Save Me (9 page)

"We have a spring clearance sale going on right now, but is there anything in particular that I can help you find?"

At first, Leo shook his head. Then, it occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"Actually,” he began, reaching in his jacket and pulling out the sheet of paper he had written Layla's measurements on, 
"help would be nice.”

An hour later, after exhausting through dozens of clearance racks with the aid of the young sales assistant who Leo had learned was named Samantha, he walked out of the Gap with an outfit he thought Layla would find suitable.

For what…well. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.

He was on the freeway – nearly halfway to the hospital – when he got the phone call. He pulled off onto to the shoulder of the road, gravel flying around his bike as he came to an abrupt stop. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone.

1 missed call, 1 voicemail.

Sliding it open, Leo went into recent calls to see who had tried to get ahold of him. It was Richie. He brought the phone to his ear, clicking play on the voice mail.

"Leo, it’s me man. We need to talk. It's urgent. Call me back when you get this."

Leo pressed redial, a lump forming in his throat as he paced back and forth. After three rings, Richie frantically picked up the phone.

"Leo...are you alone?” he asked.

"Yeah..." Leo trailed off, leaning against his bike, "why? What's up brother?"

Leo could hear a bunch of unrecognizable noise in the background, until finally a door shut and it was silent but for Richie’s rapid and uneven breathing on the other end of the line.

"Get to the club house as soon as possible.” he whispered frantically.

"I can’t explain right now. Just get there fast.”

"Wait why?" Leo interrupted.

But before Richie could respond, the call dropped and the line fell silent.

What the fuck?
Leo wondered.

In all the years that he had known Richie, Leo had never heard him sound that spooked. They had been riding together for years and had organized a small, tight knit MC Club together in their 20s. The Disciples weren't nearly as big or influential as some of the clubs that resided in south central LA, but that never seemed to bother Leo or his brothers. It never seemed to matter. They kept their head in the sand and aside from the odd bar fight every now and again 
– 
they never pissed anyone off. 
They didn't have enemies.

Until now.

– 

Present

"Can I turn around?" Leo asked Layla, pulling himself from his thoughts.

Layla nodded. Then, realizing that he couldn't see her, she spoke.

"Yes."

Leo turned around to face her, walking towards the door and peeking out of it to make sure no one was coming. When the coast was clear, he extended his hand to her. Layla looked at it hesitantly.

"Come on," he urged.

It was just as she had expected. Paparazzi were flooded around every major exit and entrance of the large hospital, all of them eagerly awaiting the moment Layla would walk through the door.

It was the most attention she had recieved from them in years, but that wasn't much of a surprise. The world had a way of reveling in the mistakes of celebrities – even C list ones.

"Come on," Layla heard Leo say, "I know another way out."

She followed him through an isolated hallway, through heavy swinging doors and a barrage of busy nurses and doctors who bustled quickly past them. Then, he caught off to the side, grabbing Layla's hand as he threw his large body against a locked emergency exit, causing it to swing open and reveal a staircase.

"Hurry, before someone sees!” Leo urged, slamming the door shut as Layla entered and pulling her downwards as a nurse scurried past them. When she was gone, he stood up and Layla followed him down the long flight of stairs, which led to a basement level parking garage.

"I'm right over there," Leo said, nodding at a shiny black motorcycle through a tiny glass window on the only door that kept them both from freedom. When he was positive that no one else was in the garage, he swung open the door, racing towards his bike with Layla in tow.

"Slow down!” she gasped.

He picked up pace. His bike was only a few feet away now. They were home free.

"I hope you don't think I'm getting on that thing!" Layla exclaimed, breathless and exhausted as Leo started up the ignition, sliding his heavy helmet over her tussled hair and setting her sternly on his bike before she could object further.

"Don't tell me you've never rode a bike before,” he laughed, easing himself on the leather seat in front of her and revving up the engine.

"What with all your fancy movie roles and all."

"Those were stunt doubles!" Layla called out over the noise, gripping Leo tightly as he took off through the dimly lit garage. When they finally hit the surface, the daylight nearly blinded Layla despite the helmet and the sunglasses Leo had given her. She felt as though she hadn't seen sunlight in days.

Leo eased into the heavy flow of traffic, past the pack of rabid paparazzi that lined the front of the hospital. Eventually, they were nothing more than tiny specks in the distance.

"Where are we going?" Layla yelled over Leo's muscular shoulders, but she didn't get a response.

About a mile down the road, just past the Hollywood sign, Leo veered roughly to the left, gravel flying around them.

"We're going to make a quick stop,” he yelled over the sound of cars and trucks honking angrily and moving past them.

If there was one thing Layla knew, it was that LA drivers had very little patience for motorcyclists – especially ones like Leo, who felt as though the rules of the road didn't apply to them. He brought the bike to an abrupt stop in front of a convenience store just before the freeway, shutting off the engine and reaching back to pull his helmet from Layla's head.

"You coming?” he asked, but it was more of an order than a question.

