Walk Away, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 1)

by Cierlak, Crystal

  I nodded my head and closed my eyes. "We’ve never broken furniture before."

  "We broke the towel bar in the bathroom of the main house once. Remember?"

  Oh, I remembered all right. "But that wasn’t nearly as rough as what just happened."

  Nick gently ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my temple. "Why do we get like this Layla?"

  "Because we’re fucked up. You know that." I didn’t know what else to say. I suppose I should feel guilty about my actions. But I don’t. Maybe I should apologize. But I can’t.

  "What you said.... why did you say it?"

  I took a deep breath. I had no clue. "I was just upset and angry and frustrated" And horny as hell. Why does he need answers now?

  "Do you really hate me that much?" he asked. God help me. I think I do.

  "Nick let’s not do this." Since when does he ever want to talk about what’s going on between us? Usually he’d just run off and find himself a nice piece of ass. "I’m expecting you to leave anyway so if you’re going to do it, do it while I’m okay with it." What a liar. I’m such a liar.

  "Do you want me to leave? Do you really want me to?"

  "Nick, I want to you to do whatever is going to make you feel all right with yourself." Hell, I was already surprised he stayed as long as he had.

  "Do you want me to go?" No, I don’t want you to go Nick. I want you to stay here forever and love me. Please just love me for once in your life! Damn it.

  "I want you to do whatever makes you happy." And that was the truth. I only wanted the best for him. Just as long as he’s happy.

  "What about your happiness? Don’t you care about yourself?" He almost sounded like it mattered to him that my answer was ‘yes’. Why is that?

  "It doesn’t really matter to me Nick. Because my happiness comes from knowing that you’re safe and sound."

  "Layla, I don’t like hearing you talk like this. It’s freaking me out."

  "You aren’t concerned, Nick. You only care about you. I guess, when you break it down, that’s the only thing we have in common; our concern for you."

  "I don’t give a shit about me right now. The only person I’m worried about is you."

  I sat up from him and shook my head. "You’re such a liar." I got up from the couch, grabbed the ice, and headed back to my room.

  Once I was under the warmth and safety of my bed sheets I started to really think about what Nick had said. How the hell could he bullshit me at a time like this? Why doesn’t he just go off and find some other girl and be with her? I know he’d much rather do that than spoon-feed me all of his lies and bullshit.

  I felt Nick’s warm body come next to mine, hugging me so tenderly. Why was he still here? Doesn’t he know that I know his game? I’ve figured him out. That’s the end of the game.

  "Layla we said we’d try to make this work. I don’t see you trying."

  "Oh please. Just divorce me already. You know you want to." Holy. Fucking. Shit. That wasn’t my inner monologue talking. That was me talking. My voice talking.

  "WHAT?" he asked, shocked. "I don’t want to divorce you. What the hell would make you think that?"

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Stupid! Just stop talking Layla! Stop thinking! Just stop! "Isn’t that where we’ve been heading since the day we got married?" Goddamn it. Well congratulations, Layla. Just fuck it all up.

  "Why the hell would I marry if you if I knew one day I would divorce you?" Don’t say anything. Don’t think anything. Just shut up Layla. "Layla?" Maybe if I go to sleep he’ll forget I’m fucked up and need to be institutionalized. "Layla!" I mean, that’s what I am, right? Just some fucked up, screwed up girl... "LAYLA!"

  "WHAT NICK?" I screamed. "What do you want me to say? I’m sorry but I can’t lie like you can."

  "I have never once lied to you, Layla."

  Sure you haven’t. You’ve been lying to me "since the very moment you told me you loved me!" Oh fuck, not again!

  "Since the moment I told you I love you, what?"

  "Forget it, Nick."

  "No! How can you believe that I don’t honestly love you? How can you even think I’d want a divorce?"

  "Because, Nick, you break my heart every chance you get! And my furniture. You never stop at making me hurt and bleed until I am nothing but an empty shell with no heart and no soul. That’s why!"

