Brett took a deep breath, “Perhaps, I’m not easily scared. I mean, I do believe in ghosts, so I guess, you being a…whatever, isn’t that crazy.”
Layla pulled her legs from his lap and stood up. “You have problems.” She walked over to the kitchen to place her coffee on the countertop.
He followed her, “Yeah, but I do like the challenge you bring.” He kissed her neck as she swatted at him playfully. “But seriously, what are you doing today? No work?”
She shook her head. “After yesterday? Hell no! I called in sick.” She shrugged. “And since I’m probably going to be the talk of the school for the next few days, I figure my boss will hear it and understand.”
“So, you wanna hang out then?”
“Can’t. Have to run some errands and then visit my aunt.” She smiled apologetically. “I will call you when I get back, I promise.” She kissed him before she walked him to the door.
Three hours later, Layla sat in the office of Dr. Vazquez, her childhood psychiatrist. He was finishing up with another patient, a small framed teenager with limp dark hair and eyes too big for her face. The girl lowered her eyes as she passed and Layla empathized with her. Dr. Vazquez was a big guy; part Italian and part Hispanic but he always reminded her of what a grandpa should look like. Perhaps that’s why he’d been the only one she could talk to. He opened his door and smiled broadly as he motioned her to come in. He indicated a comfortable chair in front of his desk as he moved his to his seat.
“Layla, it’s good to see you. How are things?” He asked.
Layla gave him a warm smile. “Things are actually good. I’m still in college, but this is my last year and I will finally have my Bachelor’s degree. In psychology.” She looked up at him and laughed.
He waved a hand at her, “Hey, I say do it, go all the way, perhaps in a few years, you might be a colleague of mine.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “So what brings you here today?”
Layla pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve been having the nightmares again.”
Dr. Vazquez frowned slightly.
“They’re not as frightening as they were years ago,” she explained quickly, “but I wanted to know if you could tell me anything about what we used to talk about. I don’t remember any more. I just want closure, you know.”
Dr. Vazquez nodded. “I understand. But I’m not sure how much of a help I can be. We never really went into details about the dreams because they were too frightening, so we took bits and pieces of the dreams to talk about and analyze.” He stood up and walked over to a closet in the corner of the room. He found a filing cabinet and after a few minutes, pulled a file. “You did do a lot of drawings, though.” He sat down and opened the file, passing a sheet of paper towards her. “Mostly of animals, wolves in particular.”
Layla took the drawing and looked at her childhood scribbling. It showed a huge, animal in yellow, its mouth covered in red crayon. Probably the blonde, she thought. “Wow,” Her eyes widened at she looked at the scene she had drawn. It was chaos. There were scratches everywhere in red, images her ten year old brain could not comprehend and struggled to reproduce. There were brown splotches covered in red all over the floor and where she cowered in a corner. She took a second paper handed to her and compared it to the first. This one showed a wolf howling at the moon, and it looked familiar somehow. She realized then that the dreams she’d been having recently had stopped. But she’d been having them far longer than she’d remembered. She’d been having them since she was ten.
Dr. Vazquez was kind enough to let Layla sit in his conference room while he dealt with his other patients and she perused the drawings. She knew some psychiatrists allowed child patients to express themselves through art and Layla’s art spoke volumes. At the end of her counseling sessions with Dr. Vazquez, she was diagnosed as being depressed, having separation anxiety and post-traumatic stress. Medication helped.
Layla left Dr. Vazquez’s office with more questions than answers and an hour later pulled up in front of her aunt’s small house in West Tampa. It was an old neighborhood and like everything here, it was falling apart. She felt guilty. Her aunt Susan had taken her in after her mom had died and had dealt with her nightmares and other issues. But it always felt forced, as if she were doing it for the money or out of duty. Not love. A few months after Layla had moved in, her aunt’s own children had died in a freak car accident. She was never the same after that. Their relationship started drifting apart. But as uncomfortable as Layla felt being here, she had questions she knew only her aunt could answer.
She rang the doorbell, relieved and disappointed when her aunt opened the door. Layla looked at the small blonde, her hair graying at the edges, with eyes so much like her mother’s.
Susan opened the door wider. “Layla.”
Layla nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Aunt Susan.” She felt awkward, standing on the front porch of the house she used to live in.
“Um…I was wondering if I could talk to you if you had a minute.”
Susan looked thoughtful, then nodded, leaving the door open as she walked back into the house.
Layla followed. She looked around at the décor that had not changed in the eight years she had not been here. Same curtains, same couch, same musty smell that seemed to permeate old houses. She sat down on a barstool in the kitchen as her aunt made a cup of coffee.
“You’re lucky,” Aunt Susan said. “I got off work early today.” She stirred the cup and sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. “I knew one day you’d be back.” She looked at Layla. “You don’t look pregnant, and you don’t look like you’re on drugs, so either you’re dying or you want to talk about your mother.”
Layla smiled stiffly. Aunt Susan was always good at reading people. “I did want to talk about mom.”
Aunt Susan stared out the window. “Well, what do you want to know?”
Layla walked over to the kitchen table and sat across from her aunt. “What was she like? I don’t even remember anymore.”
