Текст книги "Hold On"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

I didn’t get jumpy waiting for it. I knew better than that. I was resigned to the way of the world.

Jack came in, which meant me on the floor since he always worked back of the bar. I didn’t mind this. I had candy bars and Funyuns to work off my ass, and tips were just as steady at the tables.

I was delivering some drafts when he came in. I felt him like a sixth sense, and this wasn’t a new ability he’d instilled in me after fucking me. The minute I’d laid eyes on him and the months it’d taken me to get to know him and fall in love was when I’d gained that talent.

I looked his way, saw his eyes on me, face guarded, and I gave it to him right away. A big, cocky Cher smile.

He grinned, not quite hiding the relief, then looked to the bar, giving chin lifts to Morrie and Jack while heading around to the opposite end where all the cops hung out.

He did not take Colt’s stool, the last one around the far curve. If there wasn’t another choice, no one did. Colt’s stool was his should he decide to saunter in, Feb there or not. It was just the way it was.

But Merry did take the stool next to it, one down from the hinge of the bar.

I dropped the drafts, took an order at a table on the way back to the bar, and wedged into the space between Merry’s occupied stool and Colt’s unoccupied one.

I’d bucked myself up before arriving so I was all good when I got there.

“Hey,” I said to him.

“Hey,” he said to me, eyes moving over my face, eyes that flashed in my head as a memory, heated and hooded, right before he came.

Shit.

“You get a break soon?” he asked.

“We’re ordering in Shanghai Salon in a while,” I told him.

“Let me take you to Frank’s. I can call in our orders so they’ll have them ready and I can get you back to work on time,” he offered.

So he didn’t intend to deliver the blow with me at work.

That was Merry—meaning, that was nice.

“Hang tight,” I replied and looked to Jack heading my way. “Two Bud Lights and a Coors, bottle.”

“Got it,” Jack said, then looked to Merry. “Hey, son, you on?”

“Yeah, Jack. Can you shoot me a Coke?”

“Sure thing,” Jack replied.

I got my bottles first and told Merry I’d be back as Jack was aiming the drink gun into a glass of ice.

I dropped the beers, did a walk-through of my tables, got no orders, and headed back to the bar.

I hit the opposite side of Merry this time, closer to the room and not the wall, and wedged in.

“No orders, have a second now,” I told him.

“Then tell me what you want me to order you at Frank’s and ask for your break,” he replied.

“You on lunch hour at four in the afternoon, or what?” I asked.

“Things are slow, but yeah, Mike’s doin’ paperwork at the station, and shit goes down, I’ll have to head out. Either way, I need to get back, so I don’t got a lotta time.”

That being the case, I moved into him, holding his gaze. “Right, then, do what you gotta do. Get Mike a sandwich and head back, because you know we’re—”

I didn’t finish because Merry looked from me to over my shoulder. His brows drew slightly together and he straightened a bit on his stool, so I looked over my shoulder too.

At what I saw, I fully straightened and mostly turned.

This was because Trent’s wife, Peggy, was standing at the corner of the bar.

She looked so out of place it wasn’t funny. Baggy, high-waisted mom jeans. A shapeless top that showed very little skin and attempted to hide the fact she hadn’t taken off her baby weight, which was somewhat substantial, laying evidence to the fact it wasn’t all baby weight. No muss, no fuss hairstyle for her brunette hair, which could have been Martha Stewart hair, in a good way, but she seemed allergic to a roller brush and teasing comb. No makeup at all. Sneakers that looked like they were Reebok aerobics shoes from the ’80s, not kickass Chucks or cool Vans or neon Nikes.

And last, a pinched look on her face that said the last time she’d been in a bar was never and she wished she could have kept it that way.

“Cheryl,” she said, and my name sounded forced out.

“Peg,” I replied, turning fully her way even though I did not freaking want to, and not only because I did not want to be talking to Peg, but because Merry was right…freaking…there. Once turned, I greeted all friendly, “Hey.”

