The Handoff (Big Play #3)

by Jordan Ford

  I flinch away from him, my upper lip curling as I look into his dark eyes. “You don’t have anything. You expose those photos, you’ll be exposing yourself.”

  His smile reminds me of the demented Joker from the Batman movies. He lets out this maniacal titter. “I’m not afraid of the publicity. Getting it on with my luscious stepsister makes me a king…and you a slut.” He whispers the last word, sounding like a viper. “Imagine what Mack will think when I show him. Man, I can picture the look on his face right now. Can you see it?” His lips curl with a gleeful smile.

  I want to slap him, punch him in the groin until he’s crumpled on the floor, but I can’t. Because he’s right. Exposing those photos will finish me. I’m already classed as the drunken wild child with the loud mouth; I can’t handle more. And Mack… He’ll never look at me the same. He’ll be so incredibly disgusted.

  I pull in a shuddering breath. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to show him. He’ll beat the living shit out of you.”

  “He can try, but when he fails at that, the truth will still remain. His precious sister played Tongue Twister with his greatest enemy. And I know you, Layla. You’re not willing to risk destroying your relationship with your adored brother. You need his approval, because you’re pathetic, and without him, you’ve really got no one left who actually cares about you.”

  My chest deflates as his words hack my insides to shreds. “What do you want?”

  “I’m still deciding, but I thought you should know that I have these photos and I will be using them to my advantage.” He pushes off the wall and starts collecting them up, glancing over his shoulder with a friendly smile. “So, as long as you do everything I say, these won’t surface.”

  “I hate you.”

  He stops and faces me with an admonishing kind of look. “That’s not the best start. I think, actually, Layla, it’s in your best interest to treat me nice. At this stage, you and I are the only people who know about these.”

  “What about the party paparazzo?”

  “They’ve been paid off. You don’t need to worry about that.” He winks then wiggles his eyebrows at me. Spinning on his heel, he wags his finger in the air like he’s the professor and I’m sitting in on one of his lectures. “So, I’ve had a few ideas already.”

  “Screw you, I’m not doing this. You can’t blackmail me.”

  He turns back, mocking surprise. “Oh, but see, I can.” He pulls out his phone and starts tapping the screen. “With just a few little taps, your shame’s going to be flooding the world of social media. And we all know how vast and wide that world can be. Heck, it can probably reach all the way to New Zealand.”

  My lips start to tremble as he pulls up an image on his screen…and I do the only thing I can think of. Snatching the phone from his grasp, I spin on my heel and bolt for the front door.

  “Layla!” he yells. “Bring that back!”

  My shoes smack onto the marble entryway. Racing for the door, I yank it open and bolt into the afternoon sun. I can sense Derek behind me. He’ll chase me down and rip the phone from my hands, and then end me by posting the images all over the Internet. I can’t let that happen.

  Shoving the phone into my bag, I pump my arms and will my body to move a little faster.

  “Layla!” Derek hollers down the road. I don’t look back, instead taking a sharp right and cutting into our neighbor’s yard. Running down the edge of their lawn, I shoulder open the gate and sprint into their backyard. I have no idea where I’m going; I just need to get away.

  Derek’s no doubt fitter than me and he’ll be on my tail in a second. I have to think smart or he’s going to get me. Jumping over a vegetable garden, I leap onto the wooden compost box then brace my hands on the fence and vault over it.

  I land with a hiss, my body screaming at me to give up already. But there’s no way in hell.

  Pushing off the fence, I pump my legs and keep going.

  “Layla! Where the hell are you?” Derek’s voice isn’t too far behind me. He must have followed me into the backyard.

  I keep running, my feverish body lacking the energy I need to survive this escape. Turning left, I bust out of the next backyard and hit the street again. There’s a park just down the road—maybe I can find a decent place to hide. My feet hurt as my boots slap against the pavement. I hit the park and stop to catch a quick breath. The space is open with only a small swing and slide set. There’s no point hiding in the short tunnel; he’ll find me in a heartbeat.

