Layers

by Sigal Ehrlich

  Layers

  by

  Sigal Ehrlich

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  LAYERS

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Copyright © 2013 Sigal Ehrlich. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Cover designed by Regina Wamba of www.MaeDesign.com

  Cover art:

  Copyright © Thinkstock photos Collection: iStock 167313076

  Copyright © Shutterstock 127283705

  Published by Telemachus Press, LLC

  http://www.telemachuspress.com

  Visit the author website:

  http://www.sigalehrlich.com

  ISBN: 978-1-939927-94-1 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-939927-95-8 (Paperback)

  Version 2013.10.10

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1: The Last Time

  Chapter 2: Crime and Punishment

  Chapter 3: Payback

  Chapter 4: Aftermath

  Chapter 5: Jekyll … And Hyde

  Chapter 6: Indecent Intentions

  Chapter 7: The Very Last Time

  Chapter 8: Mixed Messages

  Chapter 9: Repetitive Emotional Stress Injury

  Chapter 10: Blast Effect

  Chapter 11: YOU

  Chapter 12: A Night at the Ball

  Chapter 13: Rite of Passage

  Chapter 14: Second Time Around

  Chapter 15: Just Another Day at the Office

  Chapter 16: Knockout

  Chapter 17: Nooner

  Chapter 18: Wrong Deed

  Chapter 19: Workplace Romance and Fraternization

  Chapter 20: New Layer

  Chapter 21: Poor Chinese Life Philosophy and Then Some

  Chapter 22: Change of Location

  Chapter 23: TLC

  Chapter 24: At The Depths of A-1

  Chapter 25: Down in Mexico

  Chapter 26: Tidal

  Chapter 27: By the Fire

  Chapter 28: Cramps and Revelations

  Chapter 29: Hippie Commune

  Chapter 30: Back to Reality

  Chapter 31: From Zero to a Hundred in a Split Second

  Chapter 32: Catching Up

  Chapter 33: The Stark Truth

  Chapter 34: Nuclear Fallout

  Chapter 35: The Good Doctor

  Chapter 36: Like Sheep to the Slaughter

  Chapter 37: Prince Harming

  Chapter 38: Too Little, Too Late

  Chapter 39: Home Sweet Home

  Chapter 40: When It Rains It Pours

  Chapter 41: Daniel

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Writing Layers was an absolute remarkable journey. But, like everything in life it had its tough times, setbacks and a whole lot of doubts …

  Layers wouldn’t be what it is without the help and support of some truly extraordinary individuals that stood by me throughout this voyage.

  My Beta readers, I cannot thank you enough for your support, feedback and patience that cannot be measured.

  Sylvie, Tali, Merili, Evelyn, Hila, Liis, Kriistina, Sirle, Beth and Sima; a big, fat thank you all for falling in love with the story and D, together with me.

  Nicole Hornbaker, for being my gateway before stepping into the real world. I wouldn’t have the courage to turn Layers from a manuscript to an actual book without you.

  Cassandra Marshall, for being one of the most professional, honest people I’ve worked with. It is thanks to you that Layers eventually become what I’ve envisioned it to be.

  Regina Wamba, for taking my imagination and crafting it to a better reality.

  The team at Telemachus Press led by the wonderful MaryAnn Nocco, for being as good at your work.

  Shachar, for being an inspiration and such a gorgeous one … You absolutely ROCK.

  Hila, my soul mate, for believing in me more than I ever did. How much you mean to me can not be quantified!

  My three nutty, amazing kiddos, Tommy, Bar and my own private Daniel, you make my world better.

  My husband Gal, THANK YOU so much for supporting me like I never thought possible. I must have been a saint in my previous life to have gotten you. I. LOVE. YOU.

  And last, but certainly not least, to all those who read, reviewed and spread the word. Thank you so much!

  To Gal, for being you.

  To reach the core of inner beauty, one must first unravel the many protective layers.

  Layers

  Chapter 1: The Last Time

  My vision of the sea of people dancing around me to the deafening music is getting obscure; they all blend into one amorphous cluster.

  Please, could someone open a window? I can’t breathe. I need to breathe!

  I’m suffocating and these lights, these flickering lights, are blinding. Repeatedly blinking, I try to focus my sight. I brush back the long, blonde curl that cling to my forehead. Air, I need air!

  Pushing my way, I squeeze through the frenetic moving mass of bodies, bumping into sweaty body parts, not really caring. I need to get out of here.

  With my rear against the cold cement wall I bend down to rest my hands on my knees and inhale the first compulsory lungful of the night’s cool breeze. You’re fine now, Hales. Calm down. I straighten and my head feels dizzy from the haste of my movement. Or is it due to the vast amount of alcohol flowing in my bloodstream? Leaning my back against the wall, I take in the air again, filling my lungs to full capacity, and slowly, with a long, warm whistle-like breath, exhale, letting it gradually out.

