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  A guy with spiky blond hair and a cartoon-super-hero jaw glanced at Trent’s cards. “So, you a betting man?”

  Trent stifled a laugh. He wasn’t into cheating a bunch of kids out of their lunch money. “I’ve played my share.”

  Chuckles erupted and Blondy turned back to his friends. “What’d ya say, boys? You all up for a friendly hand of poker?”

  This got everyone’s attention and within seconds they pushed all three tables together and huddled around Trent’s deck of cards.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about this. I’d hate to take your money.”

  The boys laughed. “What do you mean ‘take our money,’ old man? We’re about to clean house, ain’t that right, boys?” The blond kid gave a pink-faced redhead a high five.

  “You know that’s right.” The redhead flipped his Mariners ball cap backward and turned to Trent. “You aren’t afraid to get schooled by a bunch of college kids, are you?”

  Their laughter returned, hardier this time. Heat climbed Trent’s neck and settled in his face. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, that was being laughed at, especially by a bunch of stupid kids.

  “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Alice gathered her things and headed out the front door. The sun hovered above the horizon, covering the evening sky in vibrant pinks and oranges. The tall spruce tree centered in her yard cast an elongated shadow, birds chirping from somewhere within its branches. The air was crisp and carried the scent of pine and newly bloomed lilacs.

  Priscilla, her neighbor, knelt in the dirt with her torso buried in her dahlia bushes. Her silver head snapped up the minute Alice stepped onto the front steps.

  “Good evening.” A grin widened her cheeky face. She used the small shovel in her hand to push to her feet, her plump body rocking on swollen legs. “You talk to your committee about my niece yet?”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t.”

  “Oh. I see. When you get a chance then. How are the boys?” Wiping her gloves on her paisley shorts and favoring her right leg, she walked toward Alice. Her eyebrows furrowed as she surveyed Alice’s uncut, dandelion-infected lawn. “And Trent? I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

  “Good. They’re good, Mrs. Tanner. Thanks for asking.” She motioned toward Priscilla’s purple and blue blossoms. “Your flowers are looking beautiful.”

  “Why thank you, dear. You know, I bet I could make a bouquet for your event. Do the ladies still get together to make centerpieces?”

  “As of now, that’s the plan, though we haven’t set a date yet. How about I call you?” With a parting nod, Alice retreated to her car and slid behind the steering wheel.

  Standing on Misty’s stoop 20 minutes later, she took a deep breath and smoothed the front of her dress. She rang the doorbell.

  Misty greeted her with a plastic smile. Her rainbow colored taffeta sundress deepened her salon tan and made Alice’s pale blue frock look like a pleated garbage sack.

  “Alice, so glad you could make it.” She raised purple-shadowed eyelids to stare at her empty van parked at the curb. “Where’s Trent?”

  “Running late.” Which was true . . . sort of. She hurried by before Misty could ask any more questions. In the kitchen, everyone clustered around a bowl of chips. They glanced her way as Alice entered.

  “Hey, there!” Beth waved. “And now the party begins.” She smiled and wiped her hands on a napkin. The soles of her leather sandals squeaked as she strolled over to Alice, pulling her into a hug. “Where’s Trent?”

  Alice repeated what she had told Misty. Everyone, well, almost everyone, seemed to accept her answer. Beth and Ed, on the other hand, exchanged glances. When they turned back to Alice, the obvious compassion in their eyes made her want to bolt for her car.

  Misty popped open a soda can. “That must be hard, to have your spouse gone so much of the time.” She reached over, wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist, and gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if Drew worked that much. I think I’d ask him to get another job.”

  “And I would never let that happen, my love.” He placed his free hand against the small of her back and pulled her closer.

  Alice gave a mental eye roll then turned to Beth. “Where’s Luke?”

  “With friends. You know how teens are—avoiding adult socialization like the bubonic.”

  Alice nodded and nibbled on a carrot stick. Nice to know her boys weren’t the only ones dodging the adults. “So, how’d he like his baptism?”

