He Let Her Wear His Shirt, So I Froze the Club's Money novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: Thursdays

We drove a mile down Route 177 and pulled in behind a closed feed store.

Boone cut the engine.

For a moment neither of us moved.

The recorder sat in my lap with its strip of masking tape.

"Play it," Boone said. His breath hissed through his teeth when he leaned back. "Whatever's on it, I want to hear it with you."

I pressed the button.

There was a click, then a long hiss of static, and then a voice I would have known in my sleep.

"You're early, sweetheart."

It was Gus.

He sounded relaxed. He sounded warm, the way he sounded when he handed me a plate.

"I didn't want to be late," said a second voice, and it was Tawny's, thin and young. "Is it all right?"

"It's fine. Sit. Tell me about Tuesday."

Boone's hand closed slowly on the steering wheel.

"He cried," Tawny said. "After. He said he hadn't talked to anyone in a year."

"Good girl."

"Gus, I don't feel right about it."

"I know you don't." The chair creaked on the recording. "But Boone is soft for a woman who needs saving. He always has been, since he was nineteen. So you need him, Tawny. You let him see how much you need him, and he'll do the rest."

"What about his wife?"

"His wife is a good girl and a very good bookkeeper." He said it fondly. "That's the whole problem. She reads every page, and she'll find the Tulsa contracts in a year, maybe two. I can't have that."

I did not breathe.

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