Page 26 of Layne Closure Ahead

Layne took the window of opportunity to scurry further inside, heading towards the stairs that led up to the next floor. According to the signage, that’s where the primary party spot was.

As for Joey, he didn’t let her get too far ahead of him. “What did he mean by ‘not yet’, Layne?”

She gave an irritable sigh as she began to conquer one step at a time without tripping over her dress. “How the hell should I know?”

Once they were on the second floor, he pulled her by her elbow off to the side to peer into her eyes, looking for a better response from her. “Tell me what he meant. I’m not asking twice.”

She glanced around in paranoia that someone would overhear them so she kept her voice down to a whisper hoping that Joey would do the same. “Even if you did ask twice, I wouldn’t have anything to tell you. Now, I got you in here, go do whatever it is you came here to do.”

There was no sense in getting him worked up and involved in her business affairs. He was here to do a job, as was she. The only difference was that his job was hopefully short-lived while hers had more permanent consequences.

As she pried her arm out of his hand, Layne saw Joey’s hands squeeze into tight fists in either anger or frustration — she couldn’t tell which it was.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warned. Knowing how well Joey let go of things, she knew damn well that he was going to continue poking the bear until he got a response. “I won’t be far,” he added before walking off.

Layne watched as he stepped away from her, blending into the hustle and bustle of the other guests who were also making their way towards all the festivities.

After Joey’s departure, the tension in her body eased up momentarily while her emerald hues relaxed. With her thoughts becoming less clouded by his presence, she realized she desperately needed to drink half the bar if she was ever going to survive this evening.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It had been a painful and tedious task of playing all the social elitist games of fake smiles, fake pleasantries, and fake laughter at terrible jokes. Layne had spent the last forty-five minutes fielding conversations with various other guests. Some of whom she knew, and others who were introduced to her.

Did she care about any of the pretentious assholes? Not a single ounce of care was to be found within her. But she had put on a smile that left her cheeks sore and aching for the sake of keeping a strong front. The last thing she needed to show was weakness while surrounded by representatives of various criminal factions that were in attendance.

Servers were constantly coming around offering beverages, collecting empty glasses, and providing a variety of hors d'oeuvres for those needing something to soak up the freely flowing booze.

There was live music playing primarily classical tunes, and if the songs weren’t Beethoven or Mozart, they were classical renditions of modern melodies. The room’s vaulted ceilings that seemed to go on forever made for acoustics that would have any musician swooning.

Most of those chattering away with small talk or even more serious conversations stuck to the perimeter of the room, while others danced to whatever was being played at the moment.

Finally breaking free from a conversation with an elderly man that couldn’t hear for shit, Layne found her way to the bar. She ordered another glass of wine from the swamped bartender and stood there thirstily drinking down the chardonnay.

From behind her, a hand slid down over her bare shoulder with fingertips that caressed the back of her arm. She spun around to see the man who had invited her there. Eric’s face was full of excitement. “Here you are. Follow me, I have something I would like to show you.”

Eric offered his arm to Layne, who reluctantly took it as he guided them to a pair of glass french doors. Opening one and allowing her to step outside first, she saw the balcony had an artist’s dream view of the expansive Central Park.

As dusk was fading into evening, it was eating away at the sky in shades of oranges and reds before fading into darker hues.

Layne sipped from her wine glass as she placed a hand on the edge of the balcony’s rail taking in the sight.

With Eric at her back, his hands rested on her bare shoulders as he looked past her at the picturesque scene laid out before them. He whispered into her ear. “I will never grow tired of this view.” The meaning behind his words was layered with more than just one view he was enjoying.

She tried to keep the tension at bay as it was clear he wasn’t just talking about the beauty of nature doing its thing. Her head turned towards him. “Never is a strong word.”

“Yes, it is.” He didn’t apologize for using it though.

Finally, she fully turned to face him, noticing that they were the only ones enjoying the privacy of the balcony. “I figured you would be busy mingling with all your guests.”

“I’m only concerned with spending time with one very important guest here tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” His grin held a touch of cockiness that it still wouldn’t concern him even if she did mind.

He continued, “I was hoping we could talk a little more, away from any nosey eavesdroppers.”

Swallowing more of the expensive vintage in her glass, Layne prompted him with the obvious question. “About?”

Eric gave her a chiding look. “Don’t be coy, you know exactly what I would like to talk about. I met with one of my associates downtown earlier, and there are a lot of unhappy folks with the way the O’Reilly Enterprise is handling things. I know you are doing your best to do damage control, but time is of the essence if you’re going to make a move—if we are going to make a move.”

She looked down into her wine glass, watching the small ripples of movement as she swirled the liquid around idly inside the glass. “I know.”

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