Edge (Gentry Boys #7) (19 page)

ROSLYN

Eighty five percent. 

It sounds like such a high number, such a strong probability of success.  It’s a solid B in academic terms.  You would hardly even consider the gaping hole inside that remaining fifteen percent. 

Unless you happened to stumble into it. 

I felt incredibly stupid for not suspecting earlier but my cycles have always been woefully irregular.  Plus I was flying high under Conway’s spell for the last two months and practical things were sometimes inconvenient.  After six over-the-counter tests I still couldn’t believe the results but the doctor had squashed any doubts. 

“Yes,” he’d said with wrinkled, kind eyes that turned to pity when I burst into tears. 

He handed me a box of tissues, looked over my chart and cleared his throat.  “You indicated you took the morning after pill two months ago,” he said. “Unfortunately it only has an effective rate of roughly eighty five percent.  Was that the time of conception?”

“Probably,” I answered dully, staring at my knees peeking out from the paper gown. 

Of course there was no doubt the baby was Conway’s.  I hadn’t been with anyone else in eons.  I was still stunned.  Aside from that first time and one semi-careless incident on my living room sofa we’d been scrupulous about using condoms.  I hadn’t been worried at all. 

Why had I never been worried?
 

Eighty five percent suddenly sounded like an enormous risk. 

“I’m going to order an ultrasound,” the doctor said cheerfully.  “It will tell us exactly how far along you are.” 

Perhaps sensing my acute shock and misery he gently asked if I wanted to discuss other options.  I shook my head.  No, I did not want to discuss those. 

Half an hour later I was lying on my back looking at a screen. In the center of the screen was a small moving shape.  No one had to tell me that the persistent, rhythmic flicker was a heartbeat.  I was ten weeks pregnant.  My due date would be Christmas day. 

Conway, Conway. 

I had to tell him. And I didn’t know how to tell him. These past two months we’d spent so much time together and it seemed like I ought to know him fairly well.  I knew what made him laugh, what turned him on, what he put on a hamburger, what position he slept in. 

What I didn’t know about Conway Gentry is what he would say when I went to him with the words, “I’m pregnant.”  That suddenly seemed like a terrible oversight on my part, a wide chasm of insecurity. 

The past week had been so heartbreaking for everyone.  Conway had stayed away the last few nights and I didn’t know if he was just grieving with his friends or doing something illegal.  Maybe he’d been so turned off by all that talk about the future that he was taking a step back.  

I returned to work for the afternoon but I wasn’t really doing much good for anyone.  I kept screwing up the paperwork and was scolded for arriving seven minutes late to a staff meeting.  Gustavo found me in the break room, staring listlessly at the tile floor. When he greeted me cheerfully I burst into tears for the second time today. 

“What’s the matter, doll?” he asked gently as he slid into the seat across the table and touched my hand.  “Boy trouble? Aw sweetheart, I’m sorry. They can be such horrible creatures.” 

Without a word I pushed a grainy black and white picture across the table and allowed it to speak for itself.  It felt strange confessing something to a colleague that I was still struggling to accept myself.  But just then I needed to talk about it and my list of confidantes was regrettably short.  Emily was still reeling from the loss of Jackson.  My father would have been outraged and nothing more. 

And Conway…

All I kept thinking about was our last conversation, the distant look in his eyes before he walked out the door. Conway didn’t want love.  He thought love was confusing and painful. I was starting to believe he might be right. 

Gustavo stared at the picture, looked at my face and then nodded. 

“I see,” he said quietly. 

He turned my hand over and placed the ultrasound picture back in my palm.  He walked over to the water cooler, filled a cup of water and set it in front of me before settling back into his chair. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” I begged.  “I haven’t even told the father.”  I took a sip of water and sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have dumped this information in your lap.” 

“Not at all,” he said and touched my hand.  “That’s what friends are for, Roslyn. To listen and to console and lend a shoulder if you need one to cry on.”  There was so much sympathy in his voice I almost started sobbing again. 

Gustavo probably had better things to do than comfort a crying girl beside the water cooler, but he was generous enough to sit there with me until I felt like returning to my desk.  Before he walked away he reminded me that I had his phone number and was welcome to call anytime I felt like talking. 

Instead of going back to my desk I splashed some cool water on my face and went for a walk.  The children of Homestead had just been dropped off by the school bus and the courtyard buzzed with boisterous activity.  A couple of the kids shouted my name and waved with glee.  I waved back and took a seat on a nearby stone bench.  It was sturdy and expensive and one of a dozen that had been donated to the facility a few months back, a charitable contribution from the estate of a local socialite.

