“That doesn’t make sense. They got married over a year and a half before Layla was born.”
Gwen nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. According to these employees, Eve faked the pregnancy to get Jack to marry her. He was getting ready to break it off and she needed to do some quick thinking so the money he lavished her with didn’t dry up. She never had any doctor’s appointments at that time or anything confirming the pregnancy, but Jack, being the upstanding guy he was, took her at her word and made her Mrs. Carlysle. Surprise, surprise. A few months later she lost the baby. Once again, no medical records confirming this at all.”
I shake my head in confusion. “So if he was getting ready to end things with her, why the hell didn’t he just divorce her when she supposedly lost the baby?”
Gwen leans forward in her chair, so excited to tell the rest to me I think she might fall right out of it and onto the floor.
“This is where it really gets interesting. Right around that time, like the same week, Jack added Eve as the co-owner of Hummingbird Records. He made her a shareholder, put her on the board of directors—the works. And what do you know, four months later Eve gets pregnant with Layla,” Gwen finishes.
“It’s like he bribed her to have a baby,” I state in awe.
“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Gwen replies, letting out a deep, gratifying sigh.
I sit back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair.
“Jesus, no wonder Eve hates her. She probably never even wanted kids. Jack only kept her around to pop one out for him.”
Gwen looks at me questioningly. “What do you mean Eve hates Layla? Are you serious? How is that possible? Every single interview or news article I’ve seen of the two of them together, they are like two peas in a pod. They look like the best of friends.”
I’m momentarily ashamed at myself for thinking the same thing and for thinking Layla was a princess that enjoyed doing things to make her poor mother worry.
“Looks can be deceiving. They are anything BUT the best of friends. Jesus, Gwen. If you could have seen the way this woman speaks to her daughter. It’s disgusting,” I tell her sadly.
Gwen cocks her head and looks at me in sympathy.
“Kind of like how Dad used to speak to you?” she asks softly.
Even though it’s been ten years since I last spoke to him, I can still hear my father’s booming voice.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that, son? All you care about is yourself. God forbid you ever think about anyone else. You’re pathetic.”
I think back to the day of the sound check and the defeat I saw in Layla, the way she just accepted how her mother spoke to her and the things she forced her to do. It makes me angry, and for the first time since Gwen and Emma, it makes me feel protective. I want to keep her from danger and shame and make sure she knows that doesn’t have to put up with all the shit thrown at her. I know exactly what it feels like to be belittled and made to feel like you're worthless. But I got the hell away from that shit as soon as I turned eighteen and I never looked back. I don’t have to put up with my father’s hatred or general dissatisfaction with the life I’ve chosen for myself. Layla doesn’t have to either, but for some reason, she does. She sticks around and does exactly as Eve says, and by the look on her face the majority of the time, she believes every word that her mother tells her.
I've just met this woman and suddenly I wanted to make sure no one ever speaks to her that way ever again. I want to see her smile more. When she does, I feel a tightening in my gut and an inexplicable need to have her smile at me, to shine that brightness on her face in my direction. The cockiness she aimed at me on our run this morning and the tiny hint of a spark in her eye when she was singing that song her mother put her foot down about—that's just a small fraction of the real Layla Carlysle. I want more. For the first time in a long time, I feel need stirring inside of me,