“We chatted, I explained the faults in her plan, she saw my logic, we decided to play Rutledge another way.”
“You gonna let me in on that?”
“Yeah,” Layne said and didn’t make him wait either. He leaned forward and his voice dropped before he explained. “She and I are faking a reconcile…” he started then he went on to tell Merry the entirety of the plan while Merry listened without saying a word.
When Layne was done, Merry stated, “Gotta say, not happy she’s involved in this shit at all but at least I like this better than Roc’s scheme.”
“I do too. An additional benefit is that I’m gonna make it so Astley hears, and sees, if I can manage it, a lot of shit that he’s not gonna like. He shoved his piece down Rocky’s throat, I’m crawlin’ down his.”
Merry’s smile turned cruel. It was a smile Layne had seen before, not often, but he’d seen it. Merry was a cop and therefore his sense of justice was highly tuned. But Merry was Merry and his personal sense of justice, especially when it came to his sister, was another matter altogether.
Through his smile, Merry whispered, “I’m with you, brother.”
“Good,” Layne returned. “Then I need you to do two things. One, brief Dave about this shit and two, give me intel on how I can hit Astley the hardest.”
“You two don’t move in the same social circles, Layne.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t find ways for him to see me and see me with Rocky.”
Merry lifted his chin. “I’ll put together what I know, e-mail it to you.”
Layne sat back and nodded.
Then he changed the subject. “You got anything on Stew?”
Merry shook his head. “Zilch. Heard you talked to Colt and Sully.”
“Yesterday, after I dealt with Rocky. Found out Colt, particularly, is not a big fan of Stew’s rather than just generally thinking he’s a fuckwad like everyone else does. They’re happy to nose around.” He lifted his mug and took a swallow then muttered, “Even so, it’s lookin’ like I’m gonna hafta give that time.”
And it was time he did not have nor could he afford.
“Or, you can let Gabrielle sleep in the bed she made for herself,” Merry suggested and Layne’s eyes moved back to him.
“She’s my kids’ mother.”
“I dig that, brother but –”
“She’s my kids’ mother, Garrett.”
Merry closed his mouth and nodded.
Then he opened it and asked quietly, “You and Roc gonna be able to –?”
Layne interrupted him. “We’re fine.”
“Big man –”
“We’re fine, Merry,” Layne repeated firmly.
Merry closed his mouth and nodded again but he didn’t hide the fact that he was far from convinced.
Then he sucked back his cappuccino in one gulp and slammed his mug on the table.
“Got your back, whenever you need it,” he said, standing and wiping foam from his mouth.
“I know,” Layne replied.
“Later,” Merry said on a low, short wave, turned, lifted a chin to Mimi and went out the door.
Then Layne made the decision that, even though he wanted to pay a visit to Stew at work, try a direct approach, if he wanted to keep his sons in oatmeal, he needed to rack up billable hours. And nothing racked up billable hours like a woman who had money to burn and nothing but time on her hands and she used that time to convince herself that her faithful husband was being unfaithful and no matter what Layne said to her to assure her, she wouldn’t believe it.
So Layne headed to Indy to watch a man eat a club sandwich on his own while reading the paper. He broke the tedium of this only slightly by taking photos of that man eating his club sandwich and reading the paper. Then he headed back to the office to run off some invoices and print out the digital photos he took to add to the already fat file at the same time again wishing he had a receptionist.
Now he was moving through his bedroom because it was time to pick up Rocky for the game.
He was making his way through the open room at the top of the stairs when his cell rang. He yanked it from his back pocket and looked at his display that said “Raquel Calling”. They’d traded numbers and made plans while at Mimi’s the day before.
He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. “Layne.”
“Hey,” Rocky replied.
“Hey,” Layne repeated as he walked down the stairs.
“Listen, I have a situation,” she told him.
He stopped by the fridge and gave her his full attention.
“What situation?”
“See…” she hesitated, “today hasn’t been the greatest. I don’t know if I can make the game.”
Shit. She was backing out. This could mean cold feet and they’d passed the point where she could have cold feet.
“Roc –”
She cut him off, explaining quickly, “Okay, so, I had to leave your place early because I needed to get my car to the mechanics before school. Nothing is wrong, it just needed a service and Jarrod usually deals with that and he… well, we… anyway, it’s been too long, it’s four months out on that so I had to do it.” She took a breath and went on. “It won’t be ready until tomorrow so they gave me a loaner, which was cool, but that broke down, if you can believe that. A loaner from a mechanic breaking down.” She took another breath and continued. “Anyway, Dad had to come get me, which he did, then I had some errands to run, which Dad took me to do. But, you know Dad, he lives for football and he’s been the Bulldog’s biggest fan for the last four decades. He’s tailgating with Ernie and Spike tonight and I got a call from The Brendel. I’m on their waiting list and they had someone move out and I got moved up so I have a viewing, like, right now. Dad dropped me off and the girl who is showing me the apartment said she’d take me back to Merry’s. But she just called and said she’s going to be late and I can’t miss this viewing because if I do someone else might snatch up the apartment –”
“Rocky –”
“And I gotta get off –”
“Roc –”
“Merry’s couch or my back is going to –”
“Sweetcheeks, shut up a second,” he cut in, she went silent likely because he figured she was still not a big fan of him calling her sweetcheeks and why he did. “I’ll come get you.”
“But, she’s supposed to be here any minute and she’s not here yet and, if I want it, I have to deal with the application and–”
“Rocky, I’ll come get you.”
“Layne, if you do, you might miss kickoff and I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Then I’ll buy you a hotdog at the game.”
She fell silent and he moved through the kitchen, snatching his keys from the counter as he headed toward the garage.
“You got the code for the gate?”
“Three-two-three-seven,” she replied.
“Unit?”
“Unit E, apartment three.”
“See you in five,” he said, having moved through the utility room and entered the garage.
He was about to take the phone from his ear when he heard her call, “Layne?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” she whispered and then he heard the disconnect.
He flipped his phone closed thinking he liked hearing Rocky’s quiet voice saying thanks.
He folded himself into his Suburban thinking he was glad she left early that morning because she had to do something and not because she was escaping.
And he pulled out of his garage, down his drive and headed toward The Brendel thinking about The Brendel.
The Brendel was an apartment complex across the road and down the street from Layne’s development. He could walk there nearly as fast as he could drive there. Unlike the middle to upper-middle class housing that surrounded it, it was a luxury apartment complex. Rents were high because the apartments were sweet. So sweet, Layne had seen them on the internet when he was looking for a place prior to moving home and he’d considered it. But the waiting list was seven to twelve months long, taking into consideration when tenants moved out, which wasn’t often, and he didn’t have that long to wait. It was easier to find and close on a house than get into The Brendel.