Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  Annie nodded enthusiastically, giggling as she introduced me to several equally indistinguishable pink dinosaurs. The simple act immediately snapped my head back to those silly fantasies, making me wonder what Layton’s reaction might have been to being introduced to these creatures.

  It splintered me apart again when I forced myself to stop thinking about it. As if little pieces of my dreams shattered every time I remembered it would never happen. I tried to keep it together for Annie, but Denise gave me one look when the introductions were over and knew I was in trouble.

  “Why don’t you take your new collection to your room, honey? You worked so hard on them, they deserve a place of honor,” she said, already getting the blobs of playdoh together.

  Annie took them from her with a thoughtful smile. “You’re right, Aunty Dee. I wonder where I’ll put them.”

  “Come get us when you’ve narrowed down the choices,” I told her, swallowing back a sob at the knowledge that Layton would never even meet her properly, never mind be the one encouraging her to find a new home for artsy projects, or doing those projects with her.

  It wasn’t like I’d really thought it would ever happen, I just couldn’t help being an eternal optimist. Despite everything that had transpired between us, including two full weeks of radio silence, there was still a tiny sprig of hope that things might work out.

  But I had to buck up and drown or bury the sprig. It was time to let Layton go as anything more than a decent employer. He would never be more than that to me again. He couldn’t be.

  Denise waited until Annie was out of earshot before turning to me. “I can see things are rough for you at the moment. Is this still about Layton?”

  I hesitated before nodding. There was no point pretending there was nothing wrong, not to Denise. “I saw him today. He came by my office to ask for reports.”

  My fiery-haired friend sighed, her olive green eyes darkening with concern. “Things don’t have to be this way between the two of you, you know. It was one time. One time you missed your phone ringing, it’s not actually such a big deal. Annie was fine, you were at work—”

  Cutting her off by shaking my head, I tried to keep my voice from cracking. “You know it’s more than that. It’s better this way.”

  “So you keep saying,” she mused, reaching over to give my hand a light squeeze. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

  “No,” I said firmly. It didn’t matter that she was suggesting something I’d considered many times myself, I’d already had this argument in my head. With myself. “Too much time has passed now to bring it all up again. We’re both moving on, getting over it. It’s water under the bridge.”

  “It’s not a very high bridge,” Denise muttered, arching an eyebrow at me. “And you’re certainly not moving on or getting over it. You looked like you were on the verge of tears when you got here. And don’t you dare try to convince me the tears were on account of your daughter’s stellar artwork.”

  “It was just seeing him again for the first time, talking to him again.” It was looking into those gorgeous green eyes and knowing what they looked like warm, playful or wanting, such a contrast to how cold they were today. It was the whiff of spice I got from his cologne and knowing I could never bury my face in a pillow with that smell on it ever again.

  It was only one of the many things about him I hadn’t expected I would miss when we inevitably broke off what we had going on. “I’ll be fine. The first time is always the hardest after a break up. The ice has been broken now. I’ll be fine.”

  Denise didn’t believe me. She opened her mouth to say so, but Annie came skipping back into the room and we cut off our conversation by mutual silent agreement.

  Later that night, Denise went home and I tucked Annie into bed. She reached for my face, her room lit up only by the penguin nightlight on the desk in the corner. “Are you okay, Mommy? You look sad.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes. My little girl was so empathetic, so worried about me always. This was exactly why I had to be strong.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” I told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  She turned onto her side to face me, sleepily putting her hand on my arm. “If there’s anything you need me to help with, tell me okay?”

  “Okay, baby.” My voice cracked, so I took a breath to keep the emotion at bay and lowered it to a whisper. “You’re the only thing I need my angel, but thank you.”

  I meant it, too. Annie was the only thing I needed. All that was left to do was to convince my insolent heart that it was true.

  Chapter 28

  Layton

  Waking up to an unexpected knock on your door on a Sunday was never fun. No one actually wanted to have people over on a Sunday morning. It added insult to injury that it was early, I rolled over in bed to look at my clock and groaned, it was only seven-fifteen in the fucking morning.

  Another, more insistent knock sounded just as I burrowed back into my pillow and decided to let whoever was outside rot in their effort to wake me up at this unholy hour of a Sunday. The knocking turned to pounding and finally, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  Irritably getting off my bed, I pulled on a pair of navy drawstring pants and yanked a college t-shirt over my head before I stalked to the door. If one didn’t want to be bothered on a Sunday morning, there was only one thing more annoying than being woken by an incessant pounding on the door. Opening it only to find your late father’s lawyer on your doorstep.

  Oh, hell no. My mood darkened to the blackest depths of the deepest ocean when I saw Clayton Reeve’s face after opening the door. “Mr. Reeve. What can I help you with so early this morning?”

  I was proud of myself for not slamming the door in his face. Or saying what I really wanted to say, which was more like, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  The lawyer lifted the black briefcase in his hand. “I have something rather time sensitive for your attention.”

