She stared down at the remotes in his hand as if she had no idea what they were but whatever they were scared the shit out of her.
Then taking the remotes, her voice flat, she whispered, “Thanks.”
“Buddy –”
“See you later,” she said quickly.
“Vi.”
He could say no more, she walked away, cool, calm, her hips moving, her ass swaying and he watched her until her side door closed.
Then he looked at her garage door.
Then he walked to his house.
Cal was sitting outside on his deck at dusk, his feet up on the railing, knees cocked, looking at his yard without seeing it, his second beer in hand.
Vi’s Mustang was gone, she was at Mike’s.
He took a pull from his beer then looked to the side hearing it and waited finally seeing Colt round the house.
“Hey,” Colt called.
“Yo,” Cal replied.
“Mind company?” Colt asked, coming up the steps.
Cal did. He didn’t want company. He also didn’t want to talk about whatever Colt was over to talk about. But he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, thoughts of Vi at Mike’s, thoughts of Mike’s mouth on Vi, his hands, thoughts that were fucking with Cal’s head.
“Nope,” he said to Colt. “Beer’s in the fridge,” he offered, “bring me one.”
“Gotcha,” Colt muttered, sliding the door open and stepping inside.
Cal looked at his yard then he looked at Vi’s.
He paid a service to mow his in the summer, that’s it. It was green because this was Indiana and they’d been having regular night rains and random day thunderstorms but it was nowhere near as healthy as Vi’s.
Vi couldn’t afford to pay a service. But you could see in the small ditch that delineated their property where her lawn stopped and his started. Hers was greener, no weeds, thick. Her deck had fancy garden furniture with an umbrella, not white, plastic chairs, like his. She had little and big pots of flowers all around, bright colors, vibrant, alive.
The Williamses who’d lived there for as long as Cal could remember were house proud. They took care of their place, built on the extension in the back, put in the deck, updated the bathroom and kitchen, installed the alarm. When old Dec Williams died, his wife Martha moved to Bloomington to be close to her kids and grandkids, selling the house she’d lived in for fifty years to Vi.
Even as well as Dec and Martha took care of their house, Vi did it better.
Colt came back, scraped another plastic chair next to Cal’s and handed Cal his beer. Cal took it, downed the dregs of the last one and set the bottle on the deck as Colt sat down and put his feet up on the railing, knees cocked, like Cal’s.
“Weather’s good,” Colt remarked.
Cal didn’t answer. It was a warm evening but no humidity, the day had been sunny, no clouds, a fair breeze. There was no need to answer.
“You comin’ to the wedding?” Colt asked.
“Yeah,” Cal replied though he wanted to go to a wedding like he wanted someone to drill a hole in his head. He liked Colt and Feb enough to go, though. They wanted him there, he’d be there.
“I’ll tell Feb, she’s livin’ and breathin’ this wedding, you show without RSVPing, her head might explode.”
Feb, as far as Cal could tell, was pretty laid-back. He showed and didn’t let her know he was coming, she wouldn’t have cared less.
“You know Audrey?” Colt asked and, in the middle of taking a pull off his beer, Cal’s eyes went to his friend.
He swallowed and lowered the beer.
“Who?”
“Audrey Haines.”
There it was. Fuck.
“Nope,” Cal answered.
“Total bitch,” Colt noted, “lazy bitch. Mike ran himself ragged for years, used to do side work, security for awhile then he made detective and started doin’ without, even havin’ to make his kids do without so she could sit on her ass in a designer track suit and watch soaps in that huge fuckin’ house. He gave up; divorce was final two months ago. The whole department celebrated. Good man like that doesn’t need to go home to that shit.”
Cal didn’t reply.
“He’s into Vi,” Colt went on.
Cal took a pull of his beer. That didn’t need a response either. Cal knew Mike was into Vi, he knew why, not to mention, Mike had made a point of making that fact clear to Cal.
Colt fell silent and contemplated Cal’s yard while they both drank beer.
Eventually Colt continued. “You knew Melanie.”
Cal did, he’d lived across the street from her since Colt and she moved in. Colt’s ex-wife Melanie was pretty, shy, sweet but shit scared of life. Cal never knew why they broke it off, didn’t ask but he figured it was because it’d get old, dealing with that shit, no matter how pretty she was.
“Yep, how’s she doin’?” Cal asked, since Melanie had been caught up in that scene with Feb and Colt, Denny Lowe kidnapping Melanie and holding her, Feb and Susie Shepherd hostage.
It didn’t say much for him but Cal was glad Susie’d been caught up in it. He’d fucked her, they had one night, she was good but he was done and she’d almost acted like Kenzie when he didn’t want seconds. Difference was, Susie wasn’t annoying when she wanted something, she was a total bitch. How she thought she’d get what she wanted acting like that, he had no idea. Likely because her Daddy spoiled the bitch rotten. He thought that maybe she’d take a look at her life when some psycho, serial killer shot her. Susie didn’t. She was still a bitch, therefore, as far as he knew, she was still alone.
“Don’t know,” Colt answered his question. “Took awhile but she pulled her shit together though I haven’t heard from her for months. Don’t think I will, what with Jack bein’ born and the wedding comin’ up.”
Cal didn’t disagree. Melanie didn’t seem the type to hang on. Cal wished his ex was the same.
“You know why we split?” Colt asked, Cal looked at him, lifted his brows and Colt carried on. “Couldn’t fix her.”
Cal pulled in breath through his nose and looked away, muttering, “Colt.”
“Tried, man, years, fuckin’ years I tried. She wanted a kid so fuckin’ bad, Christ, obsessed with it. And she hated it when Feb would come into town, pissed me off, she’d get so tense when Feb was here. Melanie thought I’d stray.”
Feb and Colt had been in item in high school and after it. When they broke it off everyone, even Cal who was young back then, maybe sixteen, had been surprised. They seemed solid, more solid than anyone he knew. And Feb was gorgeous.
On the one hand, he didn’t blame Melanie with Feb being Colt’s ex, having their history. On the other hand, Colt was Colt and that kind of shit was not Colt’s gig and everyone knew that too, the person who should have known it most was Melanie.
“Sucks,” Cal muttered.
“Nope,” Colt muttered back, his eyes on the yard, he took a pull from his beer, then continued. “She didn’t take off, I’d have a lifetime of that crap and I wouldn’t have Feb.”
Surprised, Cal glanced at Colt. That was cold, Colt wasn’t like that.
Colt didn’t take his eyes off Cal’s yard as he kept talking. “Had years of that shit, tryin’ to fix her, bustin’ my ass to figure out what was in that fuckin’ head of hers, wonderin’ where I was goin’ wrong,” Colt’s eyes slid to Cal. “Then I got a woman doesn’t need fixin’, not anymore, and now life’s sweet.”
“Colt –” Cal started.
“Mike’s into her, Cal, but Vi’s into you.”
“You think she don’t need fixin’, you’re wrong,” Cal told him.
“Patchwork, man, not major fuckin’ repairs. Been there too, the job doesn’t last long and it’s worth the effort.”
Cal looked at the yard and took another pull of his beer.