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  “I’m not really in the mood—”

  “Relax, brother,” Ben said, “I’m not passing judgment. I just hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all.”

  “No, I don’t really,” Jay said matter-of-factly.

  Ben walked forward and put his hand on Jay’s shoulder. “I’d say little Layla has managed to get under your skin, bro,” he stated. “Since you can’t seem to stay away from her, maybe you should consider telling her the truth.”

  Jay’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” he asked skeptically.

  “I don’t see a third option, do you?” Ben replied and walked out of the kitchen toward the stairs. “I’ll stay out of your way in the meantime,” he added, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Jay considered Ben’s words momentarily but knew that being honest just wasn’t possible. He quickly formed a new plan. He’d take her to the dance the following Friday then inform her that his parents decided to move back up north right away due to a job offer. That way, they could part on good terms, so she wouldn’t think it was because he didn’t care about her that he was ending it with her, and ultimately, he’d get to spend one more precious night with her before he said good-bye. Under the ruse that they could continue their relationship long distance, he knew that a girl her age would finally get fed up and move on. It was the perfect plan, now all he had to do was convince her to go along with it.

  And then suddenly he felt traitorous, like a villain for planning to deceive her again for his own selfish ends. He leaned his head up against the wall for a moment, feeling ripped apart. It was the only way, he concluded, it was the only way she could get to end it on her own terms.

  He walked into the living room and sat next to Layla, trying to find the words to convey his array of emotions.

  “Does he always come and go as he pleases?” she asked.

  “Yes, like I told you before, he has his own set of keys,” Jay replied.

  “And your parents don’t mind?” she pushed.

  “They’re not here…much,” he answered.

  She nodded.

  He reached over and took her hand. “Layla, do you think we could just take this very slowly,” he asked.

  “What?” she questioned.

  “Us…you and I,” he replied.

  “In what regard?” she pushed, obviously having no clue where he was going.

  “I know I told you that I wasn’t in a position to date anyone, but while that’s one hundred percent the truth, I really like spending time with you. So I thought that if we take it slowly, y’know, see where we go…”

  “You’re saying that you want to…with me?” she asked.

  “I want to spend time with you, but my life is a little complicated. So maybe if we just took it one day at a time…” he trailed off, shrugging.

  She sat quietly for some time, staring at him as though weighing up the option. “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed.

  Layla

  Chapter 11

  The following week went a little better…sort of.

  At first, Layla’s mother and Julie were both annoyed with her for being so easily swayed back into a relationship with Jay. Regardless of the amount of times she assured them that she wasn’t going to let her emotions get out of control this time, they still argued that she was acting foolishly.

  Julie conveniently brought up the fact that Layla had insisted that was the case the first time, and yet she was heartbroken when it ended. Somewhere deep inside, she concluded that they were probably right, but the truth was, she loved spending time with him.

  Faced with the proposition of starting up their budding romance again, Layla’s rational side told her to bolt for the door. This guy was obviously carrying around some heavy baggage, but there was no denying the feelings she had for him, and besides, it was a fair request, he wasn’t exactly proposing marriage. What harm could one day at a time be, after all? She was always at liberty to walk away any time she wanted.

  She constantly tried to push back the memory from the afternoon at his house, feeling well and truly angry with herself for allowing him to kiss her again. At first, she stiffened and made to pull away, but some overbearing urge ran rough-shot over her common sense and she melted into him. She never wanted to be one of those sad girls that lets a guy play with her mind then falls into his arms at a moment’s notice. But, as she scolded herself inwardly, she couldn’t help reveling in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her. The next thing she knew, and defying all sanity, she was kissing him back, relishing the moment until she heard the front door slam and knew beyond any doubt that Ben was there, causing her to feel ashamed of her weak behavior.

  Jay sat with Layla and Julie every day at lunch, much to Kevin Hartley’s utter disgust. He was lively and upbeat, but to a certain degree, kept his distance. One day, he would grab her hand as they walked down the school hallway, the next day, nothing but casual banter. She willingly rode the roller-coaster, assuming that she’d agreed to the situation to some extent, still trying to convince herself that she could back out at any moment.

  On Wednesday, Cheryl picked Layla up from school. The plan was to go shopping for her birthday present, which was going to be her dress and shoes for the dance, then she and Cheryl would have a nice quiet dinner together, just the two of them.

  They parked in the parking lot of their town mall, which was one-third the size of the Raleigh mall, but Layla preferred this one. She wasn’t much of a shopper to begin with, and the less options she had, the easier it would be to make a choice quickly.

  They went straight to the mall’s flagship department store and took the escalator to the dress department. Layla spied a pretty, strapless, black, knee-length dress, and her decision was made.

  “Already?” Cheryl asked dubiously. “Honestly, Layla, you can’t pick out a car after how many Saturdays of looking, yet you grab the first dress you see?”

  “I like this one,” she replied, carrying the dress over to the fitting room.