  How much have I had to drink so far? I’m not even competent enough to do the math in my current state. How stupid was I to agree to Tasha’s juvenile challenge? “Who can consume more mojitos?” I shake my head, upset at my callow behavior. I’m okay now, everything’s fine.

  “Rough night?” The voice comes from my left, startling me. As I look for the source, my eyes fall upon a dangerously hot, tall, and dark guy with puffy biceps under a tight grey tee. He stands next to me on one leg, leaning back against the wall, bringing a burning cigarette to his flirtatious smirk as he takes his time sizing me up, ending on my somewhat glassy brown eyes.

  “You could say that.” I smile at him, checking him out head to toe just as he did me, and I end up liking what I see. Without any prior reasonable urge I giggle, not sure why or what about. My senses aren’t fully aligned with the present. It seems as though my mental clarity has temporarily faded, along with any sensibility I might have had before.

  The guy’s eyebrows flash up as he bites his lower lip, eyeing me, ready to attack
like I’m some easy prey. “Can I help make your night better?”

  Game on, hot stuff. “I am pretty positive you could,” I say, “but I’m not sure I want you to.” I flash a seductive grin at him, ending it with a slow motion of my tongue over my lips. Under his piercing stare, I push myself to stand. My legs feel wobbly, and it takes me a moment to regain stability. As I do, I sashay slowly, very conscious of my body’s enticing sway as I make my way back to the club. With one foot in, I turn back to send yet another smile to the sex on legs who regards me with a lavish grin and a wink.

  Got you. I beam to myself.

  “There you are!” Tasha yells over the loud music, working her provocative dance moves next to Ian, who counters her with his own sensual motions.

  Had I not known Ian’s preference was for full of testosterone, buff alpha males, I’d assume he and Tasha are about to be all over each other right there, in the middle of the hectic dance floor.

  “Come join us, gorgeous.” Ian extends his lean, toned arm to let me in between them. I squeeze in, hugged to an almost asphyxia amid my two best friends both loudly singing out of key in my ears about being young and setting the world on fire.

  I titter in response, synchronizing my moves to mirror theirs, and the three of us dance energetically; our spirits elated, we occasionally caress or kiss each other with friendly pecks, giving the crowd a free threesome show.

  “What’s the score?” Tasha asks in a high-pitched voice, grinning at us. She dances to the music, deliberately inclining her chest forward, pelvis teasing in round motions. Her navy blue dress sways around her curves adding to her overall sensual act.

  “Eight to six. Hales is lingering behind,” Ian says, his face illuminated under the multicolored, flickering lights.

  Tasha raises an impeccably trimmed eyebrow at us and declares, “Replenishment time friends,” then turns her face to me.

  “You’re behind, Missy. Let’s do something about it.” Her lips curve up, challenging.

  I shake my head in playful disapproval as we leave the dance floor to move toward the bar, holding our hands together in a human chain, passing through the thick smoke layer.

  “I’m not sure I’m capable of drinking anymore,” I say. They both regard me, mischievously amused.

  “It is not a matter of your capability to drink, it’s a matter of you losing. There’s a lot at stake,” Tasha utters dryly, twisting her mouth.

  I feign a frown at them both while suppressing a smile, then turn to the bartender. Wow, steady Hales. Everything around me spins for what seems like forever. I hold the bar and take a deep breath.

  “Let’s find love,” I hear Tasha telling Ian over the music. Ian laughs.

  I snort and turn my head to send her a scornful glance. She smirks back.

  “It’s a myth, no such thing exists,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. “Myth,” I mouth and shift back, resuming my attempt to order yet another round of drinks.

  “A shot of vodka from the gentleman across the bar.” The broad, blond, and inhumanly tall bartender hands me a small, frozen shot glass, preventing me from executing my original plan.

  As I turn my gaze in the direction he gestures, my eyes meet the guy from outside. He raises a matching glass my way from the other end of the bar. Throwing it back, he keeps his eyes steady on mine.

  I copy his action, sending him an inviting grin while running a hand through my hair. This is way too easy.

  “Back to your old habits, are you?” Tasha whispers in my ear, admiring my flirting techniques. Not leaving his gaze, I lean back a little to whisper next to her ear, “Just for tonight.”

  “Are you sure, Hales? I thought you quit that BS. You know how it makes you feel.” Cynicism leaves her voice, replaced by concern.

  “I’m fine,” I declare. Am I? Or is the alcohol talking boldly on my behalf?

  She touches my hand and looks sternly at me, assessing my state. I nod reassuringly and leave both Ian and Tasha, moving toward where the latter segment of my night stands.

  “Ben.” He extends a hand for a shake as I reach his side.

  I don’t really care, Ben, and your name is pointless for what I have in mind.

  I never waste precious mental space on preserving random names.

  I just take his hand in mine, deliberately ignoring his attempts to introduce himself, leading us toward the exit.

  He follows without hesitation, though from the corner of my eyes I can see his astounded expression.

