated his question and she sighed.

Then she answered, “Hope springs eternal. I hate those headaches and they don’t come very often so, in between times, I tell myself I’m done with them, I’ve had the last one. Then, when they start, I tell myself it isn’t one of those, it’s just a headache because I don’t want to believe they’ve come back. Then, well… they come back.”

“You need to take the pill, Rocky.”

“Taking the pill is admitting defeat, Layne.”

He rolled into her, taking her to her back, lifted up and looked down at her shadowed face.

“Any battle worth winnin’ is worth using every weapon available,” he informed her.

“Right, like blackmailing Jarrod?” she returned and Layne got quiet. When he didn’t speak, she asked, “Did you blackmail him?”

“I didn’t,” Layne answered somewhat honestly.

She was silent. Then she whispered, “Dev.”

Layne didn’t reply.

“What’d you get on him?” she asked.

“Dirty campaign contributions,” Layne partially answered.

“I can believe that,” she said softly. “Especially considering he was so pissed. He loves being one of the good ole boys. He can get pissy but that was off the charts.”

Layne reckoned Jarrod Astley didn’t like losing, especially not something as important as Rocky. And he also reckoned the man didn’t like any time when he couldn’t do what he damn well pleased.

But he doubted that anger was about campaign contributions.

That kind of anger was about love or money and not money spent on politics.

Devin had pulled the Marissa card and Astley was facing paying out twice and losing hold of Rocky, even the sick hold he had that was essentially just yanking her chain.

So it was both. Love and money.

“He’s settling,” Layne announced and felt Rocky’s body still.

“Sorry?”

“He’s settling, baby,” Layne told her. “He says for you to tell your attorneys what you want, if he’s not happy with it, he’ll counter.”

“Seriously?” she breathed.

“Seriously.”

She was motionless and silent a moment before she lifted her hand and curled it around his neck then she lifted her head and touched her mouth to his.

Then she said, “Thank you, baby.”

Thank Christ, she wasn’t pissed, she was grateful.

So he took advantage. “This means you owe me and what you owe me is promising me you’ll take that pill the minute a headache comes on.”

“Layne –”

“Non-negotiable.”

“Layne –”

“I love your hair, sweetcheeks, and my fingers in it but it isn’t my favorite thing to do, holding it back while you puke.”

Rocky fell silent.

“You with me on this?” Layne prompted.

“Yes,” she gave in softly.

“Promise,” he pushed.

“I promise,” she stated.

That’s when he grinned and bent his head to brush her lips with his.

As he was lifting his head, she asked, “Did you find out where Gaines lived?”

“Five guesses,” Layne replied. “And if one of them isn’t The Brendel, you lose.”

Rocky gasped then asked, “The Brendel?”

“Yep,” Layne fell to his side and she rolled into him, pushing him to his back with her body and then lifting her head and shoulders up but her hand was still at his neck.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. He either lives here or he’s visiting his girlfriend who’s got cabbage. He drove straight here, knew the gate code and I took a stroll, found his car and saw him close the blinds, a beer in his hand.”

She was silent a moment before she said, “He doesn’t have a girlfriend. Women can be pretty blind, Layne, especially when a man is that attractive, but if she goes to church and sees the way he is with those girls –”

Layne interrupted her. “You think he’s attractive?”

“Well… yeah,” she answered.

“Roc, evidence is suggesting this guy is into some sick shit. I saw him kiss a sixteen year old’s neck as his way of sayin’ good-bye.” He felt her body get stiff as he went on. “That shit’s not right.”

“I’m not saying he’s attractive, as in, if I didn’t lay claim to the hottest guy in the ‘burg, I’d go for it. I’m just saying, you know, technically he’s attractive in an ‘euw, gross, he’s into sick shit which is too bad because he’s cute’ kind of way.”

Layne burst out laughing, his arms went around her and he rolled her again to her back, this time he covered her torso with his, buried his face in her neck and asked, “You lay claim to the hottest guy in the ‘burg? Who’s that then?”

She slapped his arm lightly and whispered, “Shut up.”

He lifted his head and smiled at her shadowed face, “No really, I wanna know.”

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

He bent his neck and rubbed the side of his nose against hers, whispering, “You think I’m hot.”

“You know you’re hot, you always did,” she stated and he lifted his head.

“Yeah, and you always did too, that’s why you strutted back and forth to the window at Fulsham’s Custard Stand five times while I was sitting there, eatin’ my cone the first time I saw you, ‘cause you wanted some of this and got it by swinging your ass in my face.”

She gasped again. “I did not!”

“Sweetcheeks, you so did.”

“If I recall, I needed a napkin,” she shot back.

“Five of them?”

“It was a hot day! My cone was melting too fast for me to eat it.”

“Baby, when you weren’t struttin’, you were lickin’ and you took your time because that got my attention too.”

“I forgot how full of yourself you could be,” Rocky snapped.

“And I forgot about you lickin’ that cone,” Layne returned. “We’re goin’ to Fulsham’s tomorrow after dinner.”

“It’s closed for the winter,” she retorted.

“Then I’m buyin’ ice cream and cones at Kroger’s.”

“And I’m arranging to be fed intravenously until the end of my days.”

Layne burst out laughing again and rolled to his back, taking Rocky with him so she was on top. He knew she wasn’t seriously pissed and they were playing at bickering when she scooted down and settled with her cheek to his chest and her arm around him. He lifted a hand and slid it through her hair, then again, and repeat.

“Baby,” he called and she mumbled, “Mm?”

“The third time, you said, you needed Atticus,” he stated and her head and hand came up but only so she could rest her chin on her hand in his chest and look at him.

“What?”

“In class today, you said the third time you read To Kill a Mockingbird, you needed Atticus,” he felt her body get tight and he pushed, “when was that?”

“Layne –”

“When was that?”

“I don’t –”

His hand twisted in her hair and his other arm went around her, pulling her up his chest so they were face to face.

“When was that?” he repeated.

She was silent and this silence spread.

Then she whispered, “When I lost my real-life version of him.”

“Jesus,” Layne whispered back instantly.

She’d said, Atticus Finch is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met in print. He’s a good dad and he does what’s right, not what’s safe, not what’s popular. What’s right. He’s gentle. He’s smart. He’s strong. He’s decisive and he’s willing to follow through with his decisions, no matter what the odds.

“Jesus,” he repeated, still whispering.

Rocky took advantage of his immobility and moved, making her point by brushing her lips lightly against the scar beneath his shoulder then putting her cheek there, her arm around his abs, pinning him to the bed.

“You aren’t the same as him, of course, Atticus wasn’t a badass, or, if he was, he was a quiet one. But Atticus was about doing what was right and you were too and still are. And I missed you so, when I read it again, because I was missing you and I figured I’d never have anything like that again, it was all about Atticus because if I couldn’t have it, it felt good to be able to spend time with it in my head.”

She stopped speaking, Layne stared at the dark ceiling and Rocky’s arm tightened around him.

“You have it again.”

That came from Layne, his voice thick.

“Weird,” she whispered. “I thought it was perfect but somehow it’s better this time around.”

At her words, Layne was done and he communicated this by rolling her to her back, covering her with his body and kissing her hard and deep.

Rocky kissed him back. Then she did other things to him, he did other things to her and she ended up sliding out of bed, finding her nightshirt, going to the bathroom, cleaning up, coming back to bed where she pinned him and fell instantly to sleep.

Layne didn’t. Layne wanted to believe but he couldn’t. He’d believed before and his beautiful life was torn from him.

So tomorrow, he was talking to Garret Merrick even if he had to hunt the man down.