Because of You (10 page)

I blink a few times and shake the dark memory from my mind, forcing myself to remember that I'm not in the tropical landscape of the Dominican anymore. The sudden quiet from the stage brings me back to reality, and I watch as Layla, with her back to the seats, speaks softly to her band members. After a few minutes, she turns and makes her way back up to center stage, pushing the microphone she’s been holding into the mic stand. The drummer counts off with a few smacks of his drum sticks together, and the lead guitarist jumps in with a slow, soulful sound. This isn’t the music I’ve been listening to for the last hour. This song isn’t something made just to shake your ass to. It’s heartfelt and gentle. I watch as Layla stands with one arm behind her back and the other gripping the microphone on the stand tightly. Her eyes close as she starts to sing the first verse. Her voice still has the typical pop music feel that the rest of her songs do, but there is a little more added in—a little more feeling, a little more belief in what she’s singing about: a love gone wrong, regrets, and mistakes. It’s a good song as far as this kind of music goes. It’s not something I would blast in my car, but I wouldn’t make the effort to change the channel if it happened to come on.

Halfway through the chorus, the sound of high heels echo through the arena as Eve marches from the right side of the stage. The floor microphones pick up each
click
and
clack
as she walks with purpose directly up to Layla. The band tapers off when they see their boss in front of them, but Layla, with her eyes closed, continues to belt out a few more lyrics until she finally realizes the band isn’t backing her up anymore. The two women stare at each other for several minutes before I hear Eve ask the band to give them a few moments. Without hesitation, everyone puts their instruments down and hustle off stage left.

I lean forward in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees so I can concentrate on what’s going to happen next. I’m sure it’s going to be your typical manager/client pep talk or some shit, but I’m still on the clock and might as well watch the two women and how they interact so I can get a better feel for them.

Eve glances around the stage and arena, making sure everyone is gone, before she starts to speak. Thank God I’m far away and hidden in the dark seats where they haven’t turned the lights on yet.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eve asks Layla angrily.

“I’m warming up, just like you told me to,” Layla replies in a monotone voice, her face blank, not giving away any emotions.

“That song is not on the set list and you know it.”

Eve crosses her arms in front of her and takes on look of authority. Layla finally removes her hand from the mic, dropping both of her arms down to her sides, and I can hear her deep, frustrated sigh through the sound system.

“I know it’s not on the list, but it’s a song from the new album, and I think the fans will want to hear it,” she explains softly.

“I don’t give a shit
what
you think. You don’t get any thoughts when it comes to this. You sing the fun, upbeat songs you’re supposed to and that’s it. The only reason that song even made it to the album is because Sam wrote it and he demanded credit for it.”

I can practically see the smoke coming out of Layla’s ears when Eve tells her that last part. I have to admit, now I’m invested in this conversation, and I can’t pull myself away even if the building goes up in flames.

“He wrote that song? Tell me you’re kidding. You told me you hired a songwriter to give me a song with a different kind of vibe to switch things up a bit,” Layla states with barely concealed fury, a quiver in her voice giving her away.

“It doesn’t matter what I told you. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, especially you. What I do is no concern of yours. You screwed everything up when you left Sam. You owed him a little something, even if it was just singing one of his songs on the album,” Eve tells her, pointing her finger in Layla’s face to make her point known.

“I don’t owe him ANYTHING and you know it. You let me give him everything, and it was all just a joke,” Layla fires back.

“Oh, don’t kid yourself.” Eve laughs cruelly. “You didn’t give him anything. You have nothing to give
anyone
. I should have known better than to try and do something nice for you. You have absolutely no redeeming qualities to make ANY man happy. God knows you’ve done nothing but make my life miserable for twenty-four years.”

Jesus Christ. This woman makes Joan Crawford look like a fucking saint.

“Keep your trivial opinions to yourself and do as your fucking told. Sing the set list I gave you.”

Layla doesn’t have any more fiery comebacks for her mother after her last parting remark as she stands with her shoulders drooped and watches Eve turn and walk away with her head held high.

If that bitch was my mother I would tell her exactly where to go and even buy her a fucking express ticket to get her there faster.

“What in the hell was that?” I mutter to myself as I continue to stare at Layla down on stage. She looks nothing like the diva with an attitude I witnessed earlier and everything like a puppy that was just kicked in the teeth.

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

The quiet voice directly behind me has me tensing my shoulders and spinning around in a protective stance with my fists clenched at my side calculating the threat and waiting to strike.

“Whoa, easy there, rough rider. It’s just me,” Finn says with a smile, his hands held up in the air like I have a gun pointed at him. He’s lucky it’s down in my ankle holster or I would have already had it pressed underneath his chin, threatening his pretty face.

I relax and tip my head in Layla’s general direction. “So, is that the norm around here? Eve smacking the shit out of Layla with her words and Layla just taking it?” I ask.

Finn shrugs and slides his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “That? Oh, that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Eve is actually in a good mood today.”

I shake my head in confusion. If that was Eve on a good day, how the fuck does she act on a bad one?

“Why the hell doesn’t Layla tell her where to stick it? This is her career, her life.”

Finn laughs but it’s not meant to be a cheerful one. It’s a laugh filled with disdain and irritation.

