by Kar, Alla
My name is screamed across the arena. A load roar of fans screaming and the rattling of our cage. Taking a deep breath, I walk out into the shark tank. I bounce on my toes, jabbing at the air. It’s hot in here with all of the bodies packed together, but if this goes right, we won’t be in here too long.
The portable cage is opened, and I run into the middle, thrusting my arm in the air. My eyes are racking over the crowd, looking for Layla. The V.I.P section, which in this case, is a few chairs right next to the cage, holds everyone but Layla. I try to make contact with Brett, but he is screaming along with the rest of the people.
My stomach is aching. Where is she?
Before I can get out of the cage, my opponent is running into the cage. He is big. I’ve seen him around campus a few times. He wrestles on the team on campus. He is good, but bigger and slower than me. “Greg Terminator Young!”
He runs around his side, fist pumping and flexing. I’m too worried about Layla to give a damn. She must have went outside. But why?
My fingers are interlocked in the chains of the fence. Everyone is smiling, waving and screaming my name. It’s all a blur. I. Can’t. Find. Her.
“Taylor!”
I jerk back from the loudness of my name. Jason is standing in the middle of the ring, a frown riding on his lips. My opponent is standing next to him, hand outstretched. Shit. I all but run to them and shake his hand. “Now, we’re going to fight clean,” Jason says. I want him to stop talking so we can fight.
After a few minutes of his rambling he yells, “fight,” then hightails it out of the ring. My heart is racing, but I charge toward Greg sending a hard right hook against his jaw. He stumbles, but manages to send a few fists my way. I duck out of the way, sending a high kick to his jaw. The crowd is screaming, the roar blocking my head from any kind of rational thought. My eyes betray me and glance around the room once again, looking for her, searching for her.
Greg is stumbling to his feet. He grabs my foot, slamming me down to the ground. This is not where I want to be. I wrap my legs around his neck, squeezing until I see stars. I feel him tap out a few minutes later. The lights turn on, and I’m temporarily blinded. I feel Jason grab my wrist and place the award money in my hand. I don’t give a shit about the money. I need to find Layla. “The winner is Taylor BadAss Jacks!”
Before Jason can whisper an insult into my ear, I break free from his grasp and jump into the crowd. A few girls are clawing at me, pushing their tits toward me. I have tunnel vision. When I get through the crowd of people, I make it to the front of the abandoned building. It’s a ghost town, only a few people have made it out here yet.
The air is muggy on my already sweaty skin. My cell phone is at my apartment, so I have no way of calling her. Scratching my hands through my hair, I pace toward the alley next to the building. It’s too dark at first to see, but when my eyes have adjusted I notice two people at the end of the alley.
“No!” I hear a scream. I’d know it anywhere.
My feet carry me toward them so fast, I can’t believe it’s actually me. “Let her go,” I say, my voice growing louder.
Damon jerks toward me, his eyes wide, his palms face out and outstretched. “Taylor, I need you to hear me out, please--,”
I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence, I pull back and hit him in the nose so hard I hear it crunch from the impact. Layla is pressed against the brick wall, eyes huge, her body shaking against the brick. “Taylor,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry—“
Pressing my hand against her face, I take in a deep breathe. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head, slightly. Her lips are shaking, and I want to kill him for making her so scared.
Damon is up from the ground now, blood covering his white T-shirt. Blood is pouring down his nose and into his mouth. “Taylor—this isn’t what it looks like. I need you to listen to me, please –,”
Grabbing his T-shirt, I push him against the wall furthest from Layla. “I want you to disappear. I want you to leave, never come back. I had a bad feeling about you, I should have listened to it. Now, leave. Right this minute, or I’ll call the cops.”
Damon looks like he wants to say something, but decides not to. Blood oozes out of his nose, he gives Layla a look I don’t understand and disappears behind the building.
Layla’s arms are around me before I can turn completely. Tears, snot and sobs break through her, as she clings to my chest. “I’m so sorry – I had come outside to get my phone, and he was here. He said he isn’t bad. He is here to help.”
