“It’s almost four o’clock in the morning, but I’m still not drunk. Still thinking clearly.”
“You’re a tough one.”
“Or your pace is off.” She finishes her shot, grabbing her bag. “Thank you for a surprisingly pleasant evening.”
If I could, I’d press replay to relive it all over again. “Hold on. I’ll call my driver. He’ll take you home.”
“No need. I’m sure Adam is waiting outside.” She leans over, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight. Let’s hope I won’t see you again.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I clip, fighting the urge to sit her on my lap, cage her in my arms and deflower those plump lips.
She teeters on her stilettoes toward the staircase, hips swaying. “Don’t stare at my ass.” She chuckles, not bothering to turn around.
“Stop swaying your hips.”
Now, she does turn around, gracing me with a broad smile that makes me feel fluffy inside. “Goodnight, Dante.”
“Goodnight, Star.”
The happy clicking of her heels echoes throughout the empty space for the next two minutes until the door closes behind her. I reach over the bar, snatching a bottle of whiskey. With a cigarette pinched between my lips, and a drink in hand, I head downstairs to the DJ’s station.
The song Layla regards as her favorite seeps from the speakers a short while later. Atmospheric music fills the club while I rest my back against the wall, staring straight ahead, captivated. There’s no trace of the funky rhythm.
The hairs on my neck rise while I listen to the familiar words. The new arrangement somehow changes the meaning of the lyrics. Both the melody and words mirror how I feel when Layla’s around. A bit like a psycho.
A fascinated psycho.
CHAPTER THREE
Layla
“Explain why you left last night without a word and why you chose the last place you should find yourself in,” my father says the second I show my face downstairs in the morning.
No birthday wishes.
Not evenhello.
He sits at the kitchen table in a three-piece gray suit, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. Fetching a cup from the cupboard, I start the coffee maker choosing cappuccino on the touch screen. Ever since I was a child, a peculiar dread—an itching fear of sorts, has been my companion whenever I’m alone with Frank. He never physically hurt me, but his commanding personality hits the most vulnerable parts of me with a sniper’s precision.
When I was a little girl, he sent me to the naughty corner whenever I crossed him. The curt tone and disappointment gleaming in his eyes hurt more than a belt could. Now that he can turn my life into a living hell, I miss the naughty corner.
I glance over my shoulder at the open patio door, checking whether we’re alone or if I should watch every word coming out of my mouth.
October is almost over, no more than fifty-five degrees outside, yet my mother, Jessica, sunbathes outside, sprawled across the sun lounger by the pool, a vintage sun tan reflector in hand. Her ears perk up like those of a dog that heard another dog bark. Eavesdropping is her second favorite pastime. Doing nothing productive is number one.
“I had an awful evening. I wanted to clear my head,” I say with a theatrical sigh. “We both know I can’t do that with your pawns breathing down my neck.”
Frank peers at me from the morning paper. We have similar eye and hair colors, but I inherited my looks from my mother. People mistake us for sisters, and Jess never bothers to correct them. No wonder, she was two months shy of turning sixteen when I was born, so it’s not surprising that people don’t see me as her daughter. Especially that Jess looks twenty-eight tops, not her almost thirty-five.
“Then why did you make such a secret out of it?” Frank asks, sounding like a judge pounding a gavel.
“I didn’t. I told Adam where I was. I didn’t tellyouwhere I was going because you wouldn’t let me leave.”
“Of course not!”
Of course not.That’s not how my father operates. He’s a control freak, and when I left home without asking for his opinion or permission, I took control out of his hands.
He throws the paper aside, stroking his goatee. “However, you could’ve taken Adam, Allie, and whomever else to any other club in Chicago. I wouldn’t oppose.”