A stake?The errand at the bank, Lauren thought. “So basically you’re paying him off.”
Jane bit her lip. Nodded. “I don’t want him to have any contact with Aidan. I don’t even want Aidan to know that he’s here. Especially now that Aidan’s old enough to ask questions.”
“He’s going to ask anyway,” Lauren felt compelled to point out. “Or his friends at school will.”
“I know. But they’ll be easier to answer when Travis is gone.”
“Jane.” Lauren searched for the right words. “You can’t pay to make your problems go away.”
“How do you know?”
Because I’ve tried. The thought caught her under the ribs like a missed breath. Every month, a check to Ben’s mother. Every week, a letter to Ben with a credit to the prison commissary for pens, for paper, for candy bars and shaving supplies.How is Joel? Did you read the book I sent? Have you forgiven me yet?
“I’m just saying money doesn’t solve your underlying issues. You still have to deal with your feelings.”The guilt.
Jane smiled wryly. “I have a six-year-old depending on me. My feelings are the last thing I’m worried about.”
Lauren inhaled slowly. “Okay.”
“So you won’t say anything to Aidan?”
“Of course not.”
Jane relaxed. “Thanks. That’s all right, then.”
But it wasn’t. Not really. And Lauren didn’t know what she could do to help.
Eleven
THE LAST BACHELORparty Jack attended, a twenty-year-old stripper named Brandi ground on the bridegroom’s lap—big Mike Malone from Vice—while a bunch of wasted cops stuffed bills into her G-string.
Jack was no Boy Scout. But he was too old for that shit.
Marriage was enough of a crapshoot. A guy who kicked off the whole I-Do deal by getting high, drunk, and laid days before his wedding was just worsening the odds.
But for Luke, Jack could put up with the ritual boobs-and-booze fest. Sam Grady had offered his family’s restaurant, the Fish House, for the party. Jack figured he’d sip a beer for a couple of hours and then play cabbie before giving Lauren a call. He walked into the bar’s back room feeling pretty good about life in general and positively optimistic about the way his night would end.
He hadn’t counted on Luke’s dad, Tom, being there, tall, weathered, and tough as a telephone pole. Or Luke’s seventeen-year-old nephew Josh, nursing a Coke at the poker table. Jack had routed the town’s teens out from under the pier enough times to guess the boy had snuck a few beers before. But at Luke’s party, in Sam’s bar, everybody was on their best behavior.
The only bills seeing any action tonight were in the pot in the center of the table.
Jack’s muscles relaxed. He was glad he wouldn’t be breaking up a bar fight tonight. Or talking the groom back into his pants.
Luke introduced him to some guys from his old squad who had made the trek from Camp Lejeune and a couple of buddies from boot camp. There was talk of a third, Gabe Somebody, who had left the Corps and couldn’t be reached. But all in all, a nice group. Nice guys.
It seemed almost a shame to take their money.
“Seven-card stud,” Matt said, shuffling the deck in his work-hardened hands.
“What’s wild?” Josh asked.
His grandfather, Tom, snorted.
One of the Marines smothered a grin.
“Seven-card stud,” Matt repeated quietly. “No wilds.”
“Unless I get trash all night,” Sam said. “Then it’s deuces, eights, and one-eyed Jacks.”
