Walk (Gentry Boys) (12 page)

I set the glass back down.  I still didn’t like the shit. 

Then, as suddenly as if I’d called his name, there he was.  He walked in with his head down beside several other men but I knew right away it was him.  One of the waitresses squealed and shook her ass right in front of him.  He let out a hoarse laugh and shoved his hand into her panties as she scolded him with a moan.  

Con took a while to notice me.  He settled into a table close to the door with his friends and they’d already gone through a round of drinks when he glanced my way.  He didn’t flinch or narrow his eyes.  He just stared for a moment and then returned to his drink. 

“That him?” Bash asked. 

I nodded, drumming my fingers on the table and wondering who was going to make the first move.  Con called the waitress over and whispered in her ear.  He didn’t look over at us at all. 

Two minutes later the same waitress paid us a visit. 

“This is from Con Gentry,” she said, dumping a couple of shots on the table.  “He says you ought to enjoy this round and then you ought to leave.” 

Bash raised an eyebrow.  “He the boss around here?”

The waitress licked her lips and glanced back to Con’s table.  The other guys were busy staring at the stage but Con was now looking stoically in our direction.  He gave a barely perceptible nod and then tossed back the shot that was sitting in front of him. 

“Not the boss,” said the waitress in a low voice, “but when he makes a suggestion, men usually take it.  And those men are usually older and tougher than you two.” 

I pushed my chair back and stood up. 

“Conway,” I called over the music. 

Everyone turned to look. 

Con didn’t move.  He sat there with his arms crossed, a bored look on his face.  But out of the corner of my eye I saw the hulking muscle stand up.  He wasn’t headed our way yet but his gaze was trained on us and the meaning was clear. 

“Think we’ll pass on that shot,” Bash said as he hurriedly rose and grabbed my arm. 

Though my instincts were ordering me to get the hell out of there before the stripper completed her latest pole spin, the rest of me wouldn’t obey.  My eyes were fixed on my brother, who remained in his indifferent pose without a hint of emotion. 

Slowly, so slowly, I reached for my wallet.  I didn’t want to give anyone any ideas about what I was grabbing for.  I searched for the item with my fingers, unable to break the eyeball to eyeball stare I had going on with Conway.  The picture was in the billfold.  It had been on me at the time of my arrest and I’d forgotten all about it until the day of my release, when it was returned.  It had been taken that last summer when a bunch of us were hanging out, drinking and bullshitting beneath the old railroad bridge.  In those days I’d been screwing around with a classmate named Courtney who got the wrong idea that she was my girlfriend.  I didn’t have girlfriends.  I couldn’t remember who snapped the picture but Courtney had gone through all the trouble of printing it out because it was an unusually good shot of her and because my arm was draped casually around her shoulders as she sat beside me on the tailgate of Caleb Marist’s old pickup.   I’d probably just shoved it into my wallet at the time to keep her quiet and it wouldn’t have been a picture worth keeping now, except for the fact that we weren’t the only ones in it. 

On the far left side of the frame was another couple.  However, there was nothing casual about them.  The girl had her arms around the boy’s waist and her heart-shaped face was tipped up to stare at him as he laughed down at her.   They were young.  They beautiful.  They were so in love.  They were Conway and Erin. 

Con’s eyes narrowed when I approached and Bash was on my heels, cursing under his breath, probably figuring we were on the verge of some epic showdown.  That wasn’t my intention though.  Several of Con’s associates took notice of us and visibly tensed, talking to each other silently out of the corners of their eyes.  With a slight shock I realized I knew one of them, at least as well as you could know someone from exchanging wary glares in a prison recreation yard.  There was no time to deal with that though. 

Without a word I dropped the picture beside Con’s empty shot glass.  Then I turned on my heel and left without looking back.  If he crumpled it up and tossed it away then I didn’t even want to know. 

Bash kept so close to me I thought he was going to start holding my hand.   I plucked the keys out of his grip as soon as we reached his car. 

“Better let me drive,” I said. 

Bash had swallowed that last shot in addition to the beer and the last thing we needed was to get pulled over for a DUI check. 

