No Turning Back (The Traveler) (2 page)

Gary implored him to remain silent with his index finger to his lips again.

“Oh, well, thank you … I guess,” the woman responded with a hint of sarcasm.

Taylor continued to study her raspy voice, attempting to connect it with a face and a name.

Gary said, “And who would ever think that you, of all people, would ever stop by to visit me.”

She laughed and said, “Yeah, you were just like, so
crazy
in school. Then you just stopped coming to class. But I was going out with Kevin back then anyway.”

Once Taylor heard that, his brown eyes stretched wide in shock. He looked into Gary’s bright greens and whispered, “Melissa?”

Gary nodded furiously and signaled again for silence.

He said, “So, Melissa, if you’d like to come back over tonight for round two, you won’t have to leave so early tomorrow morning. We could even go out and do breakfast.”

“Or we could stay in and make breakfast ourselves,” she chided.

Taylor looked at Gary, stunned. He knew all about Melissa Weddington. She was so popular that she could have run for the Louisville Cardinal Homecoming queen title and won it in a landslide.

“But you know what? To be honest with you, last night was something I don’t normally do,” she confessed. “So, I don’t want to give you like, the wrong impression of me, because I don’t do a lot of sleeping around.”

Gary frowned at his friend and thrust his hips into an imaginary woman while grabbing her hair from behind. Taylor had to stop himself from laughing out loud with a balled fist to his mouth.

“No, I understand,” Gary responded to her. “How do you think that would make me feel? I wouldn’t want a girl who sleeps around a lot either. You just needed someone for the moment. We all do sometimes. And I was happy to be there for you.”

“Thank you. And you were incredible,” she told him. “I would have never expected that from you.”

Taylor bit down hard on his fist, trying not to laugh out loud. Melissa had inadvertently massaged Gary’s ego while simultaneously slighting him. And Taylor knew that his friend would not take the jest lying down.

Gary responded accordingly. “What? You didn’t expect that from me? Well, what did you expect?”

“Gary, you’re always joking around. You seem like you’re hardly ever serious about anything. You were sincere last night.”

“Yeah, well, never underestimate a guy just because he has jokes. You didn’t think I could play poker well either,” he mentioned.

Taylor’s eyes stretched wide again as he mouthed, “Strip poker? You didn’t.”

Gary Stevens was a poker master. He cleaned up at local card games with buddies and college friends. He was so good his victims prodded him to go out to Las Vegas to play for the big money.

Melissa chuckled. “Please don’t remind me of that. You probably cheated.”

He said, “Well, if you come back over tonight, I’ll let you cheat me. I don’t mind losing.”

“Oh, so you did cheat me in poker.”

“No, but if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll let you cheat me anyway.”

“Yeah, I bet you would, just to get naked in front of me again.”

Gary laughed. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And if I had you over again, I would know that I wasn’t dreaming it all up.”

Melissa giggled and cooed, “Awww, you weren’t dreaming. It was all real. I felt really comfortable at your place. You have a really nice loft,” she told him. “And Main Street is a great location—an easy walk from downtown.”

“Speaking of which, I need to take that walk back downtown to my record shop. It’s almost time to open,” Gary mentioned.

“Okay, well, I’ll think about it. I mean, I’ll probably come over. I just have to see what else I have to do today.”

“All right, just call me around eight to let me know. Better yet, if you stop by the store later, I could flirt with you over the counter and act like we don’t know each other,” he joked.

Melissa laughed again. “Well, in that case, I may not wear a bra. We could set up secret cameras in the back room and make a hot movie out of it.”

Her kinky suggestion surprised them both. Gary looked at Taylor with his own wide eyes and told Melissa, “You’re on.”

“We’ll see,” she teased him. “How late do you stay open tonight?”

“Fridays and Saturdays, I close at eight, like last night. Mondays through Thursdays, I close at seven.”

“Oh, okay, well … we’ll see.”

“Yeah, and wear pink,” he told her.

When Gary hung up the call, Taylor looked at his friend and said, “Dude, I hate your guts, I swear to God!”