After school care was available to working parents and the children were quickly ushered to their afternoon activities.  They would be given a snack and encouraged to do their homework until their parents arrived to pick them up. 

A young woman pushing a stroller was singing softly in Spanish as she walked by.  She suddenly stopped, leaned over and smiled at the sleeping baby girl.   I remembered her name.  Adele.  She’d arrived with her baby and her older sister about a month ago.  The father of the child had suffered a terrible construction accident when his daughter was only one week old.  The last I heard he was still in a coma. 

Adele saw me watching and she beamed.  “I always have to walk to get her to nap,” she said in heavily accented English.  “Otherwise she will be always awake.” 

I admired the sleeping child.  “She’s breathtaking.” 

“She is,” Adele said.  “I am lucky.”  She shyly smiled at me once more before returning to her walk and her song. 

I remained there on that bench for so long that it was actually time to go home.  Some of Homestead’s residents were starting to return from the jobs they’d worked hard at all day.  Those who were parents looked eager as they headed right for the childcare wing.  I wondered what that was like, to bear the responsibility of being a parent.  All these parents hurrying to retrieve their children, they all loved and struggled and sacrificed.  I didn’t know what that was like.  I would need to learn. 

When I arrived home the apartment was dark and Emily was asleep on the couch.  She’d been so devastated in the days following Jackson’s death that she stopped going to work.  They’d called yesterday to formally fire her and she hadn’t even seemed to care.  I was worried about her.  I knew her family was worried about her.

Emily flinched when I tucked a blanket around her shoulders but then she settled back down.  I tiptoed to my bedroom and shut the door. 

I hadn’t heard from Conway at all since yesterday.  The ultrasound picture I’d shown to Gustavo was in the pocket of my skirt. I took it out now and stared at it.  My hand went to my stomach almost automatically and the surge of love I instantly felt had nothing to do with me or with Conway. 

Nothing to do with us.  And yet everything to do with us.  

I propped the ultrasound picture on my dresser, against an antique wooden treasure box that reminded me every day that life was precious and that love didn’t die, not even when life ended. 

My phone was in my hand, my finger hovering over the screen, when there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Roslyn?”

I tossed the phone onto the nightstand. 

“Come in, Em.” 

My friend walked into my room looking smaller and younger than she had this time a week ago.  I had a sudden flashback to the first day I’d met Emily.  I hadn’t been at my new school long and wasn’t going out of my way to be friendly to anyone.  I missed Emblem and I missed my best friend.  I didn’t want this new town and new house and new people.  I certainly didn’t want this exclusive private school where I didn’t seem to fit in at all.  I’d been sitting alone at the end of a cafeteria table, picking at the chicken salad I’d bought for lunch, when Emily plopped right down across from me and started talking.  She asked questions and then answered her own questions before I could.  During lulls in the conversation she would randomly sing a line or two from Broadway show tunes.  For the first time since my father had dragged me out of Emblem to live his idea of a better life, I found myself smiling.  Emily ate lunch with me every day that week.  Over the years she defended me against gossipy classmates and stayed in touch when high school ended.  She was one of two true friends I’ve been lucky enough to know in my life. 

Emily sat beside me on the bed and instantly tucked her legs underneath her.  She frowned and pushed her black hair behind her ears. 

“Roslyn, my folks keep suggesting that I move to San Francisco for a few months or maybe a year.  At first I said no.  But now, I don’t know, I can’t seem to shake myself out of this funk.  I have no job and they have this beautiful guesthouse where I can stay as long as I want.  My mom even offered me a temporary job at the hospital.  I know our lease is up next month and we were going to renew but-“ 

“Em.”  I put my arm around her shoulders.  “It’s okay.  I think it might be good for you to have a change of scenery.” 

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be all right.  I’ll just run an ad for a new roommate in the personals section of Bob’s List.  References unnecessary.  What could go wrong?”

She smiled through her tears.  “Don’t do that.”

“Okay, I won’t.  It’ll work it out.  I’ll find a one bedroom unit or something.” 

Emily tugged at her lip.  “Maybe Conway could…”

“When are you leaving?” I interrupted with false cheer because I didn’t want to talk about what Conway could and couldn’t do right now.  He had never said a word about the possibility of living together and I sure as hell wasn’t bringing it up. 

“Two weeks is what I was thinking.  I’m going to put some stuff in storage and the rest I can ship.  I don’t want to stay in San Francisco forever.  I’m just having a hard time being here right now.” 

