Recovery

by Abigail Stone

  “You hungry?” he asked Layla, ignoring her request. “Come on. Just relax for once.”

  Exhausted and famished, Layla reluctantly complied, standing up and taking a seat at the kitchen table. She flinched at the sharp wave of pain that flooded through her as she slid into a chair.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly as Chase set a sandwich down in front of her. She took a bite, a soft moan escaping her lips.

  “What was that?” Chase laughed.

  Layla swallowed, shaking her head. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

  “Can I ask you something?” she questioned Chase, changing the subject. Chase nodded. He had already scarfed down most of his sandwich and wiped his hand over his mouth.

  “Sure,” he said, shrugging.

  “Have you ever seen The Wild One?”

  Chase raised an eyebrow. Layla was just trying to appear normal. She was just making small talk. Anything to make him stick around. Half way through her sandwich, Layla had decided that she wanted Leo to walk in on them. She wanted him to know what they had done.

  “You know…with Marlon Brando?”

  It was an odd question, but she couldn’t get over how much Chase looked like him. “I know…It’s kind of an old movie,” she continued. “But it’s just that –”

  “Of course I’ve seen that,” Chase interrupted. He stretched his arms in front of himself, cracking his fingers

  “It’s only the granddaddy of all outlaw biker movies.”

  He smiled at Layla, raising his eyebrows.

  “What? Didn’t expect me to be so cultured?”

  Layla rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her sandwich.

  “No, It’s just…you kind of resemble him.”

  “Who? Brando?”

  Layla nodded.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Chase said.

  He stood up, opening the cooler that sat beside the table and taking out a beer. He went to crack it, when suddenly, the front door opened. Layla braced herself, craning her head to see who it was.

  Leo.

  He was by himself and didn’t notice Layla and Chase right away. When he did, he appeared momentarily taken off guard.

  “Hey brother,” he said to Chase, confusion heavy in his voice as he slapped him on the shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at Layla and a lump surfaced in her throat. Chase immediately snapped into action, trying to appear as cavalier as possible.

  “Hey L,” he said as nonchalant as he could manage. “I came back looking for you but you weren’t here. Figured I’d make a bite to eat in the meantime and keep your ol’ lady company.”

  Old lady.

  Layla had heard the term being thrown around between the boys but never in reference to her. She tried the title on for size, feeling put off and uncomfortable beneath Leo’s gaze. It was obvious that he knew something wasn’t right, but for now, he let it slide.

  He took a seat at the table across from Layla, lighting a cigarette and tossing the pack to Chase. He lit one too, leaning against the kitchen counter. As Leo blew a thin ring of smoke out the cracked window beside the table, Chase shot Layla an anxious look. She stared back at him, a mischievous look in her eye. This was exactly what she had wanted to happen.

  “Alright,” Chase finally said, grabbing his leather cut from the chair and sliding it on. “I’ll leave y’all too it, then. Trish and a couple shots of whiskey are waiting for me back at home.”

  Trish?

  Layla felt an unexpected pang of jealousy wash over her. Here she was, having only been with Chase once, and she was already developing feelings for him. It made no sense, especially considering all the other men she had partook in random encounters with.

  Get ahold of yourself, Layla told herself. He was just a pawn. You don’t actually care about him.

  Layla nodded at Chase, waving goodbye to him as he slapped Leo on the shoulder, pulling him in to a tight hug.

  “Good work today, bro,” she heard Chase whisper to him. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Layla distracted herself by looking out the window. She was dying for another fix. She heard the front door slam shut, watching from out the window as Chase climbed onto his shiny black and red Chopper, the clubs colors, starting it up. He looked up for a moment, his eyes falling upon Layla’s.

  “So,” Layla heard Leo say from across the table.

  She looked at him. His brows were furrowed, his half smoked cigarette wavering slightly between his fingers. He appeared visibly perplexed, and Layla could tell that her plan had worked.

  “What?” she whispered, listening as Chase drove off, the sound of his engine growing quieter as he disappeared between the trees.

  Leo ashed his cigarette, an unreadable look etched across his handsome face.

  “Was he good?” he finally asked.

  SHAPE OF THINGS

  "There are changes lyin' ahead in every road

  And there are new thoughts ready and waiting to explode

  When tomorrow is today the bells may toll for some

  But nothing can change the shape of things to come

  The future's comin' in, now sweet and strong

  Ain't no-one gonna hold it back for long."

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Trisha sat on the lid of the toilet, strumming her fingers against her bare legs. A few feet away, a timer was ticking down beside a plastic cup, which was filled up halfway with her urine. Inside the cup was a white stick. One that determined Trisha’s fate.

  She had told Chase that she was late on her birth control to gauge his reaction. She knew he didn’t want children. It had been drilled into her head time and time again. A constant reminder of what she would never have.

  Until now.

  What Trisha had failed to mention to her husband in the heat of things was that she was late on something else entirely. It had been over a month since her last period – since the night she and Chase had shared in Vegas for their anniversary, drunkenly forgetting to use protection.

  It’s just as much his fault as it is mine, Trisha thought. But regardless, the blame would fall on her shoulders. It already did. It always did. A few seconds later, the alarm sounded and Trisha stood up, turning the dial to silence it.

