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“You can’t think of her like that,” Tyler says, blowing out a breath. “Layla knows how to shoot a gun, take and throw a punch, and stab a man twice her size. Her sister’s husbands and friends have more than prepared her on how to survive in the world. No one babies that girl except you all.”
“How can she take a punch?” Draven gasps. “I could break her.”
“You’re not a violent man, don’t pretend you are,” Atlas chuckles darkly. The only reason Draven got into a fight earlier in the week here was because some ass muttered gay slurs at Atlas and I. We were a bit sloppy drunk at the time and horny as fuck so we overdid the public displays of affection.
The police weren’t called, so I didn’t even bother to tell Daddy Jordan about it.
“Derek and Orion have worked with Layla over the years,” Tyler says, answering Draven. “Lennon spars with her whenever she’s home to keep her sharp. The road isn’t a safe place for a woman without a plan, and Layla knows this. I think the only reason she froze when Zeke was standing over her bed the first time, stroking his cock was because she was in shock. It didn’t last for long. She grabbed the latest book she was reading and hit his dick with it before screaming for him to get out.”
My inability to breathe is no longer from him punching me. Damn, she could have been raped by this douchebag. I want to find him just to make sure he can never get it up ever again. Layla should never have been in that situation. Dammit, what kind of tour was she on, and where was Jordan?
There are so many questions I want to ask, but I’ve made it very clear over the years that I don’t care about Layla Campbell. Even if it’s all a well crafted lie.
“Dick punches are effective,” Draven says sagely, cupping his own. I can tell he’s still wearing the damn cock cage because of how he’s standing. Crazy fucker.
“Hello, O’Malley's!” Layla says over the microphone as she picks up the acoustic guitar. “I’ve been promised my instrument is ready to go, so please don’t lose your mind if it isn’t. I was blindsided about playing for you all. Doesn’t mean we won’t still have a good time, though.”
I can see the hard weathered men and women in here looking at Layla in amusement as she plays a note to make sure the guitar is tuned. I’m surprised anyone had an instrument to loan her. She’s always played an electric guitar with us, so I wonder how she’ll do with this.
I think a part of me forgot Layla has an Irish heritage, because her choice of song is on point. It sounds as if she’s crooning into the microphone as she plays, and it’s a song I’ve never heard before.
“A pretty young face seems like she could have it all. There’s no lines to tell a story, because her truth lies beneath her skin. Don’t be so hasty about who you think she is…
Mistakes tend to haunt you forever.”
The song chills my blood as she tells a story about a woman who was scorned and broken, who was scared to love again. Swallowing hard, I wonder why I’ve never heard this song before. She’s so confident as she changes tempo, moving on to talk about the irony of life.
There’s an undertone of anger and sadness that makes everyone stop talking and lean in to listen to Layla. I never realized what a storyteller she was, because I left before she fully hit her stride as a songwriter.
“Jesus,” Draven mutters. “This girl is fucking dangerous.”
Nodding, I drink my beer even as it warms, simply to have something to do. The bar is mesmerized instead of throwing shit at her. I half expected them to eat her alive.
“Did you expect them to hate her?” Tyler asks, his eyes on Layla. “Would that have proved something to you? Layla is one of the most flexible people that I know. She reminds me of a few women in my life in fact.”
“Pretty bold to tell us you have women on the side,” Atlas says. I know that’s not what he meant, but we’re both tired and annoyed right now. I was really hoping she’d fuck off back to her sister.
Tyler snorts, shaking his head. “I don’t like many people, I can assure you I don’t have anyone on the side. I used to work IT for Lennon’s neighbors, who are both quite happily married. Those women are some ball busters.”
Fuck, yes I know those two well.
“Please tell me Tesa didn’t teach her how to mix poisons,” I groan. That is all I need: to worry I’ll have rampant shits because I pissed Layla off.
“Lennon wouldn’t let Tesa teach Layla anything outside of medicinal stuff for cramps, headaches, and sleeplessness.” Tyler shrugs. “My point is that just because she’s strong, doesn’t meanshe can’t break. I’m here to make sure she’s never pushed that far, but don’t mistake my presence for her weakness.”
There’s definitely more to this guy than I imagined. The crowd claps as Layla finishes her song. The amount of emotion she infused into each note is different from her previous lyrics.
Placing the guitar on the stand carefully, she bows with a saucy grin.
“Thank you for not booing me off the stage!” Layla giggles. “I know I’m probably not your normal performer at an open mic night, but I appreciate your willingness to listen.”
“Ah, darlin', you can’t be done yet,” someone groans up toward the front. Frowning, I try to spot who it is, so that I can track him while Layla walks back to us.
Unfortunately, several people ask her to sing another song, and Layla shrugs. Picking up the microphone, she says, “It’s up to Mila. Should I sing another?”
Mila hops up onto the stage and says something in Layla’s ear that the microphone doesn’t pick up. While her eyes widen, I don’t see anything else in her demeanor to show cause for alarm.
“I’ll do you one better,” she says calmly into the mic. “It seems I’m your last person tonight, so I’ll sing a couple more songs.”
