I learned a lot about myself after the near-death experience. Back then, I felt like I was on top of the world—I was in the league, playing on a great team, dating a beautiful girl. I thought that I had it made.
It took losing everything to realize how fragile I am and how fragile life is. Every little thing—breathing, walking, health, strength, having people to love and to take care of, they’re gifts. And I wasnotappreciating those gifts as much as I could have.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like our relationship was purely transactional.” I stare at my coffee and then at her. “That wasn’t my intention.”
She squirms. “Oh, well, it’s fine. Like you said, it’s in the past. Let’s just focus on the present.”
“On that note,” I lift my chin, “I’m here on someone else’s behalf this morning.”
“Who?”
“Chance McLanely.”
Layla’s expression pinches.
“I’m going to ask this in as civil a way as I can.” I frown at her. “What on earth possessed you to go after a man with dementia, Layla?”
Her eyes narrow slightly and then she makes the connection. Laughter pours from her lips, but it’s not an uncomfortable or sheepish laugh. She genuinely finds my outrage amusing.
“You targeted Chance Mclanely’s father-in-law,” I grind out. “All for a measly interview? Was it really that serious?”
“There you go, Nat. Then and now, you never take my podcast seriously.”
“This is not about your podcast, Layla. This is about you pumping a human being in a fragile health state for information.”
Layla pastes a hand to her chest as if to say ‘I beg your pardon’. “I didn’t ‘pump’ him for information. We had a nicelittle chat. I heard people at nursing homes are very lonely, and I was just doing my part to make the world a better place. Can you fault me that?”
“Spare me the act, Layla. I know you. Let’s put our cards on the table so we both get what we want.”
Layla leans forward and the low-cut blouse she’s wearing shows off more than I want to see. Her hand slides away from the cup and runs over my knuckles like a snake. “And what do you want, Nat?”
I pull my hand away in disgust. “I want you out of town as soon as possible.”
Layla snorts.
A tightness grows in my shoulders and I stare at her, steady and unflinching. “If an interview with Chance McLanely is what it takes, I’ll set that up for you. I’ve already spoken to him.”
“Oh, have you?” Layla says slyly. She brings her cup to her face for another sip.
“The Lucky Strikers are running a training camp right now, so McLanely is busy. It’s not a good time, but I give you my word that he’ll have a date for an interview at the end of the month.”
“Promises mean nothing. Even from you, Nat. Didn’t you promise you’d love me forever? And look what happened.”
My jaw tightens. She’s taunting me now.
Layla shakes her head as a devious smile spreads on her face. “Besides, I don’t want a simple interview with Chance anymore. I want an exclusive.”
I stare at her smile and I realize my strategy has failed. “You know.”
“Of course I know. That poor, confused man sang like a canary. At first, I wasn’t inclined to believe him.” She runs a finger over the rim of her cup, staring at me. “But, since Chance McLanely sent you to dangle an interview like a carrot and kickme out of town, I guess that old man was right.TheChance McLanely is going to propose to his girlfriend, April Brooks.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing around. Phil’s is a small cafe and it’s crowded, even this early in the morning.
Layla’s lips arch up.
“What do you want? An interview with more hockey players? Jewelry? Endorsements?”
“I’m not a cheap date, Nat. You know that.”
