by Laura Carter
“Hey. Is everything okay? Is Yvette okay?”
“You look like shit,” he tells me. “Are you drunk?”
I jerk my head back. “Wow. This day.”
He closes the door and moves to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of red, then he follows me back out to the balcony.
“So, you’re clearly in a mood with me for some reason, too. Lay it on me, Teddy.” I lean over the railing again and look out to St. Katherine Docks on the opposite side of the river.
“I’m here to ask you not to accept Clark’s deal.”
“As who? You, or your father?”
“As your friend and Clark’s.”
I don’t turn to look at him, because my eyes are fogging for a second time tonight. I’m starting to lose my grip on who my friends really are.
“I’d like you both to drop out of this tender. I’m speaking as the CFO of Layton Oil and someone who gives a crap about whether you make a loss for SP.”
“I might not make a loss with that well.”
“True. If anyone can turn a profit, it’ll be you.” His voice is softer now. He leans forwards on the balcony next to me, his shoulder pressed to mine. “I don’t doubt how good you are, Dayna, but the timing is bad, really bad.”
I feel the dams that hold back the water in my eyes starting to crumble. I open my eyelids wide and let the wind take away my impending tears. I’m so incredibly fed up of crying. “Teddy, you know this isn’t about a profit for me.”
He nods. “I know. It’s about the Gulf, it’s about Caspar. This isn’t the right time, Dayna. You don’t win if you buy the well, and I think you know that. Caspar will win when he watches you fight to stay afloat or, more likely, crumble under SP’s losses.”
I breathe out heavily, hearing the truth in his words.
“Clark was going to pull out. We discussed it this weekend. He knows this isn’t the purchase to make his name. If he won the well, there’d be a significant risk of him making a loss. He wants something that’s his; he wants to prove he can make something of Layton Oil without Harold. But imagine if his first big investment turns a loss.”
“He does the exact opposite.”
“Exactly. He looks like an idiot.”
“Then why offer the deal?”
“Because he loves you that much. He’s blinded by you and the need to protect you.”
I gulp my wine. “Why does everyone feel like they have to protect me today?”
“Stop being petulant, Dayna. I almost think you like to believe you’re alone. You’re not. You have me, you have my father, and you have Clark, if you want him.”
There’s no fighting the rogue tear that rolls down my cheek.
“Clark wants you as far away from Hassan and Caspar as he can get you. So much so, he’s willing to put an idea to the board that makes him look like a dick.”
I laugh through a sob, and I sniff. “He really can be a dick.”
Teddy laughs too, softly, but I suspect with a heavy heart. “He can, but he’s changing, Dayna. Hell, I’m not sure I’d want him for you, but the new version of him loves you. I think he always has.” I rub my cheek with the back of my hand.
“If you win with a joint bid, Caspar won’t go away. Not now. You know that, don’t you? He won’t just come for you — he’ll come for your venture, he’ll come for you and Clark, and he’ll come for SP and Layton Oil.”
“Clark knows that, and he’s still willing to go through with it to get me the well.” He’s willing to risk everything. For me.
“I think he’d do anything for you, Snot Face.”
I drain my wine. My father or Clark? That’s the decision I have to make.
AFTER THE GYM, I picked up a box of Budweiser, had a quick shower, and now I’m walking the short distance from my apartment to Jay’s. I can’t do much about the joint venture tonight. After fighting with Teddy over it, again, I’m done. After everything — the weekend, going out of my mind wanting Dayna, finding her in a heap after Caspar threatened her, a flight home thinking about nothing but Dayna and whether a joint venture would really mean we couldn’t be together — I’m spent. I want a cold beer, and my best friend, if he’ll still call himself that, likes cold beer. I’ve figured I need to work on my other issues. Dayna’s right; I’ve got a lot of fucking mess to wade through, whether fixing it means she’ll have me or not. Mending my relationship with Jay might as well be number one on my list.
I dip my head to Andy, the stocky concierge in Jay’s building, and hand him one of the Buds. “Pass me up, Andy?”
“Sure thing, Clark.”
I could have called Jay or hit the intercom, but I’m going for the element of surprise. It’s after nine on a Wednesday night. Chances are he’s home, and I want to look him in the eye if he sends me away.
I knock on his apartment door then lean to one side, out of view of the peephole. As he opens the door, I move in front, one hand resting on the frame, the other holding up my friendship offering.
He’s in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair wet. He stares me down, neither of us speaking. I bite down on the inside of my cheeks, waiting. Eventually, he moves away from the door. He doesn’t invite me in exactly, but he leaves the door open as he heads to the kitchen.
I follow him, planting the box of lager down on the kitchen bench. He rests back against the oven, and I watch him from the other side of the work surface.
“I didn’t go to Verbier with Camilla Normen, and I didn’t fuck her.”
He unfolds his arms and steps forwards to take a Bud from the box. “I know. Connie told me.”
I take a beer for myself and put the rest in the fridge while Jay opens both bottles. We stand in the kitchen, both resting back on the units, both taking a glug.
“She also made me promise not to let your monumental fuck up come between us.”
