by Keri Hudson
Layla rolled her eyes. “God, no, but… I didn’t think it would be this easy.” Jack shrugged. “So… where are we going?”
“I told the driver, he knows.”
Layla nodded. “You seem to know L.A. pretty well. You’ve been here before?”
“A few times,” Jack said, opting to add nothing and knowing that would only intrigue her as to why he’d been there, what he’d done.
Who he’d killed.
They drove on in an increasingly thick tension. “I have to say,” Layla said, “I feel just a bit… vulnerable right now.” Clearly reading Jack’s slightly tilted head, she added, “I mean, I have been getting threats… then you show up… now this.”
Jack cracked a little smile. “You think I’m the danger to you, that I arranged to be recommended through the Justice Department to your promoter pal?”
Layla bit her lower lip. “I don’t suppose that would make much sense, would it?”
“No,” Jack said flatly, “it wouldn’t.”
Layla looked Jack over again. “And if I did need a… a bodyguard, you’d be just the type I’d be looking for. As a man in general too, actually. I’m surrounded by people, y’know? Men, women, so many of them want to sleep with me. But they’re all show-biz people: actors, like Cy, or executives, other musicians. They’ve all got an agenda, something they want—my body, my money, my fame.” Jack said nothing, and she seemed to take his silence the way he meant it—as a judgment on her bad choices and even worse alternatives. Her whole world disgusted him in so many ways, there was no need to list even a single one. “Never met a man quite like you, though.”
You have no idea, Jack didn’t say. Instead, he offered, “Glad you’re thinking things out, though, about who to trust. That’s a good sign.”
“Of what, that I’m not some spoiled, blondie pop singer?”
“Yep.” After a pause to reconsider, Jack added, “Selfish and childish too, of course.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Only to say that you’re not those things, Layla. In truth, seeing you in your element, as it were, I was impressed. You’ve got a lot of balls, and you’ll need that if you’re gonna survive.”
“Survive? What, you mean… the week?”
“At all,” Jack said, letting another long pause answer any other questions she may have.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Yamashiro overlooked the Los Angeles basin, the sunset turning the sky a spectrum of blues and reds and oranges, traces of purple and magenta in streaks which raced overhead. The lights of the city rose to the fore gradually, the coming night bringing new life to the century-old city.
The Asian fusion food was delicious, the red dragon sushi roll featuring spicy tuna and unagi sauce. The ahi tuna was grilled to perfection, meaty and tender and crusted with freshly ground black pepper. White wine washed it all down with a crisp, delicious, and bracing bouquet.
“I suppose you eat in places like this all the time,” Jack said.
Layla shrugged. “There’s a lot of good food around, yeah—on tour, at awards shows, premieres out, parties. I’m not allowed to eat any of it, of course, but… it sure looks good.”
“Have to watch your weight?”
“Excuse me?”
“Not that I would think,” Jack said, “but the way things are out there.”
Layla looked as if she couldn’t disagree. “That’s a thing, yeah. You’ve gotta be super-skinny to impress some people, but… it’s not even that. But one shot of me eating an egg roll and I’ve suddenly got an eating disorder. Then they’re hauling me back into court for one thing or another. I mean, yeah, things got a little intense for a while there, I admit it. I did some… odd things, but my life is a bit of an odd thing.”
“S’not the norm,” Jack was willing to concede.
“No, it’s not. I mean, I imagine you go around with nobody much knowing or caring… no offense.”
“Offense? That’s by design.”
“Right, so you know how… how valuable that is, that anonymity. Once you have to go without it, I mean.” Jack nodded, chewing instead of speaking, prompting Layla to go on. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know I’ve got it a lot better than other people, but… it’s not nearly as easy as it seems, that’s all.”
Jack nodded, easy to imagine the truth in what she was saying. “So… why not quit?”
But Layla looked up from her meal, shock in her open mouth and raised brows. “What? Quit, are you nuts?”