She opened her massive purse, which looked like a diaper bag gone bad, and that was a feat since most of those things weren’t the height of fashion, not to mention it was an actual purse, not a diaper bag at all.

Then she pulled out the envelope Trent had with him yesterday and slapped it on the bar.

It took a lot, but I managed not to recoil from it like it was a rattler she’d wrangled out, pissing it off and setting it on a trajectory to strike me.

I also could actually feel Merry’s eyes honing in on that envelope in a way it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames from the laser beam precision.

She kept her hand on the envelope as she spoke.

“Trent made a mistake and took this with him after you guys talked yesterday,” she declared. “I thought it was important to get it back to you straight away.”

“Peg—” I started but didn’t get any further.

“Also, just so you know, the arrangements he told you we were going to make for you and Ethan will start this week. We’ll be mailing the first check on Friday.”

I knew from her look and tone, which had always been friendly and now was not, that not only was Trent on her shit list for fucking up yesterday’s conversation, he’d shared what I’d said and she was not happy with me either.

She also wasn’t wasting any time putting her plan into motion.

That being they could share with a judge they’d scrimped, saved, and sacrificed to do right by me, but mostly Ethan, even after Trent had royally fucked things up, being a junkie loser who took off on his bitch and took her money with him.

I really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. That all this shit was total bullshit, but her play, coming to me at my place of work when I couldn’t make a return play, was jacked.

I couldn’t do that. Too much was at stake. I had to be cool for Ethan but also because Merry was watching.

“Babe, I think it might be a good idea if we all found a time to sit down and talk,” I suggested.

She scooted the envelope closer to me, replying, “You’re at work, so I don’t want to take a lot of your time. I think Trent made things clear yesterday. Now, I need you to take this envelope, Cheryl. You know, so I know what’s in it is safe.”

“Maybe—” I began, but she scooted the envelope sharply another inch my way and cut me off.

“You’re at work and I have kids to get home to. If you’ll take this, I’ll know it’s good and I can get home to my family.”

Her words giving me no other choice, I reached out, and as I did, she quickly removed her hand so I could curl my fingers around the envelope and we’d not touch.

When I had it held safely in my hand, she nodded and declared, “We hope to see Ethan soon. Have a good day at work. See you.”

With that, she turned on her aerobics shoes and walked out.

I stared after her, belatedly regretting my play of the day before.

I got pissed, which meant Trent got pissed and tipped his hand, which meant Peggy got pissed, and I wasn’t sure Peg pissed was a good thing.

There was a reason Trent had come to heel. His kind of devotion to Peg could be won through reward or through punishment.

I was getting the sense right then it was punishment.

“You takin’ a payoff right in front of a cop?”

Merry’s voice, being Merry’s voice (meaning Merry was there and had seen that, then said what he said, even though I knew it was a joke), tipped me over an edge I’d been riding for a long fucking time. But that weekend it was sharper, so it didn’t take much for me to tip over.

Therefore I turned and snapped, “No it isn’t a fuckin’ payoff.”

Merry’s chin jerked down and his eyes narrowed.

“It was a joke, Cher,” he told me.

“It wasn’t a funny one,” I told him, pressing the envelope to my stomach.

He looked down to it and then up to me. “Who was that woman?”

“No one.”

At my answer, his ear dipped slowly to his shoulder before his head straightened and a look came over his face I’d never seen on him before.

But it was scary.

“What’s in the envelope, babe?” he asked, his tone forced to casual, which meant it wasn’t casual at all.

“Nothing,” I answered. “Listen, I gotta—”

“What’s in the envelope, Cher?”

“Nothing,” I repeated. “Now, goin’ back to what we were talk—”

He leaned an inch toward me and I was not a girl who was easily intimidated, but I had to admit, that inch was intimidating.

“What’d she give you? Who was that woman? Who is Trent? And what do they gotta do with Ethan?”

“Merry, straight up, this isn’t any of your business.”

That was when he leaned two inches toward me, and if one inch was intimidating, two was a threat.

This meant I should have known it was coming.

