Page 12 of Skin Game
“Fuck Seattle.”
“We can go together,” Casey offered. After all, Gabe had gone with him to pick up Mickie. “I can take the day off tomorrow. Greta’s a bit fed up with me right now and has made it clear she wants a break. We’ll take the Jeep and load it up with whatever your mom left behind.” He gestured at Gabe’s blank walls, gray sofa, and ugly coffee table. “Maybe it will be something interesting you can add to your décor.” He gently nudged Gabe again. “If you want the company, that is.”
Gabe didn’t seem to hear him. “But why didn’t Heidi just tell me this in the first letter? Why add in a second third party?” He turned the paper over and then back to the front again, seemingly exasperated by its existence.
“I guess you’ll never know,” replied Elton, “unless you actually go and get the stuff. The shredding comment implies there might be something important.”
Gabe’s shoulders sagged. “Fuck me.”
Casey wrapped one arm around Gabe, tugging him to his side. Surprisingly, considering his childhood, Gabe thrived on physical contact, something Casey was getting used to offering and, until now, hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed as well. Gabe’s tight shoulders slowly relaxed under Casey’s touch, which always felt a little bit like magic. Plus, it didn’t hurt that, even if Gabe had been in a scuffle that morning, he always smelled damn good.
Casey breathed him in before saying, “I’m happy to go with you. Maybe we’ll learn something more about your mom. Is there a number or anything for you to call and let them know you’re coming?”
“Are you sniffing me? That’s my sneaky habit.” Gabe teased, but didn’t move away. “Yeah, there’s a phone number there.” He pointed to the bottom of the page.
“Call now,” Casey urged.
Gabe made a growly sound deep in his throat. “Youcall now.”
Without giving him time to protest, Casey pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped in the nine-digit number, and held the device to his ear. “It’s ringing.”
“Give that to me.” Gabe held his hand out.
Smirking, Casey handed him his cell phone. He’d known Gabe would step up; he had just needed a little nudge.
“Hello,” said Gabe. “This is Gabriel Karne. I received a letter with this phone number at the bottom.” There was a bit of a pause, then Casey heard a higher-pitched voice but couldn’t make out the words. “Okay, yeah—yes, thank you. I can be there tomorrow.” He looked at Casey, who nodded. “Yes, this is a good number for me.” He made a face at Casey. “Is your address the same as the one on the envelope? Right, great. We’ll text you when we’re a few minutes out. Sure, not a problem, um, see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Clicking off, he handed the phone back to Casey. “I guess it’s gonna be road trip Tuesday. We’ll need snacks.”
FIVE
GABE – MONDAY EVENING
Gabe felt slightly guilty at the sense of relief he felt when Casey left to head back toThe Barbarafor the night with Bowie in tow. They were still working out the who-stays-where-and-when part of their relationship. He hoped they’d eventually get to the point of moving in together, but both of their places were very small, and Casey’s absence meant that Gabe was able to do his brooding in private as needed. Undoubtedly not healthy. Wasn’t he supposed to share the good and the bad with his boyfriend? No clue. He was making up this serious relationship stuff as he went along.
Because, in all seriousness, what the fuck with another letter, Heidi?
The most recent letter-from-not-quite-beyond-the-grave unsettled him more than he was willing to admit to Casey, Elton, or anyone alive. Casey was a smart man; he’d figure out that Gabe’s current weirdness had nothing to do with their relationship. As per usual, it was All About Gabe time, which he felt guilty about. Heidi had kept so many secrets, and here was a-fucking-nother one popping up, like she left him his own personal game of whack-a-mole.
They’d never had the kind of mother-son relationship where she made him a nice hot chocolate after he fell off his bike or gave him stickers when he got good grades, but it hadn’t been adversarial either. However, it had, as Gabe was discovering over and over again, been wrought with duplicity.
Con artist, Chance.
Whatever. And he meant that in the most passive-aggressive, dismissive way possible.
Gabe was tired of secrets. What would this one turn out to be? He swallowed, realizing he was having trouble breathing past the weird lump in his throat that had been sitting there since he’d read the contents of the letter and talked to whoever the hell she was on the phone.
How was he supposed to look back in time and know what was real and what was deception? He purposefully breathed in and held his breath for a few seconds before letting it back out. Why had Heidi believed she needed to live that way, even with her own son? Gabe suspected he might not want to know the answer but was about to find out.
After Casey and Bowie left for the marina, Gabe ate a quick dinner consisting of boxed tomato soup and a stale dinner roll. When he finished, he dropped the bowl and spoon into the sink to clean the next day—he was not going to turn into Randy Witherspoon—took a couple of Advil, and crawled into bed.
In the comfortable darkness, he forced himself to think back over what he knew for sure about Heidi’s life and his own childhood. There had to be something, a clue or hint that would unravel the mystery of Heidi Karne, but if there was, it wasn’t immediately apparent. Maybe some direction would present itself when he eventually went through her belongings. After all, whatever this newest haul ended up being, she’d wanted Gabe to get it at some point.
Could have just given it to me when you were alive, Heidi.
There was no answer—thank fuck—but Keith decided to blesshim with her presence at that moment, jumping onto the bed and curling up behind his knees.
“Where have you been hiding?” he asked. Keith, of course, did not answer. “And why couldn’t you have intercepted the letter and eaten it or something?”