There was one man in each picture, who was really more of a boy at the time they were taken, who Layla couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from. Her gaze lingered on him for just a second too long as she stared at each picture.
Leo.
His name echoed in her head. She lit a cigarette, flipping through the contacts in her phone and hesitating just above his number. He didn't know she had it, at least she didn't think he did. Layla had gotten it out of his cellphone shortly after the night they shared together in the clearing, with only the matted grass, insects, and his bike to keep them company.
She never called him. There were times like now, where she thought seriously about it with her finger lingering over the call button, but fear of the unknown was always what got the best of her. It had been months since Layla had last seen Leo and while their time together might have been temporary and fleeting, she had formed a connection to him unlike any other she had ever experienced.
Layla took a deep breath, the wet air that leaked inside the cabin cold against her cheeks, which flushed pink as she remembered the way Leo's body felt against hers. If what they had shared was wrong for any reason, Layla couldn't bring herself to care. She thought back to her mother Emily’s heated warning, ashing the last of her cigarette out the window.
“Stay away from him,” Emily told her. She didn't go into further details but it wasn't difficult for Layla to put two and two together.
Her mother knew Leo, and like all the men that had blew through Emily’s life like natural disasters, the reality attached to that was that there was a chance, no matter how slim, that Leo was Layla's father.
But like all the other possible paternal candidates Layla had come to discover over the years, Leo vehemently denied it being true. He swore to Layla that he had only met her mother once, years ago, and that what they had shared together wasn’t anything that could have resulted in a child.
It was the kind of scenario fit for a soap opera, but Layla’s life was anything if not dramatic. She chose to believe Leo because the reality attached with the alternative was simply too much for her to bear. She never even took her suspicions to her mother. There were times when she hesitated, the question lingering on the tip of her tongue, but she always hung up the phone or went into another room before the words could bubble to the surface.
Leo had said he wasn’t Layla’s father and Layla told herself that she would believe him. The situation was too precarious. She and Leo had slept together, but even deeper than that was the fact that she had fallen for him. She didn’t want what they had shared together to be muddled down into something dirty and incestuous. So instead, she chose to believe in the reality she needed to be true.
They were just two people who had evolved together. Nothing more, nothing less. But late at night, when Layla would toss and turn in bed unable to fall asleep, she couldn’t help but dissect the glaring similarities between herself and Leo. She couldn’t help but question it.
They were so much alike. Layla saw a lot of herself in Leo, both the good things and the bad. He was sarcastic yet honest. Cruel with a kind streak. And completely and utterly unwilling to open up about his most intimate thoughts and feelings. The stuff that kept him up at night. Kept him going.
Layla knew these things about him, these intricate little details that most people would have missed if they weren't really looking, because they were all just as much a part of herself. She wiped at a thin layer of dust that covered the windowsill adjacent to the table where she was sitting, rubbing her palm on her dress. It was then that she heard a noise, which only seemed to get louder as she focused in on it.
It was grating and out of place. It sounded like a car, but with a louder, clunkier engine. Layla stepped out onto the front porch, hesitant as to what, or who, might await her. The small wooden cabin was hidden in every direction by dense pine trees. Layla squinted past the end of the driveway, through the mossy patch of trees that led straight down to the main road, but it was getting dark out and her vision was strained.
Suddenly, Layla remembered the flashlight on her phone. She stepped off of the porch, her feet sinking into a puddle of wet mud as she tiptoed to the edge of the driveway, shining her phone between the dense tree branches. She tucked it beneath her jacket, not wanting the rain to damage it. The storm had died down to a light drizzle but the trees were still dripping wet.
Layla cursed under her breath. She still couldn't see anything. She stuffed her phone into the pocket of her jacket, calling out into the darkness.
“Who is there?” she asked, her voice shaking. She felt like she was being watched.
Suddenly, two dim headlights appeared a few feet in front of Layla. But they didn't belong to a car. They were too close together. Too small. Layla stumbled backwards, slipping into the mud.
“Ow!” she cried out, gripping her ankle. A sharp pain shot through it. She had landed on it wrong. Gripping the bark of a tree for support, Layla attempted to pull herself to her feet, but she was covered in mud and soaking wet from the rain, which made things difficult.
“Maybe I can help.”
Layla jumped, shining the light on her phone in the direction of the voice, which was deep and familiar. And that's when she saw him. Her throat tightened. She felt immobilized. Unable to move.
“Leo,” she breathed.
He loomed a few feet away from her and was standing beside his bike, his jet black hair wet and dripping against his olive skin. His white t-shirt stuck to his chest and his dark eyes were glued to Layla's. She inhaled sharply.
It was his cabin, but Layla was still surprised to see him. She had been coming for months and had yet to encounter him. She always hoped it would happen, that she would see him again, but after six long months, she never thought it would. He never arrived.
Until now.
OUTSIDER
"Everybody tried to push me
Push me around
Everybody tried to put me
Tried to put me down."
