feel the misery coming off of her.” I watched the emotions play across June’s face: sadness, worry, and fear. Her eyes got misty and she turned away from me towards the stage. I wanted to reassure June that Layla is okay, but I couldn’t.
I glanced up at Layla as she sang about being broken down and not able to stand. She asked the audience, who listened with rapt attention, if they were strong enough to be her man, and I wanted to run up to that stage, grab her by the shoulders, and tell her that I’m strong enough. Pick me.
I knew that was a lie, though, so I turned my attention back to June.
“You’ve heard about what’s been going on with her and the crazy fan, right? Maybe she’s just overwhelmed by that right now,” I told June, knowing as soon as the words left my mouth that I didn’t believe them. Layla was a fighter, even if she didn’t believe it. Jesus, the night he attacked her she demanded that I teach her how to fight back. Thinking back over all the concert videos I watched of her before I even took this job, I realized now that what I saw on her face wasn’t a diva attitude or the look of someone who was bored with her charmed life. It was the look of someone unhappy and searching for a way out.
“I wondered that myself,” June replied. “But that’s not what it is. She doesn’t look like herself anymore. She doesn’t smile easily and that scares the hell out of me. She’s a beautiful girl, inside and out, with the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s closed herself off, and I don’t know why. Her father never wanted this life for her. He knew how stressful and demanding it could be, and he always told her that as soon as it became a job, you shouldn’t do it anymore. You should only do it if you love it. If it’s a passion that burns inside of you, and you feel like you’re going to die without it. She doesn’t love what she’s doing, and it makes no sense to me.”
Layla closed out the song to a roar of applause from the bar, and even though I didn’t know that much about this June person, I could tell she really cared about Layla. She was genuinely concerned about her well-being, and it occurred to me that Layla really had no one in her life like that right now.
“I think it’s because of Eve. She treats her like shit, and Layla just takes it all without batting an eye. I tried questioning her about it, but she got really defensive and just shut down,” I explained to June as Layla takes a small bow.
“I always hated that woman. She got her claws into Jack and never let go no matter what he did. He was miserable with Eve, but she didn’t care. She just wanted his money,” June seethed angrily, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing.
“I don’t mean to be so forward, June, but it’s my job. Mind if I ask how well you knew Layla’s father?”
Her face immediately reddened and she rubbed the back of her neck with one hand nervously.
“Jack was a good friend. He used to come in here a lot to get away from Eve. He’d bring Layla when she was just a little girl, and I took to both of them right quick. What happened to him was shameful, and I will always regret not telling someone about my suspicions.”
June’s words set off warning bells in my head but before I could ask her more about what the hell she was talking about, what she meant about having suspicions, one of the waitresses rushed over and grabbed June’s arm telling her two of the kegs were empty and new ones needed to be tapped immediately. June walked away with a promise to talk to me again soon.
The conversation with June slips away as I hear the click of the bedroom door handle being turned. I hold my breath as I watch the door slowly open revealing Layla, her long, wavy hair wild around her face and shoulders, her body barely covered in a short, white satin nightie. She steps into the room, and I can’t take my eyes away from her full breasts spilling out of the black lace edging of the top. The nightie stops a few inches below