  "What do I have to do to get it through your thick head that I’m completely in love with you? Huh? What’s it going to take?"

  "Maybe you could stop pretending and actually love me!" I couldn’t stop the tears as they came pouring down my face. I never cried in front of Nick. Never in the years that I’ve known him have I let him see my like this.

  "Why would you marry me if you thought I didn’t love you?" he asked. I could hear the emotion in his voice and this time I couldn’t pass it off as a lie. I knew this time he was being honest.

  "Because."

  "BECAUSE WHY?" he yelled at me.

  "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” I yelled back. “Because I love you so much and I thought that... that even if you were only pretending... I could live with that because at least then I’d get to love you." God, I sound pathetic.

  I felt warm water dropping on my shoulders. Nick sniffed his nose but couldn’t hide his sob. "I was never pretending with you. Never." I felt more warm tear drops falling on me. I never knew Nick could cry. I didn’t think he knew how to react to his emotions like that.

  "Then why did you do all that stuff to me? Why did you leave me and go out and fuck every woman you saw? Why did you spend so many nights out of our home? Why didn’t you stop me when I moved away?" I was crying so hard now I could barely say the words I needed to say so badly. "Why would you only show me affection when there was an audience? What was I supposed to think Nick? That getting all dressed up every two months for an awards show or movie premiere or album release party was the way we said ‘I love you’?"

  "I’m sorry." I barely even heard him say it. "I’m sorry, Layla. I... I guess I just... I’ve been in this lifestyle for so long and it’s made me hard on the outside, you now? I stopped trusting people. Because everyone I met wanted me for something. Every girl I dated only wanted me because I as the famous Nick Hudson. Anytime a friend called up out of the blue it was because he wanted to borrow money or get some kind of hook up from me. No one wanted me for me. And then you came along. You came into my life and you made me believe again. You made me believe that there was someone in the world who wanted me for who I really am. Just regular old Nick Hudson. Not the celebrity Nick Hudson. Just me. No matter how much money I had or how much music I sold. And I found it in you. I knew right from the moment I met you that if I were ever stupid enough to let you go I would lose my soul mate. I would lose the one person in my life that needed me as a man, as a best friend, as a lover and as a mate ‘til death do us part. And I can’t let you go. Because then it wouldn’t matter about how much I have. You’re all that I have and without you, Layla, I have nothing. So you see I can’t let you go."

  "But why," I whispered, "Why? If I am that one person for you, why aren’t you faithful to me?"

  "Because I was scared. I was scared that if I held you too close you’d think I was trying to suffocate you. And instead I held you too far away and made you believe I don’t love you."

  "Say it again. Please."

  "I love you Layla Hudson. I’ve always loved you. And I always will love you. Please let me try again. Give me another chance to be the kind of husband you deserve. And I’ll never break your heart again."

  "On one condition only." I turned so that I was facing Nick for the first time. His face was drenched in tears and his eyes were puffy. And I could only think of one thing. He’s not lying. He’s not lying.

  "Name it."

  He’s not lying, Layla. "Make me your wife Nick. Truly your wife. Let me believe that you love me."

  "I promise."

  Chapter Six

  "That can’t possibly be right. Check it again.
" I felt like a spool of thread and I was slowly unravelling into nothingness. This can’t be right. There has to be an error. It’s just impossible. "And you’re absolutely sure?" Fuck. I clicked off the phone and dropped it to the floor. This has got to be a sick joke. Someone is playing a cruel joke on me. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

  The phone rang again and I looked at it, completely disgusted. Just ring. Whoever you are, go the hell away. Just leave me alone. But it kept ringing. So I picked it up and clicked it on.

  "Hello?" I asked, none too friendly.

  "Good morning, Layla."

  "Who is this?"

  "Missy Page. How are doing this morning?" What the hell does she want? Why the hell is she calling right now, of all the fucking times?

  "What can I do for you, Missy?" And how the hell did you get my phone number?

  "I just wanted to talk to you about the mix up we had last time we spoke."