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
Leo helped pull Layla to her feet. She stumbled against him, gripping his leather cut for support as she attempted to find her footing in the mud. The rain began to pick up again, heavy wet droplets that soaked through both her and Leo’s clothing. She looked up at him, wiping the rain from her face and trying her best to look presentable.
“Hi,” she whispered.
Leo smiled slightly, bending down to inspect Layla's ankle. It was swollen. Without a word, he heaved her off the ground and into his muscular arms, which were covered in tattoos, some older than others. Layla squealed at the unexpected gesture but allowed Leo to carry her inside the cabin and out of the elements. He set her down on the overstuffed sofa in the center of the room, switching on a light.
“Hey,” Layla exclaimed. “I didn't know you had electricity.”
So much for the candles, she thought.
Leo nodded, peeling off his cut and sliding his shirt over his head. He rung it out into the small kitchen sink, hanging it over a chair to dry. Then, he approached Layla on the couch. She stared at his exposed chest with wide eyes, unsure of how to explain what she was doing at his cabin.
“It's a new development,” he said, taking a seat beside Layla and kicking off his heavy mud covered boots.
“I figured a star as bright as Layla Carter deserves the gift of light.”
Layla looked at him, surprised.
“You knew that I had been coming here?”
Leo nodded. He reached for an unopened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, cracking it open and taking a drink. He swallowed, offering it to Layla, but she shook her head.
“Why didn't you ever let me know?” Layla questioned, running a hand through her damp hair and watching Leo's full lips curve up into a soft smile. God, Layla thought. He was so handsome. There was no denying it.
“I am now, aren't I?”
Layla nodded, too enamored by his presence to care about his sarcasm.
Leo had not changed a wink since the last time Layla had saw him, but the similarities between them were still too apparent for Layla not to notice. She watched as Leo reached forward, opening up a wooden box of cigars and taking one out. He reached for a tab of matches on the table and lit one. Then, he bought the wavering flame to the end of the cigar, inhaling deeply. With a sigh, he slid the match in a half empty can of beer.
Neither one of them spoke. They allowed the silence and the soft patter of the rain against the cabin to engulf them. Every now and then, Layla would sneak a look at Leo, who would act as though he hadn't noticed.
For a long while, they remained that way. Leo didn't ask her any questions, and Layla couldn't help but find it refreshing. He didn't push for answers. He didn't expect an explanation.
Little did she know, Leo knew why she was running, and who she was running from. He had heard it on the news, just like the rest of Los Angeles. Layla Carter, Actress turned Porn Star. Dismissed from all her contracts, fired by her agent, and released from all her upcoming projects, including three adult films. Layla wasn't aware of the extent of the damage, but she wasn't in any state of mind to care. She had mentally checked out of Hollywood and its double standards and inconsistencies a long time ago.
Now, all that was left was regret.
Just as the storm began to thicken and the rain began to sound like pellets being thrown against the cabin, Leo reached forward, moving a loose strand of Layla's hair behind her ear. She looked up at him in surprised, caught off guard by the unexpected display of affection. Leo hesitated, his hand hovering a few inches away from Layla's cheek.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, pulling away for her.
He killed his cigar, sliding the unsmoked half back in the box on the coffee table and closing it. Layla looked over Leo's broad shoulders as he fidgeted with his phone, scrolling through his text messages. It was clear that he was trying to distract himself. That he was unsure how to act around her after everything that had unfolded between them.
“Hey,” Layla whispered, reaching out to touch the flesh of Leo's bare back with a shaking hand.
He jerked away from her in surprise, but eventually relaxed beneath her touch.
“I have some buddies coming by,” Leo finally said, sliding his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He furrowed his brows, standing up and entering the bedroom in the back of the cabin, a few inches away from where Layla sat on the sofa. She watched through a crack in the door as he pulled a plain shirt over his bare chest, pausing to straighten a picture on the wall before he re-entered the room.
“You can stay,” he said matter-of-factly, running a hand through his damp hair. “But...and I know this is going to sound rude so I'm going to apologize ahead of time....I'm actually going to need you to kind of disappear…during our meeting.”
Layla nodded, slowly letting Leo's words sink in. Meeting. She threw around the word in her head, unsure as to what it meant. Then, she remembered the scene that had unfolded a few months prior, when Leo had taken her to meet his brothers at the abandoned mansion that had served as another one of the clubs many temporary meeting spots. Up until that moment, Layla had been relatively naive about the inner workings of biker clubs.
“Women aren't allowed to sit in on our meetings,” was the only explanation Leo had given her when Layla asked why she wasn’t allowed to be present in the room while they talked, but she didn't think to press the issue any further.
“Okay,” she said, “that's no big deal. I can go.”
Layla stood up, looking down at her watch. It was just after eight. If she drove fast, she could be back in LA safe and sound in her condo by nine.
“No,” Leo interrupted. He stepped forward, pushing Layla lightly back down on the couch.