I lift my head quickly. Connie might have saved my friendship. “How is she?”
“How do you think?”
“I really didn’t want to hurt her, Jay. I swear that’s the last thing I’d want to do. Whether she realises it or not, I did what I did to protect her, from me. I don’t want to be the guy who breaks her heart years from now, and I think I would have.”
He takes a swig of beer and walks past me to the open-plan lounge. He throws himself into a chair and lobs a foot up onto the coffee table. He hits the remote and unpauses a rugby game he must have already been watching.
I follow him and sit on the sofa, kicking off my trainers and putting my feet on the coffee table.
“You look like hell, by the way,” Jay tells me.
I scoff into my bottle. “You don’t look like a fucking portrait yourself.”
He laughs. It’ll take a while, but I might just get my friend back.
“You gonna tell me who you were in Verbier with?”
“Teddy invited Spencer and me.” I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. “He didn’t tell me I was crashing Dayna’s birthday.”
“Dayna Cross?”
I nod, exhaling heavily.
“Fuck.”
I lean my head back against the sofa and close my eyes. “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, Jay.”
“You slept with her.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but I still say yes. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“And this is the truth? This is why you ended things with Connie?”
“I love Connie. She’s amazing. But Dayna… she’s in my fucking head all the fucking time… she makes me crazy.”
“Were you ever like that with Connie?”
“Do you really want to have this conversation about your sister?”
“Not really. But I do want to know.”
I sigh. “No. No one, ever. Only Dayna.”
“You’re the one who kept walking away, Layton.”
I sit forwards, my elbows on my knees, and drop my head in my hands. “I know. I wish I’d never walked away from her. I just always listened to him and his fuck
ing tripe about the business, the Layton name and Cross’s reputation.”
“Your dad’s a wanker, Layton.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or lash out. He’s dead right, and if I said it about my father, that’d be fine. But my father has this hold over me. No one else can bad-mouth him like that, not even Jay. Not even when I know it’s the truth.
“You should tell Connie.”
I look at him for evidence that he’s seriously lost his sanity.
“She’s going out of her mind wondering what’s wrong with her.”
“Christ, I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.”
“You hurt her every day she questions herself, man. Tell her why. You’ll hurt her at first, then she’ll realise it’s you who’s the fuckwit, and she might just get her confidence back. She deserves to know the truth, Layton, and goddamn, you better tell her about Dayna before she finds out some other way. If you don’t, and she finds out, I’m gonna fuck you up.”
He couldn’t, but the sentiment hits home. “I hear you.”
I head to the fridge, take out another two beers and come back to the sofa. As I sit, lilac satin catches my eyes from down the side of the sofa cushion. I hook the thong over the head of my beer bottle. “Been having a good time, Jay?”
He laughs, I think as grateful as I am for the break in tension. “Sasha Lorelli.”
I whistle. “Does she live up to her reputation?”
“Best fuck of my life.”
I lean forwards, and he clinks the top of his bottle with mine.
Four Buds and a couple of hours later, I lie back on my bed, moonlight tingeing my bedroom blue. Any other night alone, I might sort myself out with my right hand. Tonight, I can’t stand the thought of getting off any way other than with Dayna in my arms. Jesus, I’m right back to four years ago. I take my hands behind my head and wish I could stop seeing her in my head — her silk skin, her soft pink lips, her on her knees, crying because I broke her again. I have to put it aside, at least for now. All I need to focus on now is this joint bid. Keeping her safe from Caspar Kahn and any other oil hounds who come for her.
As I finally start to drift off, one last thought comes to me, Caspar’s words as I threatened him… Harold might be willing to lose that well to me, Clark, but I’m certain he won’t want to lose to a Cross.
I PULL UP to my folks’ house and kill the engine of my Audi. I head into the house, saying hello to the staff as I pass them in the long hallway.
“Are they around?” I ask.
Elspeth, my favourite, is heading upstairs with a tray of tea and toast. “Mrs Layton is dressing. Mr Layton is in the driving range.”
“Thank you. Have a good day, Elspeth.”
“And you, son.” I smile at her. She has been more of a guardian to me over the years than the sperm and egg donors I call parents.
I can hear my father whacking golf balls as I head across the gravel path towards his practice area. I duck through the wooden door into the small three-walled building with two bays. A camera in the far corner is focussed down on my father as he sets himself up for his next shot. He’s training. Later he’ll play his video back and grumble about whatever’s wrong with his stroke, then proceed to waste more hours out here perfecting his grip, his swing, or the position of his feet.
I pick up the remote from the wooden bench behind him and click off the camera, then I take a club from his bag. I look down the driver, checking it’s straight, and rub residual mud from the grains in the metal on the flat side of the head. I set a ball onto a tee in the spare bay, get into position, and drive the shit out of the ball.
“You’re hanging left.”
“I’ll never be good enough for you,” I tell him.
“Not with shots like that.” He positions another ball on a tee and strikes it. I have to fight to supress a grin when his shot hangs right and doesn’t get the distance of mine. “I heard a rumour you were skiing last weekend.”