But knowing Merry, or thinking I did, thus thinking he wouldn’t have what he was going to give me in him, I had no clue.

“Made you come for me,” he whispered. “More than once. Straight up, Cher, it is. Who the fuck was that woman? Why is she passin’ off cash to you? And why’s it got you freaked way the fuck out?”

His words exploded in my head along with the knowledge he wanted to take me to Frank’s to lower a boom he didn’t know he was lowering to share, even after what we had, that we were just friends.

Therefore, so far beyond thinking about the right way to play it, I played it stupid, leaning forward and hissing, “Wouldn’t think I had to educate you, Merry, but seems I gotta educate you. Thrusting your cock in a woman like me doesn’t mean you own me.”

He leaned back, which meant he straightened, and seeing as even sitting on a stool he was taller than me and I had to look up, that sucked.

Looking up meant he was looking down. Not his chin dipped, but he was looking down his nose, superior as shit, which was infuriating, and hot as fuck, which was intensely annoying.

His voice was a low, sexy as all hell drawl when he replied, “Wouldn’t think I had to educate you either, baby. You know the man I am. You laid that shit out for me Friday night. But straight up, I thrust my cock in you, it means when some mom bitch shows at your work and freaks you out, I do what I gotta do to take your back.”

“I can take care of myself,” I snapped in another hiss.

His brows went up. “So you do got somethin’ you gotta take care of.”

Shit!

“Merry—”

I got no more out because his hand clamped on my upper arm and his head turned to the bar.

“Cher’s on break,” he growled.

“Uh…okay, dude,” Morrie replied.

I got one look in to Morrie to see he looked as freaked as me, but for an entirely different reason, before Merry dragged me to the office.

Once he had us in, he slammed the door.

I yanked my arm from his hold, took two steps into the room, turned to him, and launched right in. “If it’s okay with you, I’d actually like to use my break to eat something, Merry, not do whatever this shit is with you.”

Merry ignored me.

“Who was that woman?”

“Not your business.”

“Who…was…that woman?”

I shook my head sharply once. “Not…your…business.”

Merry kept at me. “Who’s Trent?”

“Merry, Jesus.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Let it go.”

“What’s in that envelope and why’s she givin’ it to you?”

I felt my eyes get squinty as the heat of shame and anger poured through me, not believing he’d think of me what it seemed he was thinking.

“You think I’m into bad shit?”

“Fuck no,” he returned. “You’re you, so that didn’t cross my goddamned mind. But also, that woman would cut off her own arm before she’d fuckin’ jaywalk. That doesn’t mean she didn’t freak you out. So tell me what’s goin’ down with her.”

I shook my head, trying to find control. “Seriously, Merry, I get why you’re here. Shit happened with us—you’d sustained a blow, we got drunk, it got outta hand. I get where you were and where we now are. It’s good. We’re good. Leave this shit alone, we’ll stay good.”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not a big deal,” I lied, not having a problem lying to Merry. I’d essentially been doing it, hiding my feelings for him, for years.

The anger seeped out of his features, gentle chasing in after it.

Shit, fuck.

God, he was so handsome, it hurt.

And that evidence right there, that he was a good man…

That…

It killed.

“Cher, babe, whatever’s goin’ down, you are not alone.”

He meant to be nice. He meant to be cool.

But his words made the anger race right back because I wasn’t; he was right.

And yet, I so was and I so would be, always and forever.

“You do not know what you’re fuckin’ talking about,” I bit out.

“You got friends. You got people who’ll look out for you,” he returned. “Me bein’ one of them.”

“Yeah?” I asked sarcastically, and I was so angry, the wince of hurt that hit his face didn’t touch me.

“Fuck. Yeah, Cher. Absolutely,” he said softly.