  "I don’t care. It’s not my fault your readers make grand assumptions about my life."

  "Actually, I meant YOUR mix-up. Or should I say your flub?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Who the hell does this chick think she is?

  "Check your email. You might be interested in some information I sent to you this morning."

  "I don’t care about gossip?"

  "No, but you care about the truth. Have a nice day." Click. Just like that. Bitch hung up on me. I threw the phone across the room and walked out, not even caring that the phone broke into pieces. I headed for my computer and fired up my email.

  ‘Happy reading,’ followed by a link was all her email said. I clicked on the link and waited for the page to load. Missy Page’s disgusting blog loaded in an instant, a picture of Nick and me with a drawn-on broken heart between us taking up most of the screen.

  ‘Trouble in Pop Paradise. Don’t call it a blind item. Photos of Nick Hudson out with his new squeeze.’ No. She. Didn’t. I skimmed through the post, not believing what I was seeing. And then I saw the picture. It was Nick. My Nick. ‘Nick Hudson with Hollywood’s latest It-girl Ashley Burnett last night in NY.’ And there it was. Nick’s latest accessory: an actress in a push-up bra.

  ‘But Nick’s long-time girlfriend, Layla Garrett, was nowhere to be found...’

  How smart and clever can this woman really be if she hasn’t even figured out that my name is Layla Hudson?

  ‘So what does all of this mean for the suspected-to-be-pregnant Layla? Is this the end to one of Hollywood’s most notorious couples? Only we have the inside scoop!’

  I picked up the portable next to the couch and speed-dialed Nick’s cell.

  "Hello?" he answered.

  "Where the hell were you last night?"

  "Layla?"

  "No it’s the Tooth Fairy. Where were you?"

  "Packing up my apartment in Manhattan."

  "You son of a bitch. You might want to check the newspaper before you think of lying to me again." I hung up on him. I don’t believe I have to go through this again.

  The phone rang.

  "What Nick?"

  "What the hell’s going on with you?" he sounded utterly confused.

  "I could ask you the same. Who the hell is Ashley Burnett?" Silence. "Because according to Missy Page she is your new girlfriend. That’s funny Nick. Especially considering that one, last time I checked we’re still married, and two, you promised me you wouldn’t fuck around anymore!"

  "Layla she is obviously lying.”

  "There are photos, Nick."

  "Baby, you need to calm down."

  "I know this is asking a lot but I need you to be honest with me. Just once. Were you out at a club last night?"

  I could hear him sighing over the phone. "Yes."

  "And who is this girl that your hands are all over?"

  "She’s just a friend."

  "Stop lying to me!" I screamed. Here we go again! He’s doing it all over! And I believed him when he said he wouldn’t!

  "I’m not lying, Layla!"

  "Yes you are! And I had to find out about it through Missy fucking Page! Not only did she personally deliver the link to my inbox, but she had the nerve to call me about it beforehand."

  "Honey I can’t talk right now. We’re about to enter JFK. I’ll be home in a few hours and you can scream at me then, all right?"

  "Good!" I clicked off the phone squeezed it in my hand. Two weeks! For two fucking weeks he made me believe that we could make it work. ‘I promise you,’ he said to me. But the lying sack of shit couldn’t even make it more than two weeks without fucking it up again!

  I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of vodka. Two hard gulps and tt burned down my throat. How did I fall for it again? Why did I believe him? I always believe him and then he just screws with me all over again!

  I threw the still-full glass against the kitchen wall and watched as it exploded, sending drops of liquor all over the kitchen, shards of glass splaying in every direction. I walked out of the kitchen, stepping over the glass with my bare feet; I threw on a pair of shoes, found my keys, got in my car and started driving.

  "Miss Garrett?" I looked up at the nurse in the doorway. "Your boyfriend is here to pick you up."

  I nodded my head and sat quietly as I was wheeled out of the emergency room and into the patient check-out area. There was Nick, looking jet-lagged as all hell, looking at me.

