She took in a deep breath then she spoke.
“You know, Tanner, I was once head over heels in love,” she told him. “Blind with it. Blind. Then he walked out on me just like she walked out on you.”
Fuck. Jesus. Fuck!
Layne hadn’t thought of it like that.
“Ma –”
“Then I had to watch it happen to you and feel it again because yes, I loved her and when she left, I missed her. But she wasn’t gone, like your father, and every time I saw her, it hurt even more.”
Layne stared at his mother.
Then he ordered, “Come here, Ma.”
She shook her head. “No. If I do, you’re gonna be my sweet boy and make me cry and I don’t have waterproof mascara on.”
“Come here, Ma,” Layne repeated.
“Tanner.”
“Get over here.”
She sighed, set her cup on the arm of the couch, got up and walked to him. When she got close, Layne jumped from the desk and folded his mother in his arms.
He knew she was crying even with her voice muffled by his chest when he heard her say, “You know, you haven’t hugged me since I got home.”
Layne bent and kissed the top of her head and then said there, “I’m a shit son.”
Her head tilted back and her wet eyes hit him, mascara running down, before she whispered, “No, not that, never that, honey. Never.”
“Love you, Ma,” he whispered back, she grinned and lifted her hand, patting him on the side of the neck twice before her fingers curled around.
Then her smile got bigger and she stated, “I’m glad we got this sorted out. Being mean is exhausting. Especially when, at the same time, you’re over the moon that your eldest grandchild has finally sorted out his head and your son is with a woman who cheers on the Colts, helps his boy with his homework and falls asleep on his chest and not one that screeches her nonsense at the top of her lungs at every available opportunity. So, I’ll warn you now, if you ever think of reuniting with Gabrielle, I will not offer to be your receptionist. I’ll have you committed.”
Layne smiled down at her. “Not thinkin’ that’s in the cards, Ma.”
“Thank God,” she breathed, still smiling, she took her hand away and smeared her mascara across her face.
“Maybe you need a mirror,” he suggested and she jumped from his arms.
“I knew it!” she cried, whirled and rushed into the bathroom.
Layne looked at the closed bathroom door while counting them down. That was two problems covered, his Ma and Astley. Then he walked back into his office thinking, his mother wanted to help out, he’d let her. She could do the books. He had checks to cash, invoices to send and bills to be paid. He was going to spend Monday doing it. Now, Vera could spend Friday doing it.
He didn’t make it to his desk when he heard the beep, looked to the monitor and saw Ryker walking up the stairs.
“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, quickly rounded the desk, pulled his nine millimeter out of a drawer and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans at his hip.
He was back in the outer office by the time Ryker came through the door.
“Yo, bro,” Ryker greeted.
“Ryker,” Layne returned, hoping his mother was adding a whole new layer of makeup.
Ryker looked around the office then back at Layne. “Dig the digs,” he commented.
“Thrilled you approve,” Layne replied.
Ryker’s eyes dropped to Layne’s gun then went back to his and he smiled his big, ugly smile. “Nine millimeter? Take that as a compliment, bro.”
Layne cut to the chase. “You here for a reason?”
Without delay, Ryker walked in, skirted Layne and went into his office. Layne stood where he was, eyes on the bathroom door, counting to ten.
He found this didn’t work and he followed Ryker into his office to see him lounging in one of the two chairs in front of Layne’s desk.
Layne rounded the desk, pulled out his gun and set it on the desktop, close, as he sat down.
“Well?” he prompted.
“Thought we could go out, get a beer, play some pool,” Ryker replied and Layne stared.
Then he asked, “Come again?”
“Pool. Beer. Women. We both got hot babes but that don’t mean we can’t look.”
“Not sure what keeps you in motorcycle boots and leather jackets but it’s four o’clock in the afternoon and I got two growin’ boys so I gotta work for a living,” Layne replied.
Ryker smiled his big, ugly smile again and stated, “Yeah, been askin’ ‘round about you. You’re like King Dick. The top of the Private Dick Heap. What you charge, bro, you could work three hours a day and still feed those two powerhouses.”
“I worked three hours a day, Ryker, wouldn’t have clients to pay those fees,” Layne returned.
Ryker shrugged, “Suit yourself.” Then he leaned forward and asked, “So what we workin’?”
Oh shit.
“We?” Layne asked back.
“Yeah,” Ryker lounged back in his seat, “we.”
“I think I told you already I work alone.”
“Now you work with me.”
“I skipped a part,” Layne informed him. “How’d that happen?”
“Baranski’s out of your old old lady’s house. That happened because of me. You think I do somethin’ for nothin’?”
Fuck.
“And payback is we partner up?” Layne asked.
Ryker shrugged again. “Sure, when I’m bored and I’m bored,” he answered. “So what we workin’?”
Layne heard the bathroom door open and Ryker shot out of his chair, his hand going behind his back, he pulled out his .45.
Fuck!
“Honey?” Vera called.
“In here, Ma,” Layne called back and then said low to Ryker, “Stand down.”
Ryker relaxed and shoved his gun back right before Vera hit the door. She looked up at Ryker and her mouth dropped open.
“My,” she breathed, “you’re a big boy.”
“Ma, this is Ryker. Ryker, Vera Layne,” Layne introduced.
Ryker grinned his ugly grin and stuck out a meaty hand. “Ma’am.”
Vera took it and shook it, placing her other hand on top, saying, “Ryker. Is that your first name or your last?”