Reft

by Libby Austin

  Once we ended the tour and came home, I could let go of the stress of having to pretend everything was okay all the time. But I’d be damned if one of them hadn’t always been inviting me over for some random dumbass reason. Like I wanted to be the fucking third, or fifth, or seventh wheel in the group of pairs. No fucking thank you. At that thought, I shoved myself off the bed and stomped to my closet to pull on a pair of athletic shorts and tennis shoes before making my way upstairs to my gym.

  Later, as I was standing in my kitchen, choking down a banana protein shake, my doorbell rang. Since I hadn’t been paying attention to the time, I hadn’t thought to anticipate Layna stopping by after she arrived home from work. It was possible it wasn’t Layna, but the chances were slim, since the landline hadn’t rung. I’d turned the ringer back on after the night the guys showed up.

  When I swung the door open, Layna began to say something, but nothing came out as her eyes bounced up and down my bare torso. Having Layna as flustered by my body as I was by hers caused my blood to pump harder, and my dick was most definitely pleased at the idea she might want to see more. Desperate to think of something to stop … whatever this was, I said, “My eyes are up here,” as I pointed to my face.

  It took all of my flimsy self-control not to reach for her when she blushed bright red and said, “God, that’s so embarrassing.” Her eyes looked everywhere but at me. “I wasn’t expecting you to answer the door half dressed, or for you to look like—” she gestured up and down with her hand “—that.”

  This was the first time I’d seen her flustered. She’d matched wits with Bow without batting an eye. I couldn’t resist the urge to tease her a little more, so I leaned against the doorjamb and said, “So, what did you think I looked like?”

  “Well, I hadn’t, like, thought about it really in depth or anything. I mean, it wasn’t like I was picturing you naked or anything.” Once that gem popped out of her mouth, she snapped her eyes closed, clenched her fists by her sides, and drew a deep breath. “I just didn’t realize you were in such great shape is what I meant.”

  I couldn’t have stopped the crooked smile that formed on my lips if I had tried, and I didn’t try at all. So I suppose it could have come off as cocky, because when Layna opened her eyes, she frowned. “Now that you’ve had your fun, I came to let you know to be ready to go at a quarter to seven and dress casual.”

  She turned to make her way to her door, and even though she was irritated at my teasing, I couldn’t pass up the chance for one last dig. “You sure you can hang out with me now that you know I look like this?”

  She stopped before she stepped through her door and looked back over her shoulder. “I think I figured out how you and Bow tolerate each other. But, yes, I can handle it. I would advise wearing closed-toe shoes.”

  Now I was the one who was worried.

  Per Layna’s instructions, I was at her door at 6:45, wearing closed-toe shoes. I figured my feet would be fairly safe in my Docs. This time when the door opened, it was my turn to stare.

  Layna’s beautiful brown curls were now some sort of a red color, and she looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Her skin tone’s sun-kissed color was covered under a layer of some sort of white—paint, I think? Thick black stuff circled her eyes. All in all, she sort of resembled a demented panda. The dress seemed tame when compared to the makeup.

  “Give me just a second. I need to pin my hair up.”

  Relief flowed through me that she wasn’t planning on going out in public like that. Layna would attract attention all on her own, but somehow, I knew hair that made her look like Bozo the Clown’s illegitimate daughter would attract a hell of a lot more curiosity.

  As she walked away, I realized she was walking without crutches. I looked down at her foot encased in a big black boot-looking contraption. “Hey, you got your cast off.”

  “Yep,” she said as she continued down the hall, “that’s why we’re celebrating tonight.”

  Since she was dressed when she walked down the hall and didn’t leave me with specific instructions not to follow this time, I walked to her bedroom door. She wasn’t in the main part of the bedroom, so I figured she was in the bathroom or the closet. I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, which faced the bathroom door. My assumption had been correct; she was in the bathroom.

  Off to the side, I noticed our paintings propped side by side on the dresser. Not wanting to think about what it meant that they were here in the room where she slept or that I was sitting on the bed in which she slept, I started talking.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked, and she screeched as she jumped a bit. The pins she’d been holding in her mouth fell onto the counter.

  “I’m gonna tie a fucking cowbell around your damn neck,” she threatened with a glare.

  “Sorry. We were talking, so I thought we could keep chatting while you finished getting ready and you could tell me where we’re going.” I was losing track of how many times I’d startled her. I began to wonder if she was always this jumpy. Then I realized I should probably thank my lucky stars that she hadn’t been carrying a can of mace that first night in the hall.

  Layna went back to pinning her hair. Why she went through all of the effort to make it so … fluffy if she was just going to pin it up made no sense to me. But what did I know about a chick’s hair?

  “I’m not telling you where we’re going. You got to have your surprise the other night. I get to have mine tonight.” She gave me a ‘See, I can play this game too’ look.

  “Okay, but I’m not really one for surprises. Can I have a hint?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a small hint?”

  “No.”

  “Can I throw out guesses and you say hot or cold?”

