That Man of Mine Page 7

  He took a left on Beach Street and cruised down the almost empty road at a leisurely pace. It was nearly ten o’clock on a Thursday night in Whispering Bay. Which meant things were duller than dirt. The summers could be busy, but it was February and there wouldn’t be tourists till spring break when they got some residual overflow from the nearby towns of Destin and Panama City. Then, things could get dicey. Not that he liked dicey. Dull was just fine as far as Zeke was concerned.

  He’d just driven by the construction site for the new town rec center when his radio went off. Ellie, the night dispatcher’s voice came over loud and clear. “Chief, there’s a call requesting your presence specifically.”

  Jesus. Not again. Since he’d opened up his big mouth the day of the city council meeting there had been nearly a dozen calls requiring his “specific presence.” Absolutely none of them had been legit.

  The best one had involved a key-lime pie. Not as good as Mimi’s, but pie was pie and it was homemade, so although it had been a time suck, at least he’d gotten something out of it. Mrs. O’Leary (sixty-something and widowed) had wanted him to know she was on “Team Zeke.” The pie had been her way of “making him feel better” about the current state of his marriage.

  The worst had been a call from Sandy Lubook (thirty and recently divorced) claiming someone was trying to break into her house. Zeke had arrived (with back-up) only to find a very naked Sandy waiting for him in her bathtub. At least, Zeke had assumed she’d been naked. There had been so many bubbles in the tub it had been hard to tell. It had also been hard to tell whose face had gone redder—his, or Sandy’s when she realized there no less than four cops crowding her bathroom. Later, wrapped up in her bathrobe, Sandy had admitted she’d been hoping to “cheer him up” after she’d heard the news of his marriage falling apart. Zeke could only imagine what kind of cheering up Sandy had in mind.

  News of his “special 911” calls had traveled through the nearby law enforcement agencies faster than a ricocheting bullet. One of his friends in the Santa Rosa County Sheriff’s department had called, faking a female voice saying “she” needed her fire put out and he was the only man with the equipment to do it.

  Yeah, all of northwest Florida law enforcement was having a good laugh at his expense, all right.

  He picked up the radio. “Tell whoever’s calling I’m busy and send another car.”

  “She said it had to be you specifically,” Ellie said, giggling. “Plus, according to your location, you’re just a minute away. It seems like an awful lot of trouble for another car to come all the way across town.”

  Zeke could feel the steam build between his ears.

  Ellie had a point, however. There were only two cars on patrol duty tonight—his and Mike Stanley’s. He hated to pull Mike away from his side of town for some bogus bullshit.

  “What’s the address?” he snapped, knowing he shouldn’t kill the messenger, but his dispatcher was having way too much fun at his expense.

  “130 St. Joseph Drive.”

  Zeke frowned. He knew that address. It belonged to Moose and Shea Masterson.

  “And the situation?”

  “She said it had something to do with drunk and disorderly conduct, but that no one was hurt and that only you should be called. Otherwise, they would call a taxi.”

  What the? “I’m on my way.”

  It took him less than a minute to get to the Masterson’s home—a swanky Mediterranean ranch that took up almost half a block. Moose was some kind of financial planner and the guy did all right for himself. The porch light was on and there were cars parked along the street. Mimi’s blue minivan sat in the driveway. He parked behind it and got out of the cruiser.

  The front door burst open and Shea and Pilar came out. They both had an arm around Mimi, which was a good thing, because from the way his wife was staggering she would have probably fallen flat on her ass otherwise.

  “You came!” Shea said. She jabbed her elbow in Pilar’s side. “I told you he would!”

  Mimi looked at him with glazed eyes. Recognition set in. “You called him?” She turned to Shea. “I thought you were my friend!”

  Moose Masterson stepped forward to shake Zeke’s hand. He was a big, likeable guy. Knew his football pretty well. “Hey, man, sorry about the call, but as you can see Bunco got a little out of control tonight.”