He didn’t argue with me.  He just scurried into the passenger side and kept checking the entrance to the club to see if my brother or anyone else was going to come busting out of there like a warrior running toward battle.  He breathed a little easier once I steered the car back out to Washington Street.  In truth, so did I.  Even before I locked eyes with my brother I was wishing I hadn’t come.  Still, it was better to know exactly where to find Con once I figured out how to melt the icy barrier he kept shoving between us. 

The freeway was empty, all dark ribbons and reflectors.  Cars whizzed past at twenty miles over the speed limit but I kept the speedometer steady even though my blood was racing.  Bash, perhaps sensing that I wasn’t game for small talk, cranked up the classic rock station on the radio.  

By the time we returned to Tempe I was still pretty keyed up.  My roommate switched on a baseball game while I took my fury out on the kitchen. 

“Don’t clean yourself to death,” Bash warned from the couch, his eyes glued to the television as I mopped the floor nearly hard enough to scrape the linoleum off.

None of that helped to crush the riot in my soul so I headed down to the community clubhouse.  Their gym setup was pretty rinky-dink but it would serve its purpose.  With each pump of the free weights I kept hearing the echo of my own voice futilely calling my brother’s name as he stared back at me without a twitch of reaction. 

I should have grabbed him.  I should have shaken him and screamed in his ear.  Maybe the noise would shatter that cool, blue-eyed stare that seemed to see everything and feel nothing.  Would he have yelled back?  Would he have taken a swing at me?  Would we have rolled around the filthy floor of the strip club until one or both of us bled?  I would rather have him hit me with a crowbar than stare through me like I wasn’t even fucking there. 

An hour later I was soaked with sweat and feeling calmer.  I pulled my soggy t-shirt off and mopped my chest with it as I walked back to the apartment.  When I reached our building I paused hopefully by the door of Evie’s friend.  Then I remembered the friend had returned two weeks ago, claimed her cat and moved out.  There was no chance Evie would have stopped by. 

Bash was still lounging in the exact same spot on the couch.  He looked up when I walked in but didn’t say anything as I crossed to the kitchen and swallowed about a gallon of water.  I grabbed my phone and headed out to the back patio.

There was a party somewhere.  There were always parties around here. The college crowd didn’t seem to have enough to occupy them so they clustered together with red plastic cups and squeezed onto balconies.  I listened to their noise, to their laughter.  Sometimes I felt superior to them.  Other times I was jealous. 

The sky was clear but constellations weren’t as visible around so many lights.  I thought about taking a drive out to the desert to see them better but even the thought tired me out.  If Evie was around right now I would have done it. 

Time slid past without me checking and after a while the sliding glass door opened.  My roommate poked his head outside. 

“You okay?” he asked.   

“Yeah,” I said.  “It’ll work out.  Thanks for coming tonight.” 

He pushed his hands into his pockets.  “Sure.  Sorry it went sour.  Kind of made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

“Wasn’t your fault.  I appreciate you telling me what you knew.”

Bash cleared his throat, fidgeted.  “Still sorry, man.  I don’t have a brother but I would guess it stings.” 

It did.  It did sting. 

Bash went indoors and I was left staring at the sky and considering what the hell ought to come next.  The sky wasn’t offering up answers tonight.  No one was. 

I looked at my phone.  It wasn’t late.  Suddenly I had an itch to talk to one of my cousins about what had gone down tonight.  I’d especially like to talk to Deck, even though I knew Deck wouldn’t approve of the way I had recklessly sought out Con in a place someone like me had no business visiting.  It had occurred to me that Deck with his infinite network of informants likely had a good bead on Con’s whereabouts all along.  He’d been intentionally vague, yet Deck always had good reasons for everything he did.  For four years he’d gone out of his way for me far more than distant cousins usually did. I could only guess he thought he was being protective by trying to minimize the possibility of a clash with Con. 

I scrolled through my contacts until I found him.  Deck had a way of listening and understanding without requiring you to give too many details. 

But instead I scrolled past his name and found another one.  I didn’t let myself hesitate before hitting the call button.  It was answered on the second ring. 

“Didn’t wake you up, did I?” 