  So where else can I disappear? I look to my right and spot a possibility.

  Running down the edge of the park, I aim for the thick hedge that borders the houses backing onto the park. I grit my teeth and scramble into the shrubbery. Sharp branches nick my skin, scratching my bare arms as I push deeper into the bush. I hit the grimy fence behind it and crawl further into hiding. It’s suffocating and painful, but I force my body still as I wait out Derek’s search of the area.

  I don’t see him until he’s running straight past me.

  Swear words are spewing from his mouth like black curses. He’s going to make me pay for this. I suddenly wonder if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life. Those pictures won’t just be on his phone. He’ll have them stored somewhere else, and he’ll post them for sure.

  But he wants me to do stuff for him, so maybe he won’t post anything until he’s at least tried to blackmail me. And he can’t blackmail me if he can’t find me.

  “Shit!” Derek shouts, then swivels around and stalks back the way he came. “Layla!”

  I force my body still as he hollers my name. I wait until his calls have softened in the distance before struggling out of the hiding space.

  I’m covered in dirt, grime, and scratches. I think there’s a cobweb in my hair. With a soft yelp, I scrub my fingers through my long locks and pray there’s no spider crawling around up there. My body is trembling and my joints ache. A cold shiver whistles up my spine, but I have to keep moving. Too scared to linger, I jog out of the park and head away from my neighborhood in search of somewhere to spend the night.

  I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. All I know is that hiding is my safest bet. If Derek does suddenly decide to post those pictures, they won’t be able to touch me if no one knows where I am.

  #10:

  Judge Jones

  Finn

  Lifting the weights with a grunt, I hold them for a second before slowly lowering them back down to my body. Working out has always been the best way to de-stress for me. I love working up a sweat, lifting weights, improving my body so it works in the most proficient way possible. I like feeling strong, like I could take on anything and still come out standing.

  The bar clangs into place and I sit up, satisfied with what I’ve achieved. Wiping the sweat off my face with a hand towel, I stand tall and head for the showers.

  It’s nice of Coach Watson to give the team access to the gym over break. He told us at least one coach will be at school every day so we can use the facilities and stay fit for the new season. I won’t be playing next season, but I want to stay in shape and Coach Watson is cool with that. I’ll no doubt bump into Colt and some of the other guys during the week. I actually invited him to join me today, but he’s hanging out with Tori this morning and I didn’t feel like an afternoon workout. I never work as hard in the afternoons. I don’t know why. I guess I’m just a morning person.

  Flicking on the shower, I soak under the hot spray for a minute before soaping my body down. My mind wanders to the text I got from Mack yesterday. After he landed in Auckland, he paid like a million bucks to catch a taxi straight to Kaija’s school.

  All he said after that was that everything went to plan, and then he sent a thumbs-up emoji. Looks like the guy is going to be gone for two weeks, just like he hoped.

  Which means I have to check in on Layla.

  I let out a sigh and push my head under the water, closing my eyes as the drips run down my face. I blow the droplets out
of my mouth and switch off the water.

  I should get it out of the way right now. I scrub a hand over my eyes before pinching my nose and staring at the wall. I should just head over to her place and see how she’s doing. School finished yesterday, so who knows what kind of party she went to last night. I should have checked in on her, made sure she was okay.

  Dammit.

  Snatching my towel, I dry myself off. Worry niggles the back of my neck as my mind plays with different scenarios. What if she got into trouble last night? Mack will kill my ass if I don’t stick to my word. I should have called her after school to see how she was doing.

  According to Mack, Layla gets even worse when she’s vulnerable. I don’t get it, but if he’s right, then she’s no doubt feeling it right now with her brother out of the country.