I nodded. “Right. Okay. Good to know. So…” I lifted the envelope. “This is three and a half grand from my recovering junkie ex, who took off the day after I told him he’d knocked me up with Ethan, stealing all the money I had with me. Didn’t see his ass again until he got clean and got himself a wife, Peg out there.” I jerked my head to the door. “Now, you bein’ a detective and all, you’d eventually put this together, but I’ll save you the effort. See, Peg, she likes control. Peg, she likes to call the shots. Peg, she’s a woman who knows how the world should be and how it shouldn’t. So Peg’s old man’s got a kid from another bitch, a bitch who used to be a stripper and fucked a serial killer, and Peg’s decided that kid needs to be in a good home, that bein’ hers.”

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I spat. “So she’s settin’ it all up.” I waved the envelope in the air. “Settin’ me up to take me down. Do whatever she can to take the only good thing I did in this life away from me.”

He took a step toward me, murmuring a gentle, “Cher.”

And, God, that hurt too, the sting so killer, it injected poison in my bloodstream, having his gentle Cher but knowing I’d never really have it.

I turned the envelope his way to ward him off and he stopped.

I spoke.

“To fight her, I’ll need to call on Colt. Again. Feb. Again. Jack and Jackie. Again. I’ll need to explain again why I was taken in by Lowe. More will go down, askin’ good people who look out for me to keep doin’ it, all this takin’ money I can’t afford to fight it. But the bottom line is, Ethan’ll be dragged through it. The Denny Lowe shit will resurface. Ethan might get it at school. He might lose friends. And straight up, my history is such a big pile of stinking crap, Colt could convince the president to come and stand as a character witness to my mothering skills and I’d still lose my kid. So yeah, Merry, I know I got friends. I know people will look out for me. I know you’re one of ’em. But that does not mean I am not still very, very alone.”

“Come here, Cher,” he whispered, and I could see it, hear it, goddamned fucking feel it.

He wanted to comfort me. Put his arms around me and make it all better.

He had the power to do that.

He just would never use it because he didn’t really want it.

“No,” I said firmly, the poison activating, my insides melting, the pain extreme.

His head jerked and his gaze grew intense.

I continued talking.

“You don’t get that,” I told him. “You came here to get me to go to Frank’s so you could tell me what went down with us was just a drunken fuck, no more. We don’t change. Am I right?”

He didn’t answer, so I answered for him.

“I’m right. So, you don’t wanna be that to me, you don’t get that.” I nodded my head. “I understand, the woman I am. I get it, Merry. No harm, no foul. But you don’t get to pick and choose how you are with me, who you are with me, what you get to give me. I do. So you don’t get that.”

He said nothing, just stared at me with an alertness that was a little hot but also a little freaky.

“Now, you tell anyone about this shit, we’re done,” I told him, and his alert went into overdrive, charging the room.

I ignored it.

“I mean that, Garrett,” I stated. “This is my business and I’ll deal with it the way I see fit. If I gotta call folks in, I’ll do it. You keep your mouth shut or what we got you wanna keep you’ll lose. I’m not jokin’ with you. I’m all kinds of serious.”

Finally, he spoke.

“The woman you are.”

“The woman I am,” I confirmed.

“What woman is that, Cher?” he asked.

Was he serious?

He’d said it his damned self to Colt.

Woman she is, she knows…

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” I hissed.

“He played you,” Merry declared. “A million other women would have bought his shit the same as you.”

We were not doing this.

“Stop it,” I spat.

“Goddamned truth,” he pushed. “I know, babe, I’m in the business. Women buy shit like that all the time. The extremes may vary, but you are far from the only one.”

I couldn’t do this, and more, I wasn’t about to.

So I put a hand to my hip, cocked my head, and asked, “Shit, darlin’, two-for-one special? You give me five orgasms and heal all my emotional wounds? Shoulda signed up for that plan years ago.”

His mood deteriorated instantly.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he clipped.

“Don’t pretend you know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in my head,” I shot back.

“Maybe, you let the door to that fortress you built around you open an inch, I can get in and you’ll find I do know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in your head, I give a shit about you, and I wanna see you let it go and find yourself some happy.”

“That doesn’t happen for girls like me, Merry,” I told him.

