Page 129 of All the Forbidden Things
Marley claps his hands together, and wearing his biggest smile, he says, “Oh, this is good. I love that, for once, it’s not me wringing thefor fuck’s sakesout of Lennon.”
“Right, this is not a conversation we need to be having here anyway. Too many ears listening. We’re going straight back to my office once we’re done, and don’t even think about trying to get out of it.”
While Marley and Jake grinned, held up sheets of paper with cocks and balls drawn on them that declared me a “pussy” and “wanker,” I received a two-hour bollocking from Lennon. As a partner of our label, Marley is supposed to be one of my bosses, but he behaves more like Jake’s big brother and mentor on how to be a dick. Now, after an hour and a half of sitting in London traffic for what should’ve been a twenty-five minute journey, and after three calls to Billie, which all go to voice mail, I can’t help but treat the welcoming party of reporters and paparazzi waiting at my gates to a double helping of middle finger salutes as Micky drives us past them.
When I come through my front door, the welcoming party is even uglier.
“Where’s Layla?” Whitney is waiting for me in the hallway. “Don’t even bother lying. I know she’s not over the yard with Billie. Deana’s been over there and knocked at her door twice already today.”
“She’s at my mum’s.”
“What? Why?”
“Billie needed to get away for a few days, and I’m heading into the studio soon to start recording the new album, so I’ll be staying at Jay’s. Mum wanted to spend some time with Layla before we leave.”
“God damn it, Max. I’m her mother. What if I wanted to spend time with her before you leave?”
“Our daughter is almost three months old. She’s spent almost her entire life without you wanting to spend time with her, so why would I think you’d suddenly want that now?”
“I was in an accident, Max. I spent weeks in the hospital fighting for my life.”
My head spins as I fight to control the anger welling up inside me. “If you remember rightly, you left our daughter withmewhen you fucked off with your drug-fucked fuck boy.And, if you can remember back to when you made that decision, you did it without even knowing if she was mine.”
“Who says I didn’t know if she was yours?” she spits.
“You did. You told me to get a paternity test.”
“No, I never.”
I open my mouth to speak and then close it, realising that she’s fucking with me and I’m walking right into her game.
“Okay, Whitney, I apologise. My mistake. Doesn’t change anything, though, Layla’s still at Mum’s, and that’s exactly where she’ll be staying until I collect her and take her to Jay and Marnie’s with me.”
“I’m calling my lawyer.”
“You have no money, you can’t afford a lawyer.” I call out and head towards the stairs.
“No win, no fee. They couldn’t say no to such a high profile case.”
I turn back around to face her, watching as she manouvres her wheelchair and follows me to the bottom of the stairs.
“Well good for you. Call them, better still, get yours to call mine, and he’ll tell yours exactly how this is gonna go.”
“This? Whatthis?”
“Thisis whatever you turn it into, Whit. I’ve played nice so far. I’ve paid your medical bills, welcomed you back into my home after you walked out, offered to pay for your flight back to the States and to set you up comfortably until you are literally back on your feet. But if you wanna start threatening me with lawyers, we can renegotiate all of that.”
I look down at her from where I stand on the second step of my stairs and I hold the bannister as hard as I hold my temper. Without a word, she turns her chair around and takes off down the hallway towards her room.
After letting out a shaky breath, I go to my room, throw everything I can think I might need into a suitcase, grab Layla’s headphones and my guitar, and make my way over to the flat, once again double flipping the paps when the fuckers start calling my name. Dumping everything in Billie’s front room, I call her again.
And again it goes to voice mail.
“Four times, Bamm. Four times I’ve called. Four times it’s gone to voice mail. Four times you’ve failed to call me back. Be prepared to be banged. Four times. Right into next week, Bamm. Four times I’m gonna bang you into next fucking week when I get there, so you best get that pretty little pussy of yours wet, warmed up, and ready to be well and truly fucked.”
I hang up, pull everything out of my badly packed case until I find my work out gear, and then head down to the gym to run off some of my anger and frustration.
Billie
