Walk (Gentry Boys) (11 page)

“Macon’s been in and out of prison since then.  They always force him to get clean when he’s locked up but it never lasts.  My mother moved out of state but she still sends him money whenever he asks for it.   I guess she’s just relieved he’s still alive.  For now.  He’s got another six months on his time down there at that prison in Emblem.” 

Stone raised an eyebrow over that.  That was, after all, where he’d been.  A small world indeed. 

“You remember that day you saw me at the diner?” I asked. 

He nodded.

“That was my birthday. 
Our
birthday.  I’d driven down there to visit him but he didn’t want to see me.  He never wants to see me.  Maybe he blames me for Dad’s death.  I don’t know.  But I do know that I think about him all the time.  I know that when someone you love starts destroying himself you never sleep easy again.  I know it hurts to see a pair of anything because it reminds me of being a twin.  And I know that I hate ponderosa pine trees now.” 

Stone silently handed me a clean napkin.  He waited while I blew my nose and wiped my eyes.  Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. The sharing of grief bonded people together.  Still, I was a little embarrassed about blubbering all over my hamburger.  I should have learned the futility of crying over Macon by now. 

“Let’s talk about something more cheerful,” I said, crumpling up the used napkin.  “Something other than lost loved ones and broken brothers.” 

“Okay.”  Stone tilted his head and gave it some thought.  “I meant to ask, is Evie short for a longer name, like Evelyn or something?”

I smiled.  I liked telling the story of my name.  “Eponine.  Remember I told you my mother was a literature professor?  According to her, Eponine of Hugo’s
Les Miserables
was one of the great unsung heroines of literature.  Personally I don’t aspire to Eponine’s fate but the tragic romanticism of her story has always appealed to me. And violets were always my mother’s favorite flower so my birth certificate reads Eponine Violet Dupont, gracefully condensed to Evie.” 

Stone was grinning.  “Mine says Stonewall Tiberius Gentry.” 

“That’s a mouthful.” 

“Yup.  Named for a crazy great uncle who thought he could turn ground squirrels into a culinary delicacy.  He used to farm them on a remote patch of desert until the authorities shut him down. Died before I was born.” 

We stayed for a while longer, just talking.  Stone had earned his high school diploma in prison and even though he admitted being an indifferent student in his youth, he’d changed his tune.  The first time we’d spoken I’d noted that he was well read and articulate.  When I brought up the idea of college he looked startled, like he hadn’t considered it before.  Then he shook his head. 

“Need to work,” he said.  “Got to pay my cousins back for everything they’ve done and find my own way.” 

“You will,” I told him with conviction.  “You can do anything you want, Stone, if you put your mind to it and work hard.” 

He seemed to find my confidence entertaining.  I liked him.  I liked Stone Gentry.  And not just for the fact that he was the hottest guy who’d ever sat across a table from me.  I was mature enough by now to keep my libido in check.  I just liked being in his company.  We clicked on a level beyond physical chemistry. 

Although if he decided to make a move in a dirty direction I’d have to reconsider my libido’s maturity.  

Stone behaved like a gentleman though.  He drove me back to Briana’s apartment where I’d left my truck and seemed happy when I told him I’d be coming around for at least the next two weeks to give feline Mr. Fitzgerald some love while his owner frolicked on a Mexican beach in the throes of honeymoon bliss. 

“You should stop by,” he said casually as he walked me to my truck.  “I mean, if you’re in the neighborhood anyway and you’ve got time.”

My heart fluttered.  “I’d like that.  But contrary to today’s impulsive example, I like to grace my hosts with a phone call before I invade.” 

Stone held his hand out. “Give me your phone.” 

I handed it over and watched, trying not to squirm, as he stared down at it with a serious expression.  My god, he was good looking.  He must know that, yet he didn’t seem to have the kind of arrogance that usually came with such muscled alpha male endowments. 

“There,” he finally said with a wink.  “I sent a text to my phone so now you have my number.” 

I dropped the phone back into my purse.  “You may regret that.  Although I will endeavor to keep my stalker tendencies in check.” 

