* * * * *

Layne’s eyes opened and he heard his cell phone.

Rocky shifted and then came up on an elbow.

Another dream. Another f**king, shitty, f**king dream.

“Baby,” Roc whispered, “your phone.”

Layne rolled, putting a hand to the floor, reaching out with the other one, he yanked his jeans toward the bed and pulled his cell out. He pushed off the floor, rolling again to his back as his eyes slid across Rocky’s clock to see it was ten after eight.

They’d seriously slept in.

The phone stopped ringing by the time he settled back. He flipped it open and looked at his received calls, Rocky moving into him again.

Tripp. Tripp at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. The boys had to be at the pool with the team but not this early.

Fuck.

“Who was it?” Rocky asked.

“Tripp,” Layne answered, scrolling down to his son’s phone number in his contact list, he hit go.

Rocky pressed closer as Layne listened to it ring, his body tense because of the time and because of a phone call from his son at that time and because of his f**king dream.

It rang twice before Layne heard Tripp saying in his usual Tripp way, “Yo Dad!”

Layne pulled in breath.

Then he let it out while replying, “Yo, Pal. You called. What’s up?”

“I was actually calling Rocky but she wasn’t picking up. I thought you might be with her.”

Rocky’s phone was likely in Rocky’s purse which was downstairs on the bar in the kitchen.

“Why’d you want Roc?” Layne asked, shoving an arm under Rocky, his forearm going up, his fingers beginning to play with her hair.

“Need to check somethin’,” Tripp answered.

“What?” Layne asked.

“Girl stuff,” Tripp answered.

Layne looked down at Rocky who was gazing up at him.

“Girl stuff?” he repeated and he watched his woman’s lips form a small smile.

“Yeah, see, she’s a girl and I need to ask her girl stuff,” Tripp said.

“What kind of girl stuff?” Layne asked.

“The kind where she’d tell me why Giselle wasn’t out for pizza last night and why she isn’t textin’ me. That kind. I figure she’s playin’ hard to get. She’s shy but she goes out for pizza, everyone does. I used to see her there all the time and we’ve been hangin’ the last coupla Fridays. She wasn’t out last night and she always returns my texts and she isn’t so… is Rocky there?”

While his son spoke, Layne’s body, which had relaxed, got tense then he sat up, taking Roc with him. She got tense against him and her arm didn’t leave his gut as she pressed tight against his side.

“Yeah, Tripp, Roc’s here but I wanna know about Giselle. When’s the last time you saw her?” Layne asked.

Tripp was silent and Layne felt Rocky’s body go still.

“Tripp,” Layne said carefully, “when was the last time you saw her?”

“At school yesterday,” Tripp stated quietly.

“Was she at the game last night?” Layne pushed.

“Don’t know,” Tripp answered and Layne looked at Rocky.

“You see Giselle at the game last night, baby?”

Rocky stared him in the eyes then shook her head.

Layne went back to Tripp. “You talk to her at school yesterday?”

Tripp hesitated a beat then answered, “No, she was bein’ weird. Kinda closed off. Avoiding me. I thought –”

Layne cut him off. “Text me her home number.”

“Dad, do you think –”

“Do it, Pal, now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tripp whispered.

“I got this covered, Tripp, okay?” Layne assured gently. “Me and Roc got this covered. It’ll be okay. I’ll call you but before you hang up, I wanna know you know your old man has this covered.”

“I know.” Tripp was still whispering.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Text me the number.”

“Right.”

“Talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, later, Dad.” He was talking quickly, in a hurry to get the number to Layne.

So Layne said without delay, “Later, Pal.”

He flipped his phone shut and Rocky moved slightly away from him but when he looked at her, her eyes were drilling into him.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“Get dressed, baby, I need you to call Giselle Speakmon’s parents. Find out if she’s actin’ okay.”

“Why?” Her voice was still sharp.

“She’s cut Tripp out. Sudden. She –” Layne started to explain but didn’t finish because Rocky was on the move. She threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

Layne’s phone chimed in his hand. He flipped it open and saw Tripp sent him Giselle’s home number and cell number.

Layne got out of bed, grabbed his jeans, tugged them on and then followed Rocky to the bathroom only for her to come out before he got there. She skirted him and went directly to her underwear on the floor.

Layne turned to face her while he advised, “Sweetcheeks, brush your teeth, wash your face, make coffee. Settle, sort your head out before you make the call.”

“They got to her,” Rocky hissed while she tugged on her panties under her big nightshirt. Then her head flew back and her blue eyes pierced him. “We waited too long.”

“We don’t know that,” Layne replied and Rocky glared at him so he went on. “Settle, Roc, you need your shit together to make this call.”

“We waited too long,” she repeated, her face so filled with worry it was twisted.

“Raquel, settle,” Layne ordered low.

She stared at him. Then she walked to him, around him and back into the bathroom. He went to stand in the doorway and he watched her preparing her toothbrush.

“What do I say?” she asked then shoved the toothbrush in her mouth.

“In this scenario, you’re not Ms. Merrick, high school Lit teacher. You’re Rocky, Tripp’s Dad’s girlfriend, Tripp’s your boy and your boy likes their girl, their girl likes your boy. You’re equals. You’re makin’ a special dinner for a special occasion, it’s a surprise and you want Giselle there.”

She pulled the brush from her mouth and through the foam demanded to know, “What special occasion?”

“Doesn’t matter. Make it up. Anniversary. Birthday. They don’t know and won’t care. Then you lead the conversation another way, is Giselle okay? She was actin’ funny at school yesterday. You didn’t see her at the game last night. She and Tripp are tight, you and her are tight, but you’ve noticed a difference.”