Page 42 of Whatever Will Be

My father stood in the middle of the tiny laundry room wearing only his underwear. At his feet were the bloody clothes he’d just stripped off and snot ran from his nose as he regarded me with bewilderment, followed by fury.

“Get out, Gretchen. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

Like a panicky rodent, I scampered up the stairs, locked the door to my bedroom and hid beneath my bedsheets until I fell asleep.

The next morning, the news was everywhere and hiding became impossible.

Martin Reiser was the man’s name and he was some Wall Street bigshot who’d just completed construction on an opulent lakefront estate after tearing down four lesser homes. There was no known connection between him and my father until the fender bender at a Mill Street stoplight in the center of town. The accident was Reiser’s fault. He rear ended my father’s car and caused damage to the back bumper. It’s the kind of collision that happens all the time and should have been no big deal.

But both men were drunk. Tempers flared.

And in a comical twist of fate, Reiser was the latest winner of the Lake Stuart Sailboat Regatta. A witness said Reiser snatched the two foot high brass trophy from the front seat of his gleaming Bentley and waved it around. Reiser was a small man and there was really no threat. That’s what multiple witnesses said and the jury agreed. There was no good reason for my father to seize the trophy from Reiser’s clammy hands and deliver four skull-crushing blows. Even after Reiser was on the ground and people were screaming, Alex Aaronson didn’t stop.

Which is why his prison sentence was so harsh and has never been overturned on appeal.

I told Trent I’d be ready to leave for the trip at nine and I am ready. In fact, I’m sitting on the cracked front step with my handbag in my lap, my legs tucked under me and my eyes glued to the house down the street. At eight fifty nine a.m. I watch his Range Rover back out of the driveway and roll slowly this way.

We are going to visit my father in the state penitentiary. This shouldn’t feel exciting but it does because I’m spending the day with Trent.

I also have a crush on Trent. A big one. I could blame that on our moonlight kiss or the fact that I’m lonely and haven’t had sex in over half a year but the reason doesn’t matter. Trent is a source of unpredictable color in my life and I like thinking about him. I like seeing him. I like bantering with him. And I like how he surprises me with friendship when he sees that I’m drowning and frustrated and in need of support.

The vehicle brakes beside the curb and I stand up. Trent doesn’t need to exit but he does, opening the passenger door in a move that reminds me I don’t always know what to expect from him. Trent Cassini is an exciting mix of coarse sexiness and gallant manners and I’ve never met another man like him.

“I wasn’t anticipating valet service,” I joke when I reach the curb.

He’s still posed beside the open door. The sweep of his eyes over my body is as strong as the stroke of fingers on my skin. “Well, you never know what you’re getting with me.”

Trent’s voice afflicts me like a shot of bourbon chased by a rough kiss.

I’m wildly attracted to him. Every day I’m finding this more difficult to conceal.

The collar of his flannel shirt is slightly bent and he remains still while I reach up to fix it. My hand is reluctant to disconnect from him so quickly and I can’t stop my palm from sliding down his broad chest, exploring the hard muscle. I’ve already pictured him naked in my head countless times. I’d perform any act of penance in order to see the real thing.

“Where’s Danny?” he asks and I withdraw my hand.

I glance at the blank windows of the empty house and sigh. “He went to the gym already. He couldn’t be persuaded to come along.”

“I know. I tried too.”

“He’s been quiet. I know he feels terrible. He didn’t even ask me to reconsider letting him watch the girls today. Barbara was very happy to see them, though. They’ll have a good day with her. Should we go?”

Trent repays the favor of fixing his collar by extending a hand and brushing a piece of hair from my cheek. The fleeting sense of his touch is like an electric current to my core. I lift my eyes to his and see a mirror of my own desire.

“Yeah, we should go,” he agrees and steps back, waits for me to climb inside, then shuts the door.

Once I clip my seatbelt closed, I wait with my hands folded and my purse at my feet, wondering what it will be like spending hours in such close proximity to him. It’s possible we’ll be trading taunts and highly sexualized innuendos all the way to the Central New York State Correctional Facility.

However, it turns out that Trent is in a serious mood today.

Instead of cracking jokes, he asks me questions. He wants to know what kind of law I was studying and if I miss life in the city. He responds thoughtfully when I explain that my former career path had been designed with an eye toward earning enough money to help my sister.

“Danny mentioned something like that too,” Trent says. “That was a big reason why he was so crushed when his knee injury sent him back down to the minors where the pay is shit. He planned to hand over a big check to Jules so she could raise the girls without worrying about money.”

I swallow hard and lace my fingers together in my lap. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know he felt that way.”

I really didn’t. I’ve always thought of Danny as being only concerned with Danny.

Trent nudges my knee. “It’s a credit to Jules that you were both so devoted to her.”

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