  My hackles raised instantly. The last time this guy had a surprise for me, it was the condition in my dad’s will that I had to hire Marissa or lose my inheritance. It didn’t bode well that he’d arrived unexpectedly and apparently had yet another surprise in store for me.

  “What is it?” I crossed my arms, wishing I wasn’t dressed in pajamas. Talking to Clayton Reeve had always left me feeling exposed and like he had the upper hand. Doing so without even being dressed was downright emasculating.

  Clayton pushed past me into the apartment, walking without hesitation across my open living area to my kitchen. Hoisting the briefcase onto the counter, he opened it with a snap and motioned me over.

  I bristled, annoyed at the man acting as if we were in his office instead of in my apartment. When I saw he was holding up a flash drive though, my annoyance turned to curiosity. “What is that?”

  “That,” he started, pressing the flash drive into my palm, “is another stipulation made to me in your father’s final wishes.”

  Inspecting the flash drive branded with the name of my father’s company, I ran my thumb over the engraved ‘Brilliant Aviation’ wording. “What’s on it?”

  Clayton shrugged. “I don’t know. I was specifically told not to insert any of the drives into a device myself.”

  “Any of the drives?” Both my eyebrows raised. “There are more?”

  The lawyer nodded, narrowing his eyes like he was irritated that I didn’t know already. “There are a few more. Your father made a series of videos before he passed away.”

  I nearly choked on the air I was inhaling, but Clayton ignored my light cough and closed his briefcase again. “I’m under strict instructions to deliver the videos to you on certain dates. That drive, I believe, contains the first video.”

  What in the actual fuck was going on? My father had never been the kind of parent who made home movies. If there was even one made of me growing up, I was yet to see it. Or to learn of its existence.

  Skepticism churned in my stomach. If there was something
important enough on that drive that it trumped his aversion to making videos, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was.

  Curious, I turned the drive over in my hand. It was a totally ordinary piece of equipment, but I was as wary of it as if it would suddenly grow teeth and bite me. “The first of how many videos?”

  This experience wasn’t one I was eager or in a hurry to repeat. Clayton lifted his briefcase off my kitchen counter and crossed back to my front door, evidently as eager to leave as I was for him to do it. “I’m not at liberty to tell you how many videos are in the series, Mr. Bridges. Part of the stipulations your father made. The only thing I am at liberty to tell you at this time is that this video is the first of a few I will be delivering to you on pre-specified dates.”

  My head rolled back on my shoulders, my eyes on the stark white ceiling above my entrance hall before I closed them for a moment and prayed for patience. My father was gone and buried, surely no attorney-client privilege could exist anymore.

  Clayton Reeve could tell me how many videos there were, but he didn’t want to. Despite my father being gone, he was going to honor his wishes. I knew there was no use arguing with him. I was a master negotiator, but the lawyer had at least three decades of experience on me and had been loyal to my father for almost as long.

  It also happened that the two had been close friends. There was no way this guy was going to cave and give me the rest of the videos early.

  Another skill of mine was knowing which battles to pick, and I knew this would be a losing one. Sighing deeply, I opened the door for the lawyer and closed my fist around the drive. “Would you be so kind as to let me know when you’re going to be bringing the next video to me? It would be more convenient if I knew when to expect you.”

  Clayton pursed his lips, inclining his head to show he understood me before he started shaking it. “I’m not at liberty to provide dates for the next video in the series in advance.”

  Great. Just fucking great. “Could we compromise at least on a text message when you’re on your way over?”

  It was worth a try. Clayton nodded once. “I think perhaps I can manage that, but I’ll have to review the stipulations again.”

  Biting back an eye roll that would’ve made a teenager jealous, I gritted out a smile. “Have a nice day, Mr. Reeve.”

  “Same to you, Mr. Bridges,” he said, offering me a firm handshake before he hurried to the elevator.

  I stared at his retreating back for a few beats before closing my front door. That man had more secrets concerning my father, I was sure of it.

  Unfortunately, prying them out of him was not an option. He wouldn’t break. Clutching the drive in my fist, I squeezed so hard the edges of the thing dug painfully into my palm.

  For fuck’s sake. From the grave my father was still trying to control my life. It was infuriating.

  And yet, I did exactly what he would have expected me to do. Without pausing to make breakfast or even a cup of coffee, I walked over to the laptop in my home office and inserted the drive.

  For some reason, my hands started trembling as I clicked in and selected a program to open the video with. Get it the fuck together, Layton.

  The picture that came up on my screen was of my father’s office in his building in Boston. There was some movement, as if he was setting the laptop or webcam down where he wanted before sliding in behind it.

  On the walls behind him, I could see several works of art that had moved with him from home to every office he’d ever had. There was a painting of a sailboat sailing into the sunset. Without being able to see it on the video, I knew the name printed on the back of the boat was Jolene. My mother’s middle name.

  There was another painting of a lion, one he had commissioned from a photo he took while on safari in Africa. A blueprint design of his first jet hung next to the lion.