With so much good fortune, Taylor considered his friend to be blessed by angels. And he hadn’t even worked hard for it.

“So … how was she?” he asked.

Gary stopped laughing and reflected on his Friday night. “Man, she’s loud as hell,” he answered. “Oh, Gary! Oh, Gary! The noise was throwing off my concentration. I don’t know if it was just her or the acoustics in the room, but it sounded like an echo chamber in here.”

Taylor chuckled and said, “And you want me to live here and have to deal with that? No way, bro.”

Gary joked, “But it’ll inspire you to learn from a pro. So if she comes back over tonight, I’ll record it so you can hear what I’m talking about. I’ll try to do it with my iPhone.”

Taylor eyed the small black gadget and told him, “Gary, you’re insane. Don’t let that fancy phone get you into trouble.”

“It’s too late for that, dude,” Gary commented. He never seemed to run out of incredible stories to tell. He said, “That’s why you’re jealous of me now—I do the things that you only think about.”

He looked at his watch and said, “Now, let’s go open my store. It’s ten of ten already. My guys are there waiting for us.”

In the Kentucky state capital of Frankfort, Gabrielle Stevens perused a brunch buffet bar inside of a large conference room at the Civic Center. Dressed in a navy blue business suit with matching heels, she moved past the scrambled eggs, seasoned potatoes and cooked ham to collect a few strips of bacon and a blueberry muffin. Maintaining a superb physique in her forties, Gabrielle preferred to eat light over heavy. And while surrounded at a well-attended event of politicians, social climbers and do-gooders, lustful eyes followed her every move.

“Hey, Gabby, how’s that precocious son of yours doing?”

She turned and faced Carl Feldman, who had been admiring her figure from across the room. Carl was a well-respected attorney, tall with broad shoulders in a dark, pinstriped suit and a solid royal blue tie. In his mid-fifties, his brown hair was just beginning to turn gray at the temples. He could no longer conquer the obvious signs of time, but after a recent divorce from his second wife, the man was still vibrant.

Gabrielle acknowledged his presence and his question with a pause, while munching down her blueberry muffin. She swallowed her food and cleared her throat to speak.

“He’s fine. You know, he’s just doing what he does.”

Carl observed her patiently as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. He assumed she was slightly embarrassed at being caught with her mouth full. He enjoyed that he had caught her off guard, anything that would ruffle her impeccable feathers. He figured an unraveled woman would be more vulnerable, particularly to a striking professional and an old tiger.

“Is he headed back to school any time soon?” he asked of her son. That was a more arduous question.

Gabrielle squirmed to negotiate her answer. “Well, you know, Carl, school is not everyone’s cup of tea. And I didn’t feel comfortable trying to force it on him anymore.”

She had returned to school late in life to finish her own degree in political science before moving into public service in her thirties.

“I heard he opened a record store downtown,” Carl mentioned. Obviously, he knew more than Gabrielle was comfortable with. Carl was a discriminating man who would engage friends and foes alike with his acquired facts about them, as if they were all in a public courtroom. That served to put everyone on the defensive when he bothered to speak to them.

There was another pause before Gabrielle answered. She felt she was being interrogated. “Yeah, he’s downtown in the revitalized corridor of Fourth Street. That counts for something, right?”

Carl conceded as much with an easy grin and a nod. “Well, if he can manage to hold on to it long enough, it just might pay off for him when Louisville finishes redeveloping downtown. But that’s property
you
secured for him, am I right?”

His probing inquiries were beginning to aggravate her. Men like Carl weren’t subtle about their ulterior motives. But what were his motives?

Gabrielle studied the attorney’s posture and asked him, “Would you rather I not help my son to pursue his interests? I’m only doing what any supportive parent would do for their child.”

Carl shrugged. “Yeah, I guess if the average parent could afford it.”

He marveled at how Gabrielle was able to stretch her income. She had seemingly worked miracles through her lobbying position. And suddenly, Carl’s wantonness had transformed into curiosity and envy. How could a single mother with no known divorce settlement afford to compete so impressively with the big boys? She and her son had also resided in Louisville’s affluent east side neighborhood of St. Matthews. So Carl assumed
she had some serious connections working for her.