“That’s bullshit, Cher,” he told me.

I jabbed my hand with the envelope at him. “You do not know what it’s like to live my life.”

“Open the door an inch, Cher. I get through, we’ll sit down and you can tell me.”

“Fuck that,” I snapped.

He rocked back on his heels, his eyes burning into mine, and murmured, “Right.”

Goddamn it!

It was time to end this, and at that moment, I didn’t care how much I was ending.

“You know, straight up, baby, I got a choice between Garrett Merrick, the guy I shoot the shit with, and Garrett Merrick, the man who gives phenomenal head, I pick door number two because you’re good with your mouth, but you’re better with your cock.”

No hesitation, he returned fire.

“You give it good too, sweetheart. Best I had in fuckin’ years. You’re ready to go again, you give me a call and I’m there.”

“Ethan’s next sleepover, or the next time I gotta eat shit and send him to my ex and his bitch, you’re on.”

“Find out you held out on me, after shift you’ll have a caller, and your mom can look after your boy while you’re takin’ my cock in my bed.”

“You’re on for that too.”

His eyes continued burning into mine as he rumbled, “I’m not fuckin’ with you, Cher.”

“Back at you, Garrett.”

“Then it’s on,” he announced.

“Oh yeah, baby. It’s on,” I agreed with enticing acid.

He lifted a finger my way and declared, “Then we got a deal. And you know how I deal, Cher. You know the man I am.” He dropped his hand. “You’re officially takin’ my cock, I officially take your back. I won’t say shit to anyone, but one goddamned thing happens with your ex and his bitch, you tell me. You don’t, we got problems.”

“Uh…think you forgot somethin’, boss. I take your cock ’cause I want to. That’s it.”

He shook his head, his eyes still scorching into mine. “Oh no,” he whispered, a sound that crawled over my skin in a way I couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad. “I’m seein’ you think you know the man I am, but you don’t fuckin’ know. Only way with me is my way. We made our deal. You got no choice now but to do it my way.”

“Don’t hold your breath for that to happen, gorgeous,” I returned.

“Yeah, one of us is gonna be breathless, brown eyes, that’s a guarantee.”

He could absolutely guarantee that.

Absolutely.

And it hit me at that juncture that I was in the middle of negotiating with Merry a friends-with-benefits-without-the-friendship-part deal.

How the fuck did that happen?

“We done with this bullshit?” he asked.

“We are absolutely done,” I answered.

“With this bullshit, you’re correct. Other than that, you are not,” he retorted, then turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

I stared at it.

Then I sent voodoo vibes of evil I did not have the skill to accurately deliver (or any skill at all) in Peggy’s direction for being whatever the hell she was and doing it with very bad timing.

After I failed at that endeavor and got my head together, I shoved the envelope in my purse and got back to work.

* * * * *

Garrett

Garrett stood on the tiny balcony of his shit condo and lit a cigarette as he listened to the phone ring in his ear.

He snapped the top of the Zippo closed and looked out at his stellar view of a parking lot that led to another building of condos, none of which were remotely pretty.

“Yo,” his friend and brother-in-law, Tanner Layne, said in his ear.

Garrett exhaled and replied, “Yo, big man, you got a minute?”

“Sure,” Tanner answered.

“Listen, I need a favor.”

“This a favor that’s gonna take a lot of my time, none of which I’ll get paid for, or is this a favor that’s gonna mean me pickin’ up your mail ’cause you’re headed to a beach?”

This was a valid question. Tanner was a private investigator, a good one. Garrett was a cop. Being a cop, there were rules. Being a PI, those rules were a lot looser. Garrett needed his brother-in-law when he needed loose, something that happened often, and he didn’t hesitate to ask.

Tanner usually didn’t hesitate to deliver.

Still, he bitched about it.

“Not a lotta your time, but it’s important. You find it hard to fit in, I’ll make it worth your while and pay your fees,” Garrett told him.

Tanner said nothing.

This was also a valid response. Garrett had never offered this in exchange for services rendered.

