Walk (Gentry Boys) (23 page)

Evie

Stone and I weren’t fighting.  Not exactly. 

That was what I told Stephanie when she asked why I had my chin on my desk as I stared moodily at the snow falling on a plastic version of the Grand Canyon. 

My lovely boss had raised her eyebrows.  Stephanie was one of the shrewdest people I’d ever known but she was also kind enough not to push me when I was grumpy.  She just reminded me about our weekly meeting and returned to her office, leaving me to my snow globe despondency.  When every last piece of tiny white plastic had settled on the surface of the canyon I picked up the globe, shook it hard and then watched it all start to fall again.

Life was like that.  Your whole world can seem settled and serene.  And then some unseen asshole picks you up, shakes the shit out of you and throws everything up in the air so that you have no idea where it’ll land. 

I shoved the snow globe in my desk amid highlighters, paper clips and the lime green post-it notes I liked to hoard.  I was tired of melodramatic epiphanies for the time being.  Anyway, it was exactly two o’clock and Stephanie was waiting for me. 

She was on her phone when I walked into her office but she waved me in anyway.  I closed the door and sat in the chair on the other side of her desk.  I could tell from her blushing smile and the way she kept touching her pregnant belly that she was talking to her husband, Chase. 

“I love you too, you freak,” she laughed and then her face got redder.  “No, I can’t repeat that right now.  I have an important associate in my office.  Yes, it’s Evie.  No, it would be rude to ask her to step outside so I can talk dirty to you.  You’re picking up the boys from daycare today?  All right.  Love you.” 

Stephanie was smiling as she ended the call.  She glanced fondly at one of the many family photos that decorated her desk, then touched it lightly with her fingertips.

I pointed to her stomach.  “How’s junior treating you?”

“He likes ice cream.  He keeps making me eat more of it.” 

I chuckled.  “Does Chase still want to name him Hank?”

“He’s letting Hank go.  Now he wants to name the poor kid Vick.” 

“As in Victor?  That’s not bad.”

“No, just Vick.  Like cough drops.” 

“Where does he come up with this shit?”

She snorted.  “I wish I knew.”  Stephanie tilted her head and gazed at me seriously.  “What’s up, Evie?”

“The cafeteria vending machine is out of M&M’s.  Other than that I don’t have anything to report.” 

She folded her hands on her desk.  “Look, you can tell me to butt out, but if you ever want to have a Gentry-centric discussion I’m listening and I swear I’ll keep it to myself.  I know I can be a sharp-tongued pain in the ass but I’m also your friend.” 

I sighed.  I clicked my pen.  I folded my legs under me and told Stephanie the truth. 

I told her about Conway.  I told her I was afraid.  I was afraid for Stone. 

Ever since last weekend, when I admitted to Stone that I’d seen his brother, things had been a little strained between us.  He’d get this far off look in his eyes and I knew he was thinking about his brother and about the past but the look would become cautious when I prodded him to talk. 

More than anything, I was terrified Stone was going to risk his own safety and freedom in order to save a man who seemed to hate him.  A man who seemed to hate the world.  A man who seemed to hate himself. 

Stephanie would have made a good therapist.  She sat back and let me speak freely with no hint of judgment.  As I talked I found myself sorting through feelings that involved not only Stone, but myself.  On some level I realized that even our earliest connection had something to do with the fact that we’d both lost so much.  I didn’t flinch from Stone’s prison confession because I had to believe it was possible to come back from the terrible things that life sometimes does to us.  Stone had proven that it
was
possible to triumph over an awful past.  Yet that didn’t mean it would happen for everyone.  

Stephanie silently handed me a tissue.  I accepted it gratefully. 

“Lord knows I understand the agony of trying so desperately to reach a troubled brother,” I told her.  “It’s a helpless kind of hope that someday you can break through, that you can crack the terrible armor that makes him seem monstrous.   Most of the time that hope is all you have to cling to and I wouldn’t want to take it away from Stone.”  I swallowed painfully.  “Even if I may have lost it myself.” 

Stephanie was quiet.  She reached for a framed photo of her two boys. It looked like it was taken right after the birth of her younger son, Kellan.  Derek, his older brother, was holding him in his lap as an adult hand steadied the baby’s head because the lap of a two year old wasn’t the most predictable place in the world. 

“I lost a brother,” she said softly as she stared down at the photo of her sons. 

I was surprised.  “You did?” 

The only brother Stephanie had ever mentioned was Michael.  He was a difficult character himself, always in and out of trouble, resurfacing in her life with frustrating irregularity. She was always happy to see him though.  Her mother had died when she was a teenager and she had a very strained relationship with her father, who remained on the east coast. 

“My eldest brother,” she sighed, setting the picture of her boys down.  “Growing up, I was closer to Tommy than I ever was to Mike.  He was gunned down outside a nightclub by one of my father’s disgruntled associates.  Much of the reason I left New York was to get away from all those terrible memories.”

“Oh my god.  Steph, I had no idea.  I’m so sorry.” 

She gave me a vague smile.  “Thank you.  I really should talk about him.  I wish Mike came around more.  It’s all been lost, the world of our childhood.  It was a happy world, at least it seemed that way to the three of us.  It never would have occurred to me that I wouldn’t always have my big brothers hovering protectively forever.  But it was all so long ago and it seems like I’m the only one who remembers, or even wants to remember.”

I crumpled the tissue in my hand.  “Macon and I used to make plans.  They were the kind of plans that seem to make perfect sense when you’re eight.  We were going to live in neighboring tree houses when we grew up.  We were going to ride motorbikes to Tierra del Fuego.  We were going to buy a bowling alley together and give ourselves free games every day.”  I paused and looked out the window at downtown Phoenix.  “I don’t think he’s coming back, Stephanie.” 