  Beth smiled. “I think he felt very special to have so many people show their support. Although I know he was a little disappointed Jake didn’t show up.”

  Luke, Tim, Danny, and Jake had grown up together, and for a while, Beth and Alice had been close to Nancy, Jake’s mother. Then she went through a nasty divorce, and things got weird. Beth tried to stay in contact for a while, but after about a year of unreturned calls, finally gave up. Alice pulled away almost immediately. Nancy’s failed marriage served as a constant reminder of how far her own had fallen—and where it was headed, unless things changed soon.

  “Did he really expect him to, with all they’ve got going on?” Misty popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. “I mean really, he knows we’re aware of his family problems, with the divorce and everything. It’s not like we didn’t see that coming.”

  “It’s so sad.” Some girl Alice didn’t recognize shook her head. “You know, it’s always the kids who suffer. Jake will be out of the house in a year. The least they could have done is wait.”

  “Or sought help.” Beth sipped her iced tea.

  Feeling exposed, Alice feigned sudden interest in scooping a precise amount of dip on her celery stick.

  “Yeah, but some marriages are beyond fixing,” Misty said. “I certainly don’t blame Jake for not coming. Seeing Luke with both of you”—she waved her hand toward Beth and Ed—“the Cleavers of the twenty-first century. That’s gotta sting.”

  An awkward silence followed.

  “Anyway,” Beth scooped some dip onto a piece of broccoli, “Luke had a special baptism and was very happy you all took the time to share such a monumental moment with him.”

  “Of course.” Misty flicked her hand. “We wouldn’t have missed it. And I’m sure you’ll do the same for us, when our kids . . .”

  Alice waited for the end of Misty’s sentence, knowing she rarely went to church.

  Misty’s face tightened. “Have some sort of special event going on.”

  Alice made small talk for the rest of the night, but her thoughts centered on Trent and her marriage. By ten p.m., she was more than ready to head home to bed.

  “I hate to be a party pooper, but I need to be getting home.” She forced what she hoped to be her final smile for the night.

  Everyone stood. Misty’s glossed lips upturned. “Sure. I understand. I imagine you’re worried about your husband.”

  Was that a stab?

  Beth squeezed Alice’s hand. “I’ll call you.”

  She nodded, said her good-byes, and hurried out. She paused on the front porch to inhale the crisp, spring air. A light drizzle misted her face and thick storm clouds advanced across the sky, hiding most of the stars from view. A half-moon glowed behind a cluster of pine trees.

  A bolt of lightning flashed, and in an instant, the clouds burst open. She raised her hand to shield herself from the rain. Icy drops flooded her face and soaked through her thin cotton dress. Slouching forward against the downpour, she ran to her van and jumped inside. Goose bumps erupted along her arms as she slammed the door behind her.

  After one last glance at her “friends” through Misty’s living room window, she turned on the ignition and put the car in reverse.

  CHAPTER 11

  Trent stared at the mound of green in the center of the table and clamped his mouth shut, fighting a smile. Three winning hands had accumulated quite a wad of cash, and he was just getting started. Boy was he glad he hadn’t p
ulled a pansy and walked away. Nope. Coming here, playing cards, was the best decision he’d made all week. He’d turned his $725 into $1,500.

  “I’ll raise you two.” Trent slapped two wrinkled 100-dollar bills on the table and waited for the last kid in the game to fold.

  “Let’s lose the training wheels.” The kid dropped three crisp bills. “I’ll match your two and raise you five.”

  Trent’s eyes widened. “What, you get a hold of Daddy’s money or something?” Where did these young punks get so much cash?

  “Don’t you worry where I got it, just be ready to pay up.” He leaned on his elbows and twisted his mouth into a cocky smile.

  Trent frowned. He was not about to let a couple of kids show him up. He tossed $500 in the center of the table. “I call.”

  His jaw tightened as a toothy grin widened the kid’s face.

