by Kar, Alla
Not one word is said on the way back to Layla’s grandparents’. I can’t make myself speak. I don’t want to tell them why I’m not fighting. I don’t want to tell Layla, either. It’s never even been an option to stop fighting. I’ve always had nothing to lose. Now, I do.
I just pray Scarface wasn’t right. I pray it’s really not in my blood.
Chapter Five
Layla
Not fighting anymore. I haven’t been able to think about anything else. I never even imagined Taylor not fighting. It’s his life. He loves it. He’s damn good at it too. I don’t know why he isn’t fighting anymore, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.
“Does this look okay?” Cindy asks.
I glance over at her and laugh. She has a plaid button-down shirt on, tucked into some jeans and cowboy boots. “Cindy, just because you’re in Texas doesn’t mean you have to dress like a cowgirl.”
She scoffs and fiddles with her shirt. “I’m trying to fit in, Layla. It’s called adapting to your surroundings.”
“Yes,” I say, grabbing a hoodie and sliding into it. “But no one is dressed like that except you. Kids don’t normally dress like that unless they’re in the rodeo.”
Cindy sighs and pulls her hair into a high ponytail. “I’m not changing. I look cute.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“What’s up your ass? First Taylor and now you. You must be sex deprived. Well, that’s not true, because you wouldn’t be Taylor and Layla if you weren’t getting it on. So, spill. What’s going on?”
I sigh and toss my makeup bag onto the bed. “I’m so confused, Cindy. First I find out Damon was sent to keep tabs on me for my grandpa.” Cindy gasps and takes a seat across from me. “Then Taylor says he’s not fighting anymore and refuses to tell me why. Every time I ask, he gives me a kiss and tells me not to worry about it.” I toss my hands in the air. “That makes me want to worry about it more.”
Cindy presses her lips into a hard line. “Layla … I can’t believe Damon was spying on you, that ass. And I have no idea what’s up Taylor’s ass but we need to find out.”
She offers me a hug and I take it. “You ready to go to Damon’s house? I bet that makes Taylor feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
I snort. “Right. That’s another thing, they’ve been down each other’s throats since we got here. I think it has something to do with Damon being so close to my grandparents. It drives Taylor crazy.”
“Can you blame the kid? You’re his fiancée and another guy is trying to maneuver his way in.”
“I know. It’s not like I would ever leave Taylor for Damon. I wouldn’t. I love Taylor, I just wish they could like each other, ya know?”
Cindy nods and stands up. “I do. And I’m sure it’ll get better with time. Speaking of time, we need to get going. They’re waiting for us.”
I groan but Cindy pulls me off the bed. “Let’s go, hustler.”
The ride to Damon’s house is quiet. Taylor keeps his eyes on the road and takes directions from Damon without a word. I can tell he is trying to keep his cool. When we pull onto Oak Street, I start to get nervous. I haven’t seen Henry in years. Not since I was six or seven. There is a Harley in the driveway of their older, brick house. The same Texas flag flies in the front yard. The grass is brown and dried. Damon’s mom died when he was younger, so their house was never pretty with flowers. They barely decorated for holidays, but that’s men for you.
“This is it,” I say, pointing toward the house.
Taylor pulls in and parks. The butterflies in my stomach are going insane. My hands are sweaty, my heart jackhammering in my chest. Taylor gets out first and then we all pile out. “You nervous?” Damon asks from behind me.
I don’t answer. I can’t even talk to him without wanting to punch his lights out. “Hey,” he says, snatching my elbow. “What’s your problem? What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
Did you! Did you? Ugh! And he’s going to act all innocent.
Taylor snatches my arm from his grip. “Don’t touch her like that ever again,” Taylor warns.
Damon clenches his fists. “Don’t start with me, Taylor. We’re here to visit my dad,” he snaps.
Taylor laughs without humor. “What sick universe do you live in? This isn’t you bringing home your girlfriend to meet your dad, it’s seeing an old friend. Get it out of your head that Layla is yours. She isn’t!” Taylor is shaking by the end of his rant. Damon’s staring him down like he can pulverize him into dust.
