The Handoff (Big Play #3)

by Jordan Ford

  “This isn’t going to end us, is it? I mean, I know you and Mack are close, but…”

  “Of course not.” Finn pulls me back against him and kisses the top of my head. “I just want him to come around really quickly. We’re going to need him on our side with this whole Derek thing. Plus, I want to be able to spend time with you and not have to worry about pissing off your brother.”

  I let out this breathy kind of chuckle, but it’s more nerves than anything. I feel confident that Mack will eventually come around to Finn and me together, but there’s no way in hell he’ll ever come around to the idea of Derek and me kissing.

  “I have to tell him before Derek posts those photos. If I don’t say something before Monday, I might be too late. But I’m terrified. If he’s that pissed off about us being together, how’s he going to react to…?”

  Finn crushes me against him, his arms trembling just a little as we cling to each other. “I’m not going to let him lose it with you. We just have to play it right. Hopefully, he’ll be so pissed at Derek he’ll forget you’re even there.”

  I nod against Finn’s chest, fear scraping my insides raw. This is going to be a harrowing weekend. If everything goes to plan, Mom’s Sunday brunch is going to go down in history as the worst meal ever. But everyone who matters is going to be sitting at the table, and it’s my safest chance to dump Derek in it.

  “It’s going to be okay, baby. I know you’re scared, but I’ll be there to back you up. I’ll stand by you no matter what, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whisper, squeezing him a little tighter and willing myself to believe him.

  With a heavy sigh, Finn steps back and gently touches my cheeks. “I better get going. I’m meeting the guys in an hour.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” He nods. “This is going to be over soon, I promise. And then you…” He kisses my right cheek. “And me…” He kisses my left cheek. “Can pour all our attention into just being together.”

  He presses his warm lips against my smile, chasing away the gnawing anxiety. I cling to him, deepening the kiss until he’s forced to move away. I watch him leave, hovering in the driveway until I can’t see his mom’s car anymore.

  Running a hand through my hair, I spin for the house and stop short when I sense a set of eyes on me. I glance up at the window and spot Derek. His sneering smile and the dark glint in his eye make me shiver. My comments last night will not be forgotten in a hurry. He’s going to make me pay for pissing him off…I just hope he bides his time long enough that I can get the jump on him.

  Oh, man, this better work or my life at Nelson High will be over. Finn says he’ll stand by me no matter what, but will he seriously want to stick around when people are hurling rotten tomatoes at me?

  #28:

  Mission: Impossible

  Finn

  My insides are on fire as we sneak towards Derek’s house in Brownridge. Colt parked his truck three blocks away. The streets are dark, other than the soft glow of streetlights. They make fuzzy orange circles on the footpath and we duck around them, staying in the shadows. We’re all dressed in black, and even though this probably makes me sound like a complete douche, it’s hard not to feel like a secret agent as we slip through the darkness into Derek’s backyard.

  It’s four o’clock in the morning. We arrived in Brownridge just before sunset to subtly scope out Derek’s place, then went to a nearby mall and hung out until closing. We were going to bust in at midnight, but Tyler convinced us that the best time to break in is in the early hours of the morning.

  “That’s when people sleep the deepest. I read it somewhere online.”

  Colt and I both rolled our eyes, but Ty’s tone was so compelling we gave in. And so, two hours before sunrise, I’m sneaking my ass in to Derek’s bedroom.

  Colt, being the smallest of us, wriggles in through the garage window and unlocks the back door. As far as we know, Derek’s mom is the only one in the house. I’m praying for a serious lack of dog as I pad through the kitchen and pause in the living room to check for noises in the house.

  According to Layla, Derek’s room is downstairs. She’s basing this all on comments he’s made in the past, bragging about his man cave and how his mom’s never allowed down there.

  With my breath on hold, I turn the handle to what I presume is the right door and ease it open. We descend the basement stairs and enter a carpeted living area that’s been turned into a massive bedroom. Flicking on my flashlight, I scan the space. It reeks of Derek. There are clothes scattered all over the floor, along with food wrappers and empty root beer cans.

