Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
RILEY
I inform my mechanics that I’ll be out for two hours and to only call me if the garage is going up in flames or someone’s being rushed to the hospital.
Then I make a few calls.
My last call is to Chance McLanely.
“Hello, Chance,” I say, pulling on my seatbelt as I speak. “I’m Riley Carter. You and I haven’t met yet but—”
“Oh, hey, Riley.”
I pause when I hear the friendliness in his voice.
“Campbell talks about you. A lot,” Chance McLanely explains. “So it feels like we’ve met before.”
A thrill wraps around my spine and I struggle to stay on task.
“Nat informed me about what you’re planning tonight, and I wanted to help.”
“Help? How?”
“With the Layla situation.”
There’s a heavy silence on Chance McLanely’s end. When he speaks again, the cheerfulness is gone from his tone. “Do you need something from me?”
“I’m assuming you have eyes on April.”
“I do.”
“What about Layla?”
He hesitates as if he’s not sure how much he should divulge.
“I just need to know where she is so I can intercept her,” I tell him. I don’t have time to gain Chance’s trust and I also don’t have time to go around looking for Layla myself.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Something a little more hands-on than hoping she’ll be mature about all this.”
Chance sighs. “I don’t have someone tailing her, but I did ask a few key people in town to let me know if they saw her.”
“And?”
“I just got a call from Mauve.”
“Who’s Mauve?”
“The manager at The Tipsy Tuna.”
I start my car. “Thanks, Chance.”
“Riley?”
The call transfers to the car’s audio as I reverse out of the parking lot.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I owe you one.”
“I’m doing this for April, not to get something back.”
I hear the smile in Chance McLanely’s voice as he says, “Well, if you’re doing this for April, I’ll owe you a thousand. Protecting her is priceless to me.”
We both chuckle.
Chance McLanely is a good guy. I can tell. It’s no wonder Nat looks up to him.
I hang up with the hockey all-star and drive straight to The Tipsy Tuna. The restaurant is still buzzing despite the lunch hour being long gone.
I spot Layla immediately at the bar, so I take a seat that’s across the room with my back to her.
It’s an important part of the plan.
Nat told me that Layla saw him taking me home a few nights ago. One of my concerns is that she sees me and wants to come over and talk. It’s not time for us to meet.
At least, not yet.
“Excuse me.” I grab the attention of a passing waitress. “Where’s Mauve?”
She shakes her head. “Mauve is a bit busy right now, sweetie.”
“Can you pass on the message that Riley Carter wants to see her? It’s in regard to Chance McLanely and April.”
The woman gives me a strange look. “Alright.”
A part of me is afraid the waitress won’t deliver my words but, thankfully, an older woman with beautiful dark skin and bright eyes hustles to my table. She reminds me of my grandmother in the way that she stands straight and tall, full of energy, despite her age.
“Were you asking for me, sweetie?” Her eyes collide with mine and she grins. “Oh, you’re Nathan Campbell’s girl.”
Heat sears my cheeks. First, it was Chance McLanely and now Mauve recognizes me as ‘Nathan’s’ before I’ve opened my mouth.
What has that man been saying about me in Lucky Falls?
“What can I do for you?”
“Mauve, are you aware of…” I glance around as covertly as I can and whisper, “what’s going down with April and Chance tonight?”
Mauve’s eyes widen. “I do.”
“And you’re aware of that woman sitting at the bar and what she could ruin?”
Mauve nods resolutely.
“I need your help with something a little… unconventional.”
I discuss with her for a few minutes and then it’s go-time.
Once I’m on my feet, adrenaline buzzes through my veins, but I don’t second-guess myself or allow the nerves to attack me.
I keep my eyes on Layla.
She’s wearing a halter top, a white mini skirt, and skinny heels, looking every bit a city girl in this humble town. The color of her blouse is a bright, flamboyant conquistador red.
And I’m the bull that’s heading straight for the target.
There are two empty chairs at the bar beside Nat’s ex and I pull out the second one, leaving an empty chair between us.
“Mauve, I’ll have my usual please,” I say loudly and confidently.
Layla is nursing a drink and glances over. When she recognizes me, her eyes widen and she plunks her drink down.
“You.” She points a manicured finger. “You’re that girl who was with Nat.” She slides her eyes over my outfit and scrunches her nose. “Are you a plumber or something?”