  "Doctor Hamilton has prescribed her some mild pain pills which the pharmacy will guide you on how and when to administer them. If further swelling occurs or the stitches come undone, come back in."

  "Thank you," he smiled kindly to the attendant. Nick looked down at my bandaged feet and frowned. "I gotta tell you Layla. There’s nothing I love more than getting a phone call on an airplane from the Santa Monica emergency room asking me to come pick you up."

  I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him. And he just nodded his head. He signed some release forms and took hold of my wheelchair, guiding me out of the hospital and out into the crisp afternoon air. A male nurse followed us. I guess it was to make sure we didn’t steal the damn wheelchair. Take it. I don’t want it.

  Nick rolled me out to his SUV and stopped at the passenger’s side door. He unlocked it, opened it up and, without me protesting, picked me up and carefully placed me inside the car. He leaned over me to buckle me in. He rolled the chair back to the nurse and got behind the wheel.

  "Mind telling me how on earth you managed to get pieces of glass embedded into your feet?" We were heading back home, to my home, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for long.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Yeah. It matters."

  "I walked on broken glass."

  "And how did the glass get broken in the first place?"

  "I threw it against the kitchen wall."

  Nick drew in a sharp breath and out of the corner of my eye I could see him shaking his head. "And why did you do that?"

  "Because I could."

  "Layla..." I could feel him looking at me.

  "I was upset Nick."

  "Because of Missy and all that trash she wrote about you on her stupid, insignificant blog?"

  "That bitch is really starting to piss me off."

  "Tell me about it."

  "She will get what’s coming to her. You just stay away from her, Annie Lennox."

  We pulled into the driveway of the house and parked the car. Nick got out and walked around, opening my door and started to unbuckle me.

  "Don’t. I can do it on my own," I protested.

  "Just shut up and let me help you. You can’t walk on your own."

  "I said don’t touch me, Nick." I gave him a warning look and he backed off. He watched as I lowered myself to the ground. It hurt like a bitch but I wasn’t about to let him carry me over our tarnished threshold. I took big steps towards the front door, trying to remain strong and self-sufficient. But I could feel the sensation of something warm and sticky gathering around my toes and I knew that I was bleeding. I felt Ni
ck catch me as I fell off my feet. He was a lot stronger than I realized.

  "I got you. Come on. I’ll take you up to bed and then I’ll get you some ice for your feet."

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Fine. Are you hands clean?"

  "Are my hands clean?" he reiterated, clearly confused.

  Damn I hate it when people answer a question with a question. "Who knows who you got busy with on the plane."

  "Oh for Christ sake Layla! I don’t even know why I bother explaining myself to you in the first place. You never believe me anyway."

  "I don’t want to fight with you Nick! Now either carry me to my bed or drop me on my ass and let me crawl in the house myself."

  "Fine."

  Fortunately it was a soft bed of grass, and not the rock hard concrete, that met my ass as he dropped me.

  Chapter Seven

  "Layla, have you ever thought that maybe Nick isn’t the only one creating the rift in your relationship?"

  Oh great, now my own therapist is turning against me. What the hell am I paying you for anyway? If I wanted to feel bad I’d go home and spend time with Nick.

  "Doctor Brown do you actually listen to me or are you just doodling on that legal pad?"

  "Both." At least she had a sense of humor.

  "Look. Nick cheated on me. Several times over. He doesn’t even deny it!"

  "That’s right. He’s never denied cheating on you. So if he tells you the truth about his unfaithfulness, why is it so hard to believe that he’s not telling you the truth about everything else?"

  "Because he’s not telling the truth."

  "But you don’t know that."

  "Yes I do."

  "No. You never give him the chance to believe him. You don’t listen to his side of the story; you just automatically assume he’s lying and you cut him off at that."

  "I don’t understand. I thought you’re supposed to be on my side?" I must have sounded as petulant as I felt.

  "No, my job is to remain objective in order to help you." Well fine job you’re doing at that! You’re on Nick’s side! How objective is that? "And with that said, how did it go with Nick? With your assignment?"