  “Dude, is this a bedroom or a garbage dump?” Tyler makes a face as he creeps over to the computer.

  Switching on the lamp, he perches on a stool and turns on the screen. The computer buzzes to life with a click that sounds a million times louder than it should.

  I whip my head to look at Colt who’s keeping watch on the stairwell. He gives me a thumbs-up and I nudge Tyler to be quick.

  “Chill, man. I can’t make the computer go any faster.”

  I grit my teeth and lean against the desk, looking over Tyler’s shoulder while he works. His fingers fly over the keyboard while he does a quick search. A list of files pops up and he quickly works his way through them. Nerves are getting the better of me as he continues to come up empty-handed.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find them,” he whispers.

  I give him a tight smile and look back to Colt. His eyes are still cast upwards, his face tight with concentration. Glancing around us, I look to see if we have an easy out. There’s a window above Derek’s bed. It’s narrow, but we could probably all scramble through it if we had to.

  Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but I want to be prepared. What we’re doing is crazy as hell and I seriously want to bail.

  But Layla.

  I have to come through for her. There’s no point outing Derek if she’s only got her word to go on, and I seriously doubt he’ll pull his cellphone out and help her along. Those pictures have to be on his computer, as well.

  Tyler’s fingers pause. The sudden lack of tapping and double-clicking makes me jerk back to the screen. The second my eyes land on the first photo, something inside me breaks open.

  Derek’s fisting Layla’s hair, sucking her neck like a freaking vampire while Quaid squeezes her butt.

  I let out a fuming breath and grip the desk so hard I feel capable of ripping the entire top off.

  Tyler swallows and flicks through to the next one. Quaid’s pulling down the strap of her dress. I close my eyes and swallow, hating that Layla got herself into this mess.

  I’m not mad at her. She said she was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight, but seeing it played out like this is making me sick. I want to break every one of Quaid’s fingers. The next image has them trailing down her back, his lips pressed against her shoulder as he looks up at the camera. The smug glint in his eyes makes me want to punch the screen.

  Those shitheads knew exactly what they were doing. It makes me think they set it all up, forced Layla into a room, and brought the party paparazzo with them.

  Tyler’s really quiet beside me as we go through the rest of the images. The last few show the side of Layla’s face as Quaid then Derek both make out with her. They’re freaking taking turns, smug little smiles on their faces while they have their way with my girl.

  “I want to kill them,” I mutter.

  “If Mack sees these, you’re gonna have to get in line.”

  “I can’t show him this shit.”

  Tyler shoves a flash drive into the side of Derek’s computer and glances up at me. “You have to. We’ve got to stick with the plan. Layla’s going to need his support when she goes up against her mom today.”

  “I don’t want anyone seeing these,” I choke.

  Tyler clenches his jaw as he transfers the twelve images onto his flash drive, then starts deleting them off the computer. “I know. But if we don’t show at least
her family then there’s a really strong chance everyone at school’s going to see these…and we can’t let that happen.”

  Squeezing my temples, I scrub a hand over my head and give Tyler a reluctant nod.

  “Guys, we’ve got to get moving.” Colt’s urgent voice snaps me straight.

  Scurrying down the stairs, he leaps onto Derek’s bed and tests out the window.

  “Someone’s walking around upstairs. Let’s go.”

  I snap off the desk lamp as Tyler empties the trash, making sure those photos are deleted off Derek’s computer for good. He then yanks the drive out of the computer before flicking off the screen. We rush to the window, Tyler scrambling up the painted concrete wall as a light flicks on in the hallway above. A yellow glow illuminates the top of Derek’s stairs as I shove Tyler through the space and jump up after him.

  “Derek? What are you doing home?” A female voice travels down into the room. I grunt and wriggle my body through the tight space.

