Whiskey Makes Everything Worse (3/3)

Layla couldn't.

She could never breathe when Brody brought Marissa's ghost with him everywhere he went.

"I need to use the bathroom." Wrong. She needed to pay her tab and get the hell out of there. Layla pushed her chair out and grabbed her purse.

"Layla. I didn't think you were allowed out of the band room." Brody's voice still sounded teasing, but the warmth was gone. She could feel it. The chill of his hate crept over her in that way that it always did, crawling along her body in search of a way inside.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. She would not do this. She would not let him add a single ounce of guilt to the lead weight of "if onlys" she already carried around her neck.

That night...it was an accident. One that Marissa, Chloe, and Rachel had brought upon the four of them through stupid, teenage recklessness. She'd tried to tell them to stop. She'd even stuck around that night because she thought she'd be there in case something went wrong.

Well, it went wrong, alright. And her being there hadn't done a damn thing to stop it.

If only...

She spoke because she had to. Everyone was looking at her. Again. Thank god for whiskey.

"Yup. I'm allowed out." She waved her hands in the air. "Surprise."

"Speaking of...I heard you got a surprise yesterday. Budget cuts, huh?" Brody cringed.

It looked real enough, but Layla knew better.

She straightened her spine and shrugged. "It sucks, but no big deal. We've all had to deal with cuts one way or another."

Everyone except him. One of the sophomores was headed for pro, and the school board was in love with the idea of snagging a state championship.

So was the kid's uncle, a senator from a couple towns over who wasn't shy about making his aspirations for his nephew known. Small town boy makes it big. Straight As, a trophy, and a full ride to the university of his choice. Faith in public schools restored.

Screw the kids who needed music or any other fine art for that matter to make it through their teenage years. Brody hid his smugness over his department emerging stronger than ever from the annual funding slashes well enough, but the others would see it sooner or later. They had to.

Layla smiled at him. "Don't worry about me. I'll get my instruments next year."

"Isn't that what you said last year?" Brody paused in drinking his beer to deliver a well-timed chuckle that clashed with the sympathetic looks some of the other teachers were casting her way.

She didn't know what she hated more, the sympathy or Brody's stupid face.

"I'm sorry...I'm just teasing you. It wasn't funny." He shook his head, a look of fake chagrin replacing the genuine smile at her misfortune. "Seriously. You know I worry about you...everyone worries about you."

Heat flooded her faced, and she headed toward the bar on unsteady legs before anyone could see how his words upset her.

Amelia watched Layla go, but thankfully she didn't follow. Layla climbed onto a barstool, nearly slipping off the front as she leaned on the counter. She dropped her purse on the empty stool next to her.

Ed was gone, so luckily he wasn't there to witness her pitiful state. The shots and beer had finally slammed into her full force, and the room spun gently around her. Even the counter seemed to tilt under her hands. At least the conversation and music had melded into a vague buzz at the far edges of her perception.

"Drink this." Jace shoved a glass of water under her nose.

She dutifully put the straw in her mouth and took a drink.

"I'll make you something to eat."

"No thanks. I'm going to leave." She mumbled around the straw. "I shouldn't have come in the first place."

"I think you just said you were leaving. Like hell. No way am I letting you drive. If I'd a known you were such a lightweight, I would have cut you off after shot number two."

A strand of hair had fallen into her eyes, and Jace reached out to brush it away. Layla's instinct was to pull away, but she forced herself not to react. To imagine the hand touching her was just as good as anyone else's.

"I'm not stupid. I never said I was going to drive."

"You going to wait for one of them to take you?" He jerked his head toward the others. "I think Pete's a designated driver. I'm sure he could squeeze you in."

"I'm not riding with any of them. That would defeat the point of my mission to escape."

"I'll order you an Uber, but who knows how long it would take for them to get out here."

"Yuck. No Uber."

He pulled her half-empty water glass from under her and refilled it. "Well, if you want to sit around here all night, I could drive you when I get off if you haven't sobered up enough by then."

She glared at him. "You make me sound like the town lush."

He smiled at her tone. Definitely testy.

Wait for Jace...if she did that, she just might invite him in. And that just might make her forget Derek. It could be a win for everyone.

She sighed. "Thanks, but I think I'll just sit here until I can walk down the street without falling down. I'll go crash at Bertie's."

Jace nodded. "Okay. Maybe I can give you a ride home some other time. Why are you trying to escape, anyway?"

The answer to that question appeared beside her. Brody rapped his knuckles on the bar. "Two more beers, Red."

Layla stiffened on her barstool, or at least she stiffened as much as she could with the alcohol turning her bones into noodles.

Jace narrowed his eyes as he looked from her to Brody, but he nodded and turned to get the beers.

"You walked away before I could finish telling you how sorry I was about your cuts."

Layla could feel Brody's eyes on the side of her face, but she stared straight ahead at the taxidermied rooster on the shelf over the cash register. "It's only instruments. I'll survive. I don't need you to apologize."

"But it's not only instruments...if it were my department I'd be pretty worried right about now."

Her eyes snapped over to him. She much preferred staring at dusty old feathers to the look on Brody's face.

There was no one around now, no audience, so the fake worry was gone. He wasn't exactly smiling, but the slight curve to his lips and gleam in his eyes suggested he'd been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

"What are you talking about? I've coped with all the cuts, haven't I? The instruments are just another obstacle. I'll cope with that, too." She'd pay for those out of her own pocket if she had to. Just like everything else.

"It's okay. Svenson told me." His mouth quirked. "About next year."

"What about next year," she said between clenched teeth.

Brody shook his head and blew out a long breath between pursed lips. "Shit. He didn't tell you though, did he? I guess that makes me the bearer of bad news."

Her stomach lurched. She stared once more at the rooster, bracing herself for whatever blow he'd been waiting all this time to deliver. No way was she going to beg him to tell her. He'd either say it on his own, or she'd be in Gary's office first thing Monday morning.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Svenson told me music might have to be cut altogether next year."

Layla's stomach lurched again. A surge of white-hot anger swept through her, reducing Brody's voice to an irritating buzz in her ear. She already knew where this was going, and it made her want to punch him in that perfect, manly nose of his.

There'd been talk about how the board was willing to do anything to see the Senator's son elevate the town to a place of statewide football fame, but she never believed Gary would let it happen.

"Something about redirecting funds," Brody said.

"Let me guess...to you."

He shrugged as this were the first he'd heard of it when he was probably one of the major champions of the idea.

Jace set Brody's two beers on the counter with a thunk. "Is everything okay here?"

"Yup. Just talking about the typical work bullshit. Nothing I can't handle." Layla said.

Brody grabbed his beers and turned to leave, then abruptly turned back again. He set one beer in front of Layla. "Here. I think you need this more than I do. It'll help you swallow the bullshit. Trust me, I know. I've been swallowing it for years." He held up his glass in a one-sided toast. "To a successful next school year."

With a smirk, Brody walked away.