v Ashley - Golden Trail

“Tripp… Tripp let me in then he took off,” Melody answered, still edging back, she snatched up a robe off the back of the couch and started pulling it on.

“He took off?” Layne asked.

“He didn’t… he didn’t tell me you were…” Her eyes shot to Rocky who still hadn’t moved. “I told him I needed alone time with you. He called a friend and they… he didn’t tell me you were on a date.”

“No! No, that isn’t what this is,” Rocky put in and now Layne saw she was on the move, edging along the counter pressed against it as if she wanted the counter, cupboards and then the wall to absorb her. “I’m… I’ll be… you two just… I’ll be going.”

“Roc –” Layne started and her head snapped toward him but her eyes didn’t meet his.

“No, that’s okay, Layne, I’ll just… just let myself out.” She was sliding across the fridge now and looking anywhere but Layne and Melody. “You two just… enjoy your evening. I’ll let myself out.”

“Rocky.” He moved toward her and she started moving quicker, rounding the fridge, she caught her heel on the lip that separated the tile from the wood and went crashing down, her hand slamming into the wood first, followed by her right hip and thigh.

“Fuck!” he hissed, moving swiftly toward her.

“Ohmigod! Are you okay?” Melody, now wearing her robe, shot forward too.

Rocky waved a hand at them, facing the floor, pushing up, the heavy curtain of her hair obscuring her features.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m good.”

Layne bent and put a hand on her hip and one on her bicep but she pulled it violently out of his grip.

“I’m good,” she whispered to the floor, pushing forward, dragging her body away from him, she gracefully got up, movements fluid, as only Raquel could do, and gained her feet.

“Did you hurt anything?” Melody asked as Rocky kept her head dipped, much like Tripp did after Cosgrove got through with him, and pulled her jacket together using only two fingers because she was doing this with the hand still clutching her purse.

“No, I’m okay.” She was in profile to Layne and she shook her hair back and lifted a hand that he saw was trembling, pulling back the hair on the opposite side to him and tucking it behind her ear. He could see she shot Melody a false smile. “See, just fine. I’ll go.”

“Roc –” he started, putting his hand on her arm again but her head turned, slow, the movement liquid, she tipped it back and he caught half a second of her eyes, the bottom edges brimming bright with tears, their depths filled with a pain so stark, his body froze and his chest tightened, squeezing out all his oxygen then she looked to the ground and turned abruptly, breaking contact with his hand.

“Have a good night!” she called and ran, her heels clicking on the wood, to the door.

Layne looked over his shoulder to Melody and growled, “Get dressed.”

Then he went after Rocky who was already out the door.

He caught her still opened car door as she folded herself in it, her hand shooting out to the handle and he pushed back as she pulled in.

“Rocky, hang on a second,” he said, crouching in the open door.

She kept her eyes glued to the steering wheel. “You should go in.”

“Look at me.”

“You should…” She took a deep breath and then turned to him with a bright, totally fake smile. “Thanks for dinner. It was nice. My treat next time.” She looked to the house then back at him before she said softly, “You should go in, Layne. She probably feels like an idiot. You need to talk to her.”

“Roc –”

“Go in,” she whispered, her voice suddenly trembling so much it was hard to hear in more ways than one. She was losing it. “Layne, please get out of my door and go into the house.”

He started to lift a hand to her face saying, “Baby –”

Her head jerked forward and her eyes squeezed closed. “Don’t! Please, please just go in.”

He stared at her profile and clenched his teeth. Then he straightened, stepped out of the door, slammed it, she fired up her car and backed out fast, accelerating forward even faster.

He watched until he lost sight of her car then stalked into his house, the look of Rocky, tears and pain in her eyes, burned on his brain, and he threw open the storm door, the front door, slammed it and moved through the house, taking the steps two at a time.

Melody was in his bedroom quickly yanking down a t-shirt. He saw her bag on the floor and she couldn’t have been there more than two hours and the fucking thing had already exploded. There were two glossy shopping bags from her store lined against the wall.

“You know I was shot nine weeks ago,” he bit out.

She didn’t look at him when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“That coulda had a different ending, I thought for a second before I walked into this goddamned house that someone might have broken in and I came in armed.”

She jerked her head toward him. “Tanner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t. Fuck, even in LA, you pulled that shit, that coulda happened. You know better.”

“I know!”

He kept at her. “It coulda been Jas comin’ home from his date and gettin’ an eyeful.”

She shook her head and rushed to her bag, dropping to her knees and shoving things in.

“Things have changed, Melody, from when it was you and me and sun and a population of people with bleached teeth in LA.”

“I know, Tanner,” she told her bag.

He stared at Melody but all he could see was Rocky.

Fuck! Why couldn’t he get that fucking look on Rocky’s face out of his goddamned head?

She zipped her bag closed and he watched her. Melody was tall, lean, great tits and they were real. Thirty-five. Long, dark hair. Blue eyes. She was also funny and sweet.

Fuck him.

Layne made a decision.

“DeeDee, come here,” he said softly and her head shot back.

“I saw,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head and looked down at her bag and, slowly, she straightened.

She had grace, she was in tune with her body, but she wasn’t fluid.

She turned to look at him.

“I didn’t get it, I didn’t understand why you… with me, why you wouldn’t…” She shook her head and took in a deep breath then continued. “I looked through your stuff. I found the envelope. I saw the pictures. I know who that woman is.”