  “Taxi?” he asks, swallowing hard, seeming suddenly hesitant.

  Come on, don’t pussy out on me now. That is such a turn off.

  Before I can get even more irritated by his sudden setback he opens a yellow cab door for me. Following me inside, he murmurs an address to the driver.

  As our taxi melds with the flowing swarm of cars I pull him toward me. He eagerly cooperates and claims my mouth possessively; his hand slides too easily under my loose silver halter top, reaching my bare breast.

  The bright lights coming from the cars reach me through my closed eyelids, at once mentally sobering me up.

  “Stop,” I say abruptly, feeling all of a sudden terribly nauseated by his proximity, his touch, his smell, his silky tongue, and most of all by myself. He keeps going.

  “Stop now and let go of me.” I raise my voice and push him away vehemently with my entire body. He forces himself against me, reluctant to cease.

  “Get away from me, get the fuck off me. I’m going to be sick, get away,” I yell; my voice softens as I say the last fragment. My throat swells up in repulsion.

  He halts at once and lets me go, flushed, respiring, cursing under his breath.

  “And you,” I snap loudly at the awe-stricken driver. “Please stop the god damn car.”

  With the car slowly rolling to a stop, I jerk the door open and leap out, slamming it back hard. Standing on the late evening pavement, I am shaken, trying to recuperate my equilibrium. I wrap my arms around my middle and with my head slightly tilted back, close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath.

  My nausea is gone but that terrible feeling of self-loathing deepens. I’m so grateful that the next empty cab appears as quickly as it does.

  “Which number was it, Miss?” The driver asks about the address I just gave him in a heavy Middle Eastern accent.

  “Seven. It’s the three story grey building at the end of the street.” I gust out the words. Hugging my bent legs, I rock slowly back and forth, feeling empty and utterly sickened with myself.

  Why, Hales? Why again? Why did you have to go and do that? You know you’re not up to it; it doesn’t work for you anymore. Your long, ‘emotions aside’ era is R.I.P.

  Chapter 2: Crime and Punishment

  “Stop smirking like some mental case, it’s unbecoming.” I flare my eyelids, scowling playfully at Tasha.

  “Is it now? And you’d be the one to preach proper conduct,” she sneers, smirk plastered on her lips. She glances my way with glee before setting her eyes back on the road. In that split second when our eyes meet we both burst into short cackles.

  “I must say, I’m highly disappointed in you. I think you kind of lost your malicious charm.” I look at my best friend fondly, sizing up her expression as I try to wind her up.

  “Haley Grace, I am deeply hurt that you think I lost my edge.” Her smirk widens.

  “I thought your evil mind would think of a better punishment for me,” I mutter dryly, checking my nails.

  “Oh yeah? We both know you couldn’t be more annoyed. And to think you’ll go through the entire process, including the interview, which I see as the icing on this sweet, double-layered penalty cake.”

  Damn you.

  I watch her and a faint arch forms on my lips. She grins back, all perfect white teeth, silky raven black hair, radiating green eyes and this annoying too-straight and so-together Princess Di posture. Polished hands steer the wheel, a picture of Natasha in her usual
glory.

  “How did you manage to include me in this … what did you call it, Tash? Opportunity of a lifetime?” I roll my eyes.

  She twists her mouth to that devilish, secretive smile of hers in response. “The honorable Dean Adams, if you must,” she utters, dancing eyes glancing my way.

  “You didn’t,” I say, feigning shock. She reciprocates with a smug nod.

  I can’t believe she persuaded our former University Dean, who worshiped the ground Tasha’s thin stilettos walked upon, to include me in this orientation day, given the fact that my student years of glory are long over and that by all means I do not qualify for this … torment.

  Well, she obviously did, as we’re just a few miles away from visiting a preeminent high-tech company for a potential internship. Yep, she knows what she’s doing.

  Why did I agree to that bet in the first place? Who can drink more mojitos? Especially with Miss Gracefully-alcohol-consuming Master?

  “Did you polish your CV?” she asks casually, not doing such a good job in trying to conquer a smile by biting her lips.

  I scowl as she regards me with a giggle. She’s enjoying this way too much, the little harlot. Had she not been the closest person to me in the entire world I would definitely hate her, especially right now.

  “It can always open doors, you know.” She turns the wheel to take the next exit.

  “To what, exactly?” I snort, resentment clearly expressed by my tone. “Running a high-tech company?”

  “Laugh it up, but you never know. Perhaps this visit will change your life forever,” she announces dramatically, her joyful eyes staring ahead at the road with an “I am always right, aren’t I?” condescending grin. She glances my way and laughs. I join her, amused.

  “You are so lame,” I say between giggles.

  “And let the fun begin,” Tasha declares as we step out of the car. “How do I look?” She rubs her lips together, correcting her pale pink glossy lipstick with her pinky while glancing at her reflection via the Audi TT’s dark window.