by W. S. Greer
I make a right down a residential area and reduce speed. I’m not in a rush. It’s only three o’clock now, and I’m off work for at least the next month, so I take it slow. I’ll get back home whenever I get there.
As I drive down a residential road called Lily Street, going a measly fifteen miles per hour, I see a figure in the dark up ahead. At first, I think it’s probably some teenager who snuck out the house and is trying to make their way back home. But, as I get closer, I see it’s a grown woman. It’s dark outside, obviously, but even in the dark I can see that she has beautiful, womanly curves. I get closer and see that she has long hair that reaches the middle of her back. She’s wearing a dress of some kind, but she’s covering most of it with a long sweater, but she’s obviously still cold because she has her arms folded across her chest as she walks down the quiet street. When I get close enough, I try to get a good look at her as I pass her, and I can barely see her face, but see enough to know that it’s Layla. What the hell is she doing out here, and especially at this hour?
I whip my car around as fast as I can, thanking my lucky stars there’s no other vehicles on the road. When I get close to her, I park my car across the street from where she’s walking and I get out.
“Layla,” I call out as I close my door and run across the road to meet her. “Hey. Surprised to see you out here at this hour.”
She looks up at me, and she doesn’t look happy. In fact, she looks miserable and her crossed arms over her chest make it look like she’s trying to comfort herself more than keep herself warm.
“Are you okay?” I ask. She looks at me, then down at the ground, obviously in a bad mood.
“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice low and insecure.
“Are you sure? You look like you’re having a bad night,” I continue. I have to lower my head just to be able to see her face, because she has her chin tucked into her chest.
“I said I’m fine. I just want to go home,” she replies.
“Okay. Well, can at least give you a ride? It’s pretty cold out here.”
“I don’t need a ride. I only live a couple of blocks away.”
“Are you sure? You really shouldn’t have to walk.”
“I said I don’t need a ride,” she snips, cutting her eyes up at me. “I like walking. Just let me walk.” And with that, she starts walking and leaves me standing there.
My first thought is to get back in my car. I start towards it, but my second thought wins me over. So, I make sure to lock my car doors, and then I jog to catch up to Layla, who hasn’t made it very far anyway. When I get to her, she looks over at me and frowns.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Well, since you won’t let me drive you, I’ll just walk with you.”
“What? What about your car?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“You’re seriously gonna just leave your car there?”
“Yeah. It has an alarm. It’ll be okay. I could use a good walk.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, but I can see her scowl soften just a bit.
“Fine,” she says, then she faces forward and presses on. “What are you doing out so late?”
“Uhh, I couldn’t sleep,” I answer honestly. “Been having a little bit of insomnia since I got back from the desert. So, I decided to go for a drive to help me take my mind off things. Nothing beats Summerlin at night, when there’s nobody on the road but me. Something about it helps me relax. What about you? What are you doing out so late?”
She doesn’t look like she likes the question, but she answers anyway.
“Work,” she says through closed teeth, like just the thought of her job makes her furious. “I just got off work, and the person I was with . . . couldn’t give me a ride. So, I decided to walk. Luckily, I live close.”
“I see. I thought you might have just been out for a little late night stroll, but I’m sure you’re cold in that dress.”
Layla looks down at her outfit like she forgot she had it on.
“Yeah,” she says under her breath. “Anyway, I never got the chance to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For paying for my food the other day at Red Robin. That was pretty slick.”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I joke with a smile.
“Yeah, I bet,” she replies, with a small grin of her own. “So, is that what you do? You like to pop up and pay for girls’ meals and then sneak away? Is that your way of being charming?”
“Ah, so you thought it was charming?” I reply. She starts to smile, but I see her fight it back. “Anyway, no I don’t do that with all the girls. I barely want to pay for myself, let alone anyone else. I’ve actually tried not to pay a couple of times, but they always catch me. I hate when they catch you trying to dine and ditch, don’t you?”
I watch as her face finally loses control and unleashes a perfectly gorgeous smile. Even in the night, I can see how bright and stunning she is.
“Yeah, I do,” she says, still beaming. “I hate when that happens, too. That’s tough.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m used to it though.”
“Oh, you’re used to it? Like, you’ve been caught so many times that you’re used to it now?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She smiles again, and I suddenly find joy in the fact that she doesn’t look as gloomy as she did when I first approached her. I like it better this way.
“You’re a mess, Austin,” she says as her smile slowly fades away. “You’re pretty easy to talk to, but I’m starting to wonder why you keep popping up everywhere out of the blue.”
“It’s because I’m stalking you, Layla,” I joke, hoping she knows I’m joking. When she looks at me sideways, I decide to keep going. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t know. Maybe it’s like I told you in Red Robin, you and me are meant to be . . . friends. Maybe even BFF’s.”
“BFF’s?” she says behind a cute giggle. “You don’t have any BFF’s?”
“Oh, I have friends, but there’s always room for new BFF’s. There’s no limit on how many BFF’s one can have.”