“Of course not,” she said. “It’s only ten pm. I’m sitting out on my balcony and listening to my neighbors use Italian profanity to argue about whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher.”

I smiled even though my heart hurt.  “Lucky you.” 

“Stone?” Evie sounded suddenly worried.  “Something wrong?”

I closed my eyes and sighed.  I didn’t especially want to unload all over her. I’d kept any mention of Conway to a minimum ever since the day of the barbecue. But the truth was there was no one else I could talk to so easily, not even Deck. We talked for a long time, well past midnight and even then I was reluctant to hang up.  I would have been happy to talk to Evie until sunrise. Even longer than that.   

Evie

“Look lively!”  Stephanie snapped her fingers at me as she walked by on her way to the restroom. 

I stifled yet another yawn and grimaced when I realized my coffee mug was empty.  The break room was mercifully close to my cubicle so I headed in there, only to discover that
someone
had drained the last drop from the coffee pot and failed to refill it. That pissed me off enough to consider stalking back to my desk and firing off a cranky company-wide email regarding break room propriety. 

Then I remembered that the
someone
in question was me.

My fourth refill had finished off the last of the morning batch that had been prepared by Keilani, the front desk assistant who answered phones, brewed coffee, and cheerfully skipped through her day in stiletto heels that would have given me crippling tendonitis within an hour. 

Stephanie emerged from a nearby bathroom as I carelessly measured out coffee grounds from a can and silently cursed the anonymous jerk who’d fucked up the Keurig machine last week, forcing us to revert to this sputtering antique. 

“Oh, I miss coffee,” Stephanie said with longing as she walked into the room.  She eased herself into a chair at the lunch table and rested a casual hand on her growing belly.  “Three more months.” 

“You and Chase decide on a name yet?” I asked. 

Stephanie wrinkled her nose.  “Chase wants to name him Hank.”

“Hank?”

“Yup.  Hank Danger Gentry.” 

“Is he kidding?”

“I hope so.  Even after eight years together I still can’t always tell with him.” 

I laughed.

Stephanie watched me fill the coffee carafe.  “So why are you dragging around today, Dupont?  Thought you were going to nod off and topple out of your chair in the quarterly meeting.  Adam kept tossing you the stink eye.”

I stretched as the coffee started percolating.  “Sorry. No wonder he was pissed. I pitched into his bony shoulder a couple of times.  Not very professional.” 

Stephanie snorted.  “Fuck him and his ineffectual over-budget department.” 

That was why I loved working for Stephanie. 

“I stayed up too late,” I said. 

“Yeah?”  Stephanie was interested.  “Was anyone keeping you company?”

“Sort of.  I spent three hours on the phone.  I don’t think I’ve done that since high school.”  I paused, not wanting to smile with the teenage giddiness I was feeling.  I had decided that I needed to work harder on being inscrutable so that the world didn’t know exactly what I was thinking one hundred percent of the time.  “I was talking to Stone.” 

“Wow, three hours.  Must have been some raunchy phone sex.” 

“Um…”

“Were there toys involved?” 

“Steph!  No, it wasn’t like that at all.” 

“Oh.”  She looked disappointed.  “Sorry. Pregnancy hormones like to steer my mind to dirty places.  I keep dreaming about dill pickles and roller coasters.  For the first time I think I might be wearing out Chase’s stamina.” 

I giggled.  “I hope Human Resources doesn’t walk in on this conversation.” 

“I’ll just tell them we were discussing sanitary supplies for the ladies’ room. They’ll be too intimidated to inquire further.” 

I laughed again and then felt myself blushing.  “I like him.” 

“I figured you did.” 

“I really really like him a lot.” 

“You want to write Stone a little note and I can give it to Chase to pass along to him?”

I stuck my tongue out at her.  “I’m serious.”

“Yes, you look serious.” She cocked her head.  “Did you tell him?”

“No.”  I hadn’t.  I hadn’t told him that I think about him all the time.  I hadn’t ripped his clothes off either.  I really wanted to do both, preferably within the same hour.  “Stone seems kind of…guarded.” 

