Chapter One

Layla

“Hey Layla, you did a great job today. Thanks for stepping in with that idea.”

Ross was the Marketing Director and had just promoted me to project manager for the biggest ad agency in Rocket, Nevada. At the awesomely young age of twenty-five, thank you very much.

“I can’t believe how off base I was about that pitch,” he added.

Ross was a really good boss. He encouraged me to step up more, to speak up instead of letting the senior people on the team, those with the loudest voices get all the glory. But he was an older man in a young, good-looking body.

“I read about it in the comment section of some news site,” I said, “and I thought it was a troll or a prank until I did a little digging and found out that yeah, fidget spinners are a thing.”

Apparently kids did crazy things all the time, the only difference was that the older I got, the crazier it all seemed.

“Fidget spinners,” he grumbled, looking a little bewildered at how close the firm had come to not landing that huge sneaker account. “I thought those were toys for animals.”

“Well,” I said, a laugh exploding out of me at the disbelief in Ross’s voice. “We don’t have to enjoy playing with them. We just have to dangle a free fidget spinner in front of customers to get them to buy these sneakers.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, tossing the sample aside on his desk. “What are you up to tonight? Mary bought out a shoe store and she’s eager for your input.”

I loved his soon-to-be fiancée, that was if he ever got off his ass and put that ring he bought five months ago on her finger, but I had plans tonight. “No can do tonight. I need to check on my dad.” My dad, the perpetual mess of a man, whom I loved dearly.

A look of sympathy flashed on Ross’s tanned face, pity flickering in his deep brown eyes. “How is your dad, Layla?”

I shrugged. That was about as accurate as I could be when it came to Dad. “He’s still breathing, and I make sure he eats enough not to pass out, so … good?”

Ross nodded slowly. He just didn’t get it, and honestly, I didn’t expect him to. Most people probably would have washed their hands of my dad years ago when he first fell apart, but I couldn’t. Something happened to him while I was in California at college. I didn’t know what, but it had changed him. And not for the better.

“Okay, girl. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us.”

“Thanks, Ross. Go home and let Mary model those new shoes for you.” With a wiggle of my eyebrows I left my boss laughing in his office and packed my shit up so I could go home.

As soon as I was in my car, I pulled up my favorite image of Dad on my phone. Mid-laugh with that network of little lines around his eyes and mouth that I loved. He was laughing so hard, he had squinched his blue eyes closed and the sun glinted off his thick, wavy blond hair. He was young, then. Vibrant. Happy. I tapped the image and the sound of the phone ringing came in through the Bluetooth speakers. “Hey Dad, you okay?”

“Yeah, princess, I’m good.” By good, he probably meant drunk, since that was his natural state lately. Some days I wondered why I was so eager to graduate from UCLA and come back to Rocket for this shit. A father who was drunk more often than sober, stressed and in need of a weeklong nap.

“How are you?” He slurred the question, but it seemed sincere enough.

“I’m fine, Dad. Just leaving the office. Have you eaten anything today?”

“What time is it?” The next sound was of him digging around his nightstand, probably for his watch, because he was old school like that. If there was any doubt of his sobriety level, it was demolished by the sound of him knocking everything off the nightstand.

Or maybe he’d fallen asleep in his recliner and I was hearing beer cans and bottles falling off the little pine end table that hadn’t moved from the spot since I was eight years old. “Oh, no I haven’t eaten yet, princess. I’ll find something.”

“Yeah? What are you going to eat? When was the last time you even went to the grocery store?”

“Last week, maybe. Don’t worry about it, your old man will be fine.”

Yeah, if I let him he’d ‘fine’ his way right into an early grave. “Well I am worried about it, Dad. I need to stop at the store anyway so I’ll bring you some things. Why don’t you take a shower and clean up before I get there and we can have dinner together?”

Dad cleared his throat, coughed and cleared his throat once again. I called it the wakeup call of the chain smoking drunk. “Sure, princess, that sounds good. See you soon.” I hated how things had deteriorated between us ever since I’d become the adult in the relationship.

I wanted to tell him about boys I dated, which lately had been exactly zero, and talk about stupid work problems and gossip about some chick who was prettier than me. But we couldn’t. Every conversation was me nagging him to eat, to shower, to take care of himself. To pay his bills. And then it was Dad reminding me that he was an adult, capable of taking care of himself. It was antagonistic at best and the scoff he let out before hanging up hurt like hell.

But this was my new reality. This was the dream I went to college to fulfill. It seemed like I might have been better off staying in Rocket and making it work with community college and in-state tuition. Every other goddamn hour it felt like I was regretting taking that scholarship and leaving Nevada, but I had to. I needed to, dammit.

The problems with Dad had started while I was in California and the guilt ate at me every time I looked into his deep blue eyes and saw a shadow of the man who’d raised me. It ate at me then and it ate at me now. Practically killed me to see him like that.

I grabbed a cart and made my way through the supermarket to do shopping for two. I guessed that was less pathetic than shopping for one, but with Dad to take care of, I didn’t have the energy or patience to take care of another man.

Though I wouldn’t mind having someone to take care of my own needs. For a little while, anyway.