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Gavin gaped at her for a moment and then lowered his voice. “I think it’s time to leave now. Go wait for me in the car, Lin.” He stood—as if that was the final word on the subject.
Fuming mad, Linda stormed from the diner, making a scene of glaring at the slutty little woman as she exited the building—something very uncharacteristic for Linda. The bells clanged loudly over the door as she shoved it open and stomped to the car. Flinging her purse into the rear seat through the open window, she flopped unceremoniously into the passenger front and slammed the door, trying her damndest to break it as she screamed low in frustration. The guttural sound strained her throat, making it instantly scratchy as if she’d just regurgitated a thousand tiny shards of glass.
Waiting for Gavin, she counted the minutes. It should have taken only a minute or two for him to pay, tip, be on his way outside. Three minutes later, he was still inside and she couldn’t see through the windows of the place to see where he was exactly. Another minute dragged by and Linda’s mind reeled.
He’s in there planning his next night with her, she thought. Or she’s a straight up hooker and he’s scheduling his next appointment with her.
With fury in her blood, she stepped out of the car and headed back inside the diner. She wanted to see it with her own eyes—whatever he was doing was not good and she needed the concrete proof.
Stepping in much more graciously and quietly than she’d exited, Linda was stunned by what she saw and what she heard.
Gavin had certainly ended up at the woman’s table. He was standing over the big guy and Gavin’s body language was threatening. The conversation ramped up as the door swung slowly shut behind Linda. The woman at the table spoke up and Linda’s blood iced. The bitch knew him well enough to know his name—and in Linda’s mind, that was far too well.
“Gavin, please, just leave. We’ll talk about this later at the house. Don’t make a scene. You were with another woman, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
“I won’t have you out screwing around like a cheap slut, Tara! That’s that and that is final. You’re mine.” He reached for Tara’s arm and the big guy grabbed Gavin’s wrist.
“Hey! You don’t fucking touch her, mister. She’s actually with me now and the best thing you can do is strut your shit outta here before you get hurt.” The
big guy remained seated.
Gavin wrested his forearm from the guy’s grasp and drew back to punch him. As Gavin’s hand descended, the big guy shot up from his seat and towered over Gavin. Gavin’s punch landed a glancing blow just south of his big, square jaw. The rest was a fast-forward scuffle of feet, grunts, chairs falling over and the sound of the woman screaming at Gavin to stop.
Still in shock over what she’d heard, Linda backed out of the diner and numbly walked to the car. She didn’t have the keys or she would’ve left him there and drove off. Instead, she got her purse, didn’t bother shutting the back door afterward, and set off walking toward town. It wouldn’t be far; she could be there in about half an hour.
Two cop cars, sirens blaring, lights warbling in a seizure-inducing dance, roared by her. Linda turned to watch their progress. The diner was still in sight and sure enough, that’s where they pulled in; dust flew up in great whorls as the brakes screamed through the gravel lot.
Shaking her head, Linda turned away and kept walking toward town. Twenty minutes left, at least.
How could she have been so stupid for all these years? How had she not seen what he’d been doing? She thought only and idiot or a woman who truly didn’t care would have been able to miss an affair—especially one that had gone on long enough for Gavin to be telling the woman that she belonged to him.
In the little town—really just a wide spot in the road—Linda opened the door to the convenience store and walked inside. The interior was artificially bright and she cringed.
“Excuse me, sir?” She walked to the pay counter.
The gnarly looking white-haired man sitting on a stool near the register looked up. “Yuh? What you need?”
“Do you have taxi service around here close?”
The man chuckled. “Nope. Not that I ever heard of anyway.”
“Hotels, motels, inns? Anywhere that rents rooms?” She had some cash and her bank card. There was no way she was going with Gavin anywhere.
“Yuh. Keep walking that way for about another thousand feet or so and look up on a little hill on your right. Margie lets rooms for cheap there. It’s the Bluebird Motel.” He laced his fingers together and slumped on his stool again, disinterested in everything.
“Thanks.” She left. A room and an overnight stay would be fine by her.
As she started walking up the little gravel road to the Bluebird Motel, the two police cars passed her going in the opposite direction. Gavin was in the first one and the couple graced the backseat of the other.
“Ha! Going back to jail for the second time in two days! Good job, Gavin!” She realized she was screaming at the retreating cop cars and clamped her mouth shut, hoping Margie hadn’t heard.
Chapter 8
(Linda)
Three days after the incident in the diner, Linda finished packing her things and hauling away the last load with the help of Joan and one of the cooks who had a truck. She was grateful that Joan was letting her stay in her finished basement for a while—it would give her a chance to move on, find somewhere to start fresh. The incident with Gavin and the couple had really opened Linda’s eyes. Though painful, she supposed it was very necessary and a good thing that at least she found out what was going on with Gavin.
The teary phase ebbed quickly as Joan made sure to keep her busy and occupied.