“You would think, wouldn’t you? Layla is the star. She’s the one bringing all the money in and has people falling all over themselves to make her happy. One would naturally assume that she’s the one who makes all the decisions,
Chief
Marshall,” Finn says with a raise of an eyebrow.

“I’m not with the Navy anymore. It’s just Brady.”

Finn cocks his head at me, a pensive look on his face as he holds his chin in between his thumb and forefinger and furrows his brow.

“Oh, my bad. I just assumed once a SEAL, always a SEAL. The kind of person who shoots first and asks questions later, someone who follows orders no matter who gives them and never thinks for himself. You know, someone who makes snap judgments about a person before they really know anything about them.”

I want to be mad. I really do. I want to punch the smug look off of Finn’s face, but I can’t because he just described me to a T. I can’t even pretend to be offended. Not twenty minutes earlier, in the text I sent to Gwen, I called Layla a “self-centered attention whore.” “You know what happens when you assume, Brady,” Finn adds with a smile.

“Alright, you made your point,” I concede.

“Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Seriously. Shut the fuck up. I get it. Stop talking in idioms. There’s more to her than meets the eye. Understood.”

A banging noise breaks into our conversation, and we move so we can see the stage. The mic stand that previously stood front and center is now rolling in a giant circle at the far end, and Layla stares after it, her hands on her hips and her chest heaving with what I assume is the remainder of the energy she used to angrily chuck it in that direction.

“I better go check on her,” Finn says quietly, his voice filled with concern as he starts to walk down the aisle behind me.

“You’re her friend. Why haven’t you done something to stop this?” I ask, my words making him stop in his tracks.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” he replies with his back to me.

I watch as he walks out of the row and makes his way down the center aisle to the stage. After a few minutes, making sure he gets to Layla before I go, I head the same way he does, but instead of turning left to the stage, I make a right and head out of the arena.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I and dial Gwen. “Hey, change of plans. Put Finn Michaelson’s background check on the back burner. Focus on Eve Carlysle. Get me everything you can ASAP.”

“You really need to find another hobby. This waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go running is getting on my nerves.”

I ignore Finn’s complaints as I concentrate on my stretches, extending my arms over my head and clasping my hands together, tilting from side to side to work out the kinks in my back. We’re standing at the beginning of the Bryant Grove Trail in Long Hunter State Park, my favorite place to run when I’m home. It’s eight miles round trip, but with Finn’s constant bitching and moaning, we usually only complete half. Running is part of my strict fitness regimen that I have to follow in order to keep my stamina up for the concerts, but I'd still do it every day. It’s the one time I can shut my mind off. The only thing I need to focus on is my breathing, my heart rate, and the distance I’ve traveled. I don’t have to think about how trapped I feel or how if I have to spend one more day living this life, I’m going to keep losing piece after piece of myself until there is nothing left but the robot my mother has created.

“You were in the Marines. Didn’t you have to run in your sleep?” I question as I step onto the trail and set the timer on my watch.

“Yes. And that’s precisely why I don’t want to do it anymore. People shouldn’t run unless someone is chasing them,” he tells me.

Finn likes to complain, but I know he enjoys this as much as I do. He might not be too fond of the physical requirements, but the peace and quiet in his head is as important to him as it is to me.

Finishing up a few windmills with my arms, I whip my head around. “That’s the fifth time in the last minute you’ve looked back towards where we parked the car. What’s with you this morning?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just checking to see if there will be any other runners out here with us this morning. You know, since I am your bodyguard and all,” he says cockily.

“I’m sure it’s just going to be the two of us, just like every other time we run here,” I remind him, turning away from him and getting ready to really take off.

A snap of a branch close behind us has me stopping and quickly turning to the noise.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I can’t hide the shock or anger in my voice when I see who’s standing a few feet away from Finn, dressed in black nylon Nike shorts, a pair of running shoes, and an old AC/DC concert T-shirt that's just tight enough to show off all of the contours of his sculpted chest, and the short sleeves put his muscular arms on display.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got Finn here with me.” I try not to stare at his strong arms or the hint of a tattoo peeking out from under the edge of one of his shirt sleeves, instantly curious about what it is, in spite of my irritation with him.

“Yeah, we’re good here. This is our routine when we’re home. We’ve been doing just fine on our own without some stranger sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Finn arrogantly tells Brady.

“That may have been fine in the past, but sticking with the same routine is what gets people killed,” Brady states as he walks closer to Finn, getting in his face.

“Are you trying to tell me I don’t know how to do my job?” Finn asks him heatedly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides with barely concealed rage.

Brady casually crosses his arms in front of his chest and uses the two inches he has on Finn to stare down at him, subtly trying to tell him that he could probably kick his ass without even blinking.

“I’m trying to tell you that your
relationship
with Layla might be clouding your judgment when it comes to protecting her.”

The way Brady spits out
relationship
proves that he’s done his research, at least as far as the tabloids go. For years they’ve hinted at an affair between Finn and I. Of course Eve made it known that we shouldn’t disparage those rumors. Any press is good press and all that bullshit.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that!” Finn shouts.

I grab onto his arm and pull him back towards me. I’ve never seen him so worked up like this. His body is practically vibrating with fury. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, even if I do think the ex-Navy SEAL standing in front of us could use a good punch in the face right about now to wipe that smug look off of it.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. If you guys are through with your pissing contest, I’d like to get started on my run.”