Almost Home (NG2)

Validation

Year end was busy, so Rob found solace working later hours. He didn't want to go home to an empty house. Cayla was busy with Almost Heaven while they recorded their next album, the one with all the songs Nash wrote with Scarlett.

He hadn't heard from his friend, but knew he was working long hours. Cayla came home every night after midnight. He had questioned her about the time she was spending and she went into a long explanation about laying down individual tracks for each instrument and voice to isolate the sound.

"But why do you have to be there every minute?"

"Because they're my band. They're the biggest artists I have. You don't get it. It's not your world."

Because I've been blocked.

Too tired to work, he left on time on Friday night. He had met with his money lending client. Something about their offices always made him itch. They kept meticulous records, but the profits made him sick. Who were the people who saddled themselves to ridiculously high interest rates.

Thankfully, he had been saving for a ring or he would be forced to pay similar high rates to his credit card company. Because studio sessions didn't stop on weekends, he expected to be alone. He couldn't afford a quick trip home. Instead, he would go shopping for a ring. He thought of bringing help. Too bad Vivian didn't get out. Tillie was an option, but she had her kids. He was on his own.

Maybe he'd take his purchase to see Vivian. He had been avoiding her since Cayla confided in him and felt conflicted. Hurt ran deep inside Cayla, so deep she lacked compassion for a suffering woman. Beau had it. No matter how many scantily clad women, young enough to be his daughter, he had, he took care of his wife. Rob had seen moments of tenderness between the couple.

Cayla loved her job, but it consumed her. Maybe it was because she was the boss's daughter or she was trying to prove something to her daddy. Perhaps it was wrapped up with losing her brother and feeling blamed. If his mother knew about Cayla's screwed up family, she would recommend counseling. Beau Haywood would never agree. Vivian should have gone years ago. It was dysfunctional with a capital D.

The money lending offices weren't dirty, but when he took off his suit, he put it in the dry cleaning pile. He would have to stop at the dry cleaners in the morning. There were colorful pieces in the pile, along with his drab gray, navy and black. He washed the invisible gross off himself and dressed in comfortable shorts.

The laundry had piled up, and he went to work sorting it. Their dirty clothes were reassuring when he thought of jerks like the drummer hanging around Cayla or her father's influence. He and Cayla were a couple. They mixed their dirty underwear and had routines and slept in the same bed every night. They were each other's home. I sound like a line in one of Nash's songs.

The door slammed as he was loading the washer. Rob turned on the machine and entered their bedroom. He loved to watch her undress and felt risque because her back was to him and she didn't know he was behind her.

"Hi. Beautiful." She turned and frowned. "What's wrong?"

It was a loaded question because they had argued again that morning. It was stupid, but he was frustrated with her for putting dirty dishes in the unemptied dishwasher. Crap from her bowl of yogurt and coffee cup dripped all over the clean dishes. Maybe he overreacted, but it was frustrating.

"I'm sorry about this morning." He had rerun the dishes and emptied it right after he showered. "Are you okay?"

"Just a load of crap. I don't want to talk about it."

"You hungry?"

She shook her head. "Had a late lunch."

"Tired?"