Townes droned on, voicing concerns that Murray was still working through his recovery and shouldn’t be seeing anyone. He wanted Murray to go to some rehab in upstate New York. The change of scenery might do him good.
Tallulah then took the baton, concerned that Murray wasn’t recovering at all. She wanted forensic reconstruction of where he’d lost money, as well as control of the books. She wanted him to “take a break” from Lucy, who demonstrated her own “serious lack of judgment.” Tallulah wanted a lot more things. Murray wanted her to shut up.
Finally, there was a break in the tag team lecture, and Murray raised his hand.
“Do either of you give a damn about what I want?” Murray pointed a finger at Townes. “I want you to stay out of my business. You’ll go along with anything Tallulah says if you think it’ll get you into her pants. She’s not the one that got away, Townes, you never had her.”
He turned on Tallulah. “And you! Quit projecting your shit onto me because you lack coping skills. I’m sorry for what you went through in Black Mountain, but I do not have to forgo happiness because you’re a miserable old maid and don’t want to live alone with Mother and Father’s ghosts!”
Townes stepped in front of her, but it was too little too late. Tallulah’s lip quivered, and tears stood unshed in her eyes.
“You’re a dick, Murray. Get out of here before I kick your ass.” Murray had never seen Townes so pissed. Tallulah’s knowing gaze never wavered from her brother’s.
“Is that what Jesus would do, Rev?” Murray stormed out, flipping them both the bird as he left. He needed to find Lucy or a game, whichever he stumbled upon first.
Remembering what day it was, Murray drove across town the newer, sleek funeral home of his longtime rival, Rusty Wallace. “Black Wednesday” was not the highest stakes poker game in town, but it had the best bragging rights. Not only would he clean out every mortician he knew, he’d remind them he was Asheville’s golden boy.
Rusty answered the door and nearly dropped his cigar when he saw Murray on his stoop. “Look who’s here… Double Down Murray. How’s it hangin’, high roller?”
Rusty, called so because he had more freckles than brains, had always been a smarmy piece of shit. Nothing that wasn’t his idea was a good idea, and he’d never said a positive word in his life.
“Can you deal me in?” Murray asked, and everyone present murmured their agreement.
“So where’ve you been hiding yourself, Layhe? It’s been forever since you joined us.”
“I’ve been spending time with my girl.”
“Oh, yeah?” Paul Brown, the nicest of the lot of them tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“She’s a student, you wouldn’t know her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lucy Fagan.”
Rusty, who had just taken a drink, sprayed booze all over the cards. No one seemed to notice but Murray. Instead, they all gaped at him, open-mouthed.
“Loosey Lucy!” Rusty was red-faced and howling with laughter. No one else seemed amused. “Where’d you meet her? Let me guess. A funeral!”
“You know Lucy.” Murray felt a strange calm come over him as he made the statement of confirmation.
“Oh, we all know Lucy. She has been to all our funeral homes. A real groupie. Did she blow you in the hearse? Cause she blew Paul in the hearse.”
Murray found he suddenly didn’t like Paul as much. Paul held his hands up like Murray was holding a gun on him. “It was a long time ago, Murray. I had no idea she was serious! The wife was thirty feet away in the kitchen making grilled cheese, for Christ sake.”
“I fucked her in a coffin. The Executive model.” Rusty topped off his glass and held it out, as if to toast. “Turned around and sold it two days later. Didn’t tell ’em it was used.”
“I gotta go.” Murray pushed his chair back and walked on trembling legs toward the door.
“Tell Lucy we all said ‘hi’!” Rusty called after him. The sounds of his laughter followed Murray out into the twilight. His head throbbed, and he stumbled a bit. He gripped his head in both hands and pressed inward, as if trying to keep his brain from exploding.
The next thing he knew he was driving. When he saw the flames in his rearview, he squinted for a better look.
Don’t sweat it, Murray. I had your back.
Lucy felt a sense of dread as she pounded on the front door of Layhe and Sons. Tallulah had begged her to come. She said Murray was in trouble. Lucy had tried to press her for details, and when she couldn’t or wouldn’t give any, Lucy went to hang up.
“Lucy.” Townes was on the other end of the line then.
“What’s wrong with Murray, Townes? Did something happen to him?”
“Not that I know of, but we need to talk. This isn’t the kind of stuff you say over the phone.”
Lucy knocked again, louder this time. Townes appeared, opening the door for her.
“Tallulah caught a surprise client. She’s meeting them in the parlor. She said we should wait for her in the office.”
“Start talking, Townes. I’m not waiting for that woman to get an explanation.”
“I understand. Have a seat.”
Lucy sat behind the desk and Townes sat across from her. Her heart ached to look at him. He was the first man she’d ever thought she’d loved, and he’d destroyed her. She’d gone on one hell of a bender afterward, fucking anyone who’d look at her sideways. If she hadn’t been trying to win Townes back, she’d have never met Murray in the first place.
If a man of God couldn’t love her, no one could.
“Where do I
