Chapter 37

LAYLA

Sweat covered every inch of my body, the slight breeze from the kitchen door kept ajar providing no relief.

Huntsville was three days into a record-breaking heat wave. The locals were actually enjoying it, claiming it would be ~colder than a witch’s tit~ before long.

I flipped the burgers on the grill, slapping some fake cheese on top. Midge’s Diner made LuLu’s seem like a five-star restaurant. I had no idea why anyone would want to eat here.

The place hadn’t seen a paintbrush since it opened in 1985. I wasn’t even sure it had been ~cleaned~ since 1985.

And nothing had ever been replaced. The vinyl booths had duct tape covering the cracks. Old dusty light fixtures hung over the tables, with dead fly collections in every single one. How did they pass health inspections?

The kitchen though was spotless and updated. The appliances were all new, with stainless steel counters to work at.

I guess the health inspector came in the back door and left the same way, never setting foot in the dining area. The food was okay. Better, now that I was doing the cooking.

That’s what Midge told me anyway. I don’t know whether she actually believed that, or she was just desperate for a cook.

Two weeks had passed since I quit my job as Briggs’s kids’ nanny and moved out of his house. Two weeks since I’d seen the man I loved.

Fourteen days since I’d felt his hands on me as we kissed and made love in his office. He’d fucked me hard that day. But it still felt like we were making love.

It was desperate, passionate sex, between two lovers who knew it was the last time they would ever be together that way.

I knew without a doubt I would never find love like that again. Maybe someday I’d meet someone else. A man whom I loved enough to marry. But my heart would always belong to Briggs.

I plated the burgers and scooped fries from the fryer basket. “Order up!” I yelled, placing the food in the window. I blinked when a camera flashed, momentarily blinding me.

~What the heck?~

When my vision cleared, I saw a tall, blonde woman in a pantsuit smiling at me from the other side of the counter. She had a cameraman next to her.

I ducked down, disappearing into the back of the kitchen. How did the media find out I was working there? I stayed in the kitchen most of the time. My hair was up in a net. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me.

“Oh my God!” I gasped when I heard the reporter talking.

She was actually filming inside the diner, bragging about an anonymous tip that led her to Midge’s Diner, where she found poor Layla Lucas slaving away at a hot grill after Briggs Westinghouse threw her out on her gold-digging keister.

I slid to the floor, placing my head between my knees. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? ~This~ was what Briggs had been trying to protect me from by keeping our relationship a secret.

He knew firsthand what the paparazzi were like; vultures with no conscience. They didn’t care if they embarrassed people or ruined their lives, as long as they got the story. That was all that mattered to them.

“Git up, girl!” Midge barked. “I ran that plastic bitch outta my property. Nobody ain’t comin’ into my diner and harrasin’ my employees.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, pushing up from the wall. “I really appreciate you getting rid of them.”

“You’re the best cook I’ve ever had, darlin’. I don’t want nobody botherin’ ya.”

When I got home, I went straight to my room. Mrs. Anderson offered to heat me up some leftovers from dinner, but I wasn’t feeling very hungry. I’d eaten a late lunch at work. One of the perks of the job was discounted food.

I flopped on the twin bed and stared up at the ceiling. I was trying really hard to think positive. My life after Briggs was ~so~ much better than it was before I met him.

I wasn’t living in a drug-infested trailer park in the city. It was safe to walk down the street here. I was living in a nice house, with kind people.

The air outside was fresh, not filled with smog so thick I could hardly breathe. On a day like today, with the heat and high humidity, downtown Toronto would be unbearable.

My nephews were close by. I could go visit them anytime I wanted. I missed them like crazy. But I wasn’t ready to see Briggs.

Sonya promised she’d let me know if he was going to be away for the day. That way I could go without the risk of running into him.

I pulled out my diamond necklace, turning it over in my hands as I recalled the night Briggs had given it to me, the same night he told me he loved me.

One lonely tear escaped my eye, straggling down my cheek before plopping onto the necklace. It sat there, another sparkling, ineffable diamond.

A moment later several more joined it while I sobbed softly.

The buzzing of my phone interrupted my pity party. I lifted it off the nightstand, letting out a frustrated sigh when I saw who it was.

My sister had been harassing me constantly since the world learned that Briggs Westinghouse was banging his kids’ twenty-year-old nanny.

I hadn’t spoken to her once since the day I called to tell her we were being evicted, and she informed me that she had got married and I was on my own.

I refused to answer the phone when she called. Judging from the texts she sent, I would be wise to continue ignoring her calls. They started out nice. That was Shelly’s style.

She was nice to you if you had something she wanted. But if you didn’t give in to her, she could turn nasty in a heartbeat.

The first few texts consisted of a bunch of phony bulls about how she was concerned that Briggs had taken advantage of her little sister.

Then she laid on the guilt, crying the blues about how she had no money, and her husband had abandoned her. She asked me if I could loan her some money. ~Just a few thousand.~

After a few days of my ignoring her, the texts turned angry, accusing me of stealing Briggs from her, and how dare I move in on ~her~ man. She claimed she had seen him first, and therefore he was off-limits to me.

I shook my head when I read her latest text.

Shelly

I still can’t believe that rich prick threw you out. What a fucking cocksucker. We should team up. Take him down.

Shelly

I bet you know the alarm codes for his fancy mansion up there in the sticks. We could rob him.