  “Now looky here, three of a kind.” A flick of the wrist revealed a pair of Aces, pairing with his Ace on the table.

  “You got to be kidding me.” Trent scowled and sent his cards fluttering across the table.

  Laughter erupted as his opponent leaned forward and scooped up his winnings. Trent’s gaze darted from face to face, infuriated by the laughing eyes that stared back at him. These kids were nothing but a bunch of hustlers. Now that he knew they had money, he’d wipe them clean.

  “So you wanna play with the big boys, huh?” He tossed $500 more down.

  Blondy raised his eyebrows and glanced at his friends. They pulled their chairs closer, their heads dipping in agreement. Handfuls of cash flew Blondy’s way. So they decided to pool their money. Good. The more green the better.

  The kid gave Trent a cocky smile. “Let’s go.”

  Unfortunately, Trent’s plans of making bank were shattered three consecutive losses later. Throwing his head back, he poured gin and tonic down his throat then yanked his sleeves up to go another round. “Deal ’em.”

  Blondy shook his head and stood. “Gotta bail, but thanks for the game, man.”

  Trent’s muscles tightened. “What do you mean, ‘thanks for the game’? We’re just getting started.”

  “Sorry, man, but we got to go. Finals.” The others stood and followed Blondy toward the front of the bar.

  Trent sprang to his feet. “Wait. You can’t leave. Just one more hand.”

  The blond kid turned and flashed a peace sign before disappearing into the night.

  Trent slammed his fists on the table. He’d been had, by a pack of snotty-nosed kids, no less. He considered chasing them down and letting his fists do the talking, but he didn’t need assault charges added to his mounting problems. Besides, there were four of them and one of him, and sitting behind a desk all day didn’t exactly pump up the biceps.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and weighed his options. In the span of four hours, he’d doubled the $750 he came with, and then watched it dwindle down to ten bucks. Which negated his chances of finding another game. Unless he hit the ATM. He glanced at the clock. 10:15.

  Oh, man! He slapped his forehead. Alice and her socialites had been waiting for him for over two hours. She’d be furious. No, she’d be broken. Totally broken. Letting his head fall forward, he rubbed his face with his hands. Oh, Alice. Why did he keep doing this to her? And how long would it be before she no longer cared?

  By the time Alice returned home, the heavy downpour had waned to a steady drizzle. Fighting back angry tears, she fished in her purse for her house key. Fatigue seeped into her muscles and settled into her bones, signaling the onset of depression. Key in hand, she glanced down the dimly lit street. Curtains were drawn and lights were out, minus the occasional flicker of a television set.

  She turned the lock, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Her spirits lifted when she heard the familiar rise and fall of the television. Good, Tim and Danny were home. A comedy and some popcorn with her boys was just what she needed to get out of her funk. But when she entered the living room and found half the soccer team camped out on her sofa, her heart dropped. Apparently, it was boys’ night out, and Tim’s scowl said moms weren’t invited.

  “Hello, boys.” She waved to the group, then faced her oldest. “Where’s Danny?”

  “Mariners game.”

  Right. He’d asked about going last week. And Trent had said he’d pick Danny up. Her stomach tightened as she glanced at her phone screen. She released the breath she’d been holding. No texts or missed calls, which meant Trent had actually shown up. Hopefully sober. He’d never drink and drive with Danny in the car, would he?

  She shot her youngest a text: You OK?, then turned to Tim. “I need to speak with you for moment.”

  He tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “What?”

  “Come into the kitchen, please.”

  He huffed and lumbered after her, then leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Yeah?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know when you plan to bring your friends over.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m serious, Tim. You need to stop with the attitude and the . . . the . . . sense of entitlement.”

  He stared at her for a moment, a tendon working in his jaw. Then he sighed and shrugged. “OK, so I’m sorry. What do you want me to do? Kick them out? We could be doing worse things, you know.”

  “Thirty minutes, then they have to go. Deal?” She liked her boys here, and she was pleased they felt comfortable inviting their friends, but she didn’t have the energy to deal with the mess they always left. Nor their noisy laughter, which would inevitably keep her awake.