  It was a perfect fit. When she walked outside the changing room to ask her mother’s opinion, Cheryl gushed over her proudly.

  “I cannot believe how beautiful you look,” her mother stated. “It brings out the color of your hair in a most unusual way.”

  With the dress neatly secured in a garment bag, they went downstairs to the shoe department. After purchasing a pair of five-inch heeled black shoes that Layla was sure she’d never be able to walk in, they headed to the seafood restaurant two miles up the road for dinner.

  “So, Layla, how are things with you and Jay?” Cheryl asked after they had ordered.

  Layla was sure her mother had been bursting to ask her that for days. “Good, I suppose,” she replied.

  “You suppose?” her mother echoed. “What does that mean?”

  Layla sighed; she knew she wasn’t getting out of this conversation. “I don’t know, exactly. We always have a really good time together. We’re always laughing and having fun, but…sometimes, it feels like he’s holding back, like he’s trying to pull away emotionally, y’know?”

  Cheryl nodded, tucked her brown hair behind her ears and looked at her daughter expectantly, waiting for Layla to divulge more information.

  “Sometimes I sense him staring at me, and when I look at him, he seems to have the most adoring look on his face, as though he’s in love with me or something. Not that I’d know too much about that,” she added. “But then other times…” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

  “What do you make of that?” Cheryl asked.

  “I’m not really sure, but I think I sort of agreed to this situation for a while, so I’m not putting too much thought into it. But…”

  “But, what?” Cheryl pushed.

  Layla shook her head and laughed once. “Sometimes I get the feeling that he’s just going to disappear one day. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “I don’t know if it is,” her mother replied.

  “Really?”

&nbs
p; “You know I like Jay, right?” Cheryl questioned.

  “But?”

  “But there’s something different about him,” she responded. “Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “Is this about his parents again?” Layla asked in an agitated voice, feeling the need to defend Jay. A part of her felt the situation with his parents was really weird also, but she wasn’t going to confess that to her mother.

  “It’s not that. Though I do find that odd,” Cheryl answered. “No, there’s something else about him. It’s like he’s almost too mature for his age.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Layla asked.

  “I don’t mean that in the way that normal eighteen-year-olds can be mature,” Cheryl responded. “He gives me the impression that he’s been around a lot longer…something in his mannerisms…”

  “Because he has old-fashioned manners?” Layla queried sarcastically.

  “No, that’s not it either,” Cheryl argued. “Just…something…a vibe maybe.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she huffed, feeling annoyed at her mother’s judgmental accusations.

  The waitress brought their food over at that moment, ending the conversation.

  When they were finished eating, Cheryl picked up her bag and rummaged through her wallet for something. She pulled out a plain, white business card. “I found this lying discarded on James’ desk yesterday,” she said, holding the business card up for her daughter to see.

  “What is it?” Layla asked.

  “It’s a business card that belongs to a man named Manuel Castillez,” Cheryl explained. “According to this, he is some kind of all-around handy man.”

  “And?” Layla pushed.

  “It’s what’s written on the back that grabbed my attention,” Cheryl replied, handing the card to Layla.

  Layla turned the card over and saw the name ‘Mr. Ankara’ written in neat capital letters with an address on Park Avenue underneath. Scribbled under that it said ‘this is the only known address for Ankara I’ve been able to find so far. Sorry, boss. I’ll keep looking.’ Layla looked up at her mother. “What is this?” she asked with confusion.

  “Is that the name of the man you heard James and Robert talking about?”

  “No,” Layla responded, shaking her head. “It was Orson…or, Orton, maybe…but Manuel was definitely the man whom James’ suggested should ‘grab Orton’.”

  Cheryl nodded. “I looked up this address on the internet. I can tell you that whoever this Mr. Ankara is, he lives in the most expensive building in Manhattan. This man is obviously absolutely loaded. We’re talking serious amounts of cash.”

  “Did you ask James about this?” Layla pushed.

  “I did,” Cheryl admitted. “I picked it up nonchalantly and asked him if it was important, just to try to gauge his reaction.”

  “What did he say?” Layla asked.

  “He just said it was worthless,” Cheryl replied. “But he seemed almost annoyed to admit that.”

  “Oh,” Layla muttered. “I don’t really see the relevance.”

  “I just found it strange since James doesn’t have an employee named Manuel. I considered that maybe he had done a few odd jobs, but there was no indication that a check has ever been cut for a man by that name, so unless James paid cash, and why would he? It’s a mystery to me why this man would call James ‘boss’.”

  “Maybe it’s just some kind of nickname that men like to use when referring to other men, like chief, or man,” Layla suggested. “Although, coming to think about it, when I overheard James and Robert talking that day, it did sound like James was in some sort of position of authority. What do you think?”

  “I’m not going to push it any further because, like I’ve said before, I’ve known James for as long as I’ve known your dad, and he is not a criminal in any way, shape or form. I have to tell you, Layla, the more I think about it the more I’m convinced that you took that whole conversation up wrong.”