My sister was unbelievable. All she ever thought about was money. Not once, in any of the gazillion texts and calls, had she ever asked about her kids. Not one single time.

I turned the ringer off and crawled into bed, crying myself to sleep for the fourteenth night in a row.

***

The paparazzi descended on Midge’s Diner like hyenas. She would kick one out, only for another to show up. It was a losing battle, and not just against reporters. Everyone wanted a piece of Briggs Westinghouse’s ~latest puck bunny.~

The media rehashed Briggs’s entire history, including his partying years when he was fucking puck bunnies every night while his young daughter lived in poverty in the Louisiana Bayou.

They interviewed people who knew Kyla and her mother, fabricating a sob story about how Julie had turned to drugs to cope when Briggs refused to provide support.

And they speculated about my sister, and whether she was actually the injured party.

“Girl!” Midge barked.

I flipped some pancakes before turning around. Midge was standing in the doorway with hands on her hips, smacking on a piece of gum. She was probably going to fire me. My presence was causing too much trouble.

“I understand if you need to let me go,” I said.

“What the jiggers are you talkin’ bout, girlie! My diner’s packed. I got a line-up a mile long down the sidewalk. I ain’t never had this much business ever.”

“Well, I’m glad to help,” I muttered.

“Listen, girl. There’s someone out there claimin’ to be your big sister. Said she wants to talk to you.”

I went to the window and peeked out. Shelly was sitting in a booth with a greasy-looking old guy in a stained wife beater.

“She won’t leave until I talk to her,” I sighed.

“It’s quiet right now,” Midge said. “Mornin’ rush is over. Why don’t ya take a break?! You can bring her back to the lunchroom, so you can have some privacy.”

“Thanks, Midge.”

“I’ll go grab her for ya.”

I waited in the hallway behind the kitchen. Shelly appeared a moment later and threw her arms around me. She reeked of cigarettes and cheap pot.

I pulled back, studying her. She didn’t look well. Her face was thinner, with dark circles under her eyes.

Shelly had always been very curvy. The woman standing in front of me was anything but; she looked like a scarecrow. The only meat on her body was bursting out the top of her ratty tank top.

“We can talk in here,” I said, gesturing toward the lunchroom.

She followed me inside, flopping into a chair with her feet resting on the table. Very dirty feet, encased in dollar store flip-flops.

“People eat off that table, Shelly.”

She shrugged, rooting around in her purse. “Fuck. I’m outta smokes.”

“You can’t smoke in here. And since when do you smoke, anyway?”

“My husband smokes like a fuckin’ chimney, so I figured, what the fuck. Might as well join him.”

“I thought you said your husband left you.”

“So you did get my texts,” she snapped. “And he did leave me.”

“Who’s the guy you came with?”

“You thought Earl was my husband?” She shook her head. “Ew. Fuck, no. He’s just some trucker I hitched a ride up here with.”

“Oh.” ~And I bet you gave him a blow job in exchange for the ride.~

“So, my dear, sweet, innocent little sister. Tell me, how did you get Briggs Westinghouse to fuck you?”

“I’m not discussing Briggs with you, Shelly.”

“His cock is huge. He must’ve destroyed your tight little virgin pussy.”

“Why are you here, Shelly?”

“Stop using my name, ~Layla.~ Fuck. You sound like Mom. She always used our names when she was pissed at us.”

“I’m not pissed at you. I just wanna know why you’re here.”

“You better not be pissed at me, little sister. You got no right. If anyone deserves to be pissed off, it’s me. You knew I’d been in love with him for like, forever.

“And you stole him right out from behind my back—used my kids to work your way into his bed and his fat bank account.”

I blinked rapidly, blown away by her delusions. Did she honestly believe the crap coming out of her mouth? “Look, Shelly. I have to get back to work, so we need to wrap this little family reunion up.”

“We’ll be finished when I say we’re finished,” she barked, rising from the chair.

“Are you high?” I asked, the glazed look in her eyes telling me that she was definitely on something. “What happened to you? You always stayed away from that shit before. Or I thought you did.”

“Oh, just shut up, Miss Goody Two-Shoes! You think you’re hot shit ‘cause you got fucked by a famous hockey player? Whoopty doo! Yer nothin’ special.

“Didn’t you do your homework before you spread your legs for him? He’s had more pussy than Hugh Hefner. You better get checked for gonorrhea.”

“What do you want, Shelly?”

“Money, obviously.”

“I don’t have any.”

“So let’s work together, Sis. Let’s make that bastard pay for what he did to us.”

“This conversation is over.” I turned and headed down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Get back here, Layla! We ain’t done talkin’.” She grabbed my arm, yanking it behind my back. Shelly was surprisingly strong for a malnourished addict.

“Let me go, Shelly.” I kicked her in the shin, freeing myself from her grasp.

She reached for my hair net, yanking my hair free as I tried to get away. We tumbled into the diner, clawing at each other’s faces while the shocked customers looked on.

“You think you can ignore ~me~?” she screamed. “Think again, little sister. Have you forgotten I ~raised~ you? Do you know how much the tabloids would pay for an interview with me?

“I told ‘em no way when they called me. Said I wouldn’t betray my sister. But ya know what? ~You~ betrayed ~me~. So, fuck you, you little backstabbing cunt. Yer gonna pay!”