“Why not? Wouldn’t have to be permanent. I don’t know much about show business, but I know bands retire, then have reunions. Maybe the world’s had enough of Layla Shaye for right now, maybe they need a break.” After a forkful of rice, Jack added, “Maybe Layla Schaffer has had enough of the world for right now, maybe she needs a break.”
Jack could see that Layla was ready to consider it, but she was just as quick to offer a litany of contradictory notions. “Well, a lot of people rely on me for their income: musicians, dancers—”
“There are other bands, other shows, other tours.”
“True, but… my mom, she’s my manager.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, “and she’s a person I know not one bit. But… she’s already done pretty well for herself, wouldn’t you say? By this time, if you wanted to pull back for strategic purposes, for long-term gain, she’d be able to muddle through for a few years. No?”
“Muddle through? No.” Layla chuckled and raised her wine glass. “I’ll be lucky if she ever pulls up anchor and brings that yacht back from Greece.”
“Well, there you go,” Jack said.
After a thoughtful pause, Layla went on, “And, y’know, you work so hard for something, then you manage to achieve it, you have to fight to keep it. Retire, people forget about you real quick, some other girl comes along.”
Jack shrugged. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t muddle through.”
“No, I… I actually bought all of Greece last year.” They shared a little chuckle.
Jack raised his glass. “Saluto!” They shared a drink, and Jack went on, “So if it’s not the money, it must be… the fame? The adulation?”
Layla nodded as she clearly gave it some thought. “Well… yeah, I mean… it’s kind of fun, being famous. Everybody’s nice to you. I hung out with Stella McCartney and Madonna two days ago.”
“Are they any more fun to be around than anybody else?”
“Well… Stella’s pretty cool, actually, yeah.”
“But you’re a pretty young woman,” Jack said, “gorgeous, really. I imagine people have been nice to you your whole life, that you’ve always had friends… cool people.”
Layla sat there, looking into her memory. “I guess.”
“So it’s not about that either.”
“Then what is it about, Mr. Know-it-all?”
Jack washed down a bite of eel with another sip of wine. “I’m not sure, tell you the truth. It’s not that you need attention, I’m sure you’ve always gotten plenty of that. You’re not that insecure either. Given the money you’ve already earned, I… I don’t know. Maybe you feel like if you weren’t famous anymore, you’d be a failure, and the world would turn against you, abandon you. The way your father did.”
“What do you know about my father?”
“I know he’s not around, and your mother is taking his place and forgetting her own. Or… am I wrong?”
“Yes, you’re… well, in part, I mean… it’s complicated, okay?”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“My mother… my career… it was a lot for him to handle. He… he was from Massachusetts, my father. He was used to being the one who made the living in the house, not his little girl. But my mother just knew I could be a kid actor, she really wanted it. S’funny, my dad’s family always said he should have married a local girl.”
“Your mother’s from New York,” Jack said. “Queens.”
“That’s right. How’d you—? Oh, the accent.
Anyway, he let us drag him out here, but… he started drinking more, became depressed. His heart finally gave out.”
After a respectful silence, Jack said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Layla nodded as she seemed to roll it over in her head. “I… I guess you may be right, though, that I’ve been doing all this because, well, my father already paid the price. If I stop, won’t his sacrifice be for nothing?”
Jack hadn’t expected such a weighty question, but he knew there was only one honest answer he could give.
“That’s for you to decide.”
A quiet moment passed, Layla looking Jack over, clearly deliberating before she asked, “So, you’re in… security?”
Jack shrugged. “You could call it that.” Jack suspected Layla knew she was in sensitive territory, but a woman with her wealth and power wasn’t likely to feel that she had many boundaries.
Sure enough, Layla asked, “No family, nothing like that?” Jack shook his head, the only answer he’d offer on the subject. “So, I hear you worked for the government, were in the military and all that. I’d believe it.”
“Why?”