His green eyes lock with mine. “What’s wrong, Layla? You’ve been avoiding me.” He ignores Taylor’s growl.
“Nothing, Damon. Why would something be wrong?” I flutter my eyelashes.
He narrows his eyes. “Are you being a smartass, Layla?”
“Never.”
Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step away from us. “Hmm,” he says before turning around and knocking on his dad’s door.
A few seconds later the door swings opened and a tall man steps out. He looks just like I remember, besides being ten years older. He dresses like a biker, leather vest and black jeans. Damon gets his dark hair and green eyes from Henry. “Son,” Henry says, slapping at his back and pulling him in for a hug. “It’s been a while. Nice to see you,” he says. Pulling back, he cups Damon’s cheek and his eyes turn to mine. “Layla James.”
I give him a small wave and push down the lump forming in my throat. He was my dad’s best friend. They were always together, starting trouble mostly, but best friends nonetheless. He treated me like a daughter.
He steps down and takes me in his arms. He smells like leather and the smell reminds me of my dad. Tears are threatening to run down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep them at bay. “You’re so beautiful, just like your mother,” he whispers. “Just like her.”
When he pulls back, tears are building in his green eyes. “What am I doing? Y’all come on in.” He waves his arms like a traffic director until we’re all in his living room. The house is modest. Old furniture that’s seen better days and pictures line the walls on each side. It’s like walking into the past. Nothing has changed. “Who do we have here?” he asks gesturing toward everyone.
Damon steps forward. “Brett, Cindy, and … Taylor,” he mumbles. Henry gives everyone a smile but stops dead on Taylor.
“You’re Layla’s fiancé?” he asks like he has acid in his mouth. Taylor’s jaw is tight. There is no way he doesn’t feel the tension in this room. I could slice through it like butter.
Taylor’s arm snakes around my waist and pulls me super closer. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, sir,” he says, offering his hand.
Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, nice to meet you.” He turns his glare toward mine. “Let’s go sit down for a while and chat. Damon, how about you show these kids around. I need to speak to Layla.”
Damon gestures for everyone to follow him. Everyone does, but Taylor. He doesn’t budge. Henry clears his throat. “You can follow them, son. I need to speak with Layla.”
No movement.
Ah, hell.
I nudge Taylor’s side. “Come on, Taylor. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He presses his lips into a tight line. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t because I’m giving him a pleading look. Not today. No more fighting. “Okay, hustler. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Henry waits until Taylor is out of hearing distance before turning back toward me. His warm smile reaches his eyes. “Layla … we have so much to talk about.”
I take a seat in their kitchen and sip on the coffee that Henry brings me. The table is cracked down the middle. It’s the same one he had when I was little. They would play dominoes and cards on this table. My dad would sit in the chair opposite me. Damon and I would play around the house. I remember playing with Damon when we were kids. We would run until we were drenched with sweat.
A memory surfaces and I can’t help but let it consume me.
***
“Over here,”
Damon whispered. He had a red Ninja Turtle headband around his head and a plastic sword in one hand. His green eyes were even lighter when he was younger. “We can’t let them see us.”
We were hunched to the ground, hiding beside the loveseat in Damon’s house. I was holding a pink plastic sword and one of my mom’s scarves was wrapped around my head. “Dads at two o’clock,” I said.
Damon grabbed my arm and slung me down behind the loveseat beside him. We both peaked over the edge of the couch. Our dads were sitting down at the broken table to play cards. “They’re plotting against us,” Damon said, covering his mouth with his hand. “We need a new plan.”
My dad turns his head toward us and we both plunged back behind the loveseat. “Whew, that was close,” I said. “What’s our attack now?”
Damon screwed his mouth up in thought. “I say we surprise them from the back. Let’s move from here to the recliner. Then attack on my cue.”
I nodded. We both crawled toward the recliner and sat on our knees behind it. “Wait, we need to make a pact first.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why?”