  Colt and Tyler snatch my arms and haul me out just as Derek’s bedroom light flicks on. Jumping to my feet, I haul ass away from the window, not looking back to see if his mom will notice the rumpled bedding or the window we left ajar.

  By the time we reach Colt’s car, we’re puffing like madmen, but it doesn’t matter. We yank open the doors and scramble inside, the wheels squealing as we pull out of the foreign neighborhood and head back to Nelson with a flash drive full of photos that will set Layla free and bury her at the same time.

  #29:

  Full Exposure

  Layla

  The high-class cafe is filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, forks on big, square plates, and the quiet murmurs of families enjoying Sunday brunch. The aromas swirling through the room are decadent and delicious. Mom’s trying to look excited by it all, but I can tell by the tightening around her eyes that her smiles are fake and she’s still consumed by the lacy thong she found in Martin’s pocket.

  She says she’s forgiven him, but she doesn’t believe his innocence.

  My breakfast arrives—thick slices of French bread smothered in maple syrup with crispy bacon on the side and a snowfall of powdered sugar over the top.

  I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat it.

  Mom smiles up at the waiter, thanking him for her scrambled eggs with salmon. I look at Mack’s and Martin’s full breakfast before eyeing up Derek’s blueberry pancakes with whipped cream. He drowns them in maple syrup, giving me a smug smile when he licks his finger.

  My upper lip curls and I look back to my food.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Martin leans towards Mom with a kiss, but she turns her head last minute and all he gets to peck is her taut cheek. He clears his throat, adjusting his collar as if the subtle movement didn’t cut like a knife blade.

  He then tries to hide the awkward moment by striking up a light conversation while we eat, but it never really takes. Ten minutes pass by as we pick at our food. I have maybe three mouthfuls before giving up. My stomach is in knots. Mack and Derek wolf down their food. Why is it that boys can always eat, no matter how tense they are?

  Mack’s like a freaking stretched rubber band, ready to snap at any moment. He told Mom about moving to New Zealand last night and it went down as expected—like an iron-cast balloon. She’ll come around, just like she did about his football decision. I’m guessing she’s just going to miss him. With Martin possibly cheating hanging over her as well, she’s looking pretty fragile this morning.

  I glance her way. She’s barely touched her eggs, pushing them around the plate with her fork and blinking like she’s trying to ward off tears.

  I can’t stand this.

  The phone in my bag beeps and I scramble to check the message. Mack gives me a pointed glare as I ignore our family rule of no phones during mealtimes. Mom and Martin are both too lost in marital despair to tell me off, so I check it anyway.

  Got ‘em. Printed them out at Tyler’s place. I’ll bring them to you now.

  You can do this, Sundar xx

  I can’t believe he’s still calling me that, even after seeing those pictures. Tears burn my eyes as I place the phone back in my bag and turn to meet my doom.

  “It was me,” I blurt.

  Everyone pauses, then stares at me like I’m crazy.

  Sucking in a ragged breath, I look to Martin first and then turn my gaze to my mother. I hope they can read the apology on my face. “I left the underwear in your jacket pocket, Martin. I’m sorry.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Derek stiffen. His knuckles look ready to pop out of his skin as he grips his cutlery and glares at me.

  Mom’s mouth drops open, her eyes popping wide with disbelief. But then her shoulders sag as anger swiftly charges through any hope that her daughter still possesses an ounce of goodness.

  “What are you talking about?” Mack gazes between us, and I don’t have the guts to answer him.

  Martin’s thin lips press into a tight line. He scowls at me while explaining to Mack, “Your mother found a pair of lady’s underwear in my jacket pocket and thought I was having an affair.”

  Mack’s eyebrows rise in surprise and he gapes at me.

  “Why would you do something like that?” Mom snaps, dumping her cloth napkin on the table, then changing her mind and fisting it. The engagement ring Dad gave her glints in the light. The solitaire diamond is so much smaller than Martin’s, but I’ll always like it better.