“I know,” I said.  For a terrible second I tried to put myself in Emily’s shoes, tried to imagine how I’d feel if it were Conway instead of Jackson who had died suddenly.  Then I immediately had to put my hand over my mouth because I almost vomited from the rush of anguish.   

“Roe?” Emily asked, staring at me with concern.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.”  I swallowed, tasting sour bile. “I just didn’t eat lunch.” 

She sighed.  “How’s Conway by the way?  I know how close he and Jackson were.” 

“He’s sad.  He’s fine.  I don’t know how he is.” 

Emily looked at me like I’d lost my mind.  “Are you guys fighting or something?”

“No. We’re not fighting.” 

I almost told her.  It would have felt good to talk through the worry and the anxiety.  But I’d already promised myself that I would hold off on spreading the news to anyone else until I had a chance to tell Conway.  Plus Emily would worry enough that it might derail her plans to make the move to San Francisco.

“You love him,” she said quietly. 

“Yes,” I said because it was true. 

Her face crumpled.  “I loved Jackson.  I know we weren’t together all that long but I loved him.”

“I know.  I’m so sorry, Em.” 

Emily leaned against my shoulder until her sobs lessened.  Finally she raised her head and wiped her tears away.  She said she was going to run down to the sushi place on the corner and get some takeout.  The thought of eating anything more complicated than a slice of bread made my stomach lurch so I said no when she asked if I wanted anything. 

Emily hugged me before she left the room and as she walked away I thought I detected a shift in her.   She would always mourn her lost love, always glimpse small reminders of him in the world and remember.  She wouldn’t let that defeat her though.  That’s what Jackson would have wanted for her.  That’s what all the people who loved us would have wanted after we’d been left behind.  They would want us to remember them.  And to keep living. 

I was drifting off to sleep when my phone erupted. I knew from the ring tone that it was Conway calling.  Right now I was so tired though.  I didn’t have the energy to talk about the things that needed to be talked about. 

Tomorrow would be a better time.  And tomorrow would be here before I knew it. 

CONWAY

Through a series of unsavory connections I’d gotten in touch with Fournier, the asshole minor league pimp who was gunning for Ranger.  Even though Fournier wasn’t nearly as big and bad as he thought he was I made the necessary overtures of respect and agreed to a meeting on his terms.  Kilt insisted that he needed to come along and I’d be glad to have him at my back even though Fournier wasn’t dumb enough to make a move against me.  He was the kind of low life who only kicked smaller animals that couldn’t bite back. 

Over the last few days I’d done little else but babysit Ranger and make a plan for extricating myself from the life I’ve been living for so long.  For years I’d carefully kept out of scuffles so I couldn’t think of anyone who would be keeping me on a hit list.  That would make moving on a lot easier.  I had no gang affiliation and wasn’t part of an organized crime ring, not in the way Hollywood depicted it anyway.  Everyone I dealt with was small time and even though a few eyebrows might be raised over the notion of Con Gentry going straight I couldn’t think of anyone who would gain a thing by coming after me. 

I had to make sure though.  I had to be absolutely sure of that before I committed to Roslyn.  It would be unfair to her and possibly dangerous if I cut ties and skipped off to live the good life only to get sucked back into the maelstrom.  In all my diverse and sundry acquaintances I could only think of one man who had gone straight a long time ago without looking back and had it all work out.  He’d always been good to me and he would understand better than anyone.  He was surprised to get a call but invited me to stop by this evening. 

Deck Gentry’s little daughter Isabella answered the door.  She was carrying the same baby doll she’d been clutching the day of Evie and Stone’s engagement party.

“Hi you,” she said and then darted back into the interior of the house. 

Jenny appeared a second later and invited me in.  She led me to the kitchen where Deck was frowning over a large steel pot on the stove. 

“I can’t remember if I added garlic,” he said. 

“I’ll take over,” Jenny said, kissing him on the lips and peering into the pot as she picked up a large wooden spoon.  “You go talk to Conway.” 

Deck led me to the backyard and indicated I ought to take a seat at one of the cushioned chairs that circled a large round table.  There was nothing remotely unfriendly about the curious look on my cousin’s face but I felt slightly anxious anyway, just a dumb kid in the presence of the great, awe-inspiring Deck Gentry. 

“I’m done,” I told him flatly.  “With racing, with gambling, with skulking around in the company of the other shadows.  I’m fucking done, Deck.” 

He stared at me for a moment, his inscrutable dark eyes searching my face, perhaps deciding if I was sincere or not.  The he broke into a wide smile and leaned forward suddenly to slap my back. 

“I’m so glad to hear that, Con,” he said. 