Damon gave me a look like I was the stupidest five-year-old in the world. “Because, we’re best buds. Plus, we’re in a gang together. Like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan.”
“Okay, what’s the pact?”
Damon scratched his sweaty hair. He spat into his hand and offered it to me. “To be best-friends forever. Then we’ll get married when we’re old enough.”
I laughed. “Why? I’m not ever going to marry a boy. They’re gross.”
Damon shoved my shoulder. “Am not. Now, spit in your hand. We have to make it official.”
I spat into my hand and shook hands with Damon. “Now say you promise.”
I glanced up and smiled at Damon. He smirked and gestured for me to say it. “I promise, Damon.”
***
“Is the coffee okay? Do you want more cream?”
I shake my head and smile over at Henry. “I’m fine. Just remembering.”
He leans back in his chair and crosses his ankles. “Lots of memories here, huh? I can remember you and Damon playing in here.” He chuckles. “I just knew you two would grow up together.” A frown forms on his face and he runs a finger along his handlebar mustache, like he is really contemplating something. “I just knew you two would end up together.”
Heat rushes up my neck to my cheeks. I shrug. “Well, who am I to tell fate where to go, ya know?” He stares blankly at me. “I love Taylor, Henry.”
He shakes his head and rests his elbows on the table in front of him. “Layla, when your parents died, I knew he would come after you. Your dad had … had asked Damon to keep an eye on you. And you know that he did. When we realized Jason – ,”
“Who’s Jason?”
“Jason is the name of the man that killed your parents. The one Damon killed. Jason Samuels.”
Oh. “So, that’s the bastard’s name.”
He smirks. “Was. He’s out of the picture now, Layla.” He pats my hand and then frowns. I don’t like that frown. “But, I wish I could say your troubles were over, but they’re not, hon. Not over yet.”
I sit my coffee cup down and reach across the table to take Henry’s hands in mine. “What do you mean?”
He sighs. “The guy your fiancé fought the other day, Seth?”
I shake my head back and forth. “What about him? I’m confused.”
“Seth’s last name is Samuels, Layla. He’s Jason’s son.”
Someone’s sucked all of the air out of this room. My throat feels dry as the damn Sahara Desert. Pressing my hand against my chest, I scoot my chair backwards and hold my head between my knees.
That’s why he looked so familiar. He was on TV when his dad was declared dead. He was … fighting the cameraman off. He went nuts. The look on his face was psychotic. Now he’s here to kill Taylor, Damon and me.
“What’s the matter with her?” Taylor growls. I feel his hands rest on my shoulders and he sits me up straight. Gray eyes stare down at me. “Breathe, Layla. You’re fine. I think you’re having a panic attack. Calm, breathe.” I listen to his voice as he coos into my ear. I focus on his words. My breathing starts to come in normal gasps.
“You okay?” he whispers, his fingers trailing my cheek.
“Yes, I’m fine. Let me up.” Taylor helps me up. Everyone is staring at me with their mouths open.
“What happened?” Cindy asks.
“Just some things we were talking about … upset Layla. She’s fine. You guys go along, I need to speak with her – ,”
“I’m not leaving her this time. I’m going to marry her. I think it’s my right to hear what you’re telling her,” Taylor snaps.
“Don’t talk to my dad that way, asshole – ,”
“Both of you shut the hell up,” Henry says. He locks eyes with me. “I would have already pulled my fucking hair out if I were you. You can stay, Taylor.”
“Dad, he doesn’t have to st – ,”
Henry points his finger outward. “Damon. Out, now.”
Damon’s eyes widen and he clenches his jaw. I see the frustration on his face, but he leaves. Brett pulls Cindy back into the room with her mouth hanging open.
“Now. Have a seat, Layla. Do you want some more tea?”
I shake my head and sit down on Taylor’s lap. Seth is Jason’s son. How did I not see this? My stomach feels like it’s going to drop from my body. A nervous shudder rakes through me. “No, I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?” Taylor asks.