I channel my inner Regina George and pop an eyebrow. “Who are you?”
“Nat hasn’t mentioned me?” Layla asks coyly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
I tilt my head, feigning ignorance.
Layla slithers into the chair beside me and says, “Nat and I dated for two years. You could say I’m his most serious girlfriend.”
The sensation in my stomach is… unpleasant, but I don’t allow my emotions to sway me.
Acting cool and collected, I look Layla up and down and say, “Well, we all make mistakes.”
The glib smile on her face wipes clear off.
“Here’s your drink,” Mauve says, sliding it across. It’s a beautiful, neon-green blend with a slice of lime perched on the edge of the cup to add a tropical flair.
Layla turns to me with a grin as fake as the carved wooden tuna hanging on the wall. “What are you drinking?”
“Oh this?” I take a dainty sip. “This is a drink for women.”
“Okay? And? What is it?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Arching an eyebrow at her drink with the little umbrella, I smirk, “You need the one for little girls.”
A red stain careens across Layla’s face and her fingers coil into fists. “What. Is. The. Drink?”
I make eye contact with Mauve and then turn to Layla. “Well, if you insist…” I give her the name of the most potent drink on the menu, which so happens to look exactly like the non-alcoholic version that I have in my cup.
The moment Mauve serves the drink to Layla, she foolishly knocks it back in one shot and then wipes her hand over her mouth, shooting me an accomplished smile.
“So,” Layla’s voice is high-pitched and upbeat, but it fails to disguise her dislike of me, “how did you and Nat meet?”
I check my watch. “Why would I discuss my relationship with you? You have nothing to do with Nat anymore.”
Layla blinks rapidly. “Nat and I are still friends.”
“Maybe you are.” I climb to my feet and nod at Mauve. “But I don’t need any more friends.”
Layla’s mouth collapses into a firm line. I see the anger in her eyes shift higher, like a camper feeding the flames of a bonfire.
“Thanks for the drink,” I tell her, tapping the bar twice. Then I swing out of the chair and call casually over my shoulder, “Mauve, she’s paying.”
“What? No, I’m not!” Layla shrieks.
“Got it!” Mauve says.
I duck behind the restaurant and wait.
A few minutes later, Layla stomps across the parking lot to her rental car.
I pull out my cell phone, tap out a number and listen to it ring.
“Hello?”
“Emmanuel, I’m ready on this side.”
“You got it.”
I keep my eyes locked on Layla as she looks both ways before opening her car door.
The day is ridiculously hot and I wipe the sweat from my brow, weighing how far I want to carry this.
When Nat’s ex first came to town, I was shaken, but I had no plans of actually interacting with her.
Dating Nat is not a crime.
Dumping him the way she did—though it was cruel—is also not a crime.
That’s not to say I wasn’t upset. Enacting revenge on Nat’s behalf was tempting, but I didn’t let that thought consume me.
However, things have changed.
Layla isn’t just messing with Nat this time.
She’s going after my new friends.
And I will gladly become a psycho to stop her.
Through the clear, glass windshield, I notice Layla throwing her hands up. She leans forward and I imagine she’s turning the key even harder in the ignition. The car rumbles for a short moment and then dies.
My smile inches up.
Nice job, Emmanuel.
I peer around the corner again. Layla’s still inside her car. It’s hard to see her face as most of it is covered by big, designer sunglasses, but her eyebrows are two taut slashes over the rims. She has her phone to her ear and is moving her arms aggressively.
That annoyed expression won’t shift any time soon.
Not with Emmanuel on speed dial.
It turns out that fixing the church van did, indeed, connect me with more customers—specifically with the Sunday school bus driver, Emmanuel, who works at the only rental car company the next town over.
Emmanuel has been bringing rental cars to our garage since the van was fixed and we developed a professional rapport. Enough so that I felt comfortable to ask him for this favor.
Layla’s car has been remotely disabled. She’s not going anywhere.
Whatever Emmanuel says tips Layla over the edge. She tosses her phone and opens her mouth in what I assume is a lot of frustrated screaming. It’s akin to watching a toddler have a meltdown, except I get to watch the spectacle on ‘mute’.
Layla’s behavior is a little surprising. I didn’t expect the situation to escalate this quickly. Perhaps a woman as beautiful and head-turning as Layla is used to getting her way and she isn’t sure what to do with herself when she doesn’t.
