I am running back and forth between rooms, tearing up the beds, the couches, rummaging through my desk, trying desperately to find my phone.

“Remind me never to let Avery touch my phone!” I yell at Robert while he watches me destroy my apartment.

“You say that every time you can’t find it. Let me send it an alert with the find my phone app,” he says with a bored expression on his face.

“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” I say with an exasperated look on my face. I have been searching for a good five minutes already. We were going to walk to our meeting, but now we’ll have to hail a cab in order to make it on time. I hear the alert sound going off and follow it to Avery’s room, where I find the phone at the bottom of her toy chest. I come back out and wave it in front of him, but he’s distracted.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, the expression on his face filled with concern while looking at his phone.

“Layla said she was in New York this week, right?”

I stop to think as she’s been traveling a lot for work these past couple of days and I haven’t talked to her since. First she was going to Las Vegas this past weekend, then she was coming home on Sunday night only to fly right back out on Monday for New York. “Yes, she should now be in NYC. Why?”

“Well, her phone is showing up at her apartment.” He turns his phone to me, confirming that it’s registering live at her apartment. “She wouldn’t lie to us, would she?”

I stare at his screen and blink, hoping that technology is just playing tricks on us. We all have the same phone carrier and accepted each other’s invitation to track each other in case of emergencies. “Restart your phone, maybe it’s a glitch.” He turns his phone off and on, but the status on her current location remains the same after it reboots. I decide to call her, where it rings once and then goes to voicemail, indicating she declined my call. I go to my text messages as an incoming text comes in from her.

Layla: Can’t talk right now, in a meeting. Will call you later.

Me: Are you still in New York?

Layla: Yes

“Call to reschedule our meeting!” I tell Robert and run into my room to grab her spare house key from my nightstand drawer. While Robert calls our client to reschedule, fear and anxiety start to overtake me. Layla has zero reasons to lie to me and the last time she did, it was catastrophic. We get downstairs and walk out to find a cab sitting on the corner outside of my building. We give the driver her address and ask him to hurry. Despite the drive only taking us ten minutes, it feels like an eternity. Memories come flooding back from years ago when I got the call from her housekeeper to come over, that something was wrong with Layla. When I got there, the ambulance had already arrived and she was unconscious, laying on a stretcher due to a deliberate overdose. I struggle to hold back my tears, praying that she is not back in her dark dungeon of hell that she was so unfairly forced into when her husband died. She only lies when she is back in her dark place.

The cab pulls up to her building and I tell the driver to keep the change as I inadvertently throw money at him trying to hastily get out of the cab. The doorman greets us with a smile, knowing who we are and who we are seeing. He doesn’t bother calling her to ask if he should send us up since we are on her approved guest list. We give no indication of anything wrong as we simply smile back at him and make our way to the elevators. Robert squeezes my hand as the elevator reaches her floor. We exit and walk briskly to her apartment, the carpet muffling the sounds of our footsteps. We stop in front of her door and I’m about to put the key into the key way when Robert stops me.

“What if she’s having sex?” he whispers.

“Then we will exit quietly and hope we aren’t noticed.” I slowly turn the key to unlock the door and gently push open. We take off our shoes before entering so that the hardwood floors don’t announce our arrival. We silently close the door behind us and stop in the entranceway to listen for any sounds. All we are greeted with is silence. We tiptoe forward to find the kitchen and adjoining living room littered with empty boxes of pizza, candy wrappers and wine bottles. We look at each other and walk towards the master bedroom. The door is open, so we can see that the lights are off inside it, no sounds indicating she might be having sex. Robert starts forward into her room.

“Get back!” Layla screams as she jumps out of the doorway, swinging a baseball bat.

“AHH!” Robert and I both scream and fall to the floor.

“What the fuck are you guys doing, sneaking up on me like that? I almost hurt you!”

“What the fuck are you doing here and not in New York like you said you were?” Robert yells back at her as we get up off the floor and try to catch our breaths. This whole scenery would have been laughable if there wasn’t something else going on.

“How did you guys know I was here?” She avoids looking directly at us as she goes into her room to put the baseball bat underneath her bed.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is why you felt the need to lie to us?” We follow her into her bedroom and I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for an explanation. Part of me doesn’t even care anymore as all I want to do is hug her tight, relieved to see that she is okay. “What’s going on, Layla?”

She turns on the lights, sits down on her bed and sighs. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Purple bags appear underneath her eyes and her hair is up in an oily messy bun. She is wearing baggy sweat pants with an oversized shirt. She looks up at me, bites her lip to keep it from quivering and looks down at her hands that she is wringing in her lap.

“I did something bad.” She whispers and I immediately kneel down in front of her and grab her hands. Robert sits down next to her on the bed and puts his arm around her.