I don’t say anything, knowing he’ll keep going. I lift the club behind my neck and rest my arms over it, waiting while he takes another shot.
“It’s bad enough you’re flaking on your responsibilities, but I hear you were over there, fraternising with the Cross girl when you’ve just fucked up your marriage.”
“You can’t fuck up a marriage that never happened.”
He lifts his club and points it at me, his skin reddening. “Don’t get smart with me, boy. You were getting your end away with that Cross girl, and it stops. It stops now. You’ll get Constance back, and you’ll clean up your act. I’ve let this slide for two weeks. That’s enough.”
I want to smack him in the face. Fighting the urge, I sit down on the bench against the back wall and give myself a second to just breathe. “I’m not getting back with Connie, and she’s better off for it.”
His cheeks burn brighter and he whacks another ball.
“I had a run-in with Caspar Kahn.”
He stops before his next shot and leers at me, leaning on the head of his club.
“He threatened Dayna.”
“Dayna who?”
“You know exactly who. Dayna Cross. He threatened her, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”
“You threatened Kahn?”
“See, what’s interesting is he was less concerned about what I was doing and more bothered about how you would react to me defending a Cross.” I stand and move in front of him. “I’d say it’s about time you levelled with me, because it sounded like there’s more to this than you thinking Roger Cross was a cost-cutter.”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a darkness. “I don’t answer to you, son, and I never will.”
“Alright, then I’ve got some news. The tender I’m running for, the well in the Persian Gulf. I’m changing tactics and putting in an alternative bid. I can’t beat Caspar on capital investment alone, so I’m putting in a joint bid with SP. With SP’s blend—”
He rams me back so hard against the brick wall he takes the air out of my lungs. “You’ll get into bed with a Cross over my dead body.”
“Take your fucking hands off me or there’ll be no question about a dead body.”
He backs off, his face almost purple, his eyes bulging out of his head. “I have told you my problem with Cross. That name is scum. He cut corners, brought shame on an industry he didn’t belong in from the off.”
“Bullshit. You don’t take issue with any other company who lost a well, and you’ve never stopped me sleeping with anyone else’s daughter.”
“Not him. Not SP and not his daughter. I will get you out of my company before I let you anywhere near a deal.”
“It’s not your company anymore. You’re weak.” I push a finger to his chest. “This doesn’t work.”
“You really think you’re a big shot, Clark? That board voted you in because they knew I’d control you. They voted in a lesser version of me because that’s still better than any other option. They follow me. If you put that deal on the table, you’ll be laughed out of your own boardroom by every man who stands by me and my business, my name.”
“I think it’s worth taking a punt.” I turn my back on him and start walking away.
“You won’t take my threats? She will.”
“What did you say?”
“I’m not afraid to take down a Cross, Clark. You’d better believe that’s not a hollow threat.”
I run at him, pushing him back against the concrete pillar separating the bays, and pin his club across his throat. “You wouldn’t fucking touch her.”
“I wouldn’t?” He struggles to speak as I push the club into his windpipe. “I already took one Cross down because he came near me and my family. If you put that deal to my board, I’ll do it again.”
I step back and drop the club. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He bends over his knees, gasping for breath. “You want to know why I hate Cross? I’ll tell you. You think you don’t respect
me, you think I know nothing about being in love? I’ve protected your mother all these years.”
I shake my head. What?
“Cross took the one thing that meant the world to me. He took your mother.”
I stagger back against the wall. “They… no…”
I watch my father’s shoulders slump, his body seeming to drain of energy. “They had an affair. He fucked her in my own bed. I took her back because we had you, Kathryn and Spencer, but I couldn’t get past it. I wasn’t always like this, Clark. Heartless. She made me this way. They did.”
“She had an affair first.”
He rubs the back of his hand across his nose. “You think I’m the one to blame for everything. The only reason you do is because I shielded you from it. I protected you, Clark, and now you throw it back in my face. Cross was my friend. It’d be bad enough if it was any man, but he was my friend. I trusted him.”
I slide to sit on the ground, cold even through my jeans. Everything I thought I knew… “Do people know?”
He scoffs. “Cross at least had the decency to keep his mouth shut.”
I stare at the concrete ground as if it might get up and start crawling, or tell me the answers to the plethora of questions racing through my head. Does Dayna know? She can’t. “If no one knows, then what was Caspar talking about?”
The look in his eye scares me. It isn’t intimidating. It isn’t strong. It’s… resigned. “I couldn’t get over it. Cross was at every dinner, every conference. I hated him, more than I ever thought myself capable of. And Caspar, he hates anyone who isn’t on his side.”
I start putting the pieces together. Fuck. This is a nightmare, and I’m desperate to wake up before I fall off a kerb into a rush of oncoming traffic. “What did you do?”
He just looks at me. A man I’ve never seen. A man who’s broken.
“You and Kahn? Fuck. You sabotaged Little Princess.” I rub my hands over my face. “You killed her father.”
“No. He killed himself.”
I look at the man I don’t know standing across from me. “You killed all those people.”
Wind whistles past my ears, breaking the otherwise deafening silence.