Strays - Softcover

Geyer, Matthew

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1469746603 ISBN 13: 9781469746609

Verlag: iUniverse, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

Chase was between victories. So begins this tale of a husband who rides every edge, and the wife who's had enough of it. She leaves him the house she never wanted in Connecticut, and takes a flat on the Upper East Side. Can they be more, separate, than they ever were together? And how separate can they be, with a teenager between them? Barbara used to think walking out was the biggest move she'd ever make; now she knew it was the not going back. If she went back, she'd know what she was getting into, for she knew Chase like nobody did. And she knew the deal was there for the taking-knew it even if Chase did not. But did she want that deal? Was the alternative so scary? Years from now, would she look back on choosing the ambiguity of the unknown as the best move she ever made-or the worst?

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STRAYS

A NovelBy Matthew Geyer

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Matthew Geyer
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4697-4660-9

Chapter One

Half-Empty House

Chase was between victories. Just off a conference call with his trial team, he was about to tee off an hour-and-change behind schedule, with a new member he'd heard could play and a taciturn teenager in tow.

He wheeled his fifth BMW in as many years into the lot at the Ridgefield Country Club. He'd looked hard this time at the Mercedes, but still he thought it made him look older, and he found even less courage this time than last to make the change. Spotting a parking space next to the handicapped section, under an alder that shaded the sun without sapping his latest trophy, he pulled in.

While Thad wrestled his clubs out of the trunk, Chase paced nervously in his white linen shorts, the curve of his quads cradling the knees beneath the hem. The drape of his golf shirt set off the muscularity of his torso, a braided black belt girded the flat of his mid-section. Chase loved the feel of fine golf gear on a fit frame, and he lived in a world where he didn't have to apologize for that. He looked back at the trunk, jaw set and strong, hair cropped close to control the gray that infiltrated in his thirties and now threatened to take over the field.

"While we're young, buddy."

Thad stood his bag upright next to Chase, and said, "One of us, anyway." The boy's latest pleasure was towering over his father—by about an eyeball—at just over six feet and just under sixteen. He wore slouchy black-denim bad-boy shorts and one of his father's rattier polos—just enough to get by the dress-code mavens without looking like he was buying into any of it. His build was slight, like Chase's before football. His grunge-blond hair ranged round his ears, and swung forward as he ducked back into the trunk for his father's clubs.

While Chase fingered a head-cover his wife knitted for Thad, he spotted a plain white four-door inching its way into the lot. Strays in a rental car, he thought. What part of "Members Only" hadn't they understood when driving past the stone pilasters flanking the front gate? The car rolled to a stop and the window slid down, loosing a rush of air conditioning. "Excuse me," said a woman riding shotgun. "We're looking for the Ridgebury Golf Course."

A public course, Chase judged from the name. But he couldn't place it in the long list of courses within lost-tourist distance of where he stood. "Do you have an address?"

"Miller's Pond Road," said the driver from within. Chase bent low at the waist, and saw a middle-aged man in Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirt looking up from what seemed like Internet directions. "My son here has his clubs," the man nodded toward the back seat, "and wants to play a round. He called ahead and they're able to fit him in, but I've passed several courses now and can't seem to find that one."

The phone on Chase's belt vibrated, and he checked the number on the screen—a call he couldn't very well take just now, for a number of reasons. Instead he stood and looked out over the white sedan, mentally surveying the roads he'd need to steer these people through, to get them back on course for one he'd never played. He glanced into the back seat, where the son sat behind his mother. The boy seemed younger than Thad, but wore a collared shirt that looked every bit as borrowed. Thad might prefer him to one of the geezers the starter would assign as a fourth if they checked in with only a threesome.

"Can you play, big guy?" Chase said through the mother's open window.

The bill of the boy's cap dipped as he nodded. You had to like a kid who took up the game on his own, Chase thought, judging the man behind the wheel lost in the world he'd just driven into.

"Well we could use a fourth," Chase said, "and my son here is playing. Why don't you join us and round out the foursome?"

The boy turned to his father, who looked back at the boy and then to the mother, doming his eyebrows as if to say this seemed like a pretty good idea. The boy touched his mother's shoulder, and she laid a hand on his.

"Sure, I'm game," the boy said, turning to Chase. His father searched for the unlock button, and the trunk latch as the boy got out. Then he unhooked his seatbelt to reach for his wallet.

"It's on me," said Chase, spotting the move at inception and waving it off. "He's my guest." He glanced at the pearl gray face of his latest TAG Heuer. "Let's see, nine-fifteen. Why don't you plan to pick him up at, say, three o'clock—that ok?"

The parents agreed, with an enthusiasm that struck Chase as odd until he considered the difference in their circumstances. As the boys dug their golf shoes out of the side pockets of their bags, Chase gave the parents directions back to their rental on Candlewood Lake, using a map they fished out of the glove box.

"Thad is it?" the boy said, employing a common mispronunciation based on the spelling on the head cover. "I'm Pat."

"It's Tad," said Thad, for the thousandth time since his parents hung a name on him without asking and he'd taken it on himself to do something about it. "Hard T, silent h."

Chase was glad to hear Thad say this with grace and not ennui; maybe he was coming out of the funk that followed turning off the PlayStation. It had been months since they'd played a round of golf together, Chase in trial through the spring and most of the summer. Too long, too, since they rode together into the city on the way to Thad's prep school and Chase's midtown firm. Chase wondered whether he could change any of this now that the case was over, and whether Thad would care if he did.

As the sedan pulled away, the boys stood next to each other and three sets of clubs, hands in their pockets and backs to the BMW. The guest returned his parents' wave with a no-hands nod, the bill of his cap bobbing like a buoy on a summer swell. Chase liked the boy—something about him recalled less complicated times between himself and his son—and as he reached for his golf bag with one hand, he extended the other to introduce himself. "I'm Chase Pendleton."

"Pleased to meet you," said the boy, looking Chase in the eye. "I'm Patrick Mackey—call me Pat."

Chase liked the firm handshake and the eye contact, and tried to see Thad acting the same way when meeting someone like this. He slipped out of his driving loafers and into his golf shoes, then led the way toward the clubhouse stirring small talk as they crossed the blacktop.

In the caf, the waitress who called herself Lady Di—her black bob slicked back today, like a combat boot ready for inspection—had Chase's bottled water up, and two more in response to his three-finger signal, before he reached the counter.

"You're too good," he said, and took the pen she held for him to sign the chit.

"I guess you'll never know," she said, eyeing the boys at what she gauged was a safe distance. Chase frowned to let her know he saw it differently, and didn't appreciate such repartee around his son.

A glance in Thad's direction revealed he liked it even less. He'd caught the sly exchange, for he looked away in evident disgust. Chase had seen disagreement from his son before, disenchantment too; some early on, more with the teenage years, none of it unexpected. But disgust was something Chase hadn't counted on, and it felt in an instant like everything he had been hoping to avoid. Seeing his flaws reflected back to him in the eyes of his son felt infinitely worse than coming across...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: iUniverse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2012
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1469746603
• ISBN 13: 9781469746609
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 280
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: KreGa Onlinehandel GmbH; 4950000000000; info@krega-onlinehandel.de; ; Birkenweg 31; Brakel; 33034; Deutschland