“Not for me, Austin,” she says, subtly slipping back into her bad mood. “I don’t really have room for BFF’s. But, I appreciate you trying to put a smile on my face.”
“Well, it’s no problem. If we can’t be BFF’s, I can at least popup every now and then and walk you home,” I reply as we make a turn into the parking lot of an apartment complex.
“Sure. That’d be fine,” she says, grinning, but making sure she doesn’t smile too much. “This is my stop. I think I can make it the rest of the way.”
“You sure? I don’t mind walking you all the way up to your doorstep. See, I can BFF like nobody’s business.”
She laughs again as she shakes her head.
“I’m fine, I promise, but I appreciate it. Thanks for the walk home.”
“My pleasure,” I reply. “You know, you still have my number, and if you ever have one of these late nights and you’re out walking alone, you could give me a call. I’ve become somewhat of a night owl these days, so I wouldn’t mind walking with you. I could leave my car in a dark alley somewhere, and hope it doesn’t get stripped for parts while I BFF you all the way to your apartment. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
She smiles at me again. There’s something in that smile that gives me butterflies. Awesome little butterflies I’ve never felt before.
“Thanks, Austin,” she says, nodding her head like she’s giving me her approval. “I might just have to think about that. Have a good night.”
I smile back at her. “Have a good night, Layla.”
As she walks away, I watch the whole time, hoping she doesn’t turn around and see me. Her walk isn’t as tight and apprehensive as it was earlier. She’s loosened up a bit, and it makes her even more beautiful. I stand there marveling until she goes through the door and I’m alone.
I don’t know th
is woman, and she doesn’t know me, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy talking to her. It helps that she’s stunningly beautiful, but something about putting that smile on her face hits me right in the feels, if there is such a thing.
I can tell she’s working out some shit, and I’m working out my own demons as well, so for all I know, we’d be a disaster together. But, there’s a part of me that kind of wants to find out.
I make my way back to my car, hoping it’ll still be there when I get there, and I kind of wish I could’ve prolonged this little walk with Layla, because it sucks being alone again. I guess I’ll get back in the car and keep going on my trip to nowhere, hoping tomorrow will be just as bright as tonight was.
Layla
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Ready to go home. These slow nights are awesome, but they’re a drag.”
“I think you’re the only girl in here who thinks slow nights are awesome, seeing as how you don’t get tipped very much on slow nights,” Marlene says, reminding me that I’m supposed to be upset when the club is empty. There’s no tippers on slow nights, but I see it differently. To me, when Red Pony is empty, I don’t have to worry about doing something I don’t want to. I don’t have to deal with men.
“You’re probably right,” I reply as I put on my sweater. The night is over for us. It’s three in the morning—closing time—and David and Damien are in the office wrapping things up. Unfortunately, we can’t leave until they say we can, but I’m okay with it because I know we’re about to be done, and I went through this night without incident.
“So, you’re off tomorrow, huh? Got any plans?” Marlene asks as she shuts off the lights behind the bar.
“Not really,” I answer. “When I’m off from here, I just want to relax. A lot of the time, I just stay in bed eating popcorn, binging on Netflix, and taking unnecessary showers trying to wash off the man-filth from being here all night.”
Marlene giggles. “Man-filth. That’s funny.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I’m not off, honey. I’ll be right back here at seven tomorrow night. I don’t get tips like the rest of you girls. I need the hours.”
“Well, you don’t have to get naked for money either, not to mention the other shit we have to do. So, we’re the ones who envy you, not the other way around.”
“Touché.”
Marlene comes to the other side of the bar and takes a seat on the stool next to me. We continue to chat about nothing for another ten minutes, when we finally see David and Damien come out of the office and approach the small gaggle of girls who are waiting to go home. David is wearing a black suit, while his younger brother is wearing blue sweat pants and an oversized white t-shirt. We all have our jackets and purses on when Damien walks up to me. David walks towards the door and tells all the girls that they’re good to go for the night. I go to get up as they all start to trickle out the door, but Damien stands in my way, scowling.
“Not you, Layla,” he says. “Marlene, you can go.”
Marlene and I look at each other, and I can see the concern on her face, just like I see it on the faces of the girls who are walking out the door, looking back at me.
“I think I’ll stay,” Marlene replies, sitting back down, but Damien isn’t having it.
“No, what I meant was, get the fuck out right now,” he snips. He says it calmly, which is more intimidating than if he would’ve yelled. Marlene doesn’t argue, she just gets up and slowly walks out. I can tell she’s not going to leave, though, and I’m glad.
“So,” Damien begins, glaring at me once Marlene is out the door. “What happened last night?”
I scrunch my forehead. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“No? You had a paying customer last night, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, well that’s what I’m talking about. So, what happened last night?”
“Nothing,” I answer honestly, because I really don’t know what he might be referring to.
“Interesting. From what I hear, the customer that paid for you last night didn’t get what he paid for.”
