Page 22 of End Game
“I asked first.”
“True, but you called me,” I remind him, winking at Layla whose hands are folded together and hovering near her mouth. “Seems to me you should introduce yourself.”
“Where the hell is Layla?”
“She’s . . . preoccupied,” I say, getting entirely too much enjoyment out of his irritation. “Can I help you with something?”
His breathing rackets through the line like a linebacker watching you across the field, ready to take you out. “Put her on the phone.”
“She’s really not in a position to talk right now. Can I give her a message?”
“Who the fuck is this?” he snaps.
“Branch Best.”
The stunned silence gives me all I was after, a little shock to the cocksucker. If anything, it’ll make him realize he’s not God. If anything more, maybe he’ll leave Layla alone.
“What the hell is she doing with you?”
“Oh, just the usual . . .”
“Just the usual, huh?” he jeers.
“Well, usual for me. Not sure what usual is for you. How are you doing, anyway? We haven’t talked for a while. We should totally hang out more . . .”
I think it’s the friendliness in my voice that he knows I don’t mean that causes something to break on his end. The sound of glass shattering in the distance shouldn’t make me laugh, but it does.
“Bad day, Callum?’
“Fuck you, Best. Fuck. You.”
“So hateful.”
The line goes dead.
“Was he pissed?” Layla asks.
Finn and Poppy are watching, having caught on to what was happening. Finn shoots me a look and I know he and I will discuss this later.
In the meantime, I turn back to Layla. “Do you think he was pissed? He’s an angry boy.”
“Ugh,” she groans, taking the phone from me. “Maybe he’ll stop calling me now.”
“Tell him to call me,” Finn demands. “He’s just trying to keep you on the hook, Lay. Just cut all ties with him.”
“I’m trying. I didn’t answer earlier or text him back yesterday. I’m over it.”
Finn’s right, but I want to chime in and tell her the exact game he’s playing. Hell, I’ve played it before. He’s going to string her along until he’s ready to dip his stick in her again.
She sits next to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her forehead is pinched as she turns her phone completely off and I find myself wishing I could do something to make him stop bothering her. But I can’t. It’s not my place.
Poppy’s face breaks into a smile as she looks at Layla. “Glad to hear it. Come on,” she says, heading towards her and offering her a hand. “Finn, turn this music up.”
Finn does as instructed and a new hit song floats through the house. Layla gets to her feet and joins Poppy in dancing through the kitchen, shaking their asses and laughing their heads off.
I grab a beer and sit down and watch Finn join them, dirty dancing with Poppy as Layla pours another glass of wine. The laughter is a constant here, as is the comfortable, homey mood. I wonder what Christmas would be like here with a giant tree in the living room, one so tall it hits the ten-foot high rafters. I consider being snowed in with a fire in the stone fireplace or watching fireworks over the water on the Fourth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I chuckle, bringing the beer back to my lips. “Get your ass in check, Best.”