She nodded.  “I noticed that about him.  Chase sees it too.  You know, Stone wasn’t always this way.  In fact he used to be quite the opposite.  He was reckless and arrogant and it cost him, Evie.  It cost him dearly.” She paused and thought for a minute.  “I wouldn’t pretend to know everything about the way men work, but I’m going to hazard a guess that Stone wouldn’t be so interested in hanging around with you if he didn’t really enjoy your company.  He likes you.  In fact I would bet our year-to-date gross profits on it.  And I saw the hungry way he kept checking you out at Cord’s barbecue so don’t peddle me any bullshit about how you guys are just capering through a platonic field of poppies.” 

“Poppies?”

Stephanie pushed her curly blonde hair out of her eyes and waved a hand.  “Whatever.  You get the picture.” 

“Okay.  I won’t peddle you bullshit.”  I leaned against the Formica counter and played with a strand of hair.  “But I’m not sure.  He hasn’t made a move, not even an accidental one.  At this point I think being rejected would send me into a long term hibernation where I’d only welcome my guinea pig, a case of jumbo marshmallows and every Leonardo diCaprio movie ever made.”

“Rejection?” Stephanie snorted.   “From Stone?  Don’t be ridiculous.  You’re so cute I want to slap you.  Just level with the boy and see what happens.  You guys can’t dance the sexless fox trot forever.  Someone’s fucking candy is going to crack.” 

On that note, Bellinger Davis, the stern, heavily browed CEO came strolling into the break room.  His rheumy eyes looked startled but Stephanie just stood up calmly and smiled. 

“Mr. Davis,” she said in all sweet sincerity.  “I meant to thank you for those inspiring words at the quarterly managerial meeting.” 

Bellinger Davis blinked at her and I could tell he had no clue whatsoever who she was.  Some of the staff (well, me and Stephanie) privately called him Daft Davis because he didn’t seem to actually do anything, lead anything, or know anything.  His position was achieved by way of a father-in-law who‘d been a fixture on the Board of Directors for two decades. 

“Yes,” Belllinger Davis said in a vague voice.  “You are welcome.” 

There was an awkward silence as he gazed around like he was expecting something far more exciting than a refrigerator, a sink and a cheap cafeteria table. 

“Coffee?” I offered, grabbing one of the disposable cups on the counter and pouring.

Bellinger Davis looked instantly relieved.  “Yes.  Please.  Two sugars, no cream.” 

Stephanie stifled a laugh as I opened a few sugar packets.  It hadn’t really been my intention to custom design Bellinger Davis’s beverage but he
was
the CEO (even if he was also an idiot) and I didn’t want to give him a bad reason to remember me.   

“Here you go.”  I handed over the coffee cup and he took it with a curt nod.  Before he left he took one more look around the room.  “You should have a nicer counter to serve from,” he announced.  “Granite, perhaps with a couple of bar stools.  I will tell my assistant to work on that.” 

“Okay.”  I waved. 

As soon as he was out of earshot I leaned toward Stephanie.  “Why do I need a granite counter?”

She smirked.  “He thinks you’re the break room server.” 

“Oh.  Do we have a break room server?” 

“No.”  She heaved herself out of her chair and patted her belly again.  “Calm down, junior.”  She pointed.  “This one’s going to be as feisty as his daddy and his brothers.” 

“Must be something about those Gentry genes.” 

“They tend to be quite dominant.” Stephanie grinned.  “The genes I mean.” 

The rest of the day was busy.  The end of the month was closing in, which meant the finance department would have a lot of reports to produce so that the Bellinger Davises of the company could have something to shuffle in their meetings.  Stephanie entrusted me with the reports that the Chief Financial Officer might actually look at because she knew I was a stickler for details and my work was accurate. 

Stephanie stopped at my desk on her way out to a doctor appointment.   

“You leave at five today,” she said, knowing that sometimes at month end I tended to stay too late.  I hated (HATED!) leaving in the middle of anything no matter what time it was.  My dreams would be haunted by the specters of incomplete spreadsheets. 

“If I’m finished,” I said, spot-checking a custom project report and slicing a yellow highlighter across the page. 

“Whether you’re finished or not.”  Stephanie crossed her arms, going into Boss Mode.  “The damn project reports will still be here on Monday.  It’s Friday night.  Go out, Evie.  Have fun.” 

