For Your Love (4 page)

 

T
hat morning in Henry Adams, after having breakfast with Lily and the boys, Trent drove out to pick up Bobby. In spite of his laid-­back ways, Trent was anal about being on time, and finding Bobby dressed and ready to go pleased him. He glanced at the thin fake leather jacket the kid was wearing. It was totally inadequate for a Kansas winter, and by mid-­January, newspaper might be warmer. But rather than begin the day by suggesting they go and look for something better and maybe upset the younger man, he talked football and cars as they drove out to the main road.

“It might be nice to cheer for a team that at least made the playoffs last year,” Bobby said referencing the Kansas City Chiefs. “Cowboys sucked big-­time.”

“Yeah, well, the Chiefs blew a twenty-­eight-­point lead to the Colts and wound up losing forty-­five to forty-­four in last year's Wild Card game. Might've been better if they hadn't made the playoffs.”

“True.”

“You ever play?”

“I did. One game my freshman year in high school. Coach got on me about missing a tackle, and I quit.”

Trent glanced over.

“I wasn't about him being all in up in my face screaming.”

“Ah.”

“Did you play?”

“Yes. Quarterback. All-­State, three of my four years.”

“Nice. Jocks thought they were the shit, though.”

“Couldn't tell me different.”

Bobby smiled.

“So you want to own a detailing business?”

“Yeah, I do. This guy I worked with had one. He'd let me help with the sprayers and stuff sometimes.”

“Did he do repairs, too?”

“No.”

“Do you know anything about engines, stuff like that?”

“No. No interest.”

“Ah.”

The car dealership had a few good selections on the lot, and due to all the business the owner had been getting from Henry Adams, he offered Trent and Bobby a good deal on a three-­year-­old crossover SUV with only fifteen thousand miles.

“Owned by an elderly man who only drove it to church and the grocery store,” the dealer explained.

Trent and Bobby both looked it over. “Can you drive a manual?” Trent asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Will this one work for you and Kelly, you think?”

“Yeah.”

Their decision made, they agreed to the offer and started the paperwork.

When everything was in order, the dealer said, “Give me about an hour to get it prepped and gassed up, and you can drive it home.”

The two men nodded and walked back to Trent's truck, Bobby visibly shivering in the twenty-­degree air. “Let's go find you a coat while we wait.”

“I'm good.”

“No, you aren't.”

Bobby stopped. “Look, man. You already bought me a car. I don't need you buying me a coat, too.”

“I'm not trying to hurt your pride. Just offering a hand until you get on your feet.”

“You've helped enough.”

“Okay. Suit yourself, but I promise you, if my grandmother sees you shivering like that, she's not going to want to hear your no, and neither will Ms. Brown.”

“You all let the women run you like that?” Bobby tossed back with a hint of belligerence.

Trent let the dig roll off his back and chuckled. “When they make sense, yes.”

“I'm good. No coat.”

“Up to you. I need to make a run. Do you want to come, or stay here?”

“I'll ride.”

But when Trent pulled up to the county sheriff's office, he sensed Bobby stiffen.

“Why are you stopping here?”

“Someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will Dalton. He's the county sheriff, and a friend.”

“Why do I need to meet him?”

Trent didn't sugarcoat it. “Because you're a big Black guy covered with tats, and I don't want you profiled and pulled over every time you leave your house. That plain enough?” The rebellion in Bobby's face was plain, but Trent ignored it. “You decide.”

Bobby's eyes flared angrily for a moment longer, but without a word, he opened his door and stepped out.

They found Will seated at his desk in his office. He was in his mid-­fifties, and his bulk was a testament to his years of playing linebacker at Kansas U. The face was weathered, the hair graying, and the blue eyes keen. He smiled at Trent's entrance. Any surprise he may have felt upon seeing Bobby never showed. “Morning, Trent. How are you?” He rose and came around the desk to shake Trent's hand.

