As usual, Layne gave it to him straight. “She lost her Mom when she was fourteen so pretty much every memory for her is fucked. The birthdays and Christmases before her Mom died have bitter mixed in with sweet ‘cause she had birthdays and Christmases after her Mom died that weren’t so good because her Mom wasn’t there and she remembered them bein’ better when she was. So, talkin’ about that shit today made her realize she missed your old man during those times while we were apart and she got upset about it. ‘Cause of what happened with her Mom, she doesn’t deal with getting upset like other people do. She gets quiet first then she shuts down.”
Jasper’s eyes went back to his grandmother but Tripp asked, “But she’s good now?”
“She’s good, Tripp.”
Tripp nodded then muttered, “I got homework,” and he got to his feet and went to the stairs, avoiding looking at his grandmother.
“You got homework, Jas?” Layne asked.
“Yeah,” Jasper answered.
“It done?” Layne asked.
“No,” Jasper answered.
“Boy…” Layne said low and Jasper looked at his grandmother then to Layne.
“I was wondering if Rocky could help me. It’s English Comp. We’re diagramming sentences and it’s stupid. I try to get it but it just doesn’t make sense to me. My teacher is a dork and when I asked her after class if she’d give me some time, she made me feel like a dork because I didn’t get it.”
“Who’s your teacher?” Layne asked.
“Mrs. Reiger.”
Layne didn’t know Mrs. Reiger. What Layne did know was that diagramming sentences was stupid and the only person in that house who probably wouldn’t agree was Rocky.
“Roc!” he shouted.
There was a beat of silence then the, “What?” of Rocky shouting back.
“Jas needs your help with his homework!” Layne yelled.
There was another beat of silence and Layne and Jasper stared at each other as this became prolonged. Then Layne heard quiet footfalls on the stairs.
“What are you studying, Jas?” He heard Rocky ask from the stairs.
Layne grinned at his boy and Jasper’s lips twitched but he said to Rocky, “Diagramming sentences.”
“Get your books, honey, we’ll work at the island,” Rocky invited.
Jasper moved and Layne looked at the television set wondering if Jasper actually needed help diagramming sentences or if he’d just played his grandmother and Rocky.
Probably both.
“You shouldn’t say the f-word in front of the boys,” Vera murmured and Layne twisted his neck to look at his mother.
She caught his eye and tried to hold it but eventually looked back to the TV.
“Ma,” he called when she did and her gaze slid hesitantly back to his. “Don’t pull that shit again,” he whispered.
She pressed her lips together and glared at him for about a second before he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and she looked back to the TV.
Layne sighed.
The front door opened and Blondie, who’d been flat out on her side napping in front of the television, shot up to her feet, barked and galloped to the door.
“Damn mutt,” Devin grumbled.
“She’s pure bred, Dev,” Jasper informed him.
“She’s still a mutt,” Devin returned. “Please God, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, tell me you have whisky.” Layne heard Devin call.
Layne didn’t bother lifting his head from the armrest when he replied, “What do you think?”
“Cupboard over the coffeemaker,” Jas answered.
“Thank fuck,” Devin muttered and Vera’s eyes shot to him, she had the tears under control and her eyebrows flew up.
Layne ignored his mother, leaned forward, nabbed the remote from the coffee table and found another football game.
*
Layne walked into a mostly dark house. He dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter and saw Dev’s head turn to look at him over the couch. He was watching TV which was, with light coming from upstairs, the only light in the room.
“Get anything?” Dev asked.
Layne had explained to Dev about TJ Gaines and his teenaged harem. He’d also gone to the church to see if he could tag Gaines and follow him home after evening service.
Gaines didn’t attend evening service.
“Nope,” Layne answered walking into the house. “Everything in his personnel file is bogus. I’m workin’ cold on this. Until I tag his vehicle and follow him home, I’m operating blind.”
Dev nodded.
“Jas and Tripp are gonna ask questions tomorrow at school. See if they can get a make and model and an address,” Layne went on.
Dev nodded again.
“Where is everyone?” Layne asked.
“Boys are upstairs bickerin’ ‘cause Tripp’s studyin’ and Jasper’s supposed to be studyin’ but he’s textin’ Keira. Your Ma ‘retired early’, her words. Rocky went up just after your Ma.”
Layne twisted and looked at the clock over the microwave. It was barely nine o’clock.
This meant Vera was feeling guilty. Jas and Tripp likely both did have homework. Rocky was a wildcard.
Layne shrugged off his leather jacket and was about to say goodnight to Dev and turn to the stairs when Dev said, “Need a brief, boy.”
Layne’s eyes went to the old man, saw his face was serious and nodded. He tossed his jacket on the back of the couch, walked to an armchair, pivoted it to face Dev and lounged back, aiming his gaze at his friend.
“Hit me.”
“Got the goods on her ex-asshole, need to know how you want me to play it,” Dev replied.
Layne didn’t get a good feeling about the fact Devin was asking. Dev wouldn’t normally ask. Dev would normally play it whatever way he wanted to play it.
“What is it?” Layne asked.
“Campaign contributions that, if taken public, would make him and the Republican Party a bit uncomfortable,” Dev answered.
Jesus, Rocky married a Republican. She must have worked hard on convincing herself she was in love with the dick. Both Dave and Merry were staunch Republicans but Rocky had followed in her mother’s footsteps and voted straight ticket Democrat. Thus a variety of heated political discussions ensued over the dinner table, that heat mainly emanating from Rocky, and Layne had learned to keep his political opinions to himself.
“Over the limit?” Layne asked and Dev shook his head.
“Shell companies set up for the sole purpose of feedin’ into the current Governor havin’ his bed at the Governor’s mansion. Far’s I can tell, Republican Committee knew all about it because Astley sits on it. So do a good number of his buds, all of ‘em paid their dues but Astley was the mastermind.”