Layla watched as her aunt looked at the picture of Layla’s mom, half hidden by dusty plants on the mantle. “Well, Sarah was Sarah. She was sweet, she liked people,” Aunt Susan smiled in memory. “She was a good person and everyone liked her.”
“How did she and my dad meet?”
Layla watched her aunt’s lips tighten. “We never really knew. One minute, she’s preparing to go off to college, the next, she’s traipsing around with some Mexican.”
“My dad was Mexican?” She asked, surprised.
Aunt Susan sighed. “No, he was Native American or something. I think most of his family lived in Alaska. Don’t know how he got to Florida, but…” She trailed off. “Layla, I know you probably want to know where your father is, but the truth is, after that summer, we never saw him again, not even Sarah.” She looked at Layla sorrowfully. “I don’t think he even knew about you. Micah wasn’t a bad guy, he just wasn’t right for Sarah.”
Layla’s breathed hitched. “Wh-what was his name?”
“His name was Micah. We never knew his last name, so we couldn’t find him. I don’t think Sarah ever looked.” Susan took a sip of her coffee. “When you were born, it was so hectic. It was New Year’s Eve, the hospitals were crowded and shorthanded, and then you were born so premature, the doctors weren’t sure you would live.”
Layla nodded. Somehow, she hadn’t thought her aunt would be this forthcoming with information. It was almost refreshing.
“I never wanted you to leave, you know,” Aunt Susan said suddenly. “But we fought so much and when I got home that day, you were gone.” Her eyes welled up, “It was like losing Sarah all over again. It was like losing my kids all over again.”
Layla reached over to the woman who had been her surrogate mother for eight years and touched her shoulder gently. The woman who had to weather not only the death of her sister, but the death of her own children in a car accident and the raising of a niece who wanted nothing to do with her.
; “I never really wanted to leave either, but I had something to prove.” She patted her aunt’s shoulder, watching the older woman wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll visit sometime,” she promised, “I’ll come by and visit.” Layla knew that they probably would never be close, but they were talking and that was a start. As she drove away, Layla realized something else; she had her father’s first name and the possible location of his family: Alaska.
*
Chapter 4
Layla walked into the office at exactly nine am. She was relieved, certain she was going to be late. She pulled on her jacket and headed to her desk, raising her hand in greeting as she saw Shawna. Shawna’s eyes widened and she shook her head subtly as Layla passed. Layla stopped and looked at Shawna, puzzled, when Shawna quickly jerked her head towards Cantrell’s door. She saw Shawna nod gravely at her crestfallen look.
Layla tried to tiptoe her way to her desk, when the door cracked open and Cantrell looked at her.
“Ms. Donovan? A moment, please?”
Layla smiled, “Sure, Mrs. Cantrell,” she said brightly. She grasped her purse firmly onto her shoulders and as if using it as an anchor, slowly walked to her boss’s office. She pushed open the door Mrs. Cantrell had left ajar.
Cantrell sat behind a huge wooden desk, far too large for the size of her office. She regarded Layla over the tops of her bifocals and indicated the seat in front of her. Layla swallowed. Shit. She didn’t know what she’d done or not done, but she was in some serious problems.
“Ms. Donovan, are you happy working here?” Mrs. Cantrell asked suddenly.
Layla’s mouth dropped in surprise. “Yes! I love working here.”
Cantrell nodded, apparently pleased. “Good, that’s very good.” She leaned forward and Layla leaned forward as well. “We enjoy having you here, Ms. Donovan, but the time has come for us to discuss a few things.”
She opened a file Layla could only assume was hers and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I just received this from the Dean. Apparently, you have dropped one of your classes. You do realize that it makes you ineligible to work in this office?”
“Are you serious?” Layla stared at her.
“Quite.” Cantrell cleared her throat. “You are only allowed to work in this office as a full time employee if you are enrolled as a full time student; I do believe that was stipulated in your work study grant. If you are not a full time student, you do not qualify for work study and hence, you no longer work here.”
The air felt heavy in the room and Layla could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She was starting to lose control, and she could feel the animalistic yearnings of her body. Calm, she thought, think calm thoughts, think calm thoughts. She swallowed as Cantrell continued.
“We will give you the rest of today and tomorrow to straighten this matter out and then we will have to see about your continued employment here.”
Layla nodded her understanding.
“Another thing Ms. Donovan,” Cantrell straightened the file in her hands. “We have a strict no tolerance rule for drugs in this department.” She pursed her lips. “We heard about your little…incident the other night. Please understand that we regard this office and those who work in this office with having the highest form of professionalism. Do not let it happen again.”
“Um, Mrs. Cantrell, I don’t do any drugs, none whatsoever.”
Layla bit her bottom lip as Cantrell looked at her and coolly raised an eyebrow.
“You are dismissed; please take this time to prioritize your life. Have a good day, Ms. Donovan.”
Layla walked out of the office in a daze. What the hell was going on? First, she was accused by her professor of doing something she wasn’t, then, she turned into a freaking werewolf and now, her boss was accusing her of doing drugs. Shawna waved at her as she walked and Layla stopped.