I nodded.  “It’s long overdue.  Shit, I should have listened to you years ago when you tried to get me to walk a different path.  I’m sorry, Deck.” 

Deck waved an impatient hand.  “That don’t fucking matter now.  You need a job?  You got one.  A place to crash?  Crash here.”

“Nah, I’m good.  Got quite a bit saved up and that should help me start over.” 

He raised an eyebrow.  “You planning staying in the Phoenix area?  Or is there a reason you need to leave?” 

“Not leaving.  Actually I’ve got a pretty good reason to stay.” 

He grinned.  “I’ve heard she’s quite a looker.  Your reason, that is.” 

“Who told you that?”

“Stone.  He’s been hoping your girl would be the incentive you needed to turn away from the dark side.” 

I snorted.  “I’m not Darth Vader.” 

Deck grew serious.  “Conway, I will say this.  Love alone won’t keep you from sliding backwards.  That has to come from somewhere inside you.” 

“I get it, Deck.  I’m ready.” 

“You need my help with anything?  My name still means something so don’t be afraid to use it.” 

I shook my head.  “No, I got it covered.  There’s just some loose ends to tie up, that’s all.” 

Deck was happy.  He grinned from ear to ear.  “What’s your girl’s name, anyway?  Stone might have said it already but I forgot.”  

“Roslyn.” The sound of her name stirred a wave of strong feelings that both complemented and conflicted with each other. Desire. Panic. Peace. Happiness.  I wasn’t making this change entirely for her, but I still needed to give her the best version of myself that I could. 

Deck nudged me with a knowing look.  “I get it.  I’ve been there, man.” 

We talked for a little while and then Jenny Gentry opened the sliding glass door to the patio, announcing that dinner would be ready in ten minutes.  Little Isabella clung to her mother’s side and stared at me with solemn eyes.  When Deck opened his arms the little girl beamed and ran to him.  She laughed when he swept her up and tickled her. 

They wanted me to stay for dinner and I would have liked that.  I had things to do though so I reluctantly said goodbye and headed back to the city. 

I was only a few miles from downtown when Kilt called.  He sounded upset, which made me clutch the steering wheel tighter because Kilt didn’t get upset unless there was a really serious reason. 

In spite of the fact that I had repeatedly warned Ranger to stay put at the San Gabriel until I had a chance to pay Fournier a visit, he didn’t listen.  Ten minutes ago Kilt found Fingers, our favorite homeless, handless veteran, carrying on in the lobby about what he’d seen outside the corner convenience store. 

Ranger had just emerged with a giant fountain soda in his hand when two shady looking guys grabbed him.  They hauled him away and shoved him into a car. I couldn’t be sure that they were Fournier’s boys but I would have bet the pink slip of my favorite Mustang that he had something to do with it. 

“Fuck,” I said into the phone.  I was pissed at myself for not taking care of this already, pissed at Fournier for being such a douchebag, and pissed at Ranger for refusing to obey instructions that would keep his neck from getting broken. 

“Con,” Kilt said, “Come and get me before you do anything.” 

“I will,” I promised even though I was lying. I was afraid Ranger might not have much time. 

I made a call to one of Fournier’s well known buddies, asked where I might find him and then made a quick stop at a bank where I kept a safe deposit box. 

In an old, run down section of town that hadn’t fallen under the spell of developers yet, there were some bars, strip clubs and sex shops hanging on.  I found that fat fuck Fournier playing cards at a table in a titty bar.  He didn’t look surprised to see me.  He even waved.  I exhaled with relief when I caught a glimpse of Ranger slouched miserably in a chair in the corner.  I couldn’t see him that well in the dark but it didn’t look like they’d roughed him up too much.  Yet.  His eyes widened when he saw me and I wondered why he just sat there kind of slumped over but then I realized both his hands were handcuffed to the lower rungs of the chair. 

“You want in, Gentry?” Fournier called.  “We’re about to start another round.  Five hundred dollar buy in.” 

I pulled up a chair and took a calming breath before speaking, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.  “Thought we had an arrangement where the kid was concerned.” 

Fournier looked up, pretended to think for a minute, and then nodded. “Oh, that,” he said cheerfully.  “Yeah, we still do.  The boys just happened to run into him and decided to be courteous and invite him over for a visit.” 

Three of Fournier’s guys were at the table and another one was hunched over the bar.  Their reptilian eyes had been fastened on me since I walked through the door.  I had to hope that Fournier hadn’t gotten so full of himself that he would do something dumb. 