  Layna had finished with her hair and had some sort of knit sack-looking thing over most of it. She turned off the bathroom light and came to sit beside me on the bed. As she picked up a black boot to slip her unbroken foot into it, she said, “You peeked at the presents under the Christmas tree when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

  “What? No.” She quirked an eyebrow at me and gave me the ‘Who are you trying to kid?’ look. “Okay, I might have snuck a couple of looks. But what does that have to do with where we’re going?”

  “Nothing, but I thought the least I could do was distract you, because I’m not going to tell you.” With a smile she bounced up off the bed, reached for a canvas beach bag, and walked toward the bedroom door. “Come on, we’ve got places to be and things to see.”

  “Are we going to the beach?” I couldn’t resist attempting to guess.

  Layna glanced back at me. “No, we’re not going to the beach. What gave you that idea?”

  I pointed to her bag. “That looks like a beach bag.”

  “Good work, Sherlock. But sometimes a bag is just a bag. Now quit stalling and shake a leg.” She turned off the bedroom light and left the room.

  “I’m still in here, ya know,” I called after her.

  “Get a move on, slow poke!” Fuck. I think she might have been a dictator in a past life.

  Obediently, I followed behind her. “You’re very bossy,” I told her when I caught up to her at the door. Now that she didn’t have to fight with crutches, there wasn’t much to slow her down.

  She shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

  In a last ditch effort to have some control over what was going to happen, I asked, “Do I at least get to drive?”

  “As if. My momma didn’t raise no fool, so stop trying to trick me into telling you where we’re going.”

  “Fine,” I huffed.

  “I’m glad you’re such a good sport.”

  It was my turn to give her the evil eye. Layna gave me a cheeky-ass grin in response, and I decided she was getting her jollies tormenting me, so I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction the rest of the night. For the remainder of the night, I would play it cool.

  Playing it cool lasted until we were seat
ed at the restaurant—an Irish bar that served hamburgers, go figure—and Layna started questioning the waitress about the type of peanut butter used. “You’re going to eat peanut butter on a hamburger?” I asked. That combination sounded disgusting, and I’d traveled to some places that had disgusting food.

  The waitress, Amy, spoke up. “It’s actually quite good. One of our most popular burgers.” Turning back to Layna, Amy told her, “I can’t tell you the brand name, but it is creamy peanut butter. Is that what you’d like to order?”

  “Yes, that’s what I want,” Layna said way too enthusiastically. I felt like I was being challenged. She was throwing down the gauntlet.

  “How would you like that cooked?”

  “Burnt.”

  “So, well done.”

  “No,” Layna said, “I want you to tell the cook to cook it until he thinks it’s well done and then cook it another five minutes.”

  “Burnt it is, then. What would you like as your side?”

  “Cole slaw and sweet potato fries.”

  Amy turned to me. The time was at hand. “What would you like?”

  “Umm, I’ll have the same, but you can cook mine normal.” I was going to regret this. I just knew it.

  “All right, I’ll get those orders in. Y’all just let me know if ya need anything in the meantime.”

  Layna sat across from me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” She laughed. “So, what did you do today?”

  “Not much. Worked out. Talked with Barrett for a while. Took a nap. Worked out again to work off some nervous energy.”

  “What’s Barrett up to?”

  “His usual.”

  “What’s his usual?”

  “Harassing me about anything and everything he can, pretty much.” I needed to get off this topic. “What about you? What were you up to all day?” Layna said she did consulting, but based on the nature of her work and a confidentiality clause, she couldn’t divulge the name of the company. I guess the corporate world takes their secrets very serious.

  “Paperwork. There’s always a ton of notes and planning to do at this stage of the consultation. Nothing very exciting.” Then her face broke out in a smile that made my breath catch. Even with the hideous makeup, Layna was beautiful. “But I got the torture device off and no more crutches, and I have great plans for tonight and great company to enjoy them with, so the boring paperwork gets balanced out.”

  “Sounds like those plans would have to be very thrilling to balance out the boring paperwork,” I said, not so subtly digging for a hint at what was to come.

  Layna widened her eyes and leaned in, as if to let me in on the secret, and said, “They are, and I’m still not telling you.” Then she sat back with a big grin.

  “You’re a meanie,” I accused with a fake pout.

  “I’ve been called worse. I’m one of five; name calling is no big deal where I’m from,” she said with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.

  Realizing I didn’t know much about her while she knew about me, although admittedly not a lot, I felt at a disadvantage, so I set about righting the imbalance. “Tell me about your family.”

  “My mom is a retired kindergarten teacher. Dad is an instructor for the local fire department. They both do community outreach. Like I said, I’m one of five. James is the oldest, then me, next comes Therese, Carmelita, and Jordan. Therese is married with the best nephew in the entire world, who loves his Nina more than anyone. James followed in Dad’s footsteps and became a firefighter and EMT. Carmelita is a nurse, and Jordan is a sophomore in high school. That’s everybody. What about you?”

  “My dad works in finance. My mom always says her job is managing my dad. Barrett and I are it. Our parents were a little older when they had us. They’d been married ten years by the time we came along, and I still believe we were a happy accident.” I laughed at the ironic thought of a happy accident. There weren’t too many people who would call accidents happy, although, in all fairness, I don’t think they meant that about kids. “Tell me something unique about you.”