Stone’s eyes lingered on my lips, and then lower.  “I won’t regret it, Evie,” he said in a husky voice that reduced me to something slightly less substantial than oatmeal.   I could have sworn he knew it because his eyes met mine once more for a split second before he politely opened my car door for me. 

“Drive safe,” he said. 

“Whatever you say, sir.” 

It had been a flippant remark but again I saw something flash in his eyes.  I knew what it was called. It lingered just beneath the surface in most men. I also knew that Stone had no intention of doing anything about it right now. 

“Goodnight, Eponine Violet.” 

I smiled.  “Goodnight Stonewall Tiberius.” 

I left the parking lot slowly, checking my rearview mirror every few seconds to see if he was still standing there, watching.  He was.    

STONE

Whatever dirty thoughts I’d been having about Evie Dupont on the way to my cousins’ barbecue had to be put away once we shared tears and hamburgers. 

She’d surprised me.  Somehow I’d figured her for the carefree type who never suffered a fate more damning than a hangnail.  I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked. I’d already proven that I didn’t know shit, especially not when it came to women. 

And Evie was a woman for damn sure.  She wasn’t some good time girl looking to get sweaty for an hour or two.  That I could have handled gladly.  But after spending the day with her I realized getting horizontal would have been a lowly move, no matter how much the air crackled from the electric attraction between us.  I could ignore it.  I could ignore the fact that being within six feet of her made my dick misbehave in ways that forced me to think about dead rabbits to calm that fucker down.  In the old days I wouldn’t have hesitated. 

But these were not the old days. 

We became friends.  I didn’t touch her again and she didn’t ask me to.   Evie lived a few miles away but for the first few weeks she came around a lot to look in on her friend’s cat.  Beyond that we talked on the phone and made friendly plans to meet up. I looked forward to seeing her. We’d go have coffee or grab something to eat, always in public, always around people.  I didn’t quite trust myself to be alone with her.  Once we were passing by a theater and there happened to be a new film adaptation of
Tender is the Night
by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  She tried to drag me in but I mumbled some excuse to pass it by.  She looked at me funny but didn’t say anything and I didn’t explain myself.  The truth was, I had my limits.  Sitting right beside her in the dark for two hours would have been a dangerous test for my self-control.  

It didn’t take me long to understand that I already had something so much more valuable than a quick fuck.  I had Evie in my life.  Whoever said that no man craved the friendship of a woman was either crazy or never spent four years in a lonely cell wishing to God he could just talk to one. 

I even found that I kept thinking about Evie’s suggestion that I return to school.  It wouldn’t happen tomorrow, but someday. Maybe. At least she’d put the idea in my head that it was worth thinking about. In the meantime, I worked whatever parties were offered to me.  I kept my head down and did what was asked and tried to never complain.   

My cousin Creed, who was something of a local singing legend, had also set up an interview with the owner of a club he often performed in.  The guy was pleasant and gracious and seemed to hold Creed in almost reverential esteem but he hemmed and hawed when it came time to talk serious.  I knew it when he started looking down at the table more than he looked me in the eye.  A man who doesn’t want to look you in the eye doesn’t have anything good to say.  My record was a problem.   Even though he assured me that he had no issue with hiring those who have paid their debt to society, he had to speak to the ‘other owners’ before making a hiring decision.  At least that’s what he said.   In the end he shook my hand politely and promised to be in touch.  I doubted I’d hear from him again.

As for Conway, I wasn’t giving up.  One way or another I was going to breach the wall of rage and ruin he’d built around himself.   After the barbecue I figured bulldozing my way there wouldn’t solve a thing though.  Con needed time to thaw out and I had to give it to him.  For now, but not forever.  Deck hadn’t commented on the fact that I had stopped pressing him for Conway-related news but I imagined he was keeping tabs behind the scenes whether or not I was asking.  

“You going out tonight?” Bash asked when he found me in the kitchen cooking up some grilled cheese sandwiches.  

I shook my head and flipped a sandwich.  It was perfect, a crisp light brown with melted cheese bleeding out the edges of the bread.  “Nah.  Would have liked to work but nothing came up.” 

“Business will pick up when the weather cools down,” Bash promised, yawning.  “It’s still a little toasty out there and people don’t like to party outside in triple digits.” 

“Hope that’s true.”