Finally, Tanner spoke. “Jesus. What’s the favor?”

“Need you to look into some people for me. Man’s name is Trent. His wife’s name is Peg. Don’t know where they live. My guess is Indy but could be anywhere relatively close. Don’t know their last name. Just know you’ll probably find it, you look up the birth certificate of Ethan Rivers née Sheckle, seein’ as Trent’s his birth father.”

“Fuck,” Tanner muttered, then instantly jumped to the obvious conclusion. “Cher got some problems?”

“Yeah,” Garrett told him, not giving that first fuck that he’d promised Cher he wouldn’t tell anyone she had issues.

First, because Tanner would keep it on the down low. Second, because that stick-up-her-ass bitch was not going to get her hands on Ethan. Cher was not going to lose her son. The woman had been through enough. The time that she had headaches outside of the normal ones good folks had was over.

That was a decision Garrett had made the minute they’d had their conversation, and it wasn’t because he’d fucked her.

It was because she was Cher and she was a Cher he’d now fucked.

“According to her,” he continued, “Peg’s not big on her husband’s blood livin’ with an ex-stripper or the rest of the baggage Denny Lowe landed on her.”

“They goin’ for custody?” Tanner asked.

“I get the impression, not yet. But I also get the impression that they’re gearin’ up for it.”

“The impression?”

“Cher isn’t feelin’ like bein’ super informative at this juncture.”

Tanner again made no reply.

“She’s freaked, though, in a big fuckin’ way,” Garrett told him. “Her history, she has reason. The way she’s raisin’ that boy and the love she’s got for him, she shouldn’t worry. But life she’s lived, that won’t be her first thought. She told me her ex is a recovering addict. She called him a junkie. I’m helpin’ her out, hopin’ you might uncover some ammunition in case they wage war.”

“I gotta be in the office in the morning. I’ll run some searches, get what I got to you, follow up if something opens up,” Tanner offered.

“Be appreciated,” Garrett muttered, dragging from his cigarette, then exhaling before he said, “Need you to keep this quiet, brother. You and me on this. And by quiet, I mean I don’t even want Cher to know you’re lookin’ into this.”

“Tough as nails, determined to look out for herself, not drag anyone into her shit,” Tanner deduced.

“That’s it,” Garrett confirmed.

“I’ll go quiet,” Tanner told him.

“That’s appreciated too.”

“Never ends for her,” Tanner observed. “The legacy of bullshit that asshole laid on her.”

“Nope,” Garrett agreed.

“Her ex had problems, we’ll find somethin’,” Tanner assured.

“I hope so,” Garrett replied, then asked, “You and Rocky gettin’ any sleep?”

This was also a valid question since his sister and brother-in-law gave him a niece, still a baby, though growing up, and she was a big fan of daytime naps, but she’d never been a fan of nighttime sleep.

“CeeCee’s determined to be a night owl.”

Thinking about his beautiful niece, Cecelia, and the fact that she was a product of the love Tanner and Rocky had for each other, Garrett grinned into the night as he took another drag.

“Listen, Garrett,” Tanner continued. “Heard about Mia. Was deep in it with some work with Ryker. Didn’t have time to seek you out. Called, but you didn’t—”

Garrett interrupted him. “I’m good.”

“Brother,” Tanner said low, not believing him.

Garrett inhaled again, and on the exhale, he stated, “I’m good, Tanner. Did it smart, timed it right, threw a few back when Cher was on.” He felt one side of his lips tip up. “She had a few words with me the only way Cher knows how. But the woman has wisdom.”

Tanner still sounded disbelieving when he asked, “What’d she say?”

Since it all came out, the fact that the Merrick family was still dealing with the murder years ago of Raquel and Garrett’s mom, Cecelia Merrick, that shit being ugly, nearly shredding Rocky, Garrett didn’t hold much back from Tanner Layne.

Rocky would have come undone if Tanner, his mother, his sons, and his friend/mentor Devin hadn’t held the tatters together. And it might not have happened—a lot might not have happened—if Garrett had given his sister what she’d really needed in the years since their mother was murdered.