Henry holds his face in his hands. “The guy you fought in Nashville is Jason’s son,” Henry says.
“Who is Jason?” Taylor asks.
“The man my son killed. The man that killed Layla’s parents. And he knows who both of you are. And he’s going to try to kill you.”
Taylor scoffs and a hysterical laugh rips from his throat. “Right, because it would be ridiculous for all of this to be over, ya know? Why would we be able to have a normal fucking relationship? Why would I be able to love my fiancée normally?”
Normally? Henry pats my hand but I don’t look up. Is that how he really feels? A sense of hurt stabs my heart. The entire situation would stress anyone out, but Taylor always acted so strong. Not worried about it. Now, I feel like he’s about to break. That being with me is breaking this strong man into something unrecognizable. First no fighting and now this.
Standing up, I run my hands over my hair. “I need to go to the bathroom.” I don’t wait on them to say anything, I get up and go. I pass by the pictures of my parents with Henry, and by Damon’s room where I would play with him for hours at a time. The bathroom is really small, blue shower curtain and blue toilet cover. Locking the door, I press my head against the wood. Tears drip from my eyes and down my cheeks. I don’t know how much more I can take. This year has been the best and worst year of my life. I’m followed and attacked. And then I meet Taylor, who puts his life down on the line for me without a second thought.
Someone knocks on the door. “Somewhere is in here.”
“It’s me. Care to talk?” Damon asks.
No, not really. Even the person that was sent here to “keep an eye” on me is a traitor. How could he go back to my grandparents and tell them everything? How could my family know all of this and not send for me to protect me? More tears fall and I crawl over toward the cabinet and rest my back against it.
I hear something clicking but I don’t look up. Then the bathroom door closes. Damon locks the door behind him and sits in front of me. The bathroom is so small that our feet are touching. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I snap. Wiping the tears from my eyes, my lip trembles. “I’m not. I’m not okay and I’m tired of pretending I am. I’m tired of dealing with this shit all the time. I want it to be over.”
Damon frowns and reaches over to pat my knee. “Layla … you’ve been through a lot. Tons. I’m so sorry this has happened to you but there is no changing it. Do you
deserve it? Probably not. But, it’s something you’ll have to deal with.”
“Don’t preach to me, Damon. That’s all true and we both know it. But, we both know we’re not both being one hundred percent honest here.”
His face pales. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Anger is making it hard for me to see straight. “Stop lying, Damon. Just stop.” With the help of the cabinet, I stand up and glare down at him. “You’re a traitor and we both know it.”
He reaches for my waist. “Layla – ,”
I don’t give him a chance to finish before I’m out of the bathroom. Taylor and Henry look like they’re about to beat the hell out of each other when I get back to the dining room.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask.
Taylor stands and looms down at Henry. He doesn’t look fazed. “You need to think about what I said,” Henry says.
Taylor swallows. “I can take care of us. I don’t need anyone worrying about us but me.”
Henry glares Taylor down before turning toward me. “Layla, I need you both to be careful, please. Just please stay safe.”
Giving him a small smile, I hold my hand out toward Taylor. Even though he’s getting overwhelmed and sick of the bullshit, I can’t blame him. I’m about to blow my lid myself. Taylor walks me outside and texts Brett that we’re leaving. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry I was so pessimistic in there, Layla. I’m just wondering when this is going to end.”
I curl my legs up to my chest and nod into my knees. “I know. I feel the same way. I just don’t understand why I’m the one that has to deal with my father’s mistakes.”
“The sins of our fathers,” Taylor says.
Everyone, except for Damon, piles into the backseat. Brett leans between the two seats and rests his elbows on the console. “Is everything okay?”
Taylor puts the truck into reverse. “As good as ever.”
Which isn’t saying much.
***
My grandparents are out square dancing for the night, so we have the place to ourselves. Not that there is anything to do but it’s nice to know no one is here just in case. Taylor is pulling on a hoodie when I walk into our room.