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Fighting to Forgive (Fighting #2) Page 58
Author: J.B. Salsbury

Chances are I’ll be fired when the UFL’s parent company gets wind of my involvement in Gibbs’s arrest. I can’t afford to go more than a week without income, and even that’s a stretch. Lucky for me, Vegas has a lot of opportunities. An online job search should keep my mind busy for a few—knock, knock.

I stare at my front door. Who the hell could be stopping by? I finally charged my phone but haven’t checked for missed calls since I woke up.

“Who is it?” I make no move to stand. If it’s a door-to-door salesman, I don’t want to exert the effort.

“Open the door, bitch.” Eve’s unmistakable voice filters clearly through my open kitchen window. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“You’re going to freak her out.” Raven’s hissed words make me grin… “Layla, it’s us. We’re just checking up, wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“Don’t lie, Rave.” Eve’s attempt at a whisper fails. “We’re taking you out. So let us in. Holding all these hangers is killing my fingers.”

“Eve, stop being so pushy,” Raven says.

I’m covering my mouth, laughing my ass off. These two will never leave, and if I know Eve, she’ll take extreme measures if I don’t comply.

“You haven’t seen pushy yet. But if she doesn’t open this door in the next three seconds, I’ll bust it—”

I scramble up from the table and fling open the door. “No, don’t. I’m here—Ompf!”

Raven tackle-hugs me. “Oh my gosh, Layla. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” She stands back and holds my shoulders, checking me over. “Are you okay? You look okay. Tired maybe, but okay.”

Eve kicks the door shut and strolls past us, both of her arms weighed down with what looks like an entire wardrobe.

“I’m fine. Sorry about my phone. It died, and I finally got around to charging it.”

Her blue-green eyes continue to take me in from face to feet. “I think you need to get out.” She grabs my hand and drags me to my room, where Eve has laid hangers and hangers of clothes on my unmade bed.

“No, I don’t feel like going out.” I lean up against my dresser, eyeing the fabulous dresses and outfits that they brought over. I cross my arms, hoping they see it as a sign of defiance rather than what it really is. Me wanting to tear through those clothes like Bridezilla at a wedding gown sale.

“Uh-uh. I didn’t pull a muscle dragging all this shit up here to be told you don’t feel like going out.” Eve rubs her shoulder, grimacing. “So get your ass in a shower and let’s do this.”

Raven sits on the edge of the bed, pleading with her eyes. “Come on, Layla. It’ll be good for you. A night out with the girls, a few drinks, some laughs… what do ya say?”

That actually does sound nice. I could use a few drinks. And after my extended nap, I don’t see myself falling back to sleep anytime soon.

I shrug. “That could be fun.”

“She’s in.” Eve spins me toward my shower. “Now go get cleaned up, and then we’ll help you pick out something to wear. Lord knows there’s plenty to choose from.”

“Thanks, guys.” I leave Eve at my bathroom door, shutting it enough for privacy but leaving it cracked so we can talk. I flip on the hot water and strip down. “Where are we going anyway? I heard there’s a fun wine bar at The Cosmopolitan.”

“Oh, um… we thought we’d go somewhere a little more relaxed,” Raven hollers from my bedroom.

Relaxed sounds good.

“Just tell her,” Eve says loud enough for me to hear.

That doesn’t sound good.

I wrap a towel around my nak*d body and stomp into my room. Both girls are standing just a foot away from each other, locked in a heated whispered discussion.

“Tell me what?” I c*ck a hip and wait.

“Huh?” Raven tries to act clueless, but it doesn’t work.

“You should know that having a teenage daughter kinda makes me an expert lie detector.” I swing my scowl from one fibber to the other. “Where are we going?”

Raven clears her throat. “It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

Eve steps up to me and grins. “We’re going to The Blackout. It’s Battle of the Bands.”

“No, no way. I’m not going. I can’t go.” I spin on my heel and walk back to the bathroom to put on my clothes.

They follow me in. “Layla—”

“I’m not ready.” I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”

“He’s not going to be there. I had Jonah check. It’s his brother’s last night in town, and he’s taking him gambling,” Raven says.

“How do you know they won’t stop by? I’ll be a nervous mess all night wondering if he’s going to walk through the door.” I grip my towel tighter to keep from losing it.

“He won’t.” Raven’s expression turns sad.

“You don’t know that.”

She and Eve exchange a look. “I do know that. He’s taking some time off. Not just from fighting, but from everything. He told Jonah he needs a few weeks to be alone.”

“Oh.” Of course he is. He’s mourning the loss of his career and his reputation. Even the most loyal fans have reason to doubt Blake. Athletes rarely make a full recovery after a steroids scandal.

It’s all my fault. If he’d never met me, if I’d stayed in Seattle… I pinch my eyes closed and push back the searing thought.