Of course. A likely excuse. Pushing her hair behind her ear, I take her chin in my hands. “It’s okay. Let’s go get our bags, we’re out of here in an hour.”
***
After Cindy and Brett tell us goodbye, we grab our bags, lock up and head toward my mother’s house. It’s a long, quiet ride to my house. I don’t dare speak, because what do I say in a situation like this? Layla hasn’t let go of my hand since we got into my truck. I can’t blame her. What person did she kill in a past life to deserve this? Because, I haven’t seen this girl do anything that made her deserve to be tracked down and killed. Sure, she hustled a few people, but I hardly think that declares her America’s Most Wanted.
Layla’s head hits the side of her seat, making her wake up. Her lips are swollen, her eyes sleepy. “Are we there yet?” she mumbles.
“Not yet, go back to sleep, we have about twenty minutes.”
Layla stretches and shakes her hair. “What are we going to tell your mom? I mean, don’t get me wrong but I don’t want her knowing I have someone – well more than one person after me.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pull her close to me. “Let me take care of it. I promise I won’t tell her.”
We’re getting close to my house, and I feel Layla’s grip tighten on my own. As soon as we pull into the driveway, the porch light flips on. I know Mom is probably knocked out, so I’m not surprised when Amy comes running out. Just as soon as she is near us, she comes to a complete stop. Her brows furry, and a sneer appears on her face. “Oh,” she says.
I sigh. She has got to stop with this shit. She hasn’t been the same since Dad was put into prison. For some reason Dad never touched her or Trent. It was only Mom and me. Adjusting the strap on Layla’s backpack, I throw it over my shoulder. “Is Mom asleep?”
Amy nods. “Double shift. She is working another one tomorrow.”
Damn it. She works her ass off and barley pays the bills. She never takes my money, and I know she is late on some of her bills. My box of cash is packed into my bag and with the money from last night’s fight, I know I can help her get caught up. And she is going to accept the help this time.
Layla clears her throat beside me, bringing me back to reality. She looks tired, bags underneath her eyes and hair in a messy bun. I gesture for her to follow me.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Amy?”
Amy plops down on the couch and waits for Layla to go into my room. “What is it? Why are you guys back again in the middle of the week?”
Sitting down on the coffee table in front of her, I intertwine my fingers. “Look, we’ve got some stuff going on, and we need to stay here. I need you to stop giving Layla such a hard time. She has gone through more than you can even imagine.”
Amy snorts. “Sure. She looks like she’s had a terrible life.”
“Stop it. She has, and I won’t take you being a little bitch to her, Amy. Grow up, you’re thirteen. I love you, and I always will, but you’ve got to knock it off.”
Amy’s eyes start to water but she nods. “What is she, pregnant?”
I scoff. “No. It’s nothing like that. Just go back to bed. We’re going to get some sleep, and everything will be fine tomorrow.”
“Taylor. I really love you, you know. That’s why I’m so hard on Layla. You’ve never brought anyone home before, and it scares me. Are you going to get married and leave?”
Taking her face
in my palm, I shake my head. “There is no way I’d ever move away from you guys. I love you too much.”
A smirk rises on Amy’s lips. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. But it’ll do for now. “Okay, goodnight.” I let out a huge breathe when Amy disappears around the corner.
Layla is underneath the covers, eyes closed when I walk into my old room. She must be exhausted. I tear off my clothes, happy I took a shower at my apartment and crawl in bed beside her. She shifts and wraps an arm around me.
“So, I’m guessing Amy still thinks I’m horrible.”
I laugh. “Amy is going to be better, promise. She will love you before all of this is over.”
Layla yawns. “When will it be over? I feel like he is going to keep coming for us. Since Damon is in on it, he knows your mother lives here. What if they -,”
I tap my finger against her soft lips. “He won’t. And…if he does. I’ll kill him. I promise.”
Chapter Eleven
Layla
“When are you coming back?”