“What? That’s bullshit. I went to his house, and I did what he wanted. So, that’s bullshit, Damien.”
He furrows his brow and stares me in the eye. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.
“I find it funny that you’re telling me what’s bullshit, and not the other way around,” he jabs. “The customer paid for you to spend the night with him. Is that what happened?”
I have to think about it, but I realize he’s right. Shit.
“Well, not exactly, but when I left, that guy was asleep. So, I don’t see the problem.”
“You don’t see the problem? Of course not. You never seem to see what the problem is whenever you make one of these command decisions without my fucking approval.”
“It’s not like that, Damien,” I plead. “I did what I was supposed to do, and once he was asleep, I left. I usually leave first thing in the morning, but last night I just decided to leave once he was asleep. What’s the harm in that if I still did what he wanted?”
Damien suddenly takes a step closer to me, and without hesitation, he reaches back and sends his fist flying into my stomach. I feel like my insides just exploded as I clutch my gut and fall to the floor, gasping for air. The edges of my vision turn dark gray as Damien kneels down next to me.
“You stupid fucking bitch,” he growls in my face, his breath stinks with stale liquor. “The harm in it is the customer paid to stay with you all night, and you’re not supposed to leave until the morning, just in case he wants to fuck you again when he wakes up. All night, means all fucking night, Layla. You don’t get to decide when you can leave. I do. When I have customers calling and asking why you left, that’s bad for business. So, I need you to stop trying to make decisions on your own, accept the fact that you’re a fucking idiot, and get your shit together before I really get upset. Do you understand?”
He glares at me as I lay there, still gasping for air. I think to get up, but the look on his face pins me down. I’m paralyzed with fear, and I wouldn’t dare make him any madder.
“I understand,” I reply, my voice weak and shaking as I begin to cry.
“Good. Now get the fuck up and go home. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.” With that, Damien stands up and walks out, leaving me there on the floor.
After Damien is gone, I see Marlene come rushing back into the club. She looks scared and pissed off at the same time as she kneels down next to me and tries to help me up.
“God dammit. That fucking bastard,” she says as she grips my shoulder to comfort me. “Are you okay?”
I’m still struggling to take in air, but I manage to utter some words. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
“I fucking hate that asshole,” she says as I stand up and dust myself off, my stomach still in excruciating pain.
“Me too.”
“Come on,” Marlene says, leading me towards the door. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
It’s three-thirty in the morning. I sit on my bed and wrap my arms across my stomach, still writhing in pain from the punch.
What is it about men that makes them need to assert their dominance over women? What is it about being violent that makes them feel like they’ve proven something—like they’ve somehow come into their manhood by being a complete douche and treating another human being like shit? Men have to have a certain feeling of control over everything they touch, or it breaks them from the inside out. Take away that control, and they feel weak. They’re powerless without it. Maybe that’s why Damien is the way he is. Even though he’s as wide as a house, he’s still insecure, and that’s why he has to bully us and terrify us every night. He doesn’t do it because he truly believes he needs to, to keep things in line. He does it because it makes him feel good to have that much control and power over that many people, even if we are smaller and weaker than him. I’m startin
g to think that if anyone ever stood up to him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. If anyone thought he wasn’t in control, he’d probably lose his mind. The only problem is that no one is brave enough to test that theory. Damien knows what he’s doing. He rules the basement of Red Pony with an iron fist, and it’s to the point now that no one would even try to quit, out of fear he might do something to them. When you work for Damien, he owns you until he doesn’t want to anymore. You have no say in it.
By four o’clock, I’m still not tired. Maybe it’s the left over adrenaline from the drama that went down less than an hour ago, or maybe I’m just an insomniac. Either way, my mind is running too fast for me to lay down and go to sleep. So, I decide to take a walk. I’m not sure how far, but getting out of this room is more comforting than being in it. So, I put on some sweatpants and a burgundy sweater and start for the door. When I reach it, I stop there as a thought pops into my mind.
As strange as it sounds for me to think anything positive about men right now, before I walk out of the house, I have a thought about Austin. It was just two nights ago that he walked me home, seemingly doing everything he could to put a smile on my face like he could sense I needed it. It was sweet, and it was better than walking alone and being held hostage by my own thoughts of my fucked up childhood and my unfortunate adulthood. It was nice having his company, even though I’d never let him know that. I’d hate for him to get the wrong impression and start acting differently. Maybe he’s being as nice as he is because he really does want to be my friend. Who knows? Men are weird. Regardless of his intentions, I could use the company, and I know Marlene is asleep, so I wouldn’t want to wake her. So, I go to my kitchen and dig out the number he gave me at IHOP. It only rings once before he answers, sounding like he was wide awake.
“Hello? Who’s this??” he asks, sounding frustrated about the late call only because it’s late, not because it woke him up.
“Hi, it’s Layla,” I reply. When he doesn’t say anything, I decide to say more to jog his memory. “We met about a week ago and you walked me home the day before yesterday. Remember?”