“I don't want you to leave,” he urged. “I mean...just during the meeting...”
Leo nodded towards the room adjacent to the couch and Layla followed his train of vision.
“You can wait in my room,” he insisted.
A soft smile spread across Layla’s lips. She didn’t understand why Leo was so adamant about making her stay, but she wasn't about to object. There was something in his voice that she recognized. Something familiar.
“Fine,” Layla said nonchalantly, not wanting to appear as though she cared as much as she did. Maybe he missed me as much as I missed him, she thought. She watched Leo swallow a mouthful of whiskey as he walked towards the window and peeked through the moth-chewed blinds.
“They’re here,” Leo called out to Layla as a loud revving noise sounded from outside the cabin, loud and overpowering the sound of the storm. Leo swung open the front door, nodding at Layla and then his bedroom before stepping out onto the porch.
Without further instruction, Layla tiptoed into the tiny bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind herself. She slid against the wall, pressing her ear against it to listen just like she had done as a child when her mother would have important “adult” conversations with men.
On the other end of the wall, Layla could hear the sound of wet boots clomping down against the creaking cabin floor, cigarettes being lit, and deep voices that all sounded quite similar mixing together as beers were cracked.
Realizing that her efforts to eavesdrop were proving fruitless, Layla collapsed on the sagging bed in the middle of the room, pulling a hand stitched quilt around her exhausted body as she drifted into a deep sleep.
RAIN
"Someone told me long ago there's a calm before the storm,
I know; it's been comin' for some time
When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day,
I know; shinin' down like water
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? "
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
When Layla awoke, the man in front of her was one she vaguely recognized, but he wasn't Leo. She blinked, trying her best to familiarize herself with her surroundings. It didn't take long for everything to come flooding back. Layla looked down at her watch, squinting. It was just after six in the morning. She was in Leo’s cabin and had managed to sleep the entire night away.
Layla sat up, stretching her arms out above her head and yawning as she tossed her legs over the side of the squeaking bed. A few feet in front of her, a stocky man sat unconscious, his large body slumped sideways in an armchair. He was snoring, his muscular chest rising and falling every time he inhaled and exhaled.
Layla felt a bout of uneasiness settling over her. From her spot in Leo's bed, she could just barely make out a name stitched onto the patch on the sleeping mans cracked leather cut. She could make out the second half of the name, but not the first. Frustrated and tired of guessing, Layla stood up, quietly approaching him. She reached out, gently lifting his leather cut to read the name on his patch.
Just as her fingers grazed the fabric, the man, who Layla had learned was named Chase, shot awake, grabbing her roughly by the wrist. Layla screamed and stumbled backwards, caught completely off guard. She flinched at the pain in her ankle, gripping the bedframe for support.
“I'm sorry!” she exclaimed, holding her arms out to protect herself. Chase appeared visibly thrown off, but relaxed once he realized where he was.
“How long have I been out?” he finally asked, getting ahold of himself.
It was then that Layla realized who he was. He was the man who had wrapped his hand around her throat a few months prior, who had threatened her and Leo, forcing them to cooperate with his agenda. He was someone Layla hoped to never see again and now, here he was, far too close to her for comfort.
Layla shivered, backing towards the door. She had to find Leo. S
he called out his name, searching the small cabin for any sign of him, but he was nowhere to be found. Confused and fed up, Layla stormed back into the tiny bedroom. She paused a few inches from the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest. Chase sat in the chair in front of her, smoking a cigarette, an amused looked etched across his striking face.
Layla tried to ignore how handsome he was, focusing instead on the fact that he was now the only one left with her in the cabin. She patted her body, searching the room frantically for her car keys. Finally, she found them on the floor beneath the bed. She reached down to pick them up, cringing as Chase whistled at her loudly.
What a pig, Layla thought as she exited the room, searching the cabin for anything else that belonged to her. This was it. The final straw. Layla told herself that she was leaving and never coming back. That she would forget about Leo once and for all. He didn't seem to feel the way about her that she thought he did. Layla had thought they shared a connection. That Leo cared about her safety, at least enough not to leave her alone with one of his creepy friends, who had already behaved out of line once before.
Before Layla could open the door of the cabin to leave, Chase stepped forward from his spot in the shadows, pressing a large hand against the wood and grabbing Layla as softly as he could manage from behind.
“Let me go!” Layla shrieked as Chase pulled her over to the sofa, plopping her down onto it without a single word. Then, he approached a cooler stuffed full of beer, opening it and pulling out two small ice packs. He tossed them to Layla, nodding at her swollen ankle. After everything that had happened, Layla had somehow managed to forget how much pain she was in. Overnight, her ankle had turned an undesirable shade of purple and was tender to the touch. She flinched, hesitantly allowing Chase to press the cold ice pack against her aching flesh. To her surprise, he was gentle. He took his time, rubbing his hands over the strain in Layla's ankle and rotating between each icepack.
Recovery Page 2