He’d held back in the past, thinking he was protecting Rocky, doing what she told him she needed, looking after his sister, his family.

Tanner was family. Garrett and his father’s silence about the demons that plagued the Merrick clan after Cecilia had been tortured and shot to death had nearly torn their family apart (again).

Shit had gone extreme.

Now he no longer made that same mistake.

So, right then, Garrett didn’t hesitate in giving it to Tanner.

“Difference between you and Rocky and me and Mia is you got a shot at gettin’ your woman back, you took it, and you stood by her when the bad hit. I have that same bad shit. A different way, but I got it. Mia knew it and didn’t give that back.”

“Fuck. Never thought to turn that table, but Cher’s right.”

She was.

For years, Garrett never turned that table either.

Mia was it. The one. Tormenting his mind. Owning his heart.

He’d been happy with her. She’d been happy with him. It had been good. Beyond good.

They’d had it all.

Then he’d ended it, and he didn’t even know why he did it until Rocky came apart that day—Rocky, having done the same thing to Tanner years before, deep down into her bones terrified that happy would vaporize like it had the night Cecilia stood strong to protect her daughter, her husband’s work, then lost her life doing both.

He also never would have guessed that the day he lost Mia for good was the day he’d see things for what they were.

Tanner and Rocky had it. Colt and Feb. Cal and Vi. Dusty and Mike.

Garrett might have it, he didn’t know.

What he did know, now that Cher had pointed it out, was that Mia didn’t.

Getting that knowledge from Cher, it was like he’d been yoked, that yoke heavy but also invisible. He didn’t even know it’d hung around his neck, dragging him down.

And then it was just gone.

And now he was free.

“Good to know you’re doin’ okay,” Tanner said.

“Yeah,” Garrett muttered.

“Now, brother, CeeCee’s down, so Roc and me got about five seconds of alone time and, no offense, I wanna spend that time with my wife.”

Garrett grinned into the night again and replied, “Then I’ll let you go. Later, Tanner.”

“Later, Garrett.”

They disconnected and Garrett stared into the parking lot, wondering what it would feel like to have an actual yard as he finished his smoke.

He turned and bent low to the crappy-ass, cheap, white plastic table that sat between two crappy-ass, cheap, white plastic chairs in order to stub out his cigarette.

He did this thinking back to if he’d ever smoked in front of Ethan.

Friday night, Cher had come out with him twice as they were getting hammered so he could have a smoke, standing in front of him on her high-heeled shoes, shifting from foot to foot in the cold, while he told her to get her ass back inside and she gave him all kinds of shit for smoking.

But Ethan? No. Garrett wouldn’t do that. He’d never smoke in front of any of his friends’ kids. Not when they were Ethan’s age. Not when they hadn’t already learned better.

He turned, pulled the sliding glass door open, and shut it behind him, intending to go to the fridge and get a beer.

He didn’t get a beer.

He looked at the living room/dining room/kitchen part of his condo, all of it easy to see because it was condensed into as few square feet as a builder could design those three spaces.

He had crappy-ass balcony furniture.

The furniture inside was only a shade above crappy-ass, but it was still shit.

Immediately, his mind filled with what he’d seen of Cher’s place.

He was not surprised that she lived in a house that looked like it was decorated by Janis Joplin’s slightly more together sister. Stuffed full, dark at the same time bright with color, it had personality. It was unique. It held warmth that hit you the second you stepped foot over the threshold.

It was Cher.

The living room was good; her bedroom was better.

Her bedroom said anything goes. Her bedroom said your wildest fantasy could come true. Her bedroom said you were safe to be what you were, think what you want, do what you like, eat like a pig, drink like a fish, fuck like an animal, sleep like the dead, no worries, leave life at the door and just be.

And she’d delivered. They’d only had hours in that room, so she didn’t deliver on it all, but the instant they fell to her bed, tearing at each other’s clothes, she’d more than delivered.