“Layla, whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. We’re here and will get through this together.” I assure her, desperate for her to believe me so she can fight whatever internal battles she is struggling with. My mind races as I try to think of what she could have possibly done for her to be reacting this way.

“We can’t help you unless you tell us, honey.” Robert sweetly rubs her arms up and down and gives them a reassuring squeeze. She looks back and forth between us and swallows. We sit there together in silence before she decides to proceed.

“I told someone.” She looks at me when she says this, holding her breath for my reaction. At first, I don’t comprehend what she’s referring to and can only think that maybe she’s talking about her overdose. Then realization of her meaning hits me when the tears start to fall from her eyes. Layla never talks to anyone about her overdose and she refuses to shed any tears in front of people about herself. I slowly stand up, her grip on my hand tightening so I wouldn’t let go. We stare at each other, her eyes silently communicating to me my biggest fear.

“Told someone what?” Robert asks, confusion written on his face as he looks to one of us for an answer.

“About….about…Avery.” She stammers, her shoulders starting to shake from holding back her sobs.

“Okay…..” I slowly say, trying to remain calm. “How did she even come up?” My brain wants all the gory details while my heart is screaming no and to run.

“As you know, I was back in Las Vegas this weekend for another sponsored party. Well, I met this guy there. He seemed really nice and of course, he was good looking. He asked me if I was married with kids and I said no, only a beautiful goddaughter.” She takes a deep breath before she continues. “We were drinking heavy amounts of alcohol and having a great time together. I asked why he was in Las Vegas and how he got into the party and he said his work sent him as he’s a celebrity photographer. I asked him which celebrities he has photographed and one of the names he mentioned was Cal’s.”

She pauses to gauge my reaction so far. “Continue,” I command.

“I don’t remember much of the evening as we were taking a lot of shots, but….but apparently I told him how I hated Cal and he asked why and well, I guess I then proceeded to tell him everything that happened between you and him.” She pauses and looks down. “Even the part where he said he didn’t have time to be in her life.”

I stare at her, as the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding in slowly comes out. “Maybe he was just as drunk as you were and doesn’t remember your story,” I meekly say, holding onto hope that I’m right.

She shakes her head no, gets up and heads to her dresser drawers. She pulls out a folded note and hands it to me. I unfold the note to read its brief lines:

I close my eyes and crumble the piece of paper in my fist and let it fall to the floor. Robert picks it up and reads it. He gasps and covers his mouth.

“What does that mean, making a lot of money off the story?” Robert asks, despite knowing the answer.

“He’s going to sell the story to the tabloids.” Layla voice shakes.

I am scared to open my eyes to look at her as I am trying to control my anger, but the devil inside of me wants to rage against her so she can feel how deeply she has just cut me with her unintentional betrayal.

“He has no proof. The story won’t get far,” but even Robert doesn’t sound very convinced.

“Jenna, I am so so sorry…I…”

“You need to call him and tell him you made the story up.” I open my eyes to look at her, surprising myself with how calm my voice is.

“I can’t,” she whispers “I don’t have his phone number.” She cries harder as she starts to completely unravel.

“What’s his name? We can Google him right now. Hopefully, we can find him and call his office”.

“Jenna…” She trails off, her voice filled with despair. “You know I don’t pay attention to names!” Her face blushing to a deep red.

“FOR FUCK SAKES, LAYLA, HOW THE HELL DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE NAMES OF THE MEN WHOSE DICKS HAVE BEEN INSIDE OF YOU?!” I explode, not being able to hide anymore my disgust toward her lack of self-care.

“Jenna!” Robert yells in shock from my outburst.

“I’ve got to get out of here!” I turn on my heel and walk toward the door.

“Jenna, please don’t leave me!” Layla wails as she comes after me, grabs hold of my arm and turns me around. I grip her biceps and look into her anguished eyes.

“Listen to me, Layla. I know this was an accident. I know that if you were sober, the topic would have never come up, but you’ve got to let me go right now. You just rocked my whole world! I need some air, some time to process what is happening. I love you, but please, leave me alone for right now.” She releases me and drops her hands in defeat.

“Don’t follow me.” I warn and point to Robert. “You stay here with her tonight.” I run out of her apartment toward the elevators. As soon as I get in, I try to catch my breath, but my chest aches from the pain of the imaginary knife that just got plunged into my heart. Tears start to blur my vision and run down my cheeks as I run out of the building, the concerned yells of Layla’s doorman running after me becoming fainter the farther I run. My body’s natural instinct leads me to Avery’s school. I sign her out, not caring that she hasn’t even had her nap yet as all that matters right now is her.