Finally, Gabrielle asked him, “What exactly are you trying to get at, Carl? How could we afford it? Well, let’s see. If I have only one child, and he doesn’t finish school—an education that
I’ve saved up for—then obviously, we’d have something left over for him to use in whatever way he chooses. But instead of you being so concerned about me and my son, I would advise you to save your energy to think about your own three kids. They aren’t exactly setting the world on fire these days themselves!”

“Asshole,” sh
e huffed
as she walked away.

That’s exactly why his second wife left him. He’s so damned belligerent!
she thought.

“What was that all about?” asked Anne Carthon, a longtime friend and associate in Louisville politics. She was slightly older than Gabrielle and had been involved in Kentucky politics a few years longer. Wearing a deep-purple suit with a white blouse, Anne had witnessed her friend’s striding from across the room.

Gabrielle shook her question off. “It’s just your typical damaged male ego, that’s all. He’s in here trying to find someone to piss
on this morning, but I pissed back.”

Anne grinned and nodded. She was very familiar with Carl’s contentious reputation as well as with Gabby’s fire. They were equally matched, enough to cause fireworks.

However, as Gabrielle took her seat in the crowded room to listen to the introductions of speakers, Carl Feldman’s unexpected scrutiny forced her to reflect, with honesty, on how she had been able to bankroll her son’s exorbitant preoccupations. Her voyeuristic child was physically gifted but emotionally adrift. Although he had not been raised in a typical blue blood family, Gabrielle made it possible for her son to experience everything from polo, skiing, rafting, karate, bungee jumping, surfing and skydiving. He had raced horses, mini stock cars, ski boats and had taken private lessons in tennis, golf, fencing and chess. About the only sport he stuck to was lacrosse. At sixteen, he nearly quit that, deciding instead to start his own recording band, collecting drum sets, guitars, keyboards and mixer equipment, only to sell it all to friends, musicians and pawn shops before going off to college.

However, his high school lacrosse coach wouldn’t give up on his star player, even with Gary regularly missing practices. And with the coach’s recommendations, Gabrielle pulled a few strings and had her wandering son in line to receive a lacrosse scholarship to attend Duke
University. Gary’s high school grades were only average, but his above average SAT scores suggested much more potential. But after studying liberal arts for a year, with no serious dedication to lacrosse or academics, Gary walked away from Duke, then Louisville, and now appeared to be a directionless collage of idle talents. He was all potential with no delivery.

Maybe I have overdone it,
Gabrielle considered. Maybe she should have restricted her son to commit to one interest. So she wondered how long his downtown record store would last herself.

As the speakers continued to address the crowd about their state’s health policies, she began to question every objectionable opinion about her son.

Carl might be right … and a bunch of other folks,
Gabrielle admitted.
I need to put my foot down with Gary.

Her family members back home in Tennessee had been concerned about her son’s development from early on. They wanted Gabby to be much more than just firm with him. They wanted her to give her son a normal family household. They wanted her to settle down, get married, and have more kids. Either that or tell her only child the truth about his absent father.

Those candid family opinions—more than two decades ago—had led to a fierce argument that sent Gabrielle packing from Jackson, Tennessee, before her son was even born. So she settled down in Louisville, Kentucky, while six months pregnant, and she had never looked back.

But can I ever tell him the truth about his father?
she pondered.

Maybe she should have gotten married and given her son a normal family. She was a grown and professional woman now. She remained unattached. She had never even thought much about marriage. She didn’t trust it.

Gabrielle was amazed she had been able to hide the truth about her son’s father for so long. After a while, her son had stopped asking. All of her spoiling had been her way of placating his natural desire to have a steady father figure. So she had helped to create her own monster, and now the mold had hardened; it was too late for her to change him.

Nevertheless, the anarchy had to stop. Gary was a full-grown man in desperate need of developmental maturity—the same maturity adults need to gain independence.

So as soon as she received an extended break from her long day of events in Frankfort, Gabrielle decided to call her son and begin administering some tough love.