  I train my eyes on it as Mom presses the napkin to her lips then slams it back down, making her fork clatter off the edge of her plate.

  “Layla, you answer me right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble, my gaze mistakenly flicking past Derek’s. He’s warning me away from the truth with a malignant look that’s making my insides quake.

  “Answer the question, Layla.” Martin’s tone is icy. He’s never spoken to me like this before. He’s usually trying so hard to accommodate my bratty behavior, but I crossed a line with this one. “Were you trying to break us up, was that it? Make me look like a liar and a cheat? I’ve been nothing but kind to you. Why? Why would you do this to me…to your mother? Do you have any idea how much she’s been hurting over this?” His voice is rising with each question while I sink further and further into my chair.

  Mom’s not defending me. She’s letting Martin tell me off, and Mack’s not saying shit either because he believes it.

  The truth’s an easy sell, I guess.

  I’m Layla, the selfish little bitch who tried to break up her mother’s marriage.

  But that’s not the truth! I didn’t want to!

  I glance at Derek, who is now fighting a smile as Martin lays into me. Anger blasts inside me like white-hot lava and I jolt up in my seat, slapping the table to shut Martin up.

  “I didn’t want to!” My sharp tone quiets the table…and every other table around me. “Derek made me do it.”

  I point at him, my gaze darting to the tablecloth so I don’t have to endure his venom.

  “Excuse me?” He lets out a disbelieving chuckle and shifts in his chair. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I snap.

  Mack’s dark eyes narrow as he turns his shocked gaze from me to Derek.

  “What the hell is going on?” His voice is deep and tight, his forearms tensing as he leans them against the edge of the table.

  Swallowing down my fear, I glance at him, then sweep my eyes past Mom. “Derek’s been blackmailing me. He’s got some photos that I don’t want anyone to see, and he’s using my fear to make me do things I don’t want to do.” Getting the truth out is easier than I thought it would be. As the words spill from my lips, my confidence grows and I’m able to look Martin right in the eye. “I know I’ve acted like I don’t like you. But the truth is, you make Mom really happy. And even though I miss my dad more than anything, Mom happy is better than Mom heartbroken. And I don’t want you guys to break up.” My v
oice pitches.

  “That’s bullshit,” Derek mutters. “Come on, you guys. She’s totally playing you. As if I would stoop so low as to blackmail someone. Give me a little credit. Pictures? I don’t even know what she’s talking about.”

  “They’re pictures of…” I swallow and close my eyes, willing myself to say it. My rebellious lips bunch into a tight line. Making two fists, I snap my eyes open and blurt, “They’re pictures of Derek…and…and me. We’re making out, and there’s another guy…too.”

  I swallow, feeling ill right down to my core. Mack’s just been sucker-punched, if the expression on his face is anything to go by. I appeal to him with a broken look of desperation, but he just shakes his head and looks at the table, too horrified to even speak. I watch the war rage over his face. Anger is fighting with disgust while horror attacks from the left flank.

  I close my eyes and turn away from it.

  “Layla.” Mom’s appalled whisper is high and breathy. I look at her, my insides flinching at her sickly cream complexion, which only makes her bright red lipstick stand out.

  “Layla, seriously, stop this.” Derek’s tone is quiet and sweet. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, but making up these lies is going a little too far, don’t you think?”

  “You’re a two-faced asshole,” I hiss. “Just pull out your phone and show them.”

  His eyebrows rise as if I’ve just slapped him. “I am telling the truth. There’s nothing on my phone.” He pulls it out as if he’s ready to prove his innocence.

  My heart accelerates, turning breathing into a whole new challenge.

  “I’m not the wild child in this situation.” Derek taps his phone screen. “Don’t use me to cover your guilt. I’m not your way out, Layla, and I don’t appreciate you treating me this way.”

  I’m stunned for a second, rendered speechless by his amazing act. How can he look so freaking innocent? He holds out his phone and looks to his dad. Martin raises a hand and shakes his head with a no need expression.