  With shaking hands, she picked up the pregnancy test. She shut her blue eyes tightly, saying a silent prayer to herself before looking. When she finally did, she stumbled backwards, dropping the test to the ground. She poured the cup of urine into the toilet, flushing it and washing her hands.

  I should feel happy about this, Trisha told herself. Not guilty.

  She and Chase were adults. They were married, financially stable, and more or less secure. There was no reason, at least not one Trisha could understand, that they shouldn’t have been trying for children. It was the only thing she had ever asked from Chase. The one request she ever had of him, but he refused to even entertain the topic for discussion.

  “You know how I feel Trish,” was the only answer he ever gave her, but the truth was, Trisha didn’t know at all. She didn’t understand why Chase was so vehemently against the idea of having children with her. The rest of the Disciples embraced the concept of continuing their bloodlines with open arms. They were eager for the day when the right women would come into their lives – someone they could make it happen with – but Chase was another story entirely.

  “Well he’s just going to have to deal with it,” Trisha whispered, reaching down to pick up the test from the ground with shaking hands. She looked down at the word that flashed across the screen, her heartbeat intensifying against her chest.

  Pregnant.

  –

  Layla had come full circle.

  She sat in front of a plate of half eaten salad, pushing it around her plate as her mother Emily stared at her from behind her oversized sunglasses. Layla could sense that something wasn’t right. Not only was Emily avoiding talking about anything related to Layla’s career, but she had offered to pay for the meal
, an act of generosity Layla was not familiar with from her mother.

  “Honestly Layla,” she finally said, taking a sip of her ice tea. “Either take a bite or don’t.”

  Layla was exasperated, a tired look etched across her youthful features. No one in the bistro knew who she was – at least not as far as Layla could tell – and that was exactly the way she wanted it. Rolling her eyes, Layla shoveled a forkful of spinach into her mouth, chewing but not really tasting it. She listened absently as her mother spoke, making small talk as the waitress approached with their bill. Emily handed over her credit card and Layla’s mind wandered.

  It had been a few weeks since the ordeal at the cabin. Since Leo and Chase. Since the accusation. Since her revenge. Layla mulled over the sequence of events in her head, idly taking in her surroundings. After Leo had accused her of sleeping with Chase, his best friend and second in command, Layla had left him sitting at his kitchen table without an answer.

  It wasn’t that it wasn’t true. It was, and Layla didn’t feel bad about it either. She looked at the incident with Chase as pay back. Retribution for the fact that Leo, her father, had lied to her. His accusation lingered in the air as he watched Layla gather her things, sliding on her platform shoes and making her way towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked her, standing up. “I asked you a question.”

  Layla laughed bitterly, opening the door and descending down the cabins rain soaked front steps. Her ankle still hurt and there was still a limp in her walk, but it was bearable. She made her way down the hill in front of the cabin, towards the clearing where she had parked, keys in hand. Leo followed her, urging her to stay. To answer him. But Layla wasn’t listening.

  Finally, Leo stepped forward, grabbing Layla roughly by the wrist a few feet away from her car. “Look,” he began, his voice deep and unsure. “I just…something didn’t seem right.”

  Yeah, Layla thought to herself. A lot of things aren’t.

  She stared up at Leo, a piercing look in her eyes.

  “We fucked,” she said bluntly, watching with slight satisfaction as a look of disgust, sadness, and then rage flashed across Leo’s face. He pushed away from Layla, stumbling backwards. This time, he was the one to slip in the mud. But Layla wasn’t about to help him up.

  Instead, she climbed in her car, starting up the engine. Leo stumbled to his feet, slamming his fist against her window.

  “You what?” he bellowed.

  Feeling a sudden burst of confidence at the confrontation, Layla rolled down her window.

  “We fucked. Screwed. ‘Made love’. Call it what you fucking want.”

  Layla raised her voice, watching as the color drained from Leo’s face. But she wasn’t done twisting the knife yet.

  “What’s it to you daddy?”

  Leo stumbled away from the Range Rover like a hit dog.

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Layla laughed bitterly, putting the car into reverse.

  “I know everything,” she yelled, pressing her foot down on the brake. “You lied to me. You fucked me over. So I fucked your right-hand man.”

  “Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

  “Chase told you?” Leo asked, his voice deep and perplexed. But it was more of a realization than a question.

  Layla didn’t respond. The look on Leo’s face told her that he already knew the answer. He crumbled before Layla, clearly wounded by her words. It was clear that he never thought Chase would betray him. He had trusted him with the knowledge, fully believing that he would never tell a soul – especially not Layla. The next words to stumble from her mouth were sharp and to the point.

  “I never want to see you again. Any of you.”

  Layla shifted into drive, pressing down lightly on the accelerator. She sped forward down the hill before Leo could stop her, onto the gravel road that stretched towards the freeway. Reaching up, Layla adjusted her rearview mirror, looking into it. She could make out Leo stumbling inside his cabin, a dejected mess.

  And that was the last she saw of him.

  “Layla? Are you listening?”

