Page 6 of Layne Closure Ahead

Liam stood there, pulled out a fry, and bit into it. Not a gracious thank you. No words. Nothing.

He was decked out in a black pea coat, a crimson sweater, and a pair of new blue jeans. Continuing to not say a word, he just silently stared ahead with the only sound being the crinkling of the bag each time another fry was pulled out.

In front of them was an ornate headstone with ‘O’REILLY’ in large letters spread across the top. Below it was the remainder of the epitaph detailing the life of a great man who had his life cut short prematurely.

“Layne, make me a promise.” Her father’s voice was weak from his failing body. “Promise me you’ll do whatever you can to keep yourself safe. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made with Liam.” His hand now frail from all the last-effort treatments he had received, reached over, and latched onto her fingers. His eyes were full of sadness and regret as this lifetime was coming to a close. “Promise me.”

Clearing her throat, she tried to push her final memories of their dad from her mind and blink away the heartache in her eyes. How gaunt he had looked, how weak his grasp was on her hand, how strained his voice was, and how painful his struggles were until the morphine eased him into his afterlife.

“The good news is that we only lost a few guys.” She tried to keep the positivity in her voice, but that was a trait she had always been terrible at.

Liam refused to look at her as he spoke up, “Just say it.”

Layne paused trying to choose her next words carefully. There weren’t many times when she tried to protect Liam’s sensitivities, but this was a rare exception.

“There’s a lot of whispers, Li. I mean…a lot. So many, that I’m not even sure it’s considered whispering anymore.” She cringed during the emphasis on how much chatter there had been. “You have to start pulling on the reins and cracking the whip if we are going to salvage what’s left of Dad’s legacy. People are getting antsy and seeking out work elsewhere. It looks bad.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me how bad it looks. You think I don’t know that?” He snapped at her, the anger and frustration soaking his words and finally his glare settling at her.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding. “I know you know that, but goddammit, Liam, the ship is sinking and you’re still waiting for the captain to show up. You’re the fucking captain! Show up and fix it, because if you don’t, I will and you won’t like how I start handling things.” Her own irritation was beginning to rise up from its cage.

His brooding and inability to take charge of business matters over the last few months had been a constant and it wasn’t getting any better. Layne was doing her best to pick up the pieces, but Liam wasn’t making either of their lives any easier.

His hazel eyes burned as he glared at her. “You think you could do a better job, Layne? Is that what you think?” His tone turned accusatory.

Oh, Christ, here we go. “Hell yes. Jesus, Li, a toddler could do a better job than you are right now. Who was the one who got shit fixed down at the Mirror last month, huh? Sure as hell wasn’t you!” Layne was all out of patience with her brother, and she wasn’t about to spare him her thoughts on how he was handling matters. Coddling was not in her nature, especially not when he wanted to pick fights.

She may have had some help fixing up that mess at the gambling club, but she hadn’t divulged to Liam her encounter with Eric Ellis just yet. Before she was willing to bring it to his attention, she needed to know more about this latest player in the city’s criminal underworld. Why set herself up for another shouting match with Liam because his ego once again got bruised when business matters fell into her lap?

She had been doing her research on their new neighbor residing not too far from O’Reilly Manor. However, there wasn’t much to be found out about him. The contacts who were still willing to work with her were struggling to figure out his story.

Liam squared up with her, and even given the size differential, she wasn’t intimidated into backing away as he stared down at her with darkness in his eyes. He didn’t say a word to her for several minutes while waiting for her to budge or look away.

Speaking through clenched teeth he dropped his voice down low. “You don’t know shit about what it takes and you don’t get to sit there on your high horse judging me. If Dad thought you had any potential, he would have given you the chance. Instead, you’ve always needed a man to save your ass when you’ve gotten in over your head.”

The words pierced her heart and the venom seeped into her bloodstream as he spat his verbal attack at her. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong, and Layne saw that plain as day.

Walking off, Liam pushed past her and harshly bumped against her left shoulder to serve as a reminder of the last time she had needed help. She closed her eyes and pushed the fury back down her throat into a metaphorical box to be locked away until a day when it wouldn’t be contained any longer.

Today wasn’t going to be that day. She hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be either. Was it too much to ask to never let that day come?

The thunder echoed in the distance, announcing the approach of the storm.

CHAPTER THREE

The rain had begun to fall on the drive back home, splashing across her windshield and triggering the sensors of the automatic wipers to clear them away.

Layne had done her best not to sink into her thoughts where she could drown trying to fix everything that was wrong with her life.

When she went to pull into her garage, some douchenozzle was blocking the driveway path that had plain as day signs that said, ‘Do Not Block Drive.’

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” she drove past her house and ended up finding an open spot around the corner. However, the storm appeared to match her current mood and picked up in intensity by the time she got out of her vehicle.

The skies opened up and unleashed a furious amount of rain that came down by the bucketful. Each raindrop stung as it pelted her flesh. Layne ran along the sidewalk, splashing in puddles that had formed in a matter of seconds as the storm drains attempted to relieve the flooding on the street.

When she did get inside her house, she looked no better than a drowned rat. Her long brunette locks were plastered to her fair skin, and there wasn’t a single dry spot on her clothes. She flipped on the lights now that her home was cast into darkness thanks to the powerful storm raging outside and had devoured any sunlight.

Layne peeled her jacket off her, dropping it to the floor with a heavy splat. She shook her arms off, her grey tee clung to her upper body’s every curve and swell. The drops of rainwater rolled down along her skin between the layers of clothing. She kicked off her shoes, flinging them off to the side in the main entrance’s foyer.

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