  “No problem.” Zeke glanced through the open door and into the living room where it appeared that the rest of the women were in various stages of their “drunken and disorderly conduct.”

  “I’m calling all the husbands to come do pick up duty.” Moose looked uncertain. “I wasn’t sure if we should call you or—”

  “Shea was right to call me.”

  Moose looked relieved. “Okay, glad to hear that.”

  Zeke put an arm around Mimi and guided her toward his cruiser. “Hey! Are you just gonna let him take me off like this?” she called out to her friends.

  “Yes!” Shea and Pilar called back. They both looked extremely pleased with themselves, as well as extremely drunk.

  “Some friends you are,” Mimi muttered. She stumbled once on the way to the car. Zeke briefly thought of putting her in the back seat, but he was positive she wouldn’t appreciate it come tomorrow morning when she remembered what went down. Of course, he’d never seen Mimi this drunk before, so he wasn’t quite sure whether she’d remember it or not. It wasn’t like her to lose control. Not like this.

  He helped her into the front seat of the cruiser and strapped on her seatbelt. “Don’t touch any of the buttons,” he warned.

  Her blue eyes flared. “Oh!” She sat up straight, like she suddenly realized where she was. “You’re taking me home in the police car! I’ve always wanted to ride in the front seat of your police car.”

  He got behind the wheel and picked up the radio to check back in with dispatch. “Ellie, I’m taking my break now so I’ll be off for the next thirty minutes.”

  “Roger that, Chief.”

  “Help!” Mimi shouted. “I’m being kidnapped!” Then her head slumped over like she’d fallen asleep. What the hell had she had to drink?

  “Is that Mrs. Chief yelling in the background?” Ellie asked. “Is she all right? She doesn’t sound like herself.”

  “Everything’s fine, Ellie,” Zeke said.

  “Um, okay. If you say so, Chief. Over and out.”

  The rest of the drive home was thankfully uneventful. He pulled into the driveway to the house he no longer lived in, and killed the car lights. Mimi let out a small sigh. She blinked, then glanced around.

  “Where are we?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  “Home.”

  She pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. Sitting here in his cruiser with her hair all mussed up, wearing jeans and sneakers, she looked more like a teenager than a thirty-five-year-old mother of two.

  “I…you drove me home?”

  “Yep.” He glanced at the house. Claire’s bedroom light was still on. “Looks like you girls had quite a party back there.”

  “We were…celebrating.”

  A muscle on the side of his jaw clenched. Celebrating what? Their separation? “What’s the occasion?” he asked carefully.

  “How we…no, how I’m going to get Billy Beans for the Spring Into Summer festival.” She hiccupped.

  Zeke hid a smile. There was no other woman on the planet who could possibly look this damn cute and be so out of it at the same time.

  “You mean, Billy Brenton?”

  “Yeah! That’s who I’m going to get. I’m going to show up that Bruce Barnum and Bailey, all right.” Somehow, she managed to unclip her seat belt on her own. She turned to stare at him like she hadn’t seen him before. “Hey! Who called you?”

  “Shea did. Remember?”

  “Oh…yeah. I’m mad at her.”

  “Don’t be. You’re in no condition to drive.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

&nb
sp; “Sure.”

  “Are you…let me see if I can say this right… Slytherin’ Cindy’s Hufflepuff?”

  Definitely not the question he was expecting. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that means.”

  “I don’t think I could say it again.” She placed her hands between her head to steady it, like it hurt. Which it probably did. Only not as much as it was going to hurt tomorrow.

  “I’m pretty sure the answer to your question is no,” he said.

  “Oh. Okay. I didn’t think so.”

  “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  She gave him a suspicious look. “Shoot.” Then she laughed. “I probably shouldn’t say that to a cop. I don’t mean shoot as in you know, shoot. I mean, go ahead.”

  “Why did you ask me to leave the house?”