I wish I knew the answer to this question. The truth is I’m not sure when it will be safe to come back. I put my toothbrush back into my bag and lean against the bathroom wall. I’ve been here for a week, and there hasn’t been any sign of Damon or scorpion guy. I’ve been determined to find a relation between this guy and Damon, but obviously I have nothing to go on.
“I have no idea, Cindy. We have nothing to go on. I’m not even sure what our next step is going to be. We can’t run forever. We have no evidence, and Detective Vice doesn’t even want to help.”
Cindy is quiet on the other end, but I can hear the noise from the lunchroom in the background. “I miss you. I want to go back to our apartment. Don’t get me wrong, I like Brett but I’m not ready to live with him. I want you to come back here, so we can sit in the living room and watch Glee. I want to eat ice cream and compare sex stories.”
I let out a soft laugh and lean my head against the door. “I miss you, too. I’ll be home soon. We’ll get this figured out, we have to. Just…stay safe.”
Cindy exhales. “I’ll see you soon.”
She hangs up before I have a chance to respond. I can’t blame her for wanting to live in her own apartment. She didn’t do anything to deserve this. This isn’t her fault. It’s mine.
Thud. Thud. Thud. “Hey, you about done?” Trent yells from the other side of the door.
Scurrying up, I grab my bag and reach for the knob. “Um – yeah, coming out now.”
Trent is leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom. His gray eyes look identical to Taylor’s. A dangerous smile crawls up his face, and he winks at me. “Good morning, beauty. Hope you slept well.”
I hold back my laugh and step to the side. “I slept fine, Trent. Thank you.”
He smiles, puckers his lips and shuts the bathroom door. If I was sixteen and not dating Taylor, I would be all over that boy.
I drop my bag in Taylor’s room and walk into the kitchen. Taylor’s Mom is standing in front of the freezer, her fingers gripping her chin. “Good morning,” I say, sliding onto the bar stool.
She glances over at me and smiles. “Good morning. Just trying to figure out what I’m going to fix these kids for lunch. I hate Saturdays, because I’m never here to make sure they eat. Trent is going to eat no matter what, but Amy, she’ll text all day long. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”
Mandy frowns and runs her hands over her pony tail. Her pink scrubs are worn and faded. I can see the familiar black circles underneath he eyes, and I know it’s from working double shifts.
“How about I cook lunch and dinner today?” I stand up and look inside the fridge. I see chicken strips and hamburger meat. “I can fix them chicken strips and macaroni for lunch, and I’ll cook some tacos for dinner. Sound good?”
When Mandy doesn’t answer I glance back at her over my shoulder. She is staring at me, big tears in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” I ask.
She wipes her cheeks and opens her arms for a hug. I step into her arms, and my memory takes me back to my mother’s grip. You’ll make a great wife someday, she use to say. You’ll make some man very happy.
“I am just really glad that Taylor met you. He found the one for him.” She kisses my cheek then thanks me for cooking. I lean against the counter, listening to her tell Trent and Amy goodbye. She is such a great mother. My stomach twist with anger, and I wrap my arms around myself to stop the pain. Why couldn’t my mother have made it? She had nothing to do with Dad’s hustling.
Pulling the chicken strips out of the package, I set them aside and get the grease ready. Forty minutes later, I’m calling Trent and Amy in for lunch. Taylor is still out on his run, so I save him plate. Trent is sitting at the table two seconds later. He has his fork in hand and is drooling over the food.
“Mom doesn’t get to cook for us very much anymore. She is always at work. Damn, this smells good.”
“Language,” I say, before handing him a plate.
Trent reaches around and starts to pile his plate full of food. “Where is Amy?” I ask after a few minutes.
He shrugs. “Probably in her room. She doesn’t eat much.”
Biting my lip, I get up and walk toward her room. I can hear the sound of music from the other side. I tap on the door a few times, but open the door after a few minutes of no response. She is sitting on her bed, magazine opened and listening to music. “Can’t you knock?” she screeches out.