  “Maybe,” Layla agreed. “But it’s still obvious that James and that Manuel man were looking for someone.”

  “Yes, but that could be for anything,” Cheryl replied. “Just because they were looking for this millionaire doesn’t mean they want him for something shady. For all we know, James could want to ask Ankara for some sort of funding.”

  “And he would use a handyman to get contact information?” Layla asked skeptically.

  “Perhaps Manuel does work for Ankara also,” Cheryl surmised.

  “Then he would know where Ankara lived, wouldn’t he?”

  “Layla…” Cheryl sighed deeply. “I think it’s time you dropped this silly notion.”

  Layla felt a slight agitation at her mother for doubting her but quickly swallowed it, realizing that Cheryl was probably right. The whole thing did seem ridiculous at this point. Now that a few weeks had passed, she wondered if she hadn’t heard the conversation wrong. “You’re probably right,” Layla admitted. “But just for the record, you were the one that brought it up again. As far as I was concerned, it was already dropped.”

  “Good,” Cheryl said. “So this is a closed matter?”

  Layla nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 12

  That Friday before school, Layla stood in the doorway hugging her mother tightly. “Have a great time, Mom,” she said, feeling guilt wash over her for bailing out on the trip to New York.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” her mother replied before kissing Layla on the forehead. “Have a wonderful time at the dance tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Layla mumbled. “And thank you so much for the beautiful dress and shoes. It was the best birthday present.”

  “I’m just glad I got to see you in your outfit before I left.”

  “I’m glad too,” Layla said sincerely.

  “Remember, James will be here until Wednesday afternoon,” Cheryl stated. “You’ll be on your own for four days after that. I’m trusting you to act responsibly now that you’re officially an adult.”

  “I always do,” Layla reminded her.

  “I know,” Cheryl said, getting misty eyed. “I can’t believe my baby girl is all grown up.”

  “Mom…” Layla huffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t start getting all mushy again. I have to go.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget to keep in contact with James and let him know where you are at all times.”

  “I will,” Layla promised. She kissed her mother on the cheek and ran out the door to Julie’s waiting car.

  “Happy birthday,” Julie said when Layla was settled beside her. She grabbed an envelope from her bag and handed it to her friend before pulling out into traffic.

  “Ah, you shouldn’t have,” Layla said, tearing it open. Inside was a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure. “Thank you so much. It’s so appropriate.”

  “I figured we could go right after school,” Julie said.

  When they pulled into the school parking lot, Jay was waiting outside his car, arms folded over his chest. He smiled broadly when he saw Julie’s car approach. He walked over and opened the passenger-side door then held out his hand to help Layla up. “Happy birthday,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. He dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long, narrow, black velvet box. “I heard from a reliable source that you would be wearing black tonight, and I thought this might go with your outfit.” He handed the box to Layla.

  Layla pulled the lid off to see a short string of black beads resting inside. “Thank you so much,” she said, overwhelmed by the generous gift.

  “It’s not much,” he admitted. “It’s just a little something for tonight.”

  “No, it’s wonderful,” she said sincerely. It was the first gift she’d ever gotten from a boyfriend, if that was even the correct term for their situation.

  There was a buzz of excitement in school all day, the upcoming holidays being one factor, but also the excitement of the formal dance the students would be atte
nding that evening. Even the teachers were in better moods than usual, including Mr. Schultz, who actually cracked a smile during English class—a rare phenomenon.

  When school ended, Layla ran to say good-bye to Jay. “We’ll pick you up at six-thirty,” he said before hugging her goodbye.

  Layla and Julie drove straight to the nail salon and spent the next hour having their hands and feet fussed over.

  They stopped at Julie’s to pick up her dress and accessories before heading to Layla’s house where they would both get ready for the big event.

  When Julie pulled up into the driveway, Layla noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Assuming that James had failed to close it properly, she walked inside and called his name.

  No answer.

  She ran upstairs, straining her ears for the sound of the shower, calling to him two more times.

  Nothing.

  “Is he here?” Julie asked when Layla reappeared downstairs.

  “He’s not in the house,” Layla replied, making her way to the kitchen en route to the back door that led to the patio and garden, surmising that he was probably working on his perfect lawn, one of his most prized possessions.

  When she reached the kitchen, she stopped short. There was broken glass scattered on the floor next to the sink and spilled fluid that looked like cola or ice coffee. “What the heck?” she mumbled.

  Layla and Julie walked out the back door and checked around the garden.

  No James anywhere.

  Walking back into the kitchen, a sinking feeling hitting her stomach, Layla opened the door that led to the garage. James’ car was parked there sitting untouched, and in front of it, a shiny, yellow, brand new Volkswagen Beetle with a giant red ribbon on the windshield. “Oh, my God,” Layla gushed, rushing over to run her hand over the top.

  “Oh, wow!” Julie yelped, walking over to stand next to Layla.

  “I can’t believe this!” Layla muttered. “I’m assuming this was meant to be a surprise.”