  It wasn’t fair to ask her that now. Not while she was drunk and her defenses were down. On the other hand, maybe it was the perfect time to ask her. Maybe for once, he’d get a straight answer.

  “Can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me,” she muttered.

  What the hell was she talking about?

  “I trust you. You’re my wife, for God’s sake.”

  “Aha! Now we’re getting someplace…or somewhere. I forget how that goes. So, you admit I’m your wife.”

  “I don’t think that point was ever in question.”

  “But why am I your wife? Why did you marry me, huh? Cuz I was knocked up? Is that why?” Her words were still slurred but Zeke got the impression it was a question she’d been thinking about for a long time.

  He raked a hand through his cropped hair. “You know why we got married. Sure, you were pregnant with Claire, but it was also because we love each other.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I married you?” Before he could answer, she said, “Because you were hot. You’re still hot, you know?” She frowned. “Of course you know. Every woman in town tells me so on a daily basis, so they probably tell you, too. Hey! You’re not Slytherin’ anyone else’s Hufflepuff, are you? Because…if you are, I might just have to chop off your…your Gryffindor!” She laughed.

  “My Gryffindor, huh?”

  “Go read Harry Potter,” she muttered. She tried to open the car door but he’d automatically locked it.

  “Hold on.” He got out of the cruiser and opened the door for her. “Let me help you in the house.”

  He took her by the elbow but she brushed his hand away. “No, no…I’m okay.” He watched as she half stumbled toward the front porch. Somehow, she managed to get the key in the lock. She turned and waved to him then disappeared inside the house.

  He waited a minute, then went up to test the door to make sure she’d locked it behind her. For a second, he thought about following her inside. To make sure she got to bed all right. But that was just an excuse. She’d made it to the door and managed to remember to lock up, which meant she was okay. Which meant there was no real reason to follow her.

  He sat in the cruiser for the next twenty minutes staring at the house. Claire’s light went out and the house looked silent.

  What the hell did she mean she couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust her?

  He racked his brain, trying to remember all those counseling sessions they’d gone to. He could admit now to himself that he’d fucked that up royally. He’d been a world class dick. He hadn’t taken them seriously and she’d been angry about that. The sessions were a complete waste of time but he should have at least pretended to be into them. He’d messed up at the city council meeting, too. Instead of waiting to ask her in private about her wedding ring, he’d assumed she taken it off as some sort of sign. Blurting out to the entire room they were separated wasn’t like him. He was losing control of his personal life and he didn’t like it one bit.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late. Sure, she’d kicked him out of the house, but if he offered to go to counseling again, would she give him another shot? It was definitely worth trying.

  He only knew one thing. He loved her. And this marriage wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Seventeen years and about eleven months ago (let’s not get picky)…

  Once upon a time, Zeke Grant had the world in the palm of his hand. At nineteen he had everything a guy his age could ever need or want. A job that paid the bills, a 1995 Honda CB500 that drove like a dream, and even his own apartment.

  The job wasn’t perfect. He worked as a mechanic’s apprentice at Bert’s Garage. Not something he planned to do forever, but for now the hours were good and he was learning a skill he could use in one way or another for the rest of his life. The apartment wasn’t perfect either. It was a one bedroom shack, really, but it was just a few blocks from the beach and the girls liked it. They liked the bike, too. And for some reason, they liked him as well. Getting laid was never a problem.

  Today, though, it was the world that had him by the balls. He sat in the Army recruiting station in Panama City and listened to the sergeant tell him what an outstanding soldier he’d make.

  “Your test results are off the chart, Ezequiel.” Sergeant E.J. Craft smiled at him behind the government-issue desk with the look of a man who’d just reeled in a prized fish.

  “Call me Zeke.”