  “My name is Magdalena. I was named after a town in Mexico where my grandparents met after a pilgrimage. Even though my name is spelled with L-E-N-A, I spell my nickname L-A-Y-N-A because people don’t pronounce it right otherwise. Your turn.”

  “I can’t whistle,” I confessed. It was a hard confession to make for a musician. Most five-year-olds could whistle, but I had never succeeded and looked like an idiot when I tried.

  “You can’t whistle? All you do is pucker your lips and blow,” she said and then proceeded to demonstrate.

  I was mesmerized by her lips. The urge to stretch my hand across the table and run my thumb along her bottom lip was almost too strong to squelch. Thankfully, Amy the waitress walked up to the table with our food just in time to stop me from making a fool of myself.

  “Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to finish this thing. It’s huge.” Before I could open my mouth to reply, she said, “Don’t say it.”

  I did my best to look innocent and replied, “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Whatever. You were thinking it.”

  “I can’t be condemned as guilty based on thoughts. If it worked that way, everybody would be condemned.”

  “Be quiet and try your burger,” she commanded, watching to make sure I followed her demand.

  “Not until you try yours,” I countered and watched her just as expectantly.

  “How about we both try it on the count of three, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed. We both picked up our burgers. Well, I picked up my burger. Layna had cut hers into quarters.

  Layna counted, “One, two, three.”

  We each took a bite and chewed for a few seconds. “Oh my God, this is the best peanut butter combination since the peanut butter and jelly sandwich was invented,” she declared and shoved another bite in her mouth. It was good, but I wouldn’t go so far as to claim it was the best. “What do you think?”

  “It’s not bad,” I answered, and she looked at me as if I’d said the thing was laced with rat poison. “What?”

  “I’m really worried about you, Brandon. I’m not sure we can be friends if you can’t understand the deliciousness before you.” Her expression stayed serious.

  I’d never considered having a difference of opinion over food to be a make it or break it factor in a friendship. “Seriously?”

  I watched as her head began to nod up and down, but then it stopped abruptly, and she said, “Nooooo, but I had you believing me there for a second, didn’t I?” And she started giggling, so I playfully threw a French fry at her. It bounced off her nose and landed on her plate. Undeterred, Layna picked it up and popped it in her mouth. “No abusing the food. That’s just uncalled for. Where are your manners?” Then she dug back into her burger, so I decided to do the same.

  After a few bites, it was beginning to grow on me, until a bite stuck in my throat when she asked, “Didn’t you and Barrett play jokes on each other and stuff when you were growing up?”

  “Yes, but I sucked at those kinds of jokes,” I admitted. “I could never keep a straight face. My mom told me once never to play poker if I wanted to keep my money. I tried once, but she was right, I couldn’t bluff worth a damn. Barrett, on the other hand, was a master at it. He could keep the joke running for days.”

  “He sounds fun to hang around with.”

  “He is.” I left it at that, and thankfully, she let the discussion of Barrett drop there.

  By the time we were done eating, Layna jokingly groaned and whined. “I’m so full, but it’s sooo good, I can’t stop eating. Must stop eating peanut butter burger.” She dramatically pushed her plate away and slouched back against the chair in mock defeat.

  I laughed at her theatrics. “It’s okay. We can always come back. Now we know to order your meal off the kiddie menu.”

  “Hey! I ate way more than a kid would,” she prote
sted in her defense.

  Our waitress appeared at the table. “Can I get y’all anything else? A to-go box?”

  Layna shook her head and said, “No box, just the check, please.”

  Amy pulled the black folder from her apron pocket and sat it on the table. “I’ll take this whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you. Give me just a second and you can go ahead and take it,” Layna replied as she reached for the folder. She opened the folder, looked over the check, sat the folder back on the table, and turned to retrieve her wallet from her purse.

  Rookie mistake. My wallet was already in my hand when I picked up the folder. I quickly glanced at the amount, drew a few bills from my wallet, and handed the folder back to Amy before Layna pulled her wallet out.

  “I’ll be right back with your change,” Amy said as she took the folder from me, causing Layna to look up to see what was happening.

  “Keep the change. Have a great night. Thanks for the service,” I said, doing my best to get her away from the table before Layna had a chance to argue.

  As Layna opened her mouth to speak, Amy said, “Thanks. You too. Hope you join us again soon.” Then she walked away.

  Layna’s eyes narrowed. “It was my turn to pay for dinner.”

  I narrowed my eyes right back at her. “Not going to happen.”

  “Why, because I’m female? You think I can’t pay for a meal?”

  “It has nothing to do with your gender. I’m just paying for a friend’s dinner.” Okay, maybe it had a little to do with her gender, but not because I thought she couldn’t pay for a meal. I wanted to treat her nicely. I think, in some way, it was my attempt to try to ‘date.’

  She quirked an eyebrow and hit me with, “So, you would pay for the guys’ dinner as well?”

  “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s actually a requirement with Bow. He’s no longer allowed to pay in restaurants because he’s forgotten his card way too many times. Plus, you’re essentially my family’s guest, and my parents would expect me to treat you as such for as long as you’re here.” I stood up from the table.