“What happened?” She asked, noticing the look on Layla’s face.
“She gave me today and tomorrow off to straighten out my financial aid stuff.”
“Oh good, cause I heard that you were being fired and I was starting to freak out!”
Layla smiled at her friend, “Nah, I’ll be here on Monday, just to bother you.” She saw Cantrell peeking out her office and pretended to adjust the strap on her purse. “I’ll see you later girl,” she whispered as Shawna slinked back to the front desk. Layla walked out the door and back into the Florida sun. She walked the short distance back to her apartment building and knocked on Brett’s door hoping he was home. When he opened it, Layla walked into his arms, pressing her body to his.
“Hey,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Good to see you too.”
Layla smiled into his bare chest as her arms wrapped around his lean waist. “I am having such a shitty day!”
Brett pulled back and looked at her, “You do know it’s only like nine-thirty or so, right? You cannot be having that bad of a day this early.”
Layla glared at him. “Oh, trust me, I can.” She unraveled herself from him and walked to his couch. This was actually the first time she’d seen his apartment, not for the lack of him trying, but she’d somehow never ended up here. She sat down and pulled her legs underneath her as she stretched an arm along the back of the couch and laid her head down. “I just got fired.”
“No shit!” Brett breathed out. “Damn, that sucks.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Layla said a bit sarcastically.
Brett sat on the couch next to her. “Hey, don’t take it out on me. You know I’m here for you.” He picked her up easily and moved her to his lap. “Come on, Layla, are you sure she fired you?”
Layla raised her head from where it had fallen on Brett’s chest. “Let’s see, she told me I couldn’t get my job back until I was enrolled in college again full time,” She gave him a wan smile. “That’s why I freaked out the other night; because my asshole professor accused me of doing something I didn’t do and dropped me from the course.” She sighed, “So my job is depending on me getting back into that class with the professor who told me that there was no chance in hell that was going to happen.” She flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching out full length, only her butt still in Brett’s lap.
He raised an eyebrow and lifted her midsection, dropped a kiss on her flat stomach that had her giggling and rolled next to her.
She turned to him, face to face and smiled.
Brett groaned, “Don’t do that to me.”
“Don’t do what?” She asked innocently as she smiled wider, her hand inching down between their bodies.
“Layla, don’t be a tease.”
Layla leaned forward and touched her lips to his. “You’re only a tease if you don’t follow through. I have every intention of following through.”
Brett enveloped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. “You’re still a tease.”
She giggled again as he rolled on top of her and wiggled to get more comfortable as he settled between her thighs, the cotton of his pajama bottoms rubbing against her jeans. “Shut up.”
When Layla awoke, Brett was up and dressed. “Hey, I was just about to wake you,” he said as he sat next to her on the bed.
“Where are you going?” She asked sleepily.
“Unlike you, Sleeping Beauty, some of us have to work.” He laughed as Layla groaned. “Sorry for reminding you, but duty calls.” He leaned over and kissed her. “If you want to, you can stay here,” he offered, then grinned. “It would be kinda cool coming home to you in my bed.”
Layla raised an eyebrow. Though they had never discussed it, she wondered if this meant they were dating. She wanted to ask but kept her mouth shut from fear of rejection. Still, she needed him to understand that she didn’t sleep around and if she was sleeping with him it was an exclusive thing. She chewed her bottom lip and Brett sighed.
“Alright, Layla, spit it out.”
“What?”
“You have that look like you want to say something. What is it baby?”
&nb
sp; She looked up at him. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t do this.”
He pulled back. “This?”
Layla waved a hand at the room. “You know…this. Sleeping in some guy’s bed, you know.”
“I’m some guy now?” Brett pretended to be hurt. “Wow, baby, that really hurt my feelings.”
She looked at him, irritation marring her face. “You know what I mean.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her again. “I do know what you mean. Layla Donovan, I do not think you are easy or a tramp or any other word except my baby.” He winked at her. “If you want to be.”
Layla wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think I could handle that,” she smiled.
“Good,” Brett said, playfully spanking her bottom. “I want dinner ready when I get home.”
“Jerk!” Layla yelled as she threw a pillow across the room and Brett ducked it, laughing. He poked his head back into the bedroom, “Hey, the key is on the countertop if you need to leave for a while. Um, it’s yours, if you want it.” He left before Layla could say anything in response.
Layla flopped back onto the bed. She couldn't believe a guy like Brett, who seemed so perfect, could be that much into her. He was still young, but at the moment, she really didn’t care. She looked around his bedroom noticing the masculine decor and smiled approvingly. He certainly had good taste, she thought. She closed her eyes and savored the smell of him permeating from every pore of her skin and from every thread in the bedroom. She didn't know if she could ever get used to the smell of him, the spicy musk that was essentially Brett. It was enough to make her heart speed up. If she had known better she would think that she was, she gulped, falling in love. Almost.
Her cell phone rang and Layla reach for it, not recognizing the number on display. "Hello?"
"Layla?" The voice on the other end was gruff.
"Yeah, who is this?" She asked puzzled.
"This is Martin. We need to begin your training as soon as possible."
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