  “Sure, of course. But I’d rather call you Private,” Sgt. Craft said with a laugh. Zeke imagined he probably used that little joke on everyone who came through his door. He was in his late forties, the fatherly type, but still buff. Sgt. Craft could be the poster boy for good clean military living. “You’re all set to go. Drug test, background check, it all came back good. Now, shall I show you what Uncle Sam has to offer a bright young man like yourself?”

  “I appreciate the time you’ve put into this, sir, but I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be enlisting after all. I was going to call, but I felt it was something I should tell you in person.”

  Sgt. Craft leaned forward in his chair. “What happened? Did the navy sell you a bill of goods? I can top just about anything they might have offered you.”

  “No, sir, I’m not joining any of the other service branches.”

  “I don’t get it. Just a few weeks ago you came in here all hell bent on seeing the world, saving up money, going back to school on the GI bill. What happened?”

  Zeke thought about politely brushing him off. What happened was none of Craft’s business, but he liked the guy. Sure, he was a little pushy, but he had to be in his line of work. He’d been good to Zeke and he deserved to know the truth.

  “My grandmother was just diagnosed with a heart problem and she’s my kid sister’s legal guardian. It isn’t a good time to be far away from them.”

  “I see.” Craft frowned, like he hadn’t expected that answer. “And there’s no other family around to help?”

  “Our mom died six years ago. And…yeah, that’s all the family there was.”

  “No dad in the picture?”

  Zeke felt his right eyelid twitch. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Just thinking about Sam Grant made him want to punch someone.

  “Nope, just my grandmother.”

  “How old is your sister?”

  “She’s thirteen.”

  The sergeant sighed heavily. Zeke could only imagine his frustration. All that paperwork for nothing. “That’s a tough break, son, but I understand. I admire you for putting your family first. If the situation changes, let me know. I’ll be happy to do up the paperwork again.” He stood and they shook hands.

  Zeke was out the door and ready to put on his helmet when he spotted the silver Toyota Corolla pull into the strip mall parking lot. Talk about Kismet. He knew that car. It belonged to Mimi Powers, ironically enough, the inspiration behind this whole enlistment idea.

  He hadn’t seen Mimi for almost four months, not since she’d broken up with him in January. He’d never intended to have a girlfriend. Girls were fine on a temporary basis. But more than a few dates and they started to think about the future and that was something Zeke wasn’t
ready for. Not until he first noticed Mimi Powers on that warm September evening in the bowling alley parking lot.

  Mimi was only two years younger, but she was still in high school, which should have automatically made her hands off. But the instant she’d turned to look at him and they’d locked gazes, he’d been hooked. It wasn’t her looks that had been the attraction. She was pretty, but he’d been with prettier girls. She was smart, and sweet, and he hadn’t meant to ask her out. But he did. And she’d said yes. Which had surprised him. Seventeen year-old virgins (and it was obvious she fell squarely into that category) didn’t go out with guys like him unless they were looking to rebel, and Mary Margaret Powers didn’t seem like the rebelling kind. Not that he was a bad guy. But he wasn’t boyfriend material.

  So they went on a first date and then a second, and before Zeke knew it, she was all he could think about. When he was with her he didn’t feel like Zeke Grant, pot-smoking surfer mechanic semi-loser. He felt like Zeke Grant, guy who could do anything he put his mind to. And the sex? It had been just like her—sweet and hot at the same time. And it only got better the more they saw one another.

  He’d even introduced her to Buela, the Cuban grandmother who’d raised him and Allie after Mom died. Buela instantly loved her, of course. Because who didn’t love Mimi Powers? She was sunshine and warm air and all the rest of that sappy crap people wrote songs about. He stopped smoking pot and starting thinking about going back to school. He’d been planning to tell her that he loved her when one evening out of the blue, she broke things off.

  “I’m going away to Duke and you’ll still be here, so it doesn’t really make sense to keep seeing one another. Does it?” Her blue eyes had been misty, like she was ready to cry at any minute. But that didn’t mean she regretted what she was saying. She was just the kind of girl who would feel bad about hurting someone else’s feelings.