  Layla jumped, pulling herself from her thoughts. Emily gave her an odd look, pulling her sunglasses up onto her head. She had heavy bags under her eyes, was wearing very little make-up, and didn’t look at all like herself. When the waitress arrived back with Emily’s credit card and the receipt for their meal, she stuffed both into her expensive wallet, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

  “I have something to tell you,” Emily said. She was jittery and nervous. Barely capable of sitting still. She grabbed for Layla’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Layla looked down at it in confusion. Her mother was hardly the affection type.

  “What?” Layla asked. “Look, if it’s about me or my career or whatever, I really just don’t want to hear –”

  “No,” Emily interrupted.

  “Then what?” Layla questioned. “I haven’t used in weeks if that’s what this is –”

  “No,” Emily interrupted again, this time more stern. “It’s not that either.”

  Now, Layla was really confused. She watched as Emily ran a hand through her red hair, searching for the right words before finally speaking.

  “I spoke to Leo.”

  Her voice was barely audible over the sound of wine glasses clanking and people at surrounding tables making small talk.

  “You what?” Layla questioned. “Speak up, I can’t –”

  “I know you saw Leo. I spoke with him,” Emily pointedly interrupted, forcing Layla to look at her. Stunned, Layla reached for her wine glass, swallowing the last of the bittersweet liquid before standing up. She had to get out of here. There was no way she was having this discussion with her mother. Layla was humiliated and disgusted enough. She didn’t need a lecture.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “No you’re not,” Emily continued, pulling Layla back down. “There is something you really need to know Layla,” she shot her daughter a stern look, remaining cordial as a few bystanders began to eavesdrop on the commotion. “He’s not your father,” she finally hissed.

  Layla rolled her eyes. She was sick of being lied to by the people that should have cared about her the most. Sick of sitting idly by while everyone – Leo, Chase, her agent, her own damn mother – walked all over her. Enough is enough, Layla decided. She snatched her hand away from her mothers grip.

  “You don’t have to say that, I already know the truth.”

  “No,” Emily said again, this time louder. Layla watched as she rummaged through her purse before pulling out a piece of folded paper. She set it down in front of Layla, nodding apprehensively for her to open it.

  “What is that?” Layla questioned.

  “Go ahead,” Emily said, lighting a cigarette and looking off into the distance. “See for yourself.”

  Layla looked from Emily to the piece of paper before unfolding it with shaking hands.

  On the top of the page, the words ARC Point Lab were bolded. Below it, there was a paragraph of text with the word Conclusion printed above it. Layla skimmed over each sentence, her heartbeat thumping heavy in her ears.

  The alleged father, Leonardo Marsden, is excluded from paternity of the child, Layla Carter. The genetic systems listed with a paternity index equal to "0.00" were used for the basis of this finding. The probability of paternity is 0.00%. These results were confirmed by a second independent test.

  Time slowed to a stop.

  When Layla was finally done reading, she looked up at Emily, perplexed and in shock.

  “That’s right,” she whispered, squeezing Layla’s hand. “I got a test done. He’s not your father.”

  Layla felt dizzy. She slid the piece of paper back over to Emily, gripping the table as she tried her best to digest the news.

  “Then who is?” Layla heard herself ask. “Do you even know?”

  She didn’t mean for it to sound as cruel as it did, but Emily hardly appeared affected. In fact, she seemed to exp
ect the question. Layla watched in a haze as her mother reached inside her purse, pulling out a second piece of paper and handing it to Layla.

  She unfolded it.

  It was another set of results, from the same lab. Layla looked up at Emily, but she nodded for her to keep reading.

  Conclusion, it read.

  The alleged father, Stephen Bryan, cannot be excluded as the biological father of the child, Layla Carter. The probability of paternity is 99.99% as compared to an untested, unrelated man of the Caucasian population.

  Layla looked up at her mother, a soft smile spreading across her face. She felt light headed, opportunistic, and overcome by relief. Leo wasn’t her father. What they had shared together wasn’t wrong or incestuous. Layla’s feeling for Leo were suddenly valid again, resurrected by the one person she would have never expected.

  “There’s one more thing,” Layla heard Emily say.

  “The paparazzi got a picture of me…picking up a pregnancy test,” Emily began, her voice barely above a whisper. She slid her sunglasses back on her face.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  Layla’s heart slowed to a stop. There was a long bout of silence before she finally spoke.

  “Hear what?” she asked. “Mom. Are you telling me that you are –”

  “I might be,” Emily hissed. “And for god sakes Layla, can you keep it down?”

  None of it made any sense to Layla. Her mother was in her early forties, well past her days of childbearing. She had been with dozens of men – practically every eligible bachelor in Los Angeles with at least seven figures to his name. It wasn’t that Layla was shocked that it had happened. She was simply surprised that it had never happened sooner.

  “Is it Stephens?” Layla asked, still trying to digest the fact that her mother’s longstanding ‘friend with benefits’ was also her father. Layla had met Stephen on a number of occasions, and while he certainly shared many of her features, at least physically, Layla had never put two and two together.

  “No,” Layla heard Emily reluctantly say, her voice soft and distant. There was something on her mind. Something she wasn’t telling Layla.