  An unexpected wave of emotion hit me in the chest when I thought of those frames sitting in an exhibit dedicated to him that I hadn’t even visited yet. It intensified when the man himself appeared.

  The video must have been taken shortly before he passed away, because he looked exactly the same as he had those last times I saw him. He cursed, doing something on his keyboard before lifting his eyes to the camera.

  “Layton,” he started predictably. “I hate to be such a cliché, but if you’re watching this it means I’m no longer among the living.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. Inexplicably, it felt like I could get closer to him by doing it. Damned if I knew why I wanted to get closer to him.

  All I knew was that I felt suddenly as if I’d been handed a treasure map, something precious that I had to really take in and appreciate. It wasn’t like the video would self-destruct like on Mission Impossible, but it still felt like I should listen carefully to every word.

  Unfortunately, every word turned out to be about business. I sat there, glaring at my computer and blinking in disbelief as I caught snippets of phrases here and there. ‘If you would only,’ and, ‘It would be better if,’ and several beginning with, ‘You should.’

  And of course, my personal favorite, ‘Listen to the advice I’m giving you son, it will make you a better…’

  Suddenly overcome with disappointment and rage, I slammed the lid of my laptop shut. I sat there breathing heavily, unable to believe that my father was still demeaning me—even from the fucking grave.

  How long I just sat there trying to process, I didn’t know. The sun was definitely higher in the sky when I surfaced again than it had been when I inserted that drive.

  It was almost impossible for me to fathom that as his last words to me, Dad chose to talk to me about business and how I should be bettering myself. I didn’t know why I had been expecting anything else. But I had been.

  Scrubbing my hands over the stubble that had grown on my jaw overnight, I slowly came to the realization that I never finished the video. God knew I didn’t want to, but I also couldn’t bring myself to wimp out.

  There would be more videos following this one. Reeve had confirmed that before he left. There would be no escape from the damn things until dear old Dad’s final wishes had been finally executed by his loyal friend and lawyer.

  Many people might have stashed the drive I already had away somewhere under the circumstances, adding the others to some deep dark corner when they arrived. But I wasn’t one of those people.

  Sighing, I decided I needed a very strong, very bitter and very big cup of coffee if I was going to finish listening to him telling me how I would never be good enough.

  After I settled back into my seat, coffee in hand, I opened my laptop and clicked on play once more. Dad’s face came back on screen immediately, the sentence he was busy speaking when I cut him off resuming as if nothing had happened. What else is new?

  Near the end of the video, however, there was something new. Dad’s demeanor changed, and out of nowhere he looked older, tired. Exhausted even. Removing his spectacles, he rubbed his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

  He released a deep breath, then fixed his eyes on the camera in the most penetrating look yet. In that moment, I could swear he was simply at the other end of a Skype call. He was so alive, so intensely there.

  “I have put in place many things that will help you figure out what you need to become what I know you should,” he said, confidently, authoritatively. As if there was no choice but to obey whatever command he made even if he wouldn’t be there to see it done. “Marissa is the first of those pieces. I hope you’re treating her well, Layton. You’ll see why soon enough.”

  I blinked, surprise numbing my limbs at the words. In the next frame, I saw my father’s hand reach for his computer. The screen went black after that.

  “Well, fuck me,” I muttered, watching the black screen as hard as I could, willing it to come back to life so my dad could explain to me what the hell he meant by Marissa being one of the pieces he put in places to help me become who he thought I had to be.


  It didn’t come back to life, of course. The bastard was going to make me wait God only knew how long for the next piece of the puzzle. He left me with more questions than answers for now, but I had no intention of waiting on his allotted time before I started searching for the answers I needed.

  First things first, I had to find out what piece of said puzzle Marissa was.

  Chapter 29

  Marissa

  “These pancakes are so yummy.” Annie sighed contently, helping herself to another one from the stack sitting on the kitchen island between us. Tiny spots of blueberry specked the fluffy golden disks. Even if I had to say so myself, this was one of the better batches I’d ever made.

  Meticulously poring over the recipe and actually paying attention while I was cooking them before Annie woke up definitely paid off. I wanted to do something nice for her and Denise to apologize for the gloominess I had tried, and failed, to hide all weekend.

  Since they both loved blueberry pancakes, it felt like a good place to start my apology. Annie and I were having breakfast by ourselves for now. Denise called earlier to say she would see us today, even though it was a Sunday and one of her few days off, but to carry on with our breakfast without her.

  I didn’t know what she was doing, but apparently it was going to take her awhile. Curious and suspicious, I was glad I had already mixed up the pancake batter when she called or else I might not have been as focused as I was.

  My original plan had been to leave some leftover pancakes for Denise for Monday morning, but I was happy to hear she would be having them fresh after all. Annie finished off the pancake she’d helped herself to when we heard the front door open and shut, followed my Denise’s voice. “Brrr! It’s freaking freezing out there. Coffee me, Sissy. Please. Help a girl out.”