That lack of emotional regulation is working in my favor.
The moment has come for the final piece of my plan.
I send another text.
Riley: It’s time. We’re at The Tipsy Tuna.
Rebel: He’s on his way now.
When I look up, Layla has exited the vehicle and is calling someone.
I situate my phone in the upper pocket of my jumper with the back camera facing outward and stroll casually toward her. The moment she makes eye contact with me, Layla’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Need some help?” I ask, tilting my head innocently.
“No, I don’t,” she spits.
“Looks like you got car trouble.” I gesture to myself. “I’m a mechanic.”
“I don’t care if you’re a dyslexic Martian. I don’t need your help, okay? Go away.”
There she is.
My mom told me growing up that the easiest way to tell if someone’s wearing a mask is to see who they become when they get angry.
I took my mask off the moment Nat told me that Layla was holding my friend’s proposal hostage.
Now, it’s her turn.
“I’m trying to help. You don’t have to be rude because Nat broke up with you,” I say.
“Is that what he told you?” Layla barks out a laugh. “I’m the one who broke up with him.”
“You’re lying,” I snap.
“I’m dead right.”
“Then why’d you drive all the way to Lucky Falls? Wasn’t it for him?”
“Well, I—”
“Look, I feel sorry for you. Nat isn’t interested. And once I fix your car, I suggest you get up and leave town.”
“Don’t touch my car. And I’m not going anywhere until I get what I came for,” Layla snaps.
Moving past her, I stubbornly reach into the car.
“Back off.” Layla shoves me.
Bingo.
I hold the shoulder that she pushed and bawl out loud enough that a couple walking to their car stops.
At that moment, the sheriff’s car zooms into view. The sirens are off, but the lights are flashing. A man with greying hair in a khaki sheriff’s uniform steps out of the vehicle and approaches us with an air of authority.
“What seems to be the problem here, ladies?”
“Sheriff, this woman just attacked me,” I say with an exaggerated air of panic.
“Attacked you?” Layla shrieks.
“She’s Nathan Campbell’s ex and she got mad when she saw us together. All I did was try to help and she pushed me.”
“What? No, I didn’t! I didn’t even touch you!”
The Sheriff arches an eyebrow at me, looking gruff. Nerves tangle in my stomach. The sheriff is Rebel’s boyfriend’s father. He should be in on what’s going on here.
So why is he looking at me so seriously?
I gulp. “I can prove it, officer. I have a recording.”
Slipping the phone out of my pocket, I stop the video and show him the footage.
Layla’s jaw drops. “You were recording me?”
Both the sheriff and I ignore her.
“This is ridiculous!” Layla stomps her foot. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Not according to this video,” the sheriff says in a firm voice as he hands me my phone back.
Layla starts stammering. “Well, I… I…”
“Ma’am,” the sheriff steps forward and sniffs the air, “have you been drinking?”
At the question, I send a quick text to Emmanuel.
Layla’s eyes widen. “Yes, I was, but I wasn’t going to drive. I swear. Look, Sheriff, my rental doesn’t even start!”
She dives into the vehicle and turns the key, looking over her shoulder at the sheriff with a sweet, ‘I wouldn’t hurt a fly’ smile. “This is all a big mis…”
The car rumbles to life and purrs like a lion waking from a nap.
Layla’s face goes white as a sheet and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “But it was… I tried it earlier and… I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Ma’am, we take assault and drinking and driving very seriously in Lucky Falls…”
“No, this doesn’t make sense. The car refused to start a few minutes ago. I swear!”
“… I’m afraid I’ll have to take you down to the station to cool off,” the sheriff talks over her.
Layla shakes her head so hard that her hair slashes into her face. “You’re arresting me?”
“It’s a cool off, ma’am. We’ll chat for a bit and then I’ll let you go.”
Except that ‘chat’ is going to take a while and Layla won’t be let go until April’s proposal is over.
“No, you’re not listening to me. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Layla’s eyes collide with mine. “Officer, it was her. She set me up!”
“Alright, alright, ma’am.” The sheriff juts his chin at a deputy and the other man takes Layla by the upper arm. “You can explain all you want down at the station.”
I step aside and fold my hands behind my back, chin held high in victory as Layla is wrestled into the back of the sheriff’s car and carted to the Lucky Falls Police Station.