“Doing good. Want you to meet Bobby Douglas. He and his wife and twin babies moved into town yesterday.”

“Good meeting you,” Will said, extending his hand. “Welcome to Kansas.”

“Thanks, and I don't have any outstanding warrants.”

Will looked at Trent, who kept his face bland. He understood Bobby's response was undoubtedly rooted in his past dealings with law enforcement, but that didn't mean he liked it.

Will crossed his arms. “Did I ask if you had any warrants? Trent's a pretty smart guy. I doubt he'd bring you here to meet me if he thought you'd be arrested.”

Bobby had the decency to appear embarrassed.

“So, let's start over. I'm Will Dalton.”

“Bobby Douglas. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Welcome to Kansas.”

“Thanks.”

Will added, “You couldn't ask for a better group of ­people to live with than the folks in Henry Adams. In fact, the wife and I are thinking about asking Ms. Brown if we can move there sometime down the road.”

Trent was pleased to hear that. “Really?”

He nodded. “After thirty years and all the kids, that old house of ours has seen better days. I don't have the time or the inclination to fix everything that needs fixing.”

“You know you'd be welcome.”

“I do.” He directed his next words Bobby's way. “I'll be putting the word out on you to the agencies in the area, so you don't get disrespected. That okay with you?”

For a moment the two eyed each. Bobby finally said, “Yeah. I'd appreciate that.”

“Here's my card. If you run into a situation where you think you need my help, call me, and I mean that. If I can't come right then, I'll send my son Kyle. He's with the FBI field office here.”

Trent saw that Bobby was blown back by that generous offer. He smiled inwardly. How many gang members, former or otherwise, were given such courtesy? He hoped Bobby had a better view of Will now.

The three of them spent a few more minutes talking about Bobby's move and Kelly and the twins before Trent and Bobby shook hands with Will and took their leave.

Back in Trent's truck, Bobby looked his way and said, “Thank you.”

“No problem. We take care of our own. Will's a good man.”

“Not used to dealing with the police on a personal level.”

“Understood.”

“Sorry for being a jerk.”

“No apology needed. You were dealing from the only place you know. Nobody's faulting you for that.”

Trent could see him thinking. Again, he wished he could read Bobby's mind.

“Do we still have time to get that coat?”

Trent smiled. “Sure do.”

An hour later, after the purchase of a coat made to withstand the Kansas winter, a pair of boots to replace Bobby's Nikes, gloves, and outerwear for Kelly, they were on their way back to the dealership when Trent's phone rang, and Lily's voice came over the sync. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, Lil. What's up?”

“Is Bobby with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess we can't talk about how you rocked my boat last night.”

“Lily!”

Bobby grinned.

“What do you want, crazy woman?”

“Seabiscuit wants you to swing by her office. Says she has something she needs to discuss.”

“I suppose it can't wait.”

“Not according to her.”

“Okay, let me pick up Bobby's car, and I'll go see what Her Horsiness wants.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“You'd better.”

As the call ended, Bobby asked, “Who's Seabiscuit?”

“Astrid Wiggins. The mayor of Franklin, and a pain in the ass.”

“That was your wife on the call?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been married?”

“A little over a year. We were high school sweethearts but broke up after she went off to college.”

“But you hooked up again.”

“Yes. Twenty-­five years later. When she moved back here we had a pretty rough time getting the knots untied, but we did, and it gave me new life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'd moved back here after living in LA for ten years. I have an engineering degree, two failed marriages, and was living here doing mostly nothing. Then Ms. Brown came to town, and a few weeks later, Lily. Nothing's been the same since. Owe them both a lot.” Trent looked over at Bobby. “There's an old saying that a man is only as strong as the woman who holds him. I'm strong. Real strong.”

The car had gone through its prep and was gassed up and ready when they returned to the dealership. After Bobby got in, Trent leaned down to speak through the rolled-­down driver's-­side window. “Mayor Wiggins's office is just a few minutes away. How about you just follow me there, and we'll go back to town when I'm done? I doubt the meeting will take long. She hates my guts, and the feeling's mutual. I'll tell her you're my new assistant.”