Layla seemed caught off guard by the question. “Well, I mean, look at you.” She cleared her throat. “I guess there’s not much work for vets in the private sector?” Jack shook his head. Layla seemed to swallow hard before going on, “You’re quite the chatterbox, aren’t you?”
“Layla? Layla Shaye!” Jack and Layla turned, an unfamiliar face looming over them.
CHAPTER NINE
Jack was instantly tense, but his instincts told him that it was just another fan, a sunny-faced young woman holding a pen and what looked like her restaurant bill.
“Hi,” she said, looking no older than Layla herself. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just love your music! You’re my idol! Daddy Says Don’t kept me a virgin… for a while, at least.”
“Well,” Layla said, “I hope that worked out for you.” The girl handed Layla the bill and the pen, and Layla looked it over. “You’re not asking me to pay this?”
The girl laughed, then shook her head and waved Layla off. “It’s the only paper I could find.”
Layla shrugged and scribbled her name before handing it back to the girl. “Here y’go.”
“Thanks,” she said, reading the bill over, “thank you so much!”
Another fan came up behind the first. “Layla Shaye! Oh my God!”
“Okay, okay,” Layla said, holding out her flattened palms to back them off. “I’m just having dinner here, no big deal.”
“Can you sign my inner thigh?”
“Sure, I… your what?”
“All right,” Jack said, “that’s enough.”
But it was too late. The crowd around the table gathered of its own momentum, a sudden swarm of curious onlookers and enthusiastic passersby. Jack stood up and pushed the crowd away, hand around Layla’s arm to gently lead her away from the table.
“All right,” Jack said in a loud, commanding tone, “clear a path, back off.” Their clamor only rose, excitement reaching a fever pitch as the bodies only seemed to get thicker around the table. “Security,” Jack said even louder, “back off before one of you gets hurt.”
Jack led Layla through the crowd, but a man behind him lurched forward in a move Jack’s instincts told him were too close and not at all as clumsy as it seemed. Jack knocked the man back with a quick swipe of his arm, the crowd gasping as he fell into their ranks. Phones were suddenly everywhere, held up to capture the ugly scene on video as Jack pulled Layla out of the restaurant.
Once in front, Jack stepped out and waited, knowing the limo would be waiting and would pull up immediately.
He’d given the driver that instruction explicitly. And when the big black car pulled up, Jack knew he’d found a reliable ally in their driver, a young man who went by the moniker Eric-F.
“See,” Jack said, “this is what I’m talking about.”
“What? That wasn’t my fault!”
“You shouldn’t have been so open to that fan, the redhead.”
“She was innocent enough.”
“She was,” Jack repeated, adding, “this time. But look how easily things got out of hand.”
Layla nodded and sighed. “Now that’ll be all over the internet, probably is already. That may not be good for your reputation. Not being a bitch or anything, I mean… I’m sorry things went to shit back there. But you have to understand, I… I have a responsibility to my fans. They feel a connection to me, y’know? I’m not saying it’s… y’know, real or anything, or… or maybe it is. I dunno, it’s a hard thing to explain.”
“Obviously.”
“If you were in my position, you would understand. Dave Grohl gets it.”
“Then you can call Dave Grohl.”
“No, I can’t… not after the incident at the Playboy Mansion. Doesn’t matter, the point is that I have a responsibility to my fans. If for no other reason than because I’ve taken their money, okay? I owe it to them to give them what they paid for.”
Jack shrugged. “They buy a CD, they get the CD. They buy a concert ticket, they buy the concert. Why do they deserve to have a piece of your private time… or even worse, all of it?”
Layla looked like she was searching for an answer, but simply couldn’t find one. “If I’m rude or abusive, they won’t buy the next CD or the next concert ticket. Does that make sense?”
Jack gave it some thought. “Yeah, actually, it does.”
“Don’t act so surprised.”
