Trent went positively green. The alcohol, the months of lies, and the realization that he didn’t have a prayer’s chance in Hades of getting what he thought he was due flashed across his face and drew it into a tight knot. Sweat poured down his temples. He groaned, leaned over, and threw up right there in the middle of Cash’s living room.
Neither Rubi nor Cash made an effort to help him. Rubi covered her nose and stepped back.
After he’d spent himself, Trent gasped for air. “Give me the pen. I’ll sign.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Cash made a face.
Rubi laid the papers out on the coffee table. She stayed firmly on her side and pointed. “Here.”
Trent made a sour face, like he was going to puke again. He closed his eyes and took several long and slow breaths. Cash wished he’d done that the first time, because it seemed to calm his stomach as well as his head. He finally signed the first line with a heavy hand, tearing at the pages.
“And here.” Scratch. “Here.” Scrape. This went on for about thirty seconds, draining the fight out of the room and out of Cash.
When he was done, Trent’s gaze could have cut ice. “I’m tired.” He jerked his chin toward the couch.
Heck no! “Then I suggest you get on findin’ yourself a new place to stay.”
“But you said—”
“I said I wasn’t firing you. I didn’t say I was going to let you sleep under my roof ever again.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
Cash opened the entryway closet and pulled out Trent’s duffel bag. He tossed it—hard—at Trent’s chest. “Don’t care.”
Trent caught it, his arms flexed and his shoulders cocked. “Well, don’t expect me at work on Monday—you just lost yourself an employee.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” Cash opened the door. “See ya later Trent.”
Trent grunted. He threw his bag across his back and stomped out, filling the front yard with naughty words.
Cash slammed the door behind him. He was immediately assaulted with the stench Trent left behind and hurried to open the screen door.
Rubi kissed the divorce papers. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, as my mama would say.”
Cash shook his head. That was not what he expected. He’d listened to Trent tell a bold-faced lie and he’d been suckered right in. “I had no idea, Rubi. I should have, but I—”
Rubi tucked the papers in her purse and patted it. “You want to believe the best in people. I get it.”
Cash checked the clock. “It’s four-thirty.”
Rubi stretched her arms out to the side. She was lighter, free, now that Trent was taken care of. He hadn’t seen the weight of the burden on her shoulders until it was gone. “You headed back to sleep? Do you want me to clear out?”
Cash looked at the mess on the floor and then quickly away, gagging.
Rubi giggled. “I’ve been cleaning up Trent’s mess for months. I’m not cleaning upthat.”
A brilliant idea filled his head. “You know what I really want to do?”
“What?”
“I wanna go fishin’.” He held out his hand. “Wanna come?”
“At four-thirty in the morning?” she asked, aghast. Her astonishment didn’t stop her from slipping her hand into his though.
He picked up her overnight bag and steered her towards the bathroom. “The way I figure it, it’s fish o’clock somewhere.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Fisho’clock?”
“Best time to catch a fish.”