Her attitude was bearable at first, but now it’s starting to wear on my nerves. I get that she is a disturbed, hormone-raged teenage girl, but that doesn’t give her the right to talk to me like trash. “I did. You didn’t answer. Lunch is ready, come eat.”
Despite the radio blasting, she plugs her headphones into her ears. “Not hungry.”
Biting my tongue hasn’t always been one of the easiest things in the world for me. So, I walk toward her, snatch the headphones from her ears and toss them on the floor. “What the hell?”
“Get up,” I say. “Get your ass in there and eat. Then, we’re going to get some ice cream, just you and me.”
***
I’m pretty sure Amy hates me. But, what is one more person to add to the list? After a very uncomfortable lunch we’re now eating ice cream at a store downtown. She is nibbling on her ice cream, checking her phone every five minutes. I’m starting to think this isn’t the best idea.
“So, how is school?”
Amy glances up at me from underneath her long eyelashes. “Do you really care?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. School’s fine.”
Placing my spoon down, I pull her ice cream away from her. “Listen, I know I’m dating your oldest brother and for some unknown reason that’s devastating to you but you need to get over it. I love Taylor, I truly do. I want us to get along.”
“It’s not you – I just love him. I know he deserves so much. He was always the father figure I didn’t have. Dad got sent to jail when I was younger. I didn’t know everything about him. I knew he and my mom fought a lot. I never understood why Taylor hated him so much. Then I saw him hit Taylor. It was the worst day of my life. He took it, took it for my mom. I just want him to be happy, to be with the person he loves. He deserves it.”
My heart just melted into a puddle. Reaching across the table, I take Amy’s hand in mine. “I will never do wrong by your brother. I love him, and I always will.”
She doesn’t snatch her hand away, which is a start. A small smile rises from the corner of her lip, and she shrugs. “Okay.”
Really? Is that all it took? “Okay, let’s get back home. I have to start on dinner. Then we can rent some Redbox’s. That sound good?”
“Can we get Magic Mike?”
“Oh, yeah, we certainly can.”
We chat about movies, boy bands and music on the way home. She isn’t as bratty as I had her pegged for. She just doesn’t want to lose her brother, the only male role model she has had in
her life. We pull up to the house and Taylor is out in the yard throwing a football with Trent. I see his mouth fall open when Amy gets out of the passenger side.
I hide my smile. “You coming to watch this with me? I recorded the VMA’s. Wait until you see Miley twerking it. It’s priceless.”
I laugh. “Sure, I’ll be there in just a minute.”
I wait until Amy is behind the door before I glance at Taylor. He is staring at me, pierced eyebrow raised, a football in one hand and the other one stretched completely out to his right side. “What in the hell happened when I went for a jog?”
I shrug. “It seems I’m irresistible.”
Taylor laughs, wrapping one arm around my waist and whispers into my ear. “I’ll second that notion.” His takes my earlobe between his teeth and pulls.
Trent raises his hand. “Does my vote count?”
Taylor pushes his shoulder, and they start wrestling on the grass. I shake my head. “As amusing as this is, I’m going inside.”
Amy was right about the VMA’s. But priceless isn’t what I would call Miley’s performance. We watch a few videos on YouTube revolving around the VMA’s fashions for this year, then I head into the kitchen to cook. After I whip up some tacos, Amy and I watch Magic Mike. It never seems to get old. After I clean up, I heard into Taylor’s room.
Taylor is pulling on a T-shirt over his torso when I walk in. He turns around, and I’m still effected by that smile. It’s a panty dropper that’s for sure. “Get ready,” he says, slipping on his boots.
“Where are we going?”
He walks toward me, presses his lips on my forehead. “A surprise. Hurry before Mom gets home.”
Pulling a T-shirt from my bag, I slip it on with a pair of converses. I only packed “Mom appropriate” clothes, so I hope this is fine. My heart is beating wildly as Taylor grabs me and runs toward his Hummer. I hear Amy yelling at us from the front door but Taylor throws me in the Hummer and locks it.