Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(13)

“She okay?” he asked.

“Nope,” Merry answered. “She had no clue. Whole town’s talkin’ about it, have been for years and she’s the putz. She found out, moved out and he moved his new girl in. She’s twenty-three. Spittin’ image of Roc fifteen years ago. She’s also a cheerleader for the Pacers.” Merry got closer and his voice dipped lower. “She’s a freakin’ Pacemate, big man. That dick’s got courtside season tickets and has for the last ten years. If shackin’ up with some hottie almost half your age who dances on court at halftime isn’t in your face, nothing is. So, no, she’s not okay.”

Layne did not know much about Jarrod Astley. He knew he was from Indianapolis, Broad Ripple. He knew he was nine years older than Rocky. He knew he was Chief of Surgery at Presbyterian in Indianapolis and supposedly a hotshot since he’d been Chief of Surgery for five years which made him young when he earned the post. He’d seen the man, not often, a few times around town. He was good-looking enough, in a stick up his ass kind of way. He struck Layne as ice cold which Layne thought didn’t work with Rocky, who was anything but cold.

Now, he knew the man was just a plain fool.

“Jesus,” Layne muttered, tilting his head to the side and looking at the floor.

He was wondering, again, why she’d come to his house that morning.

He was also wondering why she’d come to his hospital room, looked at him the way she did, touched him, put her mouth to his.

Rebound or something else?

“Tanner,” Merry called and Layne looked at him.

“Let’s eat,” Layne said and watched as Merry’s eyes flashed then his face closed off, not giving away anything.

Then he smiled huge, a cover, grabbed a basket that had something wrapped in a clean dish towel and he replied, “Fuckin’ A, bubba.”

* * * * *

Layne inhaled from the cigarette, took it from his lips and exhaled.

He had one smoke a day, after dinner with a beer or, if the day had been shit, a whisky. Since quitting ten years ago, he only had the one a day.

Unless the day was really shit.

He looked to Merry as Merry exhaled. Merry didn’t have one smoke a day. He had a lot more.

They were both standing outside but Dave, not smoking, was sitting on a garden chair. The boys were in the house watching some movie on TV.

“So Stew’s f**ked her over?” Dave asked.

Layne had told them about Gabby’s problem.

“Yeah,” Layne answered.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Dave muttered.

“That’d be because it isn’t surprising,” Layne muttered back.

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground, big man, but, with Stew, it could be anything,” Merry told him.

“It’s bad shit, she’s in danger, I gotta know,” Layne said to Merry.

“What’d you get on your searches?” Dave asked.

“He’s maxed out,” Layne answered. “Overdrawn at the bank, credit cards over the limit, hasn’t paid any bills in over six months, debt collectors circling, his truck has been shopped out for repo. She’s been holdin’ on but the last three months she’s struggled. Utilities are only two months out but I figure she pays them so she won’t get shut off. She was always current, always paid on time and the last six months, she’s been juggling, payin’ late, fallin’ short, payin’ minimum payments instead of payin’ the full amount. Now, outside the utilities, she isn’t payin’ at all. She didn’t often carry debt, except around Christmas. She’s been inchin’ up but, last two months, she’s shot up and she’s also maxed. They’ve both been declined for new cards, him twice in the last month and she’s tried taking out three.”

“That’s not good,” Merry mumbled.

“Nope,” Layne agreed. “She makes decent money and never lived beyond her means. We bought that house together sixteen years ago. Her mortgage is low. He lost his job, which he hasn’t, she could take him on. She’d feel the hit but she can do it. This kinda shit, he owes someone. Gambling. Betting. Something.”

“I’ll ask around,” Dave offered.

“It would be appreciated,” Layne replied.

Merry crushed his butt into the ashtray on the outdoor table and twisted his head to his Dad.

“Got a date, Dad,” he said and Layne smiled.

Merry was Jasper except forty years old. He’d been married once, for six years. Before and since, he played the field as often as he could. Like his sister, young, he’d been a knockout and age hadn’t touched it, in fact, it seemed to enhance it so Merry’s field was wide and varied.

Layne’s smile died when Dave got up from his chair and headed into the house, muttering, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Layne took one last drag and then crushed out his cigarette on the exhale knowing now this invitation to dinner was more than a family get together.

Layne watched Dave close the backdoor then he locked his eyes on Merry.

“What?” he asked instantly.

“You know we gotta talk, it’s been six weeks,” Merry replied quietly, his eyes on his Dad’s dark backyard.

“Yeah, we’ll talk but not now. I took a hit –”