“How long does he have left on his sentence?”

“He’ll probably be out on parole in a few months.  But even when he gets out there’s nothing stopping him from going back to what he was doing.  You know, when I’d first found out that Stone had been in that same prison it had seemed like fate or at least a relative of it.  Even though Stone said he and Macon had been housed in separate units and never met, I told myself the fact that my brother had been in the same place as the man I was falling in love with had to be a sign of something.  I didn’t know what, but it seemed meaningful just the same.”

Stephanie’s face was full of sympathy.  “What do you think now?”

I shrugged.  “Now I know it’s just a coincidence.  No one receives a lifetime guarantee that things are going to turn out well.  There’s no great order to the universe that demands a happy ending.” 

“No,” Stephanie agreed.  “There’s not.  But sometimes we luck into one anyway.” 

Slowly I nodded, thinking of Stone. “I’m not complaining.  There’s a hell of a lot in my life to be grateful for, even if some things remain unsolved.” 

I spent an hour in Stephanie’s office and managed to touch on not a single work-related topic.  I really did pride myself on doing a good job so I returned to my desk and worked like a demon for the rest of the afternoon.  I kept it up until Stephanie passed my desk at five o’clock and ordered me to go home. 

Stone texted me when I was walking to the parking garage.  He’d gotten off work about an hour ago and picked up some pizzas before heading to his apartment. 

I was about to text him back when I changed my mind and called him instead. 

“Can I come over?”

“You’d better,” he chuckled.  “Someone’s got to eat all this shit.  I hate pineapple pizza.” 

“Mm. More for me.”   

“I got a giant chocolate brownie too.” 

“You’re a prince.  I love you.”

“Well, if that’s all it takes I’ll get Italian takeout every night.” 

“No, Stone.  I mean I really
really
love you.” 

I heard him exhale and imagined how he looked on the other end.  He would be running a hand through his hair as a smile spread across his lips.  “I really love you too, honey.” 

When I got to his apartment he was waiting for me out on the patio, bare-chested with a few startlingly vivid new tattoos on both arms that were the artistic work of his cousin, Cord.  I leaned over the stucco wall, holding my arms out and he lifted me up and over the wall with scarcely a grunt, our mouths already glued together. 

I halfway thought we’d end up rolling around in the bedroom before we did anything else but Stone was in a seriously romantic mood.  He’d set the kitchen table with paper plates and candles.  A bottle of red wine sat atop a pizza box.  Stone deposited me into one the rickety mismatched folding chairs that surrounded the square table and pulled on a clean shirt.  It was the dinner date of my dreams.   

“What are these?” I picked up a pair of miniature pumpkins that were sitting on the counter.  

He finished chewing.  “The grocery store where I picked up the wine was selling them.  Seemed festive, Halloween being just around the corner and all.” 

“A week from today I think.” 

Stone’s hand found my knee. “It’s been a while since I’ve been trick or treating.  You should refresh my memory.” 

“Is that an invitation?”

“More like a solicitation.” 

I pointed to his plate.  “Give me half your brownie portion and I’ll consider it.” 

Outside it was completely dark already.  Stone asked if I wanted to go back to my apartment after dinner but for the moment I was content to just kick my shoes off and cuddle beside him on the couch to enjoy the pleasant peace of the evening.  There was nothing to debate, no talk of brothers or despair.  There was just us.   I rested my head on his shoulder and flipped the channels while he opened a book. 

“
Crime and Punishment
,” I mused, observing the title.  “We had to read that in high school. I thought it was so depressing and bleak that I harbored a prejudice toward Russian literature for years.”

Stone turned the book around and looked thoughtfully at the cover.  “Bleak?  Yes.  But brilliant.” 

I poked him in the arm.  “My professorial mother is going to absolutely adore you.” 

He looked at me for a quiet moment, then abruptly tossed the book to the floor and hauled me into his lap. 

“Stone!” I squealed as he crudely pushed my skirt up, arranged my legs on either side of his waist and pulled me into a rough kiss. 

Whatever half-hearted objection I had disappeared as I hungrily answered his mouth.  My hands yanked on his shirt until I found skin; hard muscled skin that rippled beneath my touch and demanded more of it.  His hand was already grappling with my bra and we were about to get hot and heavy past the point of no return when there was the clumsy sound of a key in the front door lock. 

Stone swung me to my feet and helped me smooth my skirt down as Bash opened the door. 

“I didn’t see nothing,” he announced with his head averted.  “Nothing at all.” 

Stone stood up and snapped his pants closed with effort. 

“Hey, Bash,” I said as I tucked my shirt back in. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted me cheerfully. 

“There’s extra pizza if you want,” Stone started to say but Bash had already discovered the leftovers and was busily shoving two slices in his mouth. 

“Can I have the rest of this stuff too?” he asked, sniffing the wine bottle. 

“It’s all yours,” Stone answered, rising and stretching.  “Think we’re gonna take off here shortly.” 

Bash carried the bottle over to a very worn-out easy chair and sat down. 

“We need to have a talk first,” he said, his expression sharply shifting from playful to serious. 

Stone sank into the couch and pulled me down next to him.  “More Table Tot trouble?” 

“No.”  Bash glanced at me and shifted uncomfortably.  “Remember that thing I was checking on for you?”

Stone tensed.  “Yes.” 

“Well, I know where to find it tonight.” 

Stone breathed heavily and looked at the floor.  “Nearby?”

“About a half hour drive.” 

“You sure?”

Bash tipped back the wine bottle and swallowed a mouthful. “There’s no published itinerary for this shit but yeah, that’s the word from someone I consider slightly more than halfway reliable.” 

“What are you talking about?” I asked quietly. 

Stone and Bash locked eyes, probably trying to figure out a way they could continue their mysterious conversation without enlightening me.