  I slide on my jeans and T-shirt, throwing my gym bag over my shoulder as I walk to the door. With the keys in my hand, I head for Mom’s car. She needs it back by eleven, but it won’t take me long to swing past the Mahoney’s place and check in on Layla.

  Pulling the phone from my back pocket, I note the time then stare at the screen for a second. I could just call her…but if I do that, I won’t get to see her face, and I feel like I need those visual cues to really help me assess her.

  I jog into the parking lot and am about to unlock Mom’s car when I spot Layla shuffling along the edge of the building. I jerk to an abrupt stop and stare at her for a second.

  She looks like shit.

  Not to be mean or anything, but it’s obvious she’s been out all night. Her hair is ratty, her skin pale. She’s walking like she’s drunk. I frown, letting out a disapproving sigh before heading over to her.

  “Layla.”

  She flinches when she hears her name and glances up with wide eyes. She almost looks like she’s afraid, which is kind of weird.

  Her brown gaze assesses me for a second, and then she sags against the wall and lets out a disappointed scoff. “What are you doing here?”

  “Working out.” My words come out clipped and quiet.

  It’s obvious she thinks about as much of me as I think of her, so it’s kind of hard to be friendly. But Mack did ask, so I force myself to stick around and check on her.

  She’s got these little cuts on her dirty arms and there’s a tear in the upper thigh of her skin-tight pants. It looks like it’s not meant to be there, which confuses me. Layla usually prides herself on her appearance. She must have had one wild night.

  Shit, I should have been there. If Mack finds out she’s shuffling home at nine-thirty in the morning, he’ll be pissed.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, noticing the way Layla’s fingers tremble as she clutches her bag strap.

  She sniffs and looks to the ground. Her hair, usually so glossy, frames her face like a black bird’s nest. “I’m fine, okay?”

  “That’s not what I asked.” My voice sounds so deep compared to hers.

  Everything about us is different. I’m tall and broad. My skin’s dark brown. She’s short and slender, her skin almost milky white against mine. I like to be calm and peaceful. She likes wild parties and stumbling home after having been out all night.

  As if reading my mind, she takes a step forward and proves me right by nearly toppling over. Her knee buckles and I reach forward to snatch her elbow.

  “Layla, are you drunk?” I snap the question like a disapproving parent.

  She turns to me with a narrowed glare and mutters, “Take that look off your face, Judge Jones. I’m not drunk.”

  As soon as she’s finished spitting out the words, she lurches forward with these gross, gagging sounds and throws up all over the pavement.

  My nose wrinkles as spew splatters across the concrete, nearly catching my shoe. I jump out of the way but don’t let go of her arm. If I do, she’ll probably flop right into her own vomit.

  So, I stand beside her as she gags and coughs, trying my best not to act like Judge Jones. I hate that she called me that. I pride myself on being a nice guy. I don’t buy into any of Nelson High’s social bullshit, but I’m no judge and I don’t want to be thought of as one.

  Too bad Layla’s making it so damn hard on me. How am I supposed to stand here, holding up her drunk ass and not feel at least a little justified in my opinions?

  #11:

  Strong Arms

  Layla

  Finn’s holding me too tight. His fingers are digging into my arm, trying to keep me upright as I empty my stomach. It feels awful…and kind of good. I’ve been wanting to throw up all night, nausea roiling in my stomach as I shivered on the gym floor. The school was still unlocked when I arrived. The janitor was doing his final check when I slipped past him and hid out in the gym bathroom.

  It was the longest, most horrible night of my life.

  It took me forever to get rid of Derek’s phone. I tried flushing it down the toilet, and had to take it apart and smash it with my boot heel so I could flush it away in smaller chunks. I was freaking out the whole time, praying he hadn’t kicked up Find my Phone on any of his devices. I then had the shuddering thought that maybe he could track my phone so, after a whimper, I drove my boot heel through that as well and cried just a little as it was sucked down the S-bend.

  Desperate times.

