Page 106 of Broken Brothers

Though not the same bar as where the legendary handjob had taken place, it still shared many of the same features, from the dark light to the soft, live music to, yes, the booths in the corner. Layla looked delighted, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the booth.

“We gotta get drinks first, you know,” I said. “I can’t just come to a bar and not drink. It would be like going to a zoo and not seeing any animals. Whatcha want?”

“Margarita, keep it simple.”

Easy enough, I thought as I went to the bar, prepped to order that and a gin and soda. Around me, there was a decent crowd—not packed, certainly, but more than half the tables and booths were occupied. This would make it harder than expected to keep track of anyone watching me, but then again, I had said I didn’t give a shit anymore. Maybe I didn’t as much as I wanted to believe, but I genuinely wasn’t as affected by it as much as before.

I returned with the drinks, clinked glasses, and took a gulp.

“You know, it sure doesn’t seem like a shock that our families wound up partnering for business based on Craig and Edwin,” I said. “Both led by massive assholes, both led by people willing to manipulate the younger ones. What was it like growing up in your household?”

“You wouldn’t want to know,” Layla said, trying to dismiss me. She tried, but I knew how to play that game.

“Try me,” I said. “Let me go first, so you don’t feel bad. I don’t know either of my biological parents. I know my mother’s name, but I’ve never bothered to look her up. I don’t…”

I almost said I didn’t trust women to love me, but given the history of my relationship with Layla, I decided some things were better left unsaid.

“I just don’t have the desire. In any case, Edwin Hunt saw me as nothing more than a cat in the house. I had to be fed, bathed, and cared for, but otherwise, there was nothing provided for me. My adoptive mother, Melanie, she cared for me, but she only had so much say. Every day, I fear that I’m about to get screwed over because I dared to start something that went against the plan Edwin had for me. But even before then, I was nothing to Edwin Hunt. The fact that he offered me a job while at Burnson Investments struck me as nothing more than a subtle move to better position himself.”

“Really seems like maybe John Burnson did something to Edwin and Craig to get on their bad sides, huh?”

It felt like a throwaway comment, but there was nothing small about it to me. It seemed to make much more sense now, in fact—maybe I had also gotten caught in the crossfire.

But if so… why had Layla apologized to me and said I had never understood anything on that date? It seemed like maybe I had gotten caught in the crossfire of a possible war between Burnson, Hunt, and Taylor, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t deliberately brought in.

“Maybe,” I said. “But anyways, you know my life. Your turn.”

“My turn,” Layla said, drawing a long sigh. “OK, my turn.”

I was surprised at the discomfort she showed. Part of me thought about telling her she didn’t have to say anything, but I was honestly too curious to turn that off. I had to know where this was going.

“My father died when I was young, you know that,” she said. “What you didn’t know was that my mother never really wanted me.”

The words felt like a stone thrown at my face. Everything I had ever thought about Layla was slowly dissipating under the weight of her true life.

“My mother was a high-level doctor who was going to be one of the best in the New York area. She didn’t want to have kids, but my father did. God knows how they ever wound up married. In any case, I think my father was sick even before I was born, leaving me to believe he wanted to have a biological legacy, my mother’s feelings be damned. So…”

She sighed. She had to collect herself; she didn’t appear on the verge of tears, but I sure knew better than to do anything other than shut the hell up.

“My mother didn’t want me. My uncle, Craig, the very one, he was my mother’s brother, and I already told you he was a sociopath. He has never had a wife or a long-term relationship, probably with good reason; anyone who would marry someone as successful as him knows to run before he can rope them in. He saw his sister, my mother, and saw how men flocked after her. He knew that I would likely turn out the same way. So he offered to take me under his wing so that mom could go back to being a doctor. Sounds nice. But…”

Again, I just bit my tongue. I would not speak until it was blatantly obvious Layla would finish.

“He just used me to attract pervy clients. He used me. He… yeah, I’m sorry. That’s all I can say right now.”

“Say no more, Layla,” I said.

I took a sip of my drink, feeling terribly sorry for the life Layla had had. It didn’t excuse what she had done to me, but it explained so much of her. It made me…

It made me feel even more protective of her. Part of me wanted to hire her into MCH right there so she could escape her fucking creepy uncle, but given that I wasn’t even sure the M in MCH would last another day, let along the duration of our careers, such an offer felt like an invitation to get usurped and upended within a matter of months, if not weeks.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say. I hated that I didn’t have anything more to say, but what could I say? She had a history I didn’t even want to think about, and I was not someone who got easily skeeved or grossed out. This was just another level of horrible human behavior that I had hoped never existed but glumly had to acknowledge did.

I swore, if I ever came across Craig Taylor, I’d beat his fucking brains to a pulp until his brain goo came out of his ears and his skull lay in shattered pieces on the New York pavement.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s the past. I can speak better for myself now.”

Except you and I…