I hadn’t made any plans.  Kendra was in Palm Springs at some swank reporter convention.  Briana hadn’t really emerged from newlywed bliss since returning from her honeymoon.  And too much time around Darcy left me with an empty wallet and a migraine. 

Of course when I considered how I’d really like to spend the evening, Stone was the first one who’d popped into my head because thoughts of my own enigmatic Gentry boy never wandered very far.  I already knew he was working tonight though, setting up for a charity benefit or something.  Whatever it was, he expected to finish late.   He’d worked the last few nights as well so I hadn’t actually seen him since Tuesday when we met for a friendly dinner at Abner’s Hamburger Grill.  Stone always insisted on paying wherever we went, which made me feel both spoiled and guilty because I was pretty sure he wasn’t raking in the dough setting up party tables.  No amount of protesting could get him to change his mind though.  He paid, he opened doors, and he never even looked sideways at the women who gawked at him.  

And yet ever since the day of the barbecue he hadn’t so much as accidentally brushed my hand. 

It was all supremely baffling. 

It was all supremely gallant. 

It was all supremely responsible for my abrupt surge in masturbatory behaviors.   

One of these days it was going to become too much.  I would break under this torturous dating-but-not-dating limbo, jump on Stone Gentry’s sexy, aloof ass, and start riding like I was galloping toward a Kentucky Derby golden trophy.  

Yes, someone’s candy was going to crack indeed. 

“Evie!”  Stephanie snapped her fingers. 

“What?!”

She frowned.  “You were just sitting there, slack-jawed and kind of hypnotized.” 

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“You even dropped your highlighter.” 

“Right.  I’ll be out of here at five.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, boss.  Now get going to your baby doctor.”

Stephanie grinned.  “See you Monday.” 

At a quarter to five Greg from the sales department dropped by to ask if I’d seen the email about happy hour at the Cantina, a fun Mexican restaurant down the street. 

“I did,” I admitted.  “But I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

He leaned over my cubicle half wall and smiled winningly. “Why not, Evie?  You haven’t come out with us in ages.  Come on, I’ll buy you a margarita.” 

Before I answered he reached down and picked up a Grand Canyon snow globe that sat on my desk.  I’d had it since I was a child.  It was a short drive from Flagstaff to the canyon and we visited often.  I remembered that particular trip.  We’d stopped in a tourist gift shop on the south rim because my mother wanted to look for cookbooks.   While we waited, my father bought one of these kitschy little treasures for each of us.  One for me and one for Macon. 

The snow slowly fell over the canyon resting in Greg’s palm as I watched. 

“Thanks for the invite,” I said gently, “but I’m afraid I have plans.” 

At this point my plans involved sitting in my living room with a quart of cookie dough ice cream and being entertained by the sight of Teddy eating his food pellets, but that was no one’s business.  Those plans were actually less depressing than opening another blouse button and behaving myself in the company of the coworkers I already saw far too often.  

Greg’s face dropped a little and he carefully replaced my Grand Canyon snow globe. Greg was thirtyish and both easy going and humorous.  He was a hard worker with above average looks.  And even though he’d never once been crude about it I’d caught him looking at me across the conference table often enough to understand he was searching for more than a friendly drink with a colleague. 

“Our loss,” he said politely. 

“Not at all.  Have a nice weekend, Greg.” 

I watched him walk away.  If Greg and I got together we would probably get along.  He was exactly the kind of guy I’d consider dating, and if my brain wasn’t already all full of Gentry fantasies I probably would have been flattered by his attention. 

However, I’d never been very good at multi-tasking and my head only happened to have space for one man at a time.  Stone was sexy and complex and smart and funny.  He was also young and damaged and wary and mysterious.  I’d only known him for about a month and even though I wouldn’t hesitate to call him a friend at this point, I couldn’t tell if that’s all there was to it.  He sure as shit wasn’t your run-of-the-mill hot, brooding twenty-two year old.  For all the times we’d already spent hanging out or talking on the phone I had no idea if he regarded me as a friend, as a sister type or as something more.