River by Shayne Ford

Author:Shayne Ford [Ford, Shayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

It’s Thanksgiving week.

I should fly back to Idaho, but I can’t make myself do that, not in this state of mind, not after I left a mess back in New York.

Ron followed up with Layla. I couldn’t so I bailed out, and that’s not like me. I always take care of my business.

But how can I explain to her that a woman she’s never met in her life, hates her so much? How can I tell her that a simple picture of her on my phone spurred so much cattiness? How can I expect her to come close to me if we’re not even connected and people take a jab at her?

Afraid I might not get it right, I chose to do nothing. The last thing I wanted was another blunder.

So here I am. Back at home. It’s only me and Steve who has no family to go to. My driver and the housekeeper are off till Sunday.

We pretend Thanksgiving Day is just another day with fancier food. We take our time eating dinner, at the same time enjoying the balmy weather.

Steve’s combat stories put a different perspective on things, making me realize how disconnected I’ve become from the real life. I grab a couple of beers, hand him one, and plop into a chair across from him. The backyard is filled with colorful lights, the evening unfurling quiet around us.

“It feels so good to be back,” I say, glancing at the LA lights.

“You sound like you need a vacation,” he says.

“It’s probably more than that.”

“What happened?” he asks, his eyes trained on mine.

I smile.

“Lately? Or in general?”

He stays quiet.

I set my bottle on the table, lean back in my chair, clasp my hands behind my neck, and cast him a blank stare before I finally speak.

“To be honest... I have no fucking idea what happened.”

He takes a swig of beer and looks away.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that fucking bad.”

His eyes come back to me.

“I don’t see how money or music could be the problem. I imagine there’s only one thing that bothers you,” he says.

“That’s kinda obvious after the shit that went down last Sunday,” I mutter.

“Yeah. That was fucking epic.”

We share a soft laughter.

“So it must have to do with women,” he says, placing his bottle on the table.

My smile withers away.

“It probably does. I think I’m getting tired. And it’s not the music or performing. I’m okay with that. It’s something else... I don’t know if I make much sense.”

He folds his arms across his chest and listens intently.

“Yeah... I guess some of it has to do with women. I’m sick of the same flavor, the same old tricks and stories. That thing with Lana drove me nuts. I don’t need that kind of shit. Not in my bedroom, and not outside of it.”

“Not all women are like that.”

“I know,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as well. “What did she say when you pulled her out?”

“You mean what she screamed?”

I let out a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah...”

“She wanted to know how long have you been fucking Layla?”

My smile dies out.

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