Bash propped his feet up on the table.  “So what’s the deal, Gentry?”

I glanced at my roommate.  “With what?  Why the fuck are you grinning like a cat in a fish house?”

“I saw you the other night at Chomp’s Coffee.  You were hanging out with that girl again.” 

I played dumb.  “What girl?”

“Piece of cuteness with brown hair and office clothes.  Looks like she’d be fun to bounce around.  Too bad she has that Table Tot quality.” 

I rolled my eyes over Bash’s non-so-affectionate nickname for women he labeled as shallow and materialistic.  Bash had been burned a few times. 

“She’s not a Table Tot,” I argued.  “Not even fucking close.” 

He thought about it.  “Maybe not,” he conceded.  Then he snorted. “After all she wouldn’t be hanging around with your broke ass if she was.  No offense, man.” 

“None taken.” 

Bash clapped his hands together.  “So you
are
fucking her!  Well, hallelujah.  Tools need to be used before they rot and fall off.” 

I clenched my teeth.  “I’m
not
fucking her.” 

“You should be.  Girl was looking at you like you were a deep dish of ice cream.” 

I didn’t want to talk about Evie.  Or about sex.  Or about sex and Evie and how bad I wanted to combine the two. 

Chase called an hour ago, just a usual check in, but he had to get a few teasing quips in there because he was Chase.  Stephanie told him Evie had been pumping her for information about me.  Even though Evie insisted nothing romantic was going on, Stephanie told her husband she believed that as much as she believed that a race of extraterrestrials were hiding in the Superstition Mountains.  Chase seemed a little put out when I shut those ideas down.  I confirmed there was nothing romantic going on between me and Evie Dupont.  Nothing at all. 

But secretly I agreed with Bash about one thing.  Evie’s hot little body would be a hell of a lot of fun to bounce around.  Even though I felt like an asshole for thinking that way it didn’t stop me.  It didn’t stop me from jerking off with her in my head every night and then spanking it hard again in the morning shower because she was still there. If Bash knew that he would just laugh and once again say that I needed to get fucked in the unholiest sense.  Every once in a while Bash managed to be right. 

Bash was watching me like he was well aware of the struggle waging inside my head and found it funny.  I picked up a grilled cheese sandwich on the metal spatula and fired it at him.  He caught it in one hand and started eating. 

“I guess you’ve got wild plans,” I said as I turned the stove off. 

His expression changed suddenly and he put his sandwich down on the table.  “Maybe.  Hey, can we talk serious for a minute?”

I shut the stove off.  “Sure.” 

Bash looked uneasy.  That was not a usual mood for Bash. 

“Remember Judd, who worked that wedding with us a few weeks back?”

Of course I remembered the wedding.  It was the night I met Evie.  I even kind of remembered Judd, a lanky guy with a country twang and a leather boot stuffed with one dollar bills. 

“I remember him,” I said.

“Well, when you asked me to put feelers out about your brother I didn’t know if I’d get much info back.  I heard a few rumors but not enough to take seriously.  It turns out Judd’s girl strips at the downtown club where your brother and his street racing goons are always hanging out.  They’ve got some kind of backroom deal going on with the sleazy owner so they’re around pretty reliably. She thinks he’s staying at an apartment complex next door that’s owned by some local slum lord.  It’s the kind of place you can crash for a while if you don’t want to be found too easily. As far as exactly what Conway and Company are into, I don’t know.  But that is your brother’s circle of friends and that’s where you can find him if you wait around for long enough.” 

I mulled that over.  Conway had been pretty clear that he didn’t have much use for me but I’d never intended to let that be the final word.  Maybe a month was long enough for him to cool off a little and gain some perspective.  Yet he’d been right about my parole.  If I dove into a stew of trouble it was possible a cranky judge would see fit to deliver me back to the gates of Emblem. 

“A strip club?” I asked. 

“Yup.  On Washington, next to an abandoned freight yard.  It’s called Ally’s Comet.” 

“So it’s a legal, reputable kind of place?”

Bash gave me a lazy grin.  “Legal for sure. Just a standard strip joint on the surface.  As for reputable, well, it’s not a place you’ll want to host Sunday school.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Bash looked at his watch.  “So are we going?”

I raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t have to come with me.” 

Bash rolled his eyes.  “What else am I gonna do, sit here and stare at my dick?  At least I’ll have nice things to look at there.” 

Since I was all keyed up I was happy enough to let Bash do the driving when he offered.  Phoenix was a pretty city in the dark.  All the lights were on at the ballpark and it looked as if a baseball game was still underway. 

Once we were off the freeway, Bash took a turn that led away from the more cosmopolitan side of the city.  The streets were dark and mostly empty, at least at first glance.  There were too many shadows and dark doorways.  I had no doubt that hidden eyes watched from at least a few of them.  This was the kind of neighborhood people ducked into to buy and sell things that weren’t on the market at the local mall. 

The Ally’s Comet sign was all flashing pink fluorescence, so bright it hurt the eyes to stare for more than a few seconds.  It blinked above a squat, square building that was probably a shade of gray in the daylight.  The windows had been painted over and covered with metal bars, always a sign that you’d best watch your ass if you were going to get out and walk around. 

Bash confirmed it when he swung sharply around to park beside a quartet of gleaming bikes.  “I know I don’t need to warn you to stay sharp.   They won’t have much interest in us if we don’t cause trouble, but we’re not walking into a sports bar crowd.”

“Understood.” I didn’t bother to tell Bash that I knew more than he ever would about keeping quiet and minding your own business.  Shooting your mouth off in lockup was the surest way to wind up shanked in the throat on the cafeteria line.  Being cautious and keeping quiet had become a way of life that would probably never leave me. 

At the door I paid the cover charge for both of us and waved Bash off when he tried to shove some green in my face.  The crowd was light and most of the patrons were clustered by the dingy stage.  There wasn’t much to it but a narrow platform with floor lights and a pole.  A pink-haired girl who looked liked she belonged in high school more than she belonged on a stripper stage was trying to get her nipple tassels to swing.  She was having a hard time, not that the audience minded.  They howled and shouted crude words as she struggled in her absurd heels.  She had a good body but I still turned away with a grimace because there was something awful and desperate about the smile the girl was trying to keep on her face.  This was obviously not a place she wanted to be. 

We took a table in the back and Bash ordered a pair of beers from a waitress wearing black bikini bottoms and half a white t-shirt that scarcely covered huge breasts with permanently erect nipples. 

Once she was gone I squinted through the dark and the smoke, studying the other customers.  Aside from the salivating sad sacks panting beside the stage with their receding hairlines and fists full of cash, there were four occupied tables populated by shadowy men.  They hovered over their drinks and talked quietly enough that not a word escaped over the sound of country music.  Half naked young women floated between tables, delivering drinks and collecting money in their panties.  My eye was drawn to a hulking shape that seemed permanently affixed to a metal chair beside the stage.  The dude was three hundred pounds if he was an ounce; a colossus of tattoos and bad tempered meat.  Though he didn’t shift an inch as he surveyed the club I knew he didn’t miss a thing.  He was the muscle.  He would deal swiftly and surely with anyone who dared to stir up dust. 

“He’s not here,” I told Bash. 

Already this was starting to taste like a fool’s mission.  Even if we ran into Conway it was unlikely he’d wave me over to sit down for drinks and small talk anyway.  More than likely we’d just attract the attention of the brooding watcher and possibly get tossed out with a few bruises for good measure. 

The waitress dropped our beers off and Bash handed her a twenty, telling her to keep it all.  She purred and ran a red painted talon down his cheek before strutting away.

Bash picked up his glass and tipped it in my direction.  “We may as well enjoy the show for a few minutes.  Drink up.” 

I stared down into my own glass for a minute before lifting it to my lips.  It tasted like Emblem.  Con and I used to lift beers from the shelves at Dino Mart when we could get away with it.  We didn’t even like the stuff but coming through with a fresh case made us heroes among our peers so it was a risk that seemed worth taking.  When we found a pack of Emblem High kids we’d hand out the cans like we were fucking Robin Hoods.  Eventually Con would crack a can of his own and I would crack another and we’d smirk at each other while our friends sucked their beers back, pretending to get wasted off eight ounces.