“Who said I was acting?” After a tense silence, they broke out in a shared chuckle. “No, I see what you’re getting at.” After a bit more thought, Jack felt he had to say, “I guess I… I’ve just led a different kind of life. I wasn’t… I never welcomed attention the way you do, always felt better… safer… alone, unseen.”
Layla seemed to give it some thought. “I guess in your line of work that only makes sense.”
Jack nodded. “In your profession, maybe not so much.”
“Maybe not.”
Their chuckling died away, but their smiles remained. Layla pushed herself out of her seat facing Jack and was suddenly sitting next to him. She was smiling and leaning in close, her lovely presence more moving to Jack than he would have expected.
Layla said, “Maybe I’m just feeling a little… vulnerable.”
“Maybe.”
She leaned closer, her gorgeous face nearing Jack’s. “Maybe I need some… special attention.”
Jack cracked a little smile. “Maybe you’ve been trying to wrap me around your little finger since those rehearsals, and you’re still trying.”
“Maybe I could wrap my body around yours, how would that be?”
She pushed forward, kissing Jack’s lips and face and neck, nibbling and nuzzling like a hundred pounds of wanted lust and ready flesh, which was just what she was.
What was more, she was his. This world-famous celebrity and world-class beauty was unfolding before him—any man’s dream, and she was his for the taking.
And he wanted to take her, there was no question about that. Those thighs, those breasts, the glistening blue eyes and pouting pink lips, everything pulled him to her, heat rising in his body to blot out his more civilized impulses.
Civilization, Jack thought in that blur of the physical and the mental, where would it be… without moments like this?
His hands found those lovely cheeks, smooth and pure, those round breasts so full and heaving with strong, young muscle. Layla’s nipples were firm between his fingers, rising up though her shirt to welcome him, encourage him.
Her breath became hot, panting as she kissed him with even greater passion, tongue darting out of that darling little mouth. She moved in closer, one gorgeous leg stretching out to cross over his, bodies undulating toward one another, a mutual commitment to closeness growing by the second.
A familiar digital ping leaked out of Jack’s pocket. He pulled Layla’s phone out and
glanced at the screen, not surprised to see the familiar name. He swiped the screen.
“Billings.”
Lorelei barked out from the phone’s tiny receiver, “What the fuck are you doing with my daughter?”
Jack opted out of such a conversation, deciding instead to hand the phone over to Layla. It was her phone, after all.
Layla glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes. “Mom, what?” Jack watched, Lorelei’s voice faint from the phone in the back of his ear.
“Layla, goddamnit! You’re all over the internet! Somebody is live streaming your dancing sex-capades with that gorilla! I’m in Mathers’ offices on Sunset; get both of your asses here right now!”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Mother!”
Jack took the phone with gentle firmness and raised it to his cheek. “We’re comin’ in,” he said, and nothing more. Layla looked into his eyes and he into hers. Things would be more complicated now; she seemed to know it as well as he did. She seemed as glad about it as he felt too.
CHAPTER TEN
Lorelei paced around Stewart Mathers’ big corner office on Sunset Boulevard, across town from the Staples Center. Footage of them rushing out of the restaurant together, Layla clinging to him, had accumulated thousands of hits in just the thirty minutes since it had happened.
“I turn my back for five minutes,” Lorelei said, looking out past the glass window at the sprawling city beyond and below. “Five fucking minutes and you’re making a pair of asses out of yourselves!”
Jack winced to be spoken to that way. “Excuse me?”
Stewart sat on the corner of his big mahogany desk, Jack and Layla standing there like a couple of teenagers in for a lecture. Mathers said, “I think what Lorelei’s trying to say is that it was… careless, that’s all.”
“I was there,” Jack said, “Layla was perfectly safe.”
Lorelei snapped back, “But who’s going to protect her from you? And you… you were supposed to be the best and you can’t keep a twenty-something in line?”
“I’m not a babysitter,” Jack said. “I’m here for security. The security around the stadium was weak, tension was getting thick—”