  “Fine.”

  Alice’s phone chimed a text, from Danny. Game’s over. Waiting for Dad. Eating duck wings at Quality Athletics.

  That restaurant was three blocks from the stadium, and though she was glad they were in a safe location, she didn’t like to think of Danny walking around downtown so late. She responded: Sit tight. I’ll come get you.

  Danny: Waitress said it was last call.

  Great. She’d need to hurry . . . but the restaurant wouldn’t toss a couple teens out, would they? She hoped not. Although she was more worried about Trent showing up drunk before she could arrive. Telling her son not to get in the car with his father felt . . . felt . . . traitorous. But what choice did she have?

  She sent another text: If Dad comes, please have him wait. Tell him I’m coming. Please wait. She paused, then repeated: Please, wait for me.

  Danny’s response came quickly: OK.

  Heading toward the door, Alice surveyed the mess that had become her living room. Shoes and dirty socks were scattered across the floor. Candy wrappers, chip crumbs, and crushed, overturned soda cans littered the coffee table, as usual.

  Crossing her arms, she caught Timmy’s eye. “Make sure to clean up after yourselves.”

  He grunted an acknowledgement.

  A brisk wind swept over her as she stepped outside, causing goose bumps to erupt on her arms once again. What if Trent arrived before she did and acted stupid? What if he got angry? She thought about the times he’d snapped at her, of the times he’d come in staggering, acting nothing like the man she’d fallen in love with. Alcohol could do crazy things to people. Make them say and do things they’d never consider sober.

  And if Trent showed up drunk, and Danny got into the car . . .

  She could lose them both.

  Lord Jesus, please keep Trent away.

  The irony of her prayer sliced through her heart, leaving a hollow ache. Had it really come to this?

  Trent stepped out of the bar into a starless night, rain pelting his face and chilling his skin. Large puddles dotted the parking lot potholes and flowed down the oil-slicked streets. Minus the occasional lowrider, the roads were empty. And quiet, the silence disrupted only by the steady squeak-scrape of the windshield wiper.

  Massaging his forehead to clear his stupor, he thought about Alice waiting for him at home. Sweet, gentle, beautiful Alice. Why did he treat her like th
is? Again and again and again? She deserved better, much better. He longed to be the man she needed, if only he could figure out a way to climb out of the mess he made. Instead, he kept making things worse.

  Easing onto the street, he leaned forward and squinted, fighting against the thick fog of intoxication. The light ahead turned red. Grip tightening on the steering wheel, he considered gunning it and sending his car flying into oncoming traffic—but there wasn’t any. He slowed to a stop. Tall brick buildings with boarded windows loomed on either side of him, trash scattered near rusted doors.

  The occasional streetlight cast long shadows across the broken sidewalks. An old man sat under a dark awning, his form barely visible in the pale glow radiating from the streetlights. Drinking from a bottle hidden in a brown paper bag, he rested against a bent-up shopping cart. Trent stared at him, his stomach twisting into a nauseating knot as the rain pounded against his car roof and flooded his windshield.

  The light turned green.

  CHAPTER 12

  Alice glanced at the snoring lump beside her, covered her nose, and swallowed back a gag. The pungent smell of booze and body odor wafting from Trent overpowered her desire to stay in bed. Her nose demanded fresh air. A strong cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt either. Besides, the boys’ soccer game began in Puyallup at ten.

  A good wife would wake Trent, remind him of the game, and tell him how important it was to the boys that he came, but at this point she really didn’t care. In fact, she preferred he stayed home. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with him and the feelings of bitterness he evoked. Nor the backlash he created for her boys. She had half a mind to grab Tim and Danny, her things, and split, but where would they go? Crashing at her parents was not an option.

  The night before, Trent hadn’t arrived until after midnight, full of excuses and apologies for leaving their son stranded downtown. No wonder the boys were beginning to hate him.