  Once that was done, I snuck into the gym. I was feeling too sick to do anything more than crawl behind the bleachers then lie on my side and cry. The shiny floor was hard and it was impossible to sleep.

  Those nasty photos kept flashing in my brain, meshing with the fuzzy images already locked inside there. I could feel Quaid’s hand squeezing my butt, and if I tortured myself hard enough I could even taste Derek’s tongue on my lips.

  Each time I did, I’d slap at my face, wanting to claw my skin off.

  How could I let him touch me?

  It didn’t matter how tightly I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t escape that sensation of ants crawling all over my body, nipping at me and telling me how dirty I was.

  By the time morning came, I was a trembling mess. Nausea plagued me no matter how hard I tried to talk myself out of it.

  When I spotted Finn glaring at me with those dark, judgmental eyes of his, I knew my number was up.

  And I’m too tired to even care.

  My head is pounding. My entire body is aching. I’m not sure how much fight I have left.

  I let out one more gagging cough, then wipe the drips with the back of my hand.

  “Are you sure you didn’t drink too much last night?” Finn’s deep voice makes me stand up, trying to put on that show I always do, but I can’t pull it off.

  Leaning my head against the wall, I look at him with glazed eyes. “I’m not hungover. I just don’t feel well,” I murmur, my body starting to sink as my legs give out on me.

  Finn tightens his grip on my arm, pulling me towards him so he can wrap his other hand around my waist. My head flops back and, just before I close my eyes, I’m sure I catch a flicker of concern on his face.

  He lets go of my arm and steadies my floppy head, resting it against his chest. His long fingers run across my forehead and stay there, reminding me of Mom when she used to notice me…back before Dad got sick.

  “Layla, you’re burning up.”

  All I can do is grunt at his observation. I’m not surprised. I feel like shit.

  “I’ve got to get you home.”

  The statement jolts me for a second and I push against him. “No. I’m not going home.” His arm around my back is strong, so I thump his chest with my fist. “Let me go.”

  He loosens his hold but doesn’t back away. His hand is still beneath my arm, making sure I don’t fall over. “Layla, you’re sick. Home’s the best place for you.”

  I shake my head and start to turn away from him, but he captures my elbow and stops my retreat.

  “Layla, come on.”

  “No!” I grip his collar, more to hold myself up than anything. His eyes round with surprise as he gazes down at
me. “I did not spend last night sleeping in the gym just so you can drag me home now.”

  His dark eyebrows bunch in query, but I don’t have it in me to answer him. I let go of his collar and stumble back.

  “Just leave me alone, Finn. I’ll be fine.”

  My knee buckles as I step back and Finn is right there to catch me. His arm comes around my back and then he sweeps me off the messy pathway. I should be struggling right now, but his arms are so big and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.

  “Tank.” I mutter his nickname, my eyes burning with tears as I get ready to plead with him.

  His brown eyes flicker with a look I can’t decipher, and then he starts carrying me to his car.

  “Please, no,” I whimper. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Home.”

  “No.” I start to cry, then kick my legs in a pathetic, last-ditch effort to get away. “I told you I don’t—”

  “My home.” He squeezes me to his chest to combat my frail fighting and stops to gaze down at me. “Just relax.” The expression on his face softens with a sweet look as the edge of his mouth rises into a smile. I look at the faint dimples curving around his lips. I want to reach up and touch them, but instead I rest my head against his shoulder and quit fighting.

  The car beeps in front of us and I expect Finn to put me down so I can get in, but he doesn’t. His strong arms stay wrapped around me as he bends low and opens the door. He lowers me into the seat, even going so far as to put my seatbelt on for me. I can’t help staring at him while he snaps the buckle in place.

  “What?” His forehead wrinkles with confusion.

  I shake my head then curl into my seat as he moves away, shutting the door behind me. His tall body lopes around the car. I can’t take my eyes off his solid legs and the smooth way he moves. For such a tall guy, he’s got some elegance going for him.