Two of the strippers visited with a round of drinks.  One of them I recognized.  Clea was her name, or at least that was the name she gave freely.  She had once worked at one of the other clubs I used to visit often and I could remember having a few dirty times with her. Then one day I caught her trying to lift my wallet and that was the end of that. Either she’d forgotten that last part or she figured all was forgiven because when she saw me she curled her lip in a sexy sneer and sidled over.  I didn’t react at all when she touched my shoulder and ran her hand down my chest.  Her fingernails were like red talons and she smelled like smoke and desperation.  Even if Roslyn hadn’t been in the picture I wouldn’t have been remotely interested. 

Deliberately I moved my chair six inches to the right to deliver the polite but firm message that I didn’t want whatever she was offering.  She let out a soft hiss but didn’t look back when she moved on to the next table. 

Fournier’s attention was on the cards but he looked up when I cleared my throat.  In my right hand I flashed a stack of green and then passed it under the table. 

“I think this will take care of any confusion,” I said as his sweaty, eager fingers closed around the cash. 

Fournier grinned.  “All right, Conway.  Due to the nature of our affectionate friendship your little buddy gets a break for today.  But I’ve changed my mind about anything permanent. You get what I’m saying?  Amnesty is not extended for tomorrow.” 

My mouth was dry.  “I get it,” I said tightly. 

In other words, Ranger had to get the hell out of town or Fournier’s goons might decide to decorate downtown Phoenix with his entrails. 

As Fournier’s two beefy sidekicks roughly handed Ranger over, the boy was still trying to look tough and unaffected.  He managed to keep up the illusion until we were back in my car.  I hadn’t even pulled out into the street yet when his shoulders started shaking and his chest heaving.  It seemed kinder to ignore the way he sobbed with abandon and after a few minutes he pulled himself together anyway. 

Ranger didn’t say anything as we parked in the cavernous city garage beside the Hotel San Gabriel.  He followed me closely into the lobby, which was empty except for old Fingers, who was now snoring in a corner.

Up on the sixth floor, Kilt was waiting with a barrage of questions and griping.  Ranger slumped against a wall, nodding silently when I ordered him to stay put for a minute. Kilt listened to my summary of current events and sighed when I told him the kid needed to get out of town.  He offered to kick in some cash but I assured him I had it covered and gave him a grateful shoulder slap before grabbing a duffel bag out of my room and returning to Ranger. 

Ranger was exactly where I’d left him and he watched me with eyes that were grieved but accepting.  

“I guess I need to leave,” he said. 

“Yes, you do.  The sooner the better because that asshole’s not exactly a man of his word and I wouldn’t count on his good mood lasting more than a few hours.  Come on, I’ll help you pack up.” 

He didn’t have much and most of what he did have was bought with the money I’d given him.  Some clothes, toiletries and a few personal effects.  The backpack he’d been carrying when I found him dumpster diving months ago was virtually shredded so he stuffed everything in my duffel bag. 

By now it was totally dark out and the tweakers tended to come creeping out of their rooms more often after dark.  Some of them were down in the lobby, lining up elaborate towers of what looked like white dinner mints.  They managed to step out of their drug addled heads long enough to bid Ranger farewell when he told them goodbye.  Fingers even woke up in time to offer a toothless grin.

It was a short drive to the big downtown bus station.  From there Ranger could buy a ticket to any one of two dozen cities across the country.  He didn’t say anything and I kept combing my brain, trying to think of what advice I ought to give him.  We parked outside the terminal and watched people walk back and forth. 

“You got any family who would take you back?”  I finally asked him. 

Ranger shook his head sadly.   “No.” 

“How old are you anyway?”

He smiled.  “Eighteen.”

“Minus at least a couple of months I’d bet.” 

“That might be a bet you’d win.” 

“In any case, here’s some cash I owe you for some of the odd jobs you’ve been doing.”   

His eyes bugged out when he saw the money.  “Holy shit.” 

I tapped his forehead with the stack of cash.  “Don’t be stupid about spending it, you hear me?  Keep it taped to your skin and don’t tell a soul about it.  No bragging to the next doe-eyed little minx you want to get naked with.  This will help you get out of town and start over so don’t squander it because I won’t be able to give you anymore.” 

I stuffed the money into his palm and he just sat there for a minute, staring at it. 

He sniffed and ran the back of his hand across his nose.  He’d filled out quite a bit now that he was eating regular meals.  A smart, good looking kid like Ranger ought to be able to find his way somehow.  Hopefully he’d learned some valuable lessons that would keep him from making the wrong choices. 

“Thanks, Conway,” he said gravely.  “I know that’s inadequate but it’s all I’ve got. You’ve been more than decent to me.”

“Yeah well, decency is a character trait I’m trying out.”