Bobby appeared wary. “You sure it'll be okay for me to be there?”

“It'll be okay with me. I don't care if it's okay with her or not.”

“Then I'll follow you.”

When they arrived at the mayor's office, her secretary, after eyeing Bobby with wide, fright-­filled eyes, sent them right in.

“Well, hello, Mayor July. I—­” The sight of Trent's companion seemed to freeze her in midspeech.

Trent did the introductions. “Mayor Wiggins. My new assistant, Bobby Douglas.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Bobby.

Astrid appeared to be too busy staring to respond. Then, as if she didn't feel the need to, she gave him a dismissive look and turned to Trent. “Thanks for coming. Have a seat, please. This won't take long. Oh”—­she turned to Bobby—­“you can sit, too.”

Bobby replied tersely, “I'll stand.”

Trent held on to his temper. Astrid Franklin Wiggins was a piece of work. Her family had founded Franklin back in the early 1900s. Up until a few weeks ago, the two neighboring communities had gotten along fairly well. But Bernadine's rebuilding of Henry Adams, adding ser­vices and perks for the town that Franklin didn't have, was giving Astrid fits of jealousy. Right before Thanksgiving she'd hired a young knucklehead to set loose cockroaches in the aisles of the new Henry Adams grocery store, which led to the Health Department shutting it down. She'd also incited a crazed bunch of gold seekers to riot, causing a lot of destruction in town. Astrid was Trent's age. In high school she'd been the epitome of a mean girl. Twenty-­five years later, she still wore the crown.

“I wanted to let you know that Franklin will no longer be able to make town ser­vices available to your ­people,” she began.

Trent chose to overlook the “your ­people” remark. She knew it was offensive and was trying to push his buttons. He refused to play. “Meaning?”

“Due to budget constraints, we'll no longer be able to offer you any assistance from our fire department.”

She waited for his reaction. He didn't give her one. “What else?”

“Our library's going private as well, and will only lend books to our residents. Your ­people are no longer welcome in our continuing education classes or GED program. Effective immediately.” She gave him a smug little smile.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

He stood. “Have a nice day.”

He and Bobby exited.

Once they were outside, Bobby said, “Wow. What a bitch.”

“No kidding.”

“So what's your town going to do?”

“Once Ms. Brown gets done cursing, she'll probably open the vault and declare war.”

On the drive back to Henry Adams, Trent pushed his anger at Astrid aside. He knew Bobby was going to need employment. His original plan to put him to work in the garage was no longer feasible now that he'd learned the young man knew nothing about working on engines or anything else mechanical tied to repairing cars. Not even Bernadine was going to pay him for doing nothing, and from what Trent knew of him, Bobby wouldn't accept that kind of arrangement even if it was offered, so Trent had another job in mind. He'd make the announcement during the town meeting.

Bernadine looked up to see Genevieve Curry peeking around the frame of her opened office door.

“Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you. Come on in and have a seat. How are you this morning? Do you want coffee?” Bernadine was on her second cup.

“No, thank you. I'm on my way to help out at the rec. I just stopped by to let you know that I've officially gone back to my maiden name, Gibbs.”

After having her home razed as a result of the antics of her husband—­Riley, the town's former mayor—­and his eight-­hundred-­pound hog, Cletus, she'd divorced them both. Getting all the paperwork sorted out had taken some time, especially after she found out Riley had been embezzling the money she'd inherited from her parents.

“I assume your lawyer's handled the name changes on all your documents and accounts?” Bernadine asked.

“Yes, from Social Security to bank accounts.”

“Good. No word from Riley, I hope?”

Her face soured. “He called collect the other day, but I refused to accept the charges. I'm guessing he and that hog aren't taking Hollywood by storm the way he'd envisioned.”