Layne’s anger had ebbed out of him but it came back, slicing through him like a blade.

He didn’t speak because he couldn’t without yelling.

“Some of them had her name on the back,” she whispered. “Rocky.”

“That was not cool,” he said low.

“I know,” she replied quietly then tilted her head to the side. “Are you back with her?”

“No. We’re workin’ a case together.”

“She’s a detective?”

“She’s a teacher.”

She stared at him a second, thrown, then she smiled and it wasn’t a happy smile.

“A teacher,” she whispered.

“DeeDee –”

“Even with that case with that drug guy who shopped at my store, you didn’t let me work it with you and I begged you to let me help.”

“That wasn’t safe.”

“Is this?” she asked but she knew. She’d called a couple of weeks after he was shot and he’d told her because he figured she’d eventually know. Since he’d left LA, she visited him during her vacations and he definitely didn’t wear a shirt the entire time she was there. Even though she couldn’t know it was the same case, she sure as fuck knew his work wasn’t always a trip through the light fantastic. “You want to be with her,” she surmised.

“It isn’t like that,” he returned.

“Yeah?” She tipped her head again and then pointed to the floor. “A girl knows, Tanner, and during that scene, you didn’t take your eyes off her. And after it, you went after her. You told me to get dressed then you went after her.”

“She just fell to the fuckin’ floor, Melody,” he reminded her, crossing his arms on his chest.

She stared him in the eyes then she whispered, “You went after her.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he clipped.

She bent double and grabbed the handle to her bag, lifting it up, she hooked it on her arm and walked to him.

Her hand came up, fingers fiddling with the lapel on his jacket, her eyes watching them.

“I knew this would look good on you,” she whispered. “But then, anything would look good on you.”

“DeeDee.”

“What’s in those bags,” she jerked her head back to indicate his room, “they’re for you.”

He uncrossed his arms and both hands went to her waist. “DeeDee,” he murmured and her eyes lifted to his as her hand came to his neck.

“I hope you get her back.” She was still whispering and Layne’s hands got tight on her waist. “In those pictures, you looked happy. Even when you’re laughing, you don’t look completely happy, but in those pictures…” She stopped and her fingers squeezed his neck. “I hope you get her back and she makes you happy like that again.”

Then she pulled away from his hands and walked to the stairs and, when she did, Rocky’s face came back into his head.

So Layne stood there and listened to the front door slam.

Then he heard her car door slam.

Then he heard her car driving away.

And he let her go.

“Do you get it?” Rocky whispered in his ear.

He was on top of her, still inside her, all four of her limbs wrapped tight around him, skin against skin, her body soft underneath him.

“Get what, baby?” he whispered back.

Her limbs squeezed.

“Why I left you?”

* * *

Layne’s eyes opened.

He was on his stomach in his bed in his dark room.

He rolled to his back, muttering, “Christ.”

* * *

His back was to the weight bench, feet to the floor, he cocked his elbows, taking the weights down then, on an exhale through his teeth, Layne pushed them up.

Tripp came out of his room and Layne’s head turned to the side. He saw his son scratching his ass and shuffling to the bathroom.

“Hey Dad,” he mumbled.

Layne cocked his elbows, “Hey Tripp,” then he pressed the weights up.

He heard the bathroom door close.

* * *

Showered, shaved, Layne stood at the island watching Tripp sitting opposite him eating his fourth donut, his eyes across the room on the TV. Blondie, Layne knew even though he couldn’t see her, was lying at the foot of Tripp’s stool licking up powdered sugar residue that fell from Tripp’s donut onto the floor.

Layne held his cell to his ear and heard for the third time that morning, “You’ve reached Rocky’s voicemail… leave me a message.”

He flipped his phone shut and muttered, “Fuck.”

Tripp’s eyes came to him. “What?”

“Nothin’, Pal.”

Layne looked at the clock over the microwave. It was ten after ten. They were supposed to be at her old place at ten. She was supposed to be at his house at twenty to ten. She had the boxes in the back of her Merc, they were taking the Suburban.

She didn’t show.

Layne tagged his keys off the counter and told Tripp, “I gotta get to Rocky’s. We gotta do something at her old place. I don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll be home by the Colts game.”

Tripp was still looking at him and asked, “Where’s Melody?”

Layne had started to turn to leave, he stopped, looked his son in the eye and answered, “She’s gone, Tripp.”

Tripp kept looking at him. Then he asked, “Gone gone?”

“Gone gone,” Layne confirmed.

Tripp nodded and murmured, “I liked her.”

“I did too, Pal.”

Tripp nodded again, swallowed and looked at the TV. Then he whispered, “Like Rocky better.”

“Tripp –” he started to warn.

Tripp’s eyes came fast to him. “I know what it is but you two fit.”

Layne stared at his son, thrown. “We fit?”

“She does what she believes in too,” Tripp explained.

“What?” Layne asked softly.

“All the work you do for people. Dina Kempler’s Dad, he was a jerk, her Mom couldn’t get rid of him, jackin’ her around all the time even though they’re divorced and you helped. She told me. She told me her Mom found out about you because you helped her Mom’s friend too. You’re practically famous at my school. You don’t think kids talk?”

He knew kids talked he just didn’t know Dina Kempler’s Mom Kim would talk to her daughter about that.