Layla followed him through the entrance, through shelves that stretched from one end of the small store to the next, stacked full of alcohol. She watched as Leo reached forward, grabbing a few bottles of expensive liquor and stuffing them in his backpack.

"What are you doing?" Layla whispered, looking anxiously back at the cashier – a Mexican man in his late 30s who was preoccupied by a magazine in his hands, "I can pay for that you know!"

"That takes all the fun out of it," Leo laughed, grabbing another bottle and handing it to Layla with a crisp twenty dollar bill, nodding towards the man.

"What am I supposed to this?” she asked, confused.

"Go buy it.” Leo whispered sternly, pushing Layla towards the front of the store.

"Play up your celeb cred. He'll never notice me."

Layla did as she was told, not wanting to test him. She handed the money to the man behind the counter and he nodded, barely looking up from the Spanish magazine he was reading long enough to hand over her change.

"Have a nice day,” he said in a heavy accent, nodding to Layla as she walked towards the door. She paused long enough to give Leo time to dart out first with his haul.

"So?” Leo asked, starting back up his bike, 
"was he a big Layla Carter fan?"

Layla rolled her eyes, handing Leo his change before climbing back on the leather seat of his bike, adjusting his helmet on her head.

"Very funny,” she said sarcastically.

"Are you going to tell me who you are and why you needed to steal enough liquor to intoxicate Orange County or should I guess?"

When Leo didn't reply, she continued, gripping his clothing tightly as he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the crowded road.

"Kidnapper? Stalker? Jaded fan who I jipped out of an autograph? Or–” she paused, searching for the right words, "just your run of the mill creep?"

Leo laughed, veering onto the freeway. The sign above it read San Francisco.

"Wait a second!" Layla yelled, gripping him tighter.

"You didn't say anything about taking me out of LA! I didn't agree to this."

Leo shook his head, his shiny black hair blowing in the wind against Layla's face.

"If you recall princess,” he yelled over his shoulder.

"I never really told you anything. Now hold on tight!"

TRUST

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Present

L
eo picked up speed, his heavy black boots pressing down hard on the throttle. Layla shut her eyes tightly, too afraid to move. She knew now that whatever was happening definitely wasn't good. She shouldn't have went with him. She should have put up a fight. Stated her case. But it was too late for that now. There was no turning back. No escaping him.

Leo didn't have to say it for Layla to know. It was in the words he wasn't saying. The way he held himself – strong and ruthless. A simple look would tell anyone what they needed to know about Leo Marsden.

He called the shots.

"You're such a fucking cliché," Layla announced over Leo's shoulders as they flew down the gravel road.

"Oh yeah?” he questioned playfully, whipping his head around to look at her with a slight smile.

That's funny coming from a child star turned porn star,
 Leo thought to himself, revving up the engine and pushing down harder on the throttle as they descended up a hill.

"And you aren't princess?" he teased, breaking the silence.

Layla shook her head, gripping his leather cut tighter as he picked up speed.

"Well at least I'm aware of it," she bit back, nudging Leo's shoulder at the insult.

He smiled slightly as the wind whipped through his hair, shrugging instead of refuting her statement. Luckily, Layla didn't mind a good cliché.

"Don't worry,” she continued with a sad laugh, talking more to herself than to Leo, 
"my entire life is one giant cliché."

"Isn't everyone's?" Leo retorted.

Layla nodded against him. Maybe that was why she felt such a strong connection to him despite only just meeting him. He, like her, appeared lost.

Leo lived on the edge and Layla only just teetered there. He could take off and go at any moment. Leo could live his life – really live it – however he saw fit while every move Layla made had to be perfectly planned within the constraints of contracts and deadlines. She had thought that the porn industry would be different. But it wasn't. If anything, it was even more demanding. Leo might not have been a rich man, but he had time and anonymity. Two simple things that Layla would have traded her entire fame and fortune for.

"Maybe," Layla finally said as they pulled off onto an exit for the town of Desert Shore.

A few miles down the road, they turned through a heavy patch of trees and pulled to a stop in front of a fairly deserted looking cabin. The building was tiny and somewhat isolated from the road. Layla didn’t even see it until they had climbed off the bike and were a few feet away from it, their feet buried deep in moss and mud. She pulled off Leo's heavy helmet from her head, shaking out her hair as he lit a cigarette.

"What is this place?” she asked, pausing in front of the down trodden wooden building and taking a deep breath. They had parked Leo's bike in a shaded area off to the side, near a dirt road that you'd miss if you were driving even just a little bit too fast. Layla was exhausted. She needed to sit down. She needed a fix. She needed a warm bath and a meal. As it turned out, she needed a lot of things, but only one would be delivered.

"Come here." Leo called out to her, reaching for her hand. He offered Layla a smoke but she shook her head.

"That's the thing though,” he continued, changing back the subject as he cracked his knuckles.

“What?” Layla asked, confused.

"I'm not entirely convinced that being cliché is a bad thing. I mean...”

His eyes found Layla's as he walked up the rickety front steps of the cabin, kicking open the front door with very little effort. It was pitch black inside and there wasn't a single solitary part of Layla that wished to explore it further.