Suddenly, getting as drunk as possible sounds pretty good. The burn of alcohol should deaden the ache in my chest. I’ll let Raven and Eve dress me up and drag me anywhere they want. As long as there’s a bottle to help me forget. Even for only one night.

I look back and forth between the concerned eyes of my friends. “Okay, give me fifteen minutes.” My voice sounds how I feel. Distant and robotic.

They nod and leave me to my shower. Guilt invades with vengeance, coaxing bitter tears to slide in silence. My hot tears dissolve into the steamy spray as if they never existed. If only I could do the same with the past.

~*~

“Layla, you might want to slow down,” Raven yells to me over the pounding music.

I throw back another shot called a Fireball, something that Mac told me is nothing more than cinnamon-flavored whiskey. Whatever it is, it’s damn delicious and burns all the way down to my stomach. “I’m good.” I bob my head along with the metal guitar sound of a band called Zombie Diet as they play their last song.

We’ve heard three bands so far, and they’re getting better and better as the night progresses. Of course, that may have something to do with the Fireballs.

The music stops, and the crowd blares an ear-piercing roar of applause. I shove my fingers into my mouth to whistle, but end up blowing out a silent spray of cinnamon-scented drool. I’m giggling to myself when I notice Raven whispering something to Eve from the corner of my eye. It doesn’t take a sober person to guess what she’s saying.

Yes, I’m drunk.

No, I don’t care.

And yes, it’s because I’m f**king heartsick.

I don’t have the energy to defend myself, so I continue to rock out in my own little world of self-pity and booze. Woo-hoo.

The Blackout is packed. Even if Blake did make an appearance, he’d be hard to find in this crowd. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see him everywhere I look. His memory hangs all over this place. From the table I was sitting at when we argued over Metallica, to the wall where he pinned a girl and kissed her so passionately that I felt it from across the room. My chest convulses. Nope, still not numb.

“Mac. One more, please. Er… make it two.” I leave my two fingers up and point with my other hand to my empty glass.

Eve shoves a huge glass filled with clear liquid and ice cubes, into my hand. “Here, drink this.”

I hold it up to my nose and sniff. “What is it?”

“Water. Drink it.”

Eww. I grimace and hand it back, making water slosh over the lip. Oops. “No thanks.”

“You’re going to barf, or pass out, or both. Just drink it.” Eve’s tone is parental and bossy.

I don’t like it.

I turn toward her, wobbling on my leopard-print high heels that do wonders for my legs and booty but nothing for my balance. “Stop telling me what to do.” My finger digs into my chest. “I am a grown woman.” I stomp my foot.

“Eve’s just worried about you. We both are,” Raven says.

I glare at the girls. “I don’t need your worry. I can take care of my—”

My ankle twists, and Eve catches my fall.

“All right, all right. Get off your feet there, grown woman.” Eve sets me back on a stool.

Shoot, maybe I’m drunker than I thought. I grab the water and drink a few sips but make sure to give Eve a dirty look so she knows she didn’t win. I do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Not because someone says I should, or tells me—ugh. Whatever.

“Stop smiling. You didn’t win,” I say, finishing the last of the glass.

“I know, tough girl.” Eve’s still smiling.

I take another shot to prove I’m the boss of me but worry that Eve might be right. If I don’t stop, I’m in for a night of toilet worshiping and tile sleeping.

“Put your hands together, Las Vegas.” The MC’s voice comes through the speakers, turning everyone’s attention toward the stage. “Please welcome Ataxia.” The shouts of the crowd mix with the sound of a single electric guitar.

We have perfect seats, close enough to see the stage but off to the side to avoid the mosh pit. The sound of electric guitar strums continues in the dark, each chord growing louder and louder as it rings through the room. The energy is contagious, and the three of us cheer and scream like die-hard groupies.

“What’s up, Battle of the Bands?” Rex’s deep, raspy voice booms through the speakers, and although we still can’t see the band, we know it’s coming from the stage. “Thanks for coming out to support the local music scene.” The guitarist continues to strum a complex and melodic tune. Chills race across my skin, and anticipation has my heart pounding. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight.” The crowd screams louder. “Nice to hear you’re excited.” Rex chuckles. The crowd gets even louder. “Before we play our set, we’ve got a special guest who has something to say.”

Eve and Raven look at me, their expressions mirroring my confusion. Special guest?

The guitar solo switches to the opening of a song I’ve heard a million times and know by heart. My cheeks stretch into a wide grin, and I bounce in my seat. “Oh my gosh. Bon Jovi! I f**king love this song.” I’m stoked and excited to sing along. I throw my hands in the air and scream, giving in to my inner fan-girl.

The lights on stage are still dark when Rex starts to sing. I blurt the words I’ve sung a million times, doing a